Warnings: Tim has pussy,fingering(m!revising),squirting(m!revising), orgasm denial
This is possibly the most embarrassing position Tim could ever find himself in. God, he should have listened and gone to bed, but here he is now, knees to his chest, ankle being held and restrained, with your pants discarded on the bedroom floor as you pump his pretty pink cunt with your fingers.
All he had to do was come to bed, cuddle up to you, and go to sleep, but noooo, he'd rather decipher ribblers' codes. Well, let's see if he can get out of this.
"Ahhh~! "Fuck...baby, I'm sorry. Please calm down!" Tim lets out a strangled high-pitched moan while his body tries to fight the feeling of immense pleasure. How could you possibly calm down? He looks practically fucked out of his mind from only two fingers in that tight little pussy.
"Mmmphâ! Nnngh!~" Tim can barely breathe, his chest heaving in desperate, shallow pants. You feel him tighten around his walls, getting slick and gooey, so you pull your fingers out just when he's about ready. That sound that he lets out could be likened to a street whore. You look down at him and that pretty cuntâmy god, it is gorgeous, raw, sticky, and agape.
The slickness of his pussy slips to his puckered little hole (you might play with two holes tonight), but Tim's desperate panting and moans snap you out of your stupor. "Mmmph! When in the hell did you get so mean...shit?" but you weren't listening to him; your eyes were confused by his cunt.
If you looked long enough, you could see his clit twitch. Tim can only laugh breathlessly at the sight. "God, you're such a fucking pervert obsessed with pussy, aren't you, baby?" He's starting to get cocky; you can't let that slide, so two fingers come up to rub that bundle of nerves and his clit. If you weren't holding on to his ankles right now, he'd definitely kick you in the face.
"Ohfuckohfuckohfuck!" His entire body convulses, his pretty toes curling at the feeling of his pussy. His whole body locks up, you mercilessly rub his clit. You don't let up, not even for a second. As you watch your pretty boy almost collapse.
"Nnn-haaah! Holy shit, close!" And that was his second mistake, telling you he was close while he was about to cum. You swiftly take your finger off his clit, and the look on his face like he's about to cry; he's biting down on his bottom lip as his eyes squeeze together tight like he's trying to hold something in.
Your other hand comes up to stroke his face, moving some of his hair drenched in sweat out his face. He looks gone, and he didn't cum yet, so you gently slap his cheek until he's with you again. "Fuck, I'm here, I'm here," Tim pants as he tries and fails to catch his breath.
Your finger slips back into him slowly, agonizingly slow, and you can feel him try to kick at you. Oh, poor baby, he can't even handle it. Your middle finger finds his g-spot and gently rubs it, and if his hands weren't held down by yours, he'd be slapping and fighting.
"A-Ahhh! Ahhh~" Tim wails, his eyes rolling back into his head. He is completely lost to the sensation; his pussy starts to spasm once again. His cunt is practically gushing; his slick is splashing into the air. He's close; you can tell it's so fucking obvious, so you pump him full of your fingers.
Tim is clenching his teeth, holding back various moans and curses; he's completely losing his mind. Then before you've even noticed, "Oooh, fuck!" Warm wetness filled the air, splashing onto the bedsheets he'd squirted for the first time, and it was beautiful.
"Ugh...!" His eyes completely glazed over, leaking with tears. He lost it; he's completely gone to pleasure and all the feelings. "Fuuuuck, what was that?"
a/n àË. á”á” art by @/aransmind its just so mmnggh
content àË. á”á” mdni, avatar aang x m!reader, slight rough s, hair pulling, creampie, ass slapping, wholesome aftermath
â..aang, i think youâre covered in enough lipstick,â you mumbled, before pressing your soft rouge dabbed lips onto the warm skin of your boyfriend for the umpteenth time, kissing the spot on his shoulder as you felt him hum and slightly lean into you at the feeling.
your avatar boyfriend sat on your lap, half bare as he had insisted that you cover him in lipstick stains after seeing a guy being covered in them by his girlfriend, that he just had to come home and ask you to do the exact same thing. of course, you found some that you used at times to add color to your lips when they got dry, fulfilling his wish with a soft smile.
âjust a few more.. take it like, an anatomy lesson, that works, right?â he says with an adorable smile, and you glance up at him, before pulling him into a kiss, your hands already on his hips, and his on your shoulders, sighing sweetly into your mouth. you swallow his melodic noises, a hand sneaking into his waistband from behind, a finger reaching his rim, and you felt aang arch into you slightly, arms wrapping around your head slightly as he continued kissing you, the kiss now a bit sloppy and more vocal with wet noises and tongue action.Â
you both pull back slightly, hot ragged breaths mingling as he leans his forehead onto yours, the dark and damp hairs on his forehead tickling and pressing onto yours.Â
â..yâknow.. your hair is longer again,â you mutter, slowly rubbing your finger and you feel him slightly back his ass into your hand altogether, causing you to cup a cheek with your hand and gently squeeze.
âmmhâ well, do you like it?â he asks, leaning into you as he absently rubbed himself into you, causing you to huff out a soft breath.
â âcourse i do, you look sexier with it, really,â you whisper into his lips, and you trailed your other hand up into his hair, gripping a good bunch and pulling it, tugging his head gently back, and you planted your lips onto his lips, a low moan erupting from aang's mouth in the process, taking it willingly from you.
you left faint lip imprints on his pretty sun kissed skin, and his hands slid to grip your shoulders, soft whimpers from his mouth as you licked a strip down his neck.
you let go of his hair, arms securely picking him up with ease, earning a surprised yelp from the big male, and he wraps his limbs onto you as you laugh softly, tossing your lipstick stained boyfriend on the bed.
it didnât need much to know what to do next, the both of you discarding your clothes almost immediately, a pile of radiant and muted colors mixing together.
âf-fuuuhck..mmgghâ sâslow down..,â you heard from aang beneath you, and you leave a slap on his plush soft asscheek in return, earning a soft moan-like whimper from his mouth. you had him on all fours, your hand in his hair, tugging him back, propped up as you rammed your thick cock into his greedy hole, moans and groans filling the room.
you donât stop, regardless of what he says, begging and pleading that he couldnât take it, but you knew that was just to urge you to keep going, and you did. you leaned over his body, cock still plunging into his hole, slaps of skin and wet squelches echoing with each thrust. your chest against his back, you pulled his head back a bit more by his hair and kissed him, your hips getting slightly sloppy as you kept pounding your avatar boyfriend, and he moaned into your mouth, slight drool on the sides of his mouth, his tattoos glowing a soft glue hue.Â
a few seconds after the flickering, he spasms, body twitching as you kept going, pounding into him even faster if that was humanly possible, before you shove yourself impossibly deep, hips stuttering as you started unloading your heavy cum filled balls into his needy, gaping pink hole, causing the both of you to let out a loud moan, and you fall over his back after your cock slips out of his hole. you admired the way he looked, your lip stains covering him, a sheen layer of sweat over his sculpted body, lips swollen from kisses, streams of cum down his thighs and soaking into the sheets, just perfect. you wrapped your arms around him, hugging him close before turning his face toward you, kissing his already lip stained face all over.
â..can you tell i like your hair,â you said with a sly smile, earning a loving but fucked out expression from your cum filled avatar boyfriend, causing you to pull him onto you, and you both nuzzle into each other in return, the warmth of the bed and surroundings around the both of you creating a perfect space after a bit of rough sex.
tmasc reader with phallo đ€€ i know baran is OBSESSED with the feeling of your cock inside of her. she loves when you twitch inside of her when she talks dirty to you or when she plays with her tits while she's lazily circling her hips. her head gets so fuzzy when she feels your cum spill inside of her after she coaxes it out of you.
supply closet handjobs where you make a mess on her jacket sleeve after you cum đ she still won't take it off. she likes the little reminder :)
baran riding you but everything is so messy and wet so you slip out right before you cum :( you blow your load on her zipped up lulu jacket, and you feel so lightheaded at the sight of your strings of cum dripping down the light purple fabric.
the thought of baran in nothing but her lululemon jacket and bra......GOD. im drooling. one tit is spilling out of her bra because you've been playing with it, and you love the way it bounces as she rides you into the mattress. baran pushing her tits together while she rides you, teasing you, making you drool and moan for a nipple in your mouth. she pushes her breasts into your face and laughs quietly when you motorboat them <3
lazy riding before she leaves for work... grasping the sides of her jacket, unzipping it so you can grope her breasts over her top, tugging on it to pull her closer.
ííìČëŒ, you're my favorite / íí ììŽ, baby
pairing: leon kennedy x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 845
notes: randomly had an idea for a leon fic so here you go, set in the re4 castle, debated using a gif but i think i like the header more tbh, don't expect re fics regularly lol, not proofread !! pls forgive any mistakes <33, title from nct 127 - favorite (vampire)
you swat a cobweb out of your face, grimacing at the sticky feeling that lingers against your skin. the warm light from your flashlight occasionally flickers, making you curse beneath your breath. âitâs so dusty in here,â you murmur as you shine the light across the room.
straws of hay crunch beneath your feet as you begin to wander around. the wooden pillars leaning against the wall are beginning to rot, sagging beneath the weight of the stone floors they hold up. vines decorate the edges of the room - overgrown and unruly. you can faintly smell the natural ivy smell they emit. itâs admittedly a nice change from the usual earth and blood that lingers in the rest of the castle.Â
LEON KENNEDY smiles, stifling a quiet laugh beneath his breath. your flashlights dance across the stones, fighting against the darkness of night. âit could be worse,â he says. his fingers twist around the hilt of his knife as he tucks it back into the small hoster on his waistband. the barrel of his gun taps against his thigh with each step, a sharp reminder of your mission.Â
you hum, shoving your own gun back into your pocket. your pants are covered in patches of dirt and blood, staining the fabric. leonâs gaze lingers on a cut stretching against the back of your bicep, deep enough to leave a scar.Â
his laces bounce against the sides of his boots as he takes a step closer. leon gingerly reaches up, tugging your arm closer to examine it. âyouâre bleeding.âÂ
âoh,â you shift, turning to glance backwards at the wound. âi didnât even notice.âÂ
leon gives you a resigned nod. adrenaline must have prevented you from feeling the injury. it was a common enough occurrence that you had both grown accustomed to giving and receiving stitches.Â
âitâs not too deep,â leon concludes after a few minutes. setting his flashlight aside, he rips some fabric from his shirt before you can protest. he mumbles a small apology at your wince as he ties it tightly around your bicep. âtry to keep it clean for now.âÂ
you nod, thanking him with a soft smile. leon makes a note to search for some bandages later. for now, heâll just have to hope that his shirt sleeve will be enough to protect the injury.Â
setting your flashlight against the floor, you wander over to the least-dirty looking wall. a yawn escapes your lips before you can prevent it. leon follows after you, leaning back against the large stones. âtired?â he asks, stretching his legs out. his muscles ache at the feeling; his body silently thanks him for the break after running around all day long.Â
âa little,â you sigh, pulling your knees up to your chest. you shuffle closer to him before leaning your head against his shoulder. he unconsciously stiffens at the contact before he sighs, smiling softly. âitâs been a long day.âÂ
wrapping his arms around you, he tugs you even closer until your body is resting against his chest. âget some rest,â leon murmurs. his voice is raspy when he whispers; his breath ghosts against your skin. glove-clad hands meet your own when he reaches out, intertwining your fingers together. âiâll keep watch for a while.âÂ
âwhat about you?â you whisper lazily. the darkness seems all consuming. you blink harshly, fighting against your bodyâs natural urge to succumb to the need for rest.Â
leon chuckles. the sound reverberates around the room, instantly easing some of your nerves. he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. âyou worry too much,â he teases.Â
âof course i do.â leon pauses. his gaze wanders to the stone walls surrounding you. cracks run through the stones like spiderwebs. they look like theyâre falling apart - as if a breeze too harsh will cause the entire castle to crumble into dust. a layer of grime has settled deep into the cracks. the consequences of not being cared for, he supposes.
moonlight shines in through the gaps between the bricks, illuminating the stray dust particles floating throughout the room. you shift slightly in his arms, breaking him out of his daze. you tilt your head to look up at him. âiâll be okay,â he finally says. his voice is so full of sincerity that it makes your heart skip a beat. âi just want to protect you. i wonât stay up long.â
you smile softly. even in the dim light, with bloody hands and messy hair, you never fail to make him nervous. you shift just enough to hold your pinky finger out. âyou promise?â
leon laughs. a soft, genuine laugh. heat floods his face, tinting the tips of his ears an embarrassingly deep pink. he sends a silent thanks to the universe that the darkness is concealing his blush before he intertwines his finger with yours. âi promise.âÂ
satisfied, you take a deep breath, finally allowing your eyes to flutter shut. he traces miscellaneous shapes against your skin; the steady rhythm of his heartbeat slowly lulls you to sleep, safe in leonâs arms. safe, for now.
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summary : buck is desperate to get y/n back, and heâs willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen
characters : black male reader x evan âbuckâ buckley
note : i donât know what is with me and these pain kinks, but im kinda loving it??
warnings : smut, established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie, rimming ( buck receiving ), degrading language, use of the word âdaddyâ, pain kink, sub buck, dom reader, make up sex, rough sex, angry sex, hairy ass, creaming, fingering, i believe thatâs all
When Buck opened the door in only a sweater and underwear, Y/N shoved right past him. Making a beeline for the bedroom, Y/N ignored Buck calling out his name as he walked further into the house.
Y/N knew every single one of Buckâs tricks, and he knew them well. More times than heâd like to admit, the tricks worked on him. Not this time. This time Y/N was serious about standing his ground and doing what he knew was right.
Buck came into the bedroom they shared only a week ago, leaning against the doorway as he watched Y/N rummage through his side of the dresser. âI was baking some sourdough if you wanted to stay and eat.â
Y/N scoffed, shaking his head as he shoved as much clothing his duffle bag could fit. âIâll pass on the nasty ass bread.â
âHey!â
Buck pouted, yet remained hopeful. Y/N couldâve said worse. He did a week ago when they got into the argument that led to their breakup. It wasnât over anything serious. Not if you ask Buck. According to Y/N, it was pretty serious he was spending more time at work than he did at home.
Maddie agreed with that sentiment. So did Hen. And Eddie. Even Athena agreed, which meant pretty much everyone was on his ass about letting the best thing to ever happen to him walk out of the door.
Now was his last chance to make that happen.
Walking behind Y/N, Buck rested his head on his shoulder. âCan we just talk about things?â he asked.
âI did enough talking. Matter fact, Iâve been talking for the last 3 years,â Y/N scoffed. âTalking clearly doesnât work so Iâm done. Weâre done. Everythingâs done.â
Buck sighed. Thatâs about exactly what he thought Y/N would say. Which is why he had a plan to make Y/N listened. Eddie told him to not do the plan. He called it âthe dumbest shit youâve ever come up withâ, but that only made it more enticing. Buck walked over to the door, using the key in his hand to lock it. He threw it in the trash, grinning when he saw the gold disappear in the mountain of papers and soda cans.
Y/N huffed when he was done packing, slamming the drawers. âYou can have everything else, I really donât give a fuck. I just wanted my personal shit,â he said.
âAm I not personal to you?â Buck pouted.
âBite me.â
Y/N walked over the door, ignoring the shit eating grin on Buckâs face as he tried to open it. His body ran into the door as it didnât budge. Furrowing his eyebrows, he jiggled the doorknob with all his might. He stopped when he realized what was happening.
He expected Buck to pull out all of the stops to keep him from leaving, but he didnât know he would take it as far as physically keeping him from leaving.
âEvan, I swear on everything I love.â Y/N tried to control his breath, even as his heart started to beat faster as anger grew inside of him. âOpen this door or Iâm going to knock it down.â
Buck chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. âYeah, uh, I donât think so,â he said, climbing onto the bed. âI think I want you knock me down.â
Nothing shocked Y/N about the scene he turned around to face.
On all fours, Buckâs underwear were pooled at his ankles, baring his muscular ass covered all over with peach fuzz. He wiggled his ass enticingly, using enough force to make the flesh of his ass wobble. Bruises and nail indents from the last time he pulled out this move were still visible, a stark contrast against the pale skin of his ass.
A cocky, knowing smirk played on his lips as he watched Y/Nâs eyes glaze over with lust. In their time dating, Buck had come to realize being horny was the only thing strong enough to erase all logic from Y/N.
He hated to use it against someone he loved, but he was desperate. Y/N walking out would mean he was left without everything he needed.
He wouldnât come home to home cooked meals and Y/Nâs crazy stories from the hospital that rivaled his own. He wouldnât be showered with kisses as soon as he walked through the door until the moment they fell asleep watching corny firefighter shows that depicted nothing accurately.
Most importantly, he wouldnât be able to find someone with a dick as amazing as Y/Nâs.
âItâs been so long since you felt me, daddy,â Buck sighed. He reached back and spread open his ass, showing off his puckered hole. âIâm so damn tight.â
Y/N would have to grapple with why he had little to no sexual control when it came to Buck. But that could wait until a later time. For now, he had to cave into his desires. It took Y/N only two steps to reach the bed, slapping Buckâs hands away so he could grab the meaty flesh.
Electricity sparked at the contact. Y/N kneaded the flesh in his hands, slapping it a few times to watch the ripples of skin. Everything inside of him was screaming for him to leave. Break the door down and make a run for it while he still could. But only a mad man would be able to walk away from the bubblegum pink hole staring at him, visible yearning to be fucked.
âThis doesnât mean shit,â Y/N said. âI just feel like getting my dick wet.â
Buck rolled his eyes at the blatant lie, but he was caught off guard when a tongue pushed inside of him. He gasped, hand flying back to grip Y/Nâs hair as the tongue began to swirl inside of him. The pleasure he had been missing for a week hit him all at once, his dick now erect as it brushed against the bed with every roll of his hips.
Y/Nâs nails dug into Buckâs ass, pulling the 6â2 man back onto his tongue. He buried his face deep between the cheeks, moving slowly as it took some time to reenter Buckâs hole every time he pulled his tongue out. When Y/N had Buck bent over the sink in the bathroom of the bar they were having their first date, Y/N swore that Buck had the tightest hole on the planet. It took almost 10 minutes of fingering for Buckâs hole surrender and let Y/Nâs dick finally get a taste.
3 years later, and things didnât change. Working Buckâs hole open was an experience in itself, an experience Y/N enjoyed just as much as the actual penetration.
Y/N pulled his face back and spat directly on his hole, bringing two fingers up to lather the spit around. Buck moaned into the pillow under him, pushing his ass back to try and feel more pressure. Y/N slapped his ass with a quarter of his strength, which was enough for Buck to cry out in pain and still his hips.
âYou donât get to feel good during this, okay?â Y/N asked, only continuing when he got a verbal response from Buck. âIf you cum, you better believe Iâm walking out the door and never coming back.â
âYes, daddy,â Buck whimpered, gripping the sheets as he mentally prepared for the ride he was about to be taken on. One he was 100% willing to do again and again if it meant he got to keep Y/N forever.
Y/N shoved two fingers inside of Buck, not bothering with the usual way he eased his digits inside. âSay youâre sorry for being a piece of shit.â
âIâm sorry!â Buck sobbed, hole clenching down hard on Y/Nâs fingers. âIâm so, so sorry, Daddy. Iâll be better. I promise.â
Y/N rolled his eyes as he fought against the walls clamping down on his fingers. He began to fuck into Buck with a rapid pace, feeling around for the bundle of nerves hidden somewhere. âYou said that last time. And the time before that. How am I supposed to nowhere anything you say?â
Buck struggled to catch his breath as Y/N continued the assault on his ass. âT-Trust me. Iâll be⊠so good for you.â
âYeah? You sure about that?â
âYes, Daââ Buckâs eyes widened when Y/Nâs fingers hit his prostate. The arch in his back depended and tears filled in his eyes. âF-Fuck! Oh⊠my⊠God!â
Y/N added a third finger, shoving them in and out of Buckâs hole with a sadistic grin on his face. Buck sobbed for him to stop the assault on his prostate, all while pushing his ass back to meet the thrusts.
Cream began to coat Y/Nâs fingers, causing him to salivate as he wanted nothing more to produce more of that cream with even more friction. Buckâs hole tried to suck his fingers even deeper, but he managed to pull them out with a pop.
âFuckâŠâ Buck sighed, rolling onto his back. He checked his dick to make sure it wasnât coated in cum, and to his luck, he was in the clear.
He watched as Y/N stripped out of his clothes, throwing them behind him without a care in the world before climbing onto the bed.
Buck spread his legs as wide as they could to allow Y/N in between, even though he knew once the time came, his flexibility would be put to the test as his body complied with whatever Y/N demanded of him. He wrapped his muscular thighs around Y/Nâs hack, pulling him close enough to where their heart beats were one.
He grabbed Y/Nâs hair and pulled him in for a kiss, moaning into his mouth as he shoved his tongue inside. The kiss was sloppy and full of spit, some dribbling down the side of their mouths as their tongues fought for dominance.
A pointless battle it was, as Y/N easily overtook him. His hands moved down the side of Buckâs body, falling behind his knees. When he had a good trip, Y/N pushed Buckâs legs until his knees were aligned with his ears.
âY/N! It hurts, shit, that hurts!â Buck cried out, shoving him as much as he could. The stretch of muscles felt like he was being torn apart, even if there was a hint of pleasure hidden deep within the pain.
âI donât give a fuck,â Y/N scoffed, continuing to push Buckâs legs until his feet were touching the headboard. âHold them there. If you let go, itâs going to be bad for you. I promise you.â
Buck whimpered, nodding weakly as he held his legs were they were. It took all his concentration to make sure he didnât disappoint Y/N. His breathing grew even heavier, the angle making it hard for him to get adequate enough breath. But if this meant keeping the love of his life, Buck would do it a million times over.
Plus, he knew despite how Y/N may have felt about him in the moment, he wouldnât leave this room until he ensured Buck was beyond satisfied.
Y/N let drool fall from his mouth and onto Buckâs hole. Despite the short amount of time that had passed, Buck was as tight as when they first started. That would usually pose a challenge for Y/N, but that was back when he wasnât in the mood to fuck Buck up.
Now he didnât care about anything other than getting his nut. Maybe after that, heâd go back to the usual sweet and caring boyfriend he still wanted to be, even if he was pretending like there was ever a chance he would walk away.
âRemember what I said,â Y/N said, pressing his tip against Buckâs entrance. âCum and Iâm going to make you regret it.â
Buck groaned as Y/N started to push into him. âY-Yes, Daddy.â
Buck let out a strangled groan as Y/N bottomed out, shaking his head as he tried to focus on the task at hand. Keeping his legs behind his head and not cumming, even in spite of Y/N filling him to the brim. His nerves felt like they were on fired, sending a shit ton of blood to his dick. It stood up at attention, leaking pre-cum onto his stomach.
He wanted nothing more than for Y/N to touch his dick. To stroke it, to hold it, hell, even to punch it. Any sort of contact wouldâve had him cumming all over the room. Which is what he desperately needed, even with his given ultimatum.
âFuuuuuckk, I needed this,â Y/N muttered. âMaybe you know how to cater to my needs, after all.â
Buck pouted his lips as he stared into Y/Nâs dark eyes. âPlease fuck me,â he begged.
âYeah? You wanna get fucked?â
Buck nodded, inhaling as much air as he could before he spoke. âDonât hold back.â
The firefighter swallowed his words almost instantly, tears sliding down his face onto the sheet as Y/N began to fuck him. There was no easing into it. There was no letting Buck get used to his dick. With his hands on Buckâs meaty thighs, Y/Nâs held himself up as he thrusted deeply. Cream started to fly up, making a mess on the both of them as Y/N fucked him at a quick pace. He pulled out until the tip was barely in, just to slam back in, colliding with Buckâs prostate head on.
âOh my God!â Buck screamed, eyes rolling to the back of his head.
âLook at me, bitch.â
Buck couldnât listen, mind in some far away land where he wasnât being fucked like a sex doll. Y/N took one hand off of Buckâs thigh, slapping the shit out of Buck to bring him back to the real world. Buck whimpered as the pain radiated in his cheek, more tears falling as Y/Nâs never ending thrust pushed him towards the edge.
He was going to lose Y/N. There was no way he was going to be able to hold back when his prostate was being stimulated behind comprehension. His dick was purple and throbbing, a few more thrusts away from bursting with reckless abandon. Buck began to cry harder, the pleasure he was experiencing and fear of not holding up his end of the deal becoming too much.
âDaddy!â Buck cried out, clawing at his own skin. âIâm⊠f-fuck!â
Y/N shook his head, the sweat on his forehead dripping onto Buckâs ass and thighs. âNot until I cum.â
âB-Butââ
Buck shut up when his cheek stung even worse this time. Buck sobbed loudly, his sounds echoing off the walls. His eyes were blurry with hot tears, staining his face. His hamstrings were on fire. His prostate was begging for mercy. His hole was so tight, it made it hard for Y/N to thrust. He pushed through, feeling his orgasm coming as he continued to fuck Buck like his life depended on it.
Y/N used his free hand to grab ahold of Buckâs dick, jerking him off at a rapid pace. Buckâs breath hitched as his orgasm bombarded him. Ropes of cum shot out, some landing on Y/Nâs face and chest, some landing on his thighs, and some even landing on his own face. His groaned at the top of his lungs, squeezing his eyes shut.
He won. Y/N made him cum, so that didnât go against what he was told to do. In a moment of celebration, Buck let go of his thighs, relief flooding his system as he let his legs come down to a natural position. He wrapped his legs around Y/Nâs waist, heels digging into his ass as he pulled him as close as he could. Y/N took the hint, burying himself deep in Buck as his own dick spurted out cum.
Y/N grabbed Buckâs face, mouths hovering over each other as they breathed heavily. Whimpers fell from both their lips while Y/Nâs cum coated Buckâs inside, flooding the firefighter with warmth as he relished in the feeling.
The two men stayed still, bodies still connected as they came down from their climaxes. Y/N rested his head on Buckâs chest, humming softly as Buck stroked his hair absentmindedly.
âI love you,â Buck whispered.
Y/N groaned as he sat up, ignoring the sadness he felt as he pulled out. Buckâs hole fought the entire time, acting as a vacuum, trying to suck him back up into the vortex. If only he could stay seated inside of his boyfriend. Heâd never complain about anything again.
His mood was brought back up when Buckâs hole let out air, the sound filling the room much to Buckâs embarrassment. His puffy hole spit out copious amounts of cum with every deep breath he took. The sheets were ruined no doubt. A job well done if Y/N had anything to say about it. He grinned as he leaned down, pressing a kiss against Buckâs red cheek before he climbed off of the bed.
Buckâs eyes followed his every moments. He was still worried that Y/N could still leave, even after that entire mind blowing experience. âGetting up to put your things back where they belong?â he asked, hope lacing his words.
âFuck you,â Y/N scoffed.
Much to Y/Nâs dismay, Buck was right. He got up and grabbed his duffle bag off of the floor, zipping it open to put all his belongings back where they belonged. Buckâs heart swelled as he watched the sight.
âListen, Y/N, I heard everything you said. Iâm sorry that it took so long, but Iâm ready to listen to your needs,â Buck said, sitting up in the bed. âI took the next two weeks off. We can do or go whatever. On my dime.â
Y/N shook his head. Spending money on each other was the least of their shortcomings. âBuckâŠâ
âI canât let you go,â Buck said. âI wonât be able to sleep thinking about some other guy out there having what I had.â
Buck had to sit in silence for a moment, internally panicking as he wondered what Y/Nâs response was. There was nothing stopping him from still leaving. Y/N couldâve just felt bad for leaving him and decided to leave him a parting gift. It was an amazing parting gift if he was being honest, but he didnât want it to be one. He needed it to be anything but.
Y/N finished putting his stuff way and walked over to the bottom of the bed. Buck let himself be pulled to the edge, his legs instinctively wrapping around Y/N to keep him from going anyway. Y/N placed his hand under Buckâs chin, lifting his head so they were staring into each otherâs eyes. The lust had dissipated, and so had the anger, replaced with the same warmth Buck fell in love with on their first date.
âYou have one last chance, Evan,â Y/N told him. âOkay, thatâs a lie. You have like, five more. But thatâs it! I refuse to be an afterthought in my own relationships.â
âI promise Iâll make this relationship worth it,â Buck grinned. He snaked his arms around Y/Nâs neck. âSo, where do you want to go for two weeks? Last minute trip to Jamaica sounds fun.â
âNah,â Y/N shook his head. âWeâre staying right here the whole time.â
Buck gasped when Y/N not only shoved him back onto the bed, but flipped him onto his chest with ease. He did it with such ease, Buck felt like he weighed nothing. Laughter filled the room as an assault of kisses trailed up and down his neck once Y/N climbed on top of him. He was so busy trying to fight off the flurry of kisses, he didnât notice Y/Nâs hands reaching down and spreading Buckâs ass open.
The laughter subsided and his eyes widened when he felt something hard poking against his entrance. How the hell was he hard again? Despite wanting nothing more than to be fucked again and again by the man he loved, he needed a break. He was human, after all. The last round almost broke him down to a shell of a being, and that was less than five minutes ago.
Buck realized that no significant breaks would be happening, accepting it with graceâ and a soft moanâ Y/N pushed forward. Sliding into Buckâs creamy hole with a soft groan as he bottomed out, Y/N wasted no time in finding his rhythm, as fast and furious as it was before.
Buckâs eyes rolled as he buried his face in the pillow, moans and grunts spilling from his lips against his will. Donât get him wrong, he was ecstatic now that he had made up with Y/N, but he wished he didnât sign his soul over to the devil. With Y/N activated, and knowing Buck had no public appearances to make, the next two weeks were going to be nothing but nonstop torture.
Summary: Who wouldâve guessed spilling hot soup on yourself would lead to a pair of hot doctors bending you over.
Pairing: Jack Abbot x Ftm!Reader x Micheal Robinavitch
Word Count: 1.7k
Tags/Warnings: Injury (burns on chest and back), Spit roast, Eiffel Tower, old men kissing, cpr pacingÂ
Dr. Jack Abbott and Dr. Michael Robinavitch, two of the most prominent doctors in their ER. Two silver foxes that donât know that when they stand like that, arms crossed over their chest, eyes narrowed down at you, makes a certain heat pool not only in your face.Â
Youâre their neighborâ youâd been Robbyâs neighbor first but when Jack had a pipe burst in his apartment, he needed a place to crash for a while and they became roommatesâ and now youâre in their ER with a burn on your stomach and back.Â
When probed you admitted that you were making a soup and it spilled down your chest when you accidentally pressed against the radiator. Forgetting that it was the middle of October and the landlord had turned it up to almost dangerous temperatures. They gave each other exasperated looks before checking you out.Â
The last you heard about their job was that theyâre like charge doctors or somethingâ the last time they worked a shift together was during an emergency, a shooting somewhereâ and of course, the rare occasion that they do just so happened to be when you did something stupid.Â
Robby is behind you, his gloved pinky ghosting over your blistering skin while Jack is in front, staring at your chest. Itâs clearly the better half, the hot soup wasnât going to leave blisters like the radiator would. But he still puts on a pair of gloves and touches the skin. They both softly apologize whenever you hiss or flinch.Â
A couple of times they give each other knowing glances, some stupid doctor code youâre not privy to. At some point they swap, getting their second opinion on your wounds. âGood news,â Robby snaps his gloves off, tossing them into the trash. âIt wonât leave a scar,â
âGreat, cause I already have enough chest scars,â You joke, earning a playful eyeroll.Â
âBad news,â Jack steps from behind you. âYouâll need to avoid lying on your back until that heals. So, anywhere from two weeks to a month. And youâll need to keep it covered with bandages and an ointment. Thatâll help with any potential scarring and the healing process,â
You groan, rubbing your face. All of this because you wanted a stupid fucking chicken noodle soup.Â
â
It was supposed to be your unofficial final checkup on your burns. Robby and Jack had been keeping an eye on you whenever they came home from their shifts, fixing your bandages and applying the ointment. They said you were healed but wanted to make sureâ that was the original point of your joint visit.Â
Now, though, you were bent over your couch, Robby in front of you, his dick sliding across your tongue while Jack was behind you, his hands planted firmly on the plump flesh of your hips. Your hands grip the back of the couch, knees pressed into the cuts between the cushions while Jack rolls his hips against your ass, teasing you the same way Robby is. Theyâre basically ignoring you, just using you to get their dicks wet while they make out above you.Â
Itâs wet and sloppy, Robbyâs gripping the back of Jack's head like heâs afraid heâs going to disappear and when Jackâs hands leave your ass, they cradle Robbyâs face tenderly. Deep down, you know itâs hot but you canât see much without hurting your neck. So, instead you reach over, grab Robbyâs dick and wrap your lips around the tip.Â
He removes one hand from Jackâs head at the feeling, placing it on the back of yours and slowly guides you further onto his cock. Heâs gentle, where when Jack notices, he places his hand over Robbyâs and shoves your face further before he slams into you. âBe gentle,â Robby cooes, petting your face as you moan, looking up at him with wet eyelashes. âHeâs not even medically cleared yet.â That makes the two of them chuckle, probably some medical inside joke you donât get.Â
âRight, âm sorry, sweetheart,â Jack leans down, kissing your spine. âBut your pretty mouth just looks so good around his cock, canât help myself.â The compliment makes your stomach twistâ youâd been almost yearning for the two of them for months. You, admittedly, started basing your schedule around the two of them. Taking out the trash without a shirt during the usual time Robby comes back from work, checking your mail and making small talk on your back up with Jack after his shifts. Sometimes throwing in a small arm graze, laughing too hard at his jokes.
And shit, it paid off.Â
âYou paying attention?â Robby asks, wiping some spit from your jaw. Looking up at him, he sees you trying to smile but with his dick so far down your throat, itâs difficult. He gives a small, encouraging nod that makes you clench around Jack.Â
From behind you, Jack laughs. âThink heâs cock-drunk,â He says, voice a little strained by his own moans. âGod, his mouth sounds amazing,â Jackâs eyes trail up from where heâs fucking up to your head, his ears tuning in to the way youâre gagging around Robby, how that mixed with the spit makes it sound like a damn film set.Â
Robby leans his head back, dragging his hands over your head, pushing your nose against his pelvis. âHe is,â When he lets go, you pull from him, gasping as a trail of spit connects your tongue to his dick. âWanna try something?â The way he says it, something about the slight humor in it makes it hard for you to resist. He has the same hold on Jack too because he agrees without hesitation. â120 BPM?âÂ
Jack stills inside of you for a moment, his chest buckling as he chuckles before fully agreeing. Youâre still holding onto the couch with one hand, catching your breath while stroking Robbyâs dick. The skin pulls over the head, veins running along the palm of your hand, twitching every so often. When Jack starts moving again, you lurch forward, holding onto the couch again, slowly you start to realize the pacing is the same one they use for CPR.Â
He punctuates each thrust with his hips snapping against your ass, his fingers slowly guiding up your naked body like he was mapping out your skin before his fingers grip the back of your head. âWeâre sharing, remember,â He taunts, pushing your face towards Robbyâs neglected cock. âCâmon, sweetheart. Say ahh,â Opening your mouth, you lay your tongue flat down while Robby slowly pushes inside. âYeah, there you go,â Putting his hands back on the bottom of your hips, Jack lifts a leg up to the couch. He needs to be deeper, to feel all of you.Â
Robbyâs holding his face, feeling the heat rushing through his body at the sight in front of him. Your swollen lips sliding across his dick, the sweat building on your body, your ass jiggling with each full thrust from Jack. Jack nearly loses himself inside of you, biting his lip because he wants to say the filthy things rushing through his head but canât. The whites of his knuckles as they hold you.Â
His eyes lift up from your ass, finding Robbyâs and he grins, motioning down to you. Youâre a whining mess between the two of them, full on both sides and still trying to take more of them. Youâd been so eager to take them, let them flip you over and take your clothes offâ even thanked Robby when he dipped back into his apartment to grab a bottle of lube.Â
Heâs not even doing any work at this point, you and Jack are doing plenty and heâs simply reaping the benefits. Your tongue circling around him, cheeks hallowed around his dick, eyes playfully stuck on himâ a part of him wants to pull out, to hear you clearly but⊠fuck. Heâs so close, heâs right there and he canât stop now.Â
Guiding his hand across your face, Robby commits your face to his memory before his eyes sealed shut, tossing his head back. You can feel him twitching inside of you, the head tilting up and grazing along the roof of your mouth with each of Jackâs thrusts before you taste him. The salty spurts of cum paint your mouth, falling down your throat without you having to swallow as Robby lets out low moans.Â
When he pulls out, his limp dick slides across your lips and chin, smearing whatâs left of his cum on your face and you grin, lapping it up. âF-ahâ feel better?â You ask.Â
âOh, he definitely does,â Jack laughs while Robby nods, slowly blinking. âI think you just sucking him off tired the old man out,â
âHey,â Robby points at Jack. âIâm not old.â Nodding, you bite down on your bottom lip as Jack starts to falter. The once steady thrusts have a little hesitation in them, his grip keeps looseningâ heâs close. But his resolve is strong, he canât tap out so fast after Robby. Not after calling him an old man. He reaches over, pressing his stomach against your back and trails one of his hands to your t-dick.Â
He pinches the skin, stroking it as you moan into the fabric of the couch. âFuckâ Jack,â His eyes twinkle at the sound; heâd been right. Your moans, now unobstructed by Robbyâs dick, are amazing. He can see Robby cock twitching as you continue to moan, broken words barely escaping your lips.Â
Looking down at your back, he kisses along your spine, feeling you getting close to cumming before he will and grins. âYou close, hn?â When all you could muster was a nod in reply, he picked up his pace. Made each thrust full, punctuated and each stroke of your t-dick timed perfectly until you were unable to hold yourself up, voice strained as you pressed your head into the cushion. He felt you clenching around him, creaming across his cock and thatâs what broke him. What had his dick trembling inside of you as he came.Â
You panted as he pulled out, trying to suck air back into your lungs while Jack turned onto the couch before pulling you down with him. âRobby, you too,â He lazily calls while you nod, smiling when Robby stands and joins the cuddle.
Summary: You don't dance. Not unless you count the lethal rhythm of combat. But Adrian is determined to change your mind and won't take no for an answer.
A/N: Totally not inspired by my coworker and I dancing in the thunderstorm at work yeaterday night. Anyway, you guys cannot escape the new hyperfixation that I have with this man.
CW: Fluff
Words: 3.7k
The night had long since ended, its last echoes faded into the quiet hum of the sleeping house. Of the crowd that had filled the backyard just hours before, only three remained: Chris, a dark silhouette snoring softly on the living room couch; Adrian, who had excused himself hours ago to wash away the sticky residue of spilled beer; and you, perched on the porch steps, watching the world through the quiet, hazy filter of a beer bottle.
âThe backyard was a disaster, a silent testament to a good time. A lone speaker lay silent on the damp grass, a forgotten red Solo cup balanced precariously on its corner. Empty beer bottles and crumpled cans formed constellations across the lawn, their labels blurred by the first drops of rain.
âRain began to pour, a soft, steady rhythm against the roof's overhang. It soaked the parched grass and slicked the sidewalk, but your bare feet, sticking out from the safety of the porch, welcomed the cold spray. You loved the smellâa clean, earthy scent that was a stark contrast to the metallic tang of blood and stale gunsmoke that clung to your memories. It was a reminder of the two lives you lived: one that smelled of fresh rain and witnessed friends enjoying themselves, and another that smelled of death and dealt with it with those same friends.
âYou brought the beer bottle to your lips, the glass cool against your skin, your eyes still fixed on the starless sky. The rain speckled your glasses and soaked the cuffs of your pants, but you remained motionless, a sentinel in the storm.
âThe sliding door behind you hissed open, breaking the spell of the rain. The faint patter of bare feet on the hardwood floor followed, then the clean, familiar scent of your shampoo. Adrian, having traded the mess for a shower, sat down beside you on the step. He was wearing your old gray sweatshirt and a pair of your sweatpants that were clearly a bit too short on him, the cuffs riding up to reveal his ankles.
âYou didn't say a word, not even when he leaned his head against your shoulder. You could feel the warmth of his cheek through the thin fabric of your shirt and the soft brush of his freshly washed hair against your neck as he all but nuzzled into you.
The silence was broken by Adrianâs quiet voice. "Do you ever think about that scene in The Notebook?"
âYou didn't answer right away. Instead, you slowly lifted your hand and gently leaned your cheek against the top of his head. His hair was still slightly damp and smelled of a cheap, generic shampoo, but it was a comfort you hadn't realized you were missing. You honestly couldnât remember the last time you'd seen that movie, a distant memory of a rainy Saturday with your mom, a bowl of popcorn, and a story youâd found both sappy and painfully dull. The grand gestures felt hollow and alien, a world away from your own reality.
âYou finished the last of your beer, the bitter taste a perfect counterpoint to the sweetness of his question. "No, not really," you muttered, the words almost lost in the steady patter of the rain.
âAdrian flinched, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes, wide and almost childlike in the dim light, were filled with a mixture of shock and betrayal, as if you had just admitted to a grave sin or told him you were never his friend to begin with. He sat up straight, the sudden movement nearly sending him slipping down the slick wooden steps. He regained his balance with a small, undignified stumble, but the look of hurt was already gone, replaced by a mischievous glint.
â"Well, I'm going to fix that," he declared, his voice filled with an almost manic enthusiasm. He leapt to his feet, a blur of your too-big sweatshirt and too-short sweatpants, and sprinted off the porch. He didn't bother to lift his head, letting the cold rain pour down on his face and plaster his dark hair to his forehead. He skidded to a stop in the middle of the lawn, arms outstretched, looking up at the sky. A loud, exaggerated sigh escaped his lips. "It wasn't over! It still isn't over!" he bellowed into the night, the line from the movie echoing in the empty darkness of the backyard.
âYou chuckled, a low, quiet sound that was nearly swallowed by the rain. Leaning forward, you allowed the storm to break over your head, the cold water soaking your hair and shirt in an instant. Adrian was in the middle of the lawn, a soaked, shivering testament to dramatic movie moments. He'd started yelling lines from the movieâsomething about being a bird if she was a bird, his voice cracking with feigned emotion and genuine cold.
âA real smile, something warm and unfamiliar, spread across your lips. It wasn't the cynical, mocking smirk you wore in the other life. This was different, a genuine, unguarded curve of your mouth. Watching him, you were reminded of the sheer, unbridled joy youâd almost forgotten existed. The world he lived in, where a stolen kiss in the rain was the height of drama, was a world you could only visit. But watching him, so earnest and so entirely himself, made you want to stay in that world just a little while longer. You closed your eyes, letting the water run down your face, and let yourself just be for a moment.
When you finally opened your eyes, the world was a blurry mosaic of lights and rain. Adrian was no longer a soaked figure in the middle of the lawn. He was standing directly in front of you, a smile so wide and genuine it made your chest ache. Rain plastered his hair to his forehead, and his old, gray sweatshirt hung heavy and dark against his skin. He held out his hand, palm up, droplets of water glistening on his fingers.
âYou cocked an eyebrow, a slight hum of confusion leaving your lips. You looked from his outstretched hand to his bright, expectant eyes, then to the silly, happy-go-lucky grin plastered on his face. You reached up, pushing your now-wet glasses up the bridge of your nose as if the simple act of adjusting them would give you the answer you were looking for. "What?" you hummed.
âAdrian's smile softened, but the unwavering look in his eyes remained. "Dance with me," he said, his voice a low, earnest sound carried on the rhythm of the rain. He took a small step closer, not a dancer's step, but the simple, direct motion of someone who knew exactly what they wanted. "Dance in the rain with me."
âDance?
âThe word tasted foreign on your tongue, a concept so far removed from your reality it felt like a joke. You didn't dance, not in this way. Not with a soundtrack of movie quotes and rain on the roof. Dancing for you was a different kind of choreography. It was the quick shuffle of a knife across a throat, a fluid, deadly ballet of bodies and blades. It was the way you moved in sync with Adrian and Chris, a grim waltz of death and survival in a dark alley. Fighting was dancing for you, an art form of violence and precision. There was no room for twirling or romantic gestures when the stakes were life and death.
âYou just sat there, the dork standing in front of you so utterly sincere that the contrast was almost painful. He was offering you a moment of pure, cinematic romance, and all you could think about was that you don't dance.
"I don't dance, Adrian," you mumbled, your voice barely audible over the patter of the rain. It was a lie, of course, but not in the way he thought. You didn't dance, not to music and not with a partner in the way he was suggesting. You hoped the words would be enough, that he would let the matter go. But the look in his eyes told you he wasn't going to. He'd never been one to give up on a bit of romantic fantasy.
"Of course you do," he said, a casual shrug of his shoulders as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He knelt down in front of you on the wet step, his gaze unwavering. "Pretty boys always dance."
The words felt both teasing and sincere, a simple statement of a truth he saw but you refused to acknowledge. Before you could protest again, he reached out, his hand wrapping around yours. His skin was cold from the rain, but his touch was surprisingly warm and steady. A jolt, not of electricity but of pure, simple human contact, ran up your arm. It was so unlike the purposeful grip of a weapon or the quick, firm clasp of a handshake meant to seal a deal.
Adrian pulled, a gentle but firm tug that drew you from the safety of the porch and out into the deluge. The cold water instantly soaked through your pants, chilling you to the bone. You stumbled for a moment, your feet sinking into the soft, wet grass. He didn't let go, instead pulling you towards the one relatively clear spot on the lawn, where the beer bottles and cups were less dense.
You came to a stop in a small clearing beneath the fairy lights strung from a low-hanging branch, their soft, yellow glow a stark contrast to the darkness of the sky. The rain poured down heavier here, no longer a soft patter but a steady, drumming beat on your clothes and skin. The clouds had parted just enough for a pale sliver of moonlight to break through, illuminating the droplets of rain as they fell, making them look like a million tiny, glistening diamonds.
You stood there, a dazed statue in the rain, caught between the two lives you led. The feeling of his hand in yours, the softness of the light, the rhythmic sound of the downpourâit was all so real and so foreign. Adrian let go of your hand, only to slide his hands to your hips, a hopeful, goofy smile still on his face.
Adrian didn't start with a real dance. He simply shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a gentle, rocking sway that was more like a slow, patient motion than a waltz. He smiled, a soft, encouraging look in his eyes, and with his hands still resting on your hips, he began to guide you in the same simple rhythm.
The cold, wet fabric of your jeans stuck to your legs, and the grass beneath your bare feet was slick and soft. But with every gentle rock, the tension you had been holding onto all night began to slowly seep out of you. This wasn't the kind of dance you were used to. There was no pain, no purpose, no deadly intent. This was just Adrian, his warmth radiating through the cold, wet air, pulling you along in a rhythm so simple and pure it felt almost alien.
You leaned your head against his shoulder, letting the rain and the fairy lights blur into a shimmering haze. You could feel the soft thrum of his heartbeat against your chest and the even deeper comfort of his presence. Your arms, which had been hanging stiffly by your sides, slowly came up to wrap around his waist, your hands linking behind him. You could feel the cold, wet fabric of his sweatshirt and his skin beneath it, warm and firm.
This wasn't dancing. This was just standing in the rain with Adrian, the world a beautiful, quiet mess around you. It was a moment of peace you didnât know you were capable of having.
Adrian's gentle sway became something more. He shifted his weight with a grace you didn't know he possessed, turning you slowly in the small, open space of the lawn. His hands slid from your hips to one of your hands, and he raised it between you, a silent invitation to a proper dance. The rain fell heavier now, a thick curtain of sound that muted everything else. A distant rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, a natural soundtrack to this ridiculous, wonderful moment.
Your surprise must have been written all over your face because Adrian's smile widened. He leaned in close, his mouth near your ear, his voice a shout over the din of the storm. "I knew you could dance!"
You didn't have time to respond before he was moving, a lightness in his step that you'd never seen before. He guided you in a simple waltz, a few fluid steps to the left, then to the right. It wasn't perfect, you stumbled over a patch of grass and he laughed, but it was real. This was the same guy who, at every party, would perform a silly little "butt dance" he'd invented, a ridiculously goofy jig meant to make everyone laugh. This was a different man entirely.
He twirled you away from his body, his grip light and confident, and for a brief, dizzying second, you were alone in the rain, the fairy lights a blurred ribbon of gold around you. Then, just as quickly, he pulled you back in, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into the warmth of his chest.
You looked up at him, your head tilted back, water running down your face. "I wasn't aware you even knew how to dance like this," you shouted back, the words a raw confession of your surprise. You had seen him fight, seen him angry, seen him laugh until he cried. But you had never seen this, this quiet, graceful part of him that felt as foreign and welcome as the soft glow of the fairy lights in the storm.
Adrian's smile softened, turning from goofy and charming to something far more intimate. He didn't answer right away. Instead, he pulled you in closer, until there was no space left between your bodies, the rain be damned. The rhythmic beat of the storm on the surrounding flora and the roof of the porch was all that could be heard.
He rested his forehead against yours, his nose bumping gently against the bridge of your glasses. "There's a lot you don't know about me," he murmured, his voice now a low, rumbling sound that was just for you. "But this is my favorite part of me, and I wanted to share it with you."
You didn't know what to say. The usual, sarcastic remarks were lost somewhere in the pounding rain, and your brain couldn't form the words. The only thing you could focus on was Adrian's closeness, the warmth of his skin, and the way his breath was misting on your lips.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes, dark and glistening with rain, searching yours for something. You found yourself unable to look away, as if you were drowning in his gaze. He traced your jaw with his thumb, his touch light and gentle. He was looking at you as if he had just discovered the last bit of treasure at the end of a treasure hunt.
The silence that fell between you was a language all its own, a quiet space filled with unspoken words and feelings. The fairy lights twinkled in your peripheral vision, and the rain washed everything away, leaving only the two of you in the middle of a perfect storm.
You didn't think about it. You just acted. You leaned in, closing the small distance between you and Adrian, and pressed your lips against his. The kiss was as soft and simple as the dance heâd just led you through, the perfect culmination of the rain, the fairy lights, and the quiet confessions between you. He kissed back immediately, his lips moving against yours with a gentle, surprised certainty. He tasted of the cold rain and something else entirelyâsomething sweet and full of a hope you hadn't realized you were so desperate for.
He went to shift his weight, to take a step, and that's when it happened. His bare foot, cold and numb from the downpour, slipped against the slick, muddy grass. The graceful spell of the dance shattered in an instant. The kiss broke as Adrianâs arms went wide, his body flailing to find balance. It was no use. The two of you smacked against the cold, wet ground beneath, the impact jarring the breath from your lungs.
Adrian landed on top of you, his body a heavy, warm weight against your own. The cold, soggy grass squished against your back, soaking through the thin fabric of your shirt in an instant. The rain continued to pour down, a relentless rhythm against your face and hair.
"Oh my God," Adrian groaned, his voice filled with a mixture of embarrassment and panic. His elbows were pressed into the wet ground on either side of your head, holding himself up as he looked down at you. His eyes were wide with a sincere apology. "I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry! Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" He was muttering the apologies over and over, the words tumbling out in a frantic, panicked stream.
You just laid there, the cold ground beneath you, the rain on your face, and Adrian's warmth above you, your heart hammering against your ribs. You didnât say anything, but a genuine smile, the same one from earlier, slowly spread across your lips.
You couldn't help but laugh, a genuine, breathless sound that bubbled up from deep in your chest. "I'm fine," you managed to gasp out, trying to push him up as you continued to giggle. "I'm okay, Adrian."
His panicked look was replaced with a shy, embarrassed grin. Before he could apologize again, he leaned down, his eyes still fixed on yours, and kissed you. This time it was deeper, more confident, a warm, soft pressure against your mouth that promised something more. You were just starting to kiss him back, losing yourself in the moment, when the world was split apart.
A blinding flash of lightning lit up the entire sky, turning the gray rain into a brilliant, stark white. It struck a few hundred feet away, a massive, brilliant tree-like branch of light that you could feel as much as see. A second later, a deafening crack of thunder shook the very ground beneath you, a sound so immense it made your eardrums ache.
The moment was shattered. Adrian scrambled back, his hands still on your hips, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and amusement. "Okay, that's our cue," he said, his voice a panicked but thrilled whisper.
You didn't need any more encouragement. You scrambled up, your movements clumsy and uncoordinated as you tried to find your footing in the slick grass. Adrian pulled you along, his hand still holding yours, and the two of you bolted for the house, trying not to trip over the scattered beer bottles and cans. You slipped once, but he caught you, his grip tight and reassuring. Your laughter mixed with his as you sprinted for the sliding glass door, a whirlwind of soaked clothes, cold rain, and shared adrenaline.
You burst through the door and slammed it shut, panting and out of breath. The cold air of the air-conditioned house hit your wet skin and made you shiver, but the feeling of the rain and mud was instantly replaced by the warmth of the living room. You leaned against the wall, watching the storm rage through the glass. Adrian, equally soaked, leaned beside you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The sound of the thunder was now a low, distant grumble, and the frantic drumming of the rain on the glass was a soft, comforting background noise. You looked at him, and he looked at you, and for a moment, the world of wet clothes and messy hair and drunken parties and deadly violence all fell away. There was only the sound of your shared breaths, the storm outside, and the silent, unspoken promise of a second kiss.
You and Adrian stood there for a long moment, the silence broken only by the distant grumble of thunder. His eyes, still sparkling with rain and light, held a quiet question that you didn't need to ask. He reached out and gently took your hand, tugging you away from the door and toward the couch where Chris was still passed out.
"Let's get you warm," he murmured, his voice now low and calm, a stark contrast to his earlier panicked shouts.
He found a dry blanket draped over the armchair, a relic from someone else's comfortable night, and wrapped it around your shoulders. The thick wool was a welcome warmth against your shivering, wet skin. Adrian then peeled off his soaked sweatshirt, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. He shivered, but the look in his eyes never left yours.
"I'm sorry I dropped you," he said, the apology feeling small and insignificant after everything else.
You shook your head, a smile still playing on your lips. "I told you I was okay. It was the most perfect way to ruin a moment."
He laughed, a soft, fond sound. He sat down on the couch, pulling you down next to him, and pulled the blanket over your lap. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you impossibly closer.
"You know," he whispered, his voice a warm rumble against your ear. "It wasn't that long ago that Noah was telling Allie in the movie, 'We're going to have to do that again.' And I thought it was so cheesy. But I think I get it now."
He gently lifted your chin so you were looking up at him, and his thumb brushed against your wet cheek. The outside world could be a storm, a mess of blood and violence and impossible choices, but in this moment, there was just him, and you, and the warm, simple truth of his words.
"We have to do that again," he said, his smile full of a soft, endearing hope.
He leaned in, and this time, there was no slipping, no tripping, no flash of lightning. Just a long, sweet, and perfect kiss. You were exactly where you were supposed to be.
Summary: Reader has a son who studies and is best friends with Harrison. On the day of their theater school presentation, Cassie has a little problem and Reader solves everything. (And gets a kiss as a thank you.)
WordC: 3.1k
Category: fluffy, Cassie with her ankle monitor, Reader is DOWN BAD
Everything was fine. Cassie had gone everywhere possible, told everyone who would listen to her case, and yet this was still happening.
She should have already removed, as she affectionately nicknamed it, the âfucking thingâ from her ankle, but of course the world would complicate her life and the police would drag their feet so much that she wouldn't be able to remove it on the scheduled date.
However, it was supposed to be deactivated by now, completely deactivated, and only weighing down one of her heels. Tomorrow morning she would take care of it, with a lot of hatred, but she would take care of it.Â
Now she would remain seated watching the play that Harrison had begged her to go to, which coincidentally fell on the day she would be able to take a different route that wasn't just home > work > home.
Harrison was a scarecrow, a very handsome one at that. She had asked Javadi for help with his makeup, and she had never taken so many photos with her cell phone as she did today. She was enchanted by his costume and his animation.
And everything would have gone well, it was perfect, if it weren't for the last 15 minutes when it started beeping. Cassie was sitting in the audience, luckily in one of the last seats in the row, and obviously it was inevitable that people would look, even the children on stage, with the unbearable noise it made, but she quickly managed to get out to any other room she saw in front of her and thought it was far enough away to stop the noise.
Her steps through the corridors and rooms were quick and full of curses. They confirmed that it was already turned off and there was no need to worry, just show up there tomorrow to have it removed, but that in general, she was free to wander around.
And she was grateful that she was alone because she was sure she could punch someone now and get more time.
âThey made it clear to me that it was already turned off and I just needed to come back tomorrow to remove it. I don't understand the problem, I had already talked to them!â
You heard her clearly irritated voice from inside the art room. You weren't sure why you ran after her when you saw her leaving the auditorium in a bit of a panic, but you were here now and you were going to do something.
âI can't leave here now and go home, just turn it off, I'm already out!â
This time she sounded more muffled, she seemed very frustrated with the situation. After the commotion inside stopped, you knocked on the door and stuck your face through the crack to look at her.
You and Cassie had an intriguing relationship, your children were friends, good friends. Harrison ended up taking him in when you moved and had to put him in another school. It was an intense change, mainly because of your child's rigidity with socialization and change in general.
But little McKay made his life much easier, and yours too.
Since then, you've been exchanging messages and conversations with Cassie, nothing much beyond parent talk and arrangements to take them out, sleepovers, and things like that, mostly, almost 100% of the time, you were the one to ask to take them to some activity, but it was never a problem. You had already heard from Harrison that his mother worked at a hospital and at first you thought she was just too busy to deal with it.
âI've never heard a cell phone ring so loud,â you commented when you saw her leaning on one of the drawing tables, her hands almost scratching the material with force. She lowered the waistband of her pants as soon as she saw you.
You noticed her discomfort as soon as you got a better look at her face.
âEverything okay here?â you said, closing the door behind you.
âYeah...â she said, sliding one hand across her face, trying to play it off. âI'm just going to have to leave early, Harrison is going to kill me.â
âI can take him away as soon as we're done, no problem.â
She laughed without humor, not out of disdain, but out of embarrassment at the situation.
âSorry, I didn't want to have to ask you to do that, you don't have to.â
âIt's not like he wouldn't enjoy eating a hamburger after his show.â That had been your main plan from the beginning. Well, in a way, you had already âaccidentallyâ mentioned to your son in Harrison's presence that you would be going out to eat afterwards, the small beginning of your plan to ask Cassie out with you as well.
She gave a real giggle this time, still covering part of her face.
âYeah, he'll definitely like it.â She sighed again and looked at you. It was strange, the situation itself made your body go limp, the dim light in the art room and the terrible setting for the little romance you had been developing in your head and trying to stop. âWeren't you supposed to be there watching too?â
âWell, my son was one of the yellow bricks in the fifth and sixth scenes.â You tried to hold back your laughter, which didn't help Cassie, who tried to do the same.
âI hope he's happy at least.â
âOh no, of course, yellow is one of his favorite colors.â
Your laughter echoed through the school, and Cassie tried to pretend it didn't calm her down.
âPlease tell him it was a problem at work. God, they changed the date of this performance so many times, and I still managed to mess it up.â
âI'm sure he'll be happy that you watched so much of it.â You smiled slightly, as if you knew things she didn't. It couldn't have been that long ago; you had watched most of the rehearsals for this play, since your son was so keen for you to see him dressed as a bricklayer. âI'll get the recording of the rest for you.â
McKay smiled awkwardly and sighed before getting up, passing you and lightly touching your shoulder.
âThank you.â Her voice came out lower, and you were about to risk your son's sleepovers there. It seemed like the perfect moment to ask her out, but the question got stuck in your throat. Would it be fair to ruin your son's friendship with little McKay because you can't stop thinking about the boy's mother in every possible way?
But she left, you heard the click of her car keys jingling with each step, and when the door closed behind you, you needed a few moments to calm down to return to the real world.
â
When the applause began and the children took their places on stage to receive cheers and congratulations, you made sure to cheer louder for Harrison too. And of course, record the finish for Cassie.
As you joined the boys, you already knew that Harrison was looking for his mother in the crowd that was talking and passing between you.
âHey, buddy.â Your voice was affectionate, your hand stroking your son's back, still painted yellow. âYour mom kept talking about how amazing you were, she just had to left for an emergency at work.â
With each word, you noticed that his expression changed meaning, he seemed confused, happy, and a little disappointed at the same time.
âWould you like to join us for a snack? I'll let you have a soda AND a milkshake.â
It wasn't quite enough to make Harrison completely happy, but it seemed to make him happy enough, especially since your son was practically screaming with joy.
With the two of them sitting in the back seat of the car, you wished so much that Cassie was there. You were used to driving with the passenger seat empty, but the situation itself called for her to be there.
You pulled into the first drive-thru you saw, and before you could continue with the orders, you turned to the kids.
âHow about we take a snack to your mom instead of eating here, little Harry?â
âBut there's no playground at their house,â your son commented with a slight frown.
âBut it would be nice to take food to Harrison's mom, don't you think?â You said, turning to look at him while Harrison seemed to think. âShe always lets him go out with you, buddy. It's a way of saying thank you.â
You gently squeezed his feet with a smile and he smiled back, you were right. Harrison agreed and smiled too, very happy to think of his mother, he also made it very clear what she liked and disliked in a hamburger.
You sighed with relief after picking up the snacks, your plan already in motion. You thought it was a bit of a low blow to use the kids, but Jesus, you had been waiting so long for this presentation and to see her like this, you had to at least try.
Still in the parking lot, you took a picture of the two of them with the snack packages in their hands and sent it to Cassie, of course, letting part of your face show in the frame. You weren't that naive.
> Ready to eat!
Cassie viewed it so quickly, she was probably still lying on the couch lamenting the situation.
> Cute! Tell Harrison not to overdo it on the sweets tho.
You didn't say anything to Harrison, you just replied to them - who were teasing you to at least start eating the chips before you got to his home - that they could take them and sent another message to Cassie.
> Do you mind if we come over to your place? I mean, are you already there?
This time it took a while, she read it and tapped her fingers on the phone, pondering what to answer.
> No, it's fine, I'm already home.
Your body vibrated with joy, and you had to make up some silly, funny video to answer to the boys when they asked why you were smiling so much at your phone.
âI didn't hear any elephants laughing on your phone,â your son replied, and you almost felt the need to ground him for that.
âIt was on my headphones,â you replied as you put your phone in your pocket and went back to driving, this time to the McKay family's address. You had already dropped the boy off there a few times.
âYou know it's illegal to drive with headphones on, right?â It was Harrison's turn to comment, but you couldn't ground him.
âI'm not wearing them, don't worry, let's just eat these chips, okay?â Your hand reached to the backseats and made sure to steal some chips from the two children, who protested before you continued driving.
A few minutes later, you were standing in front of Cassie's apartment intercom with at least four takeout bags and two hungry and tired children.
âYeah?â Her voice came muffled from the intercom, and before you could think of a polite way to respond, Harrison shouted from behind you, âHi, Mom!â
She chuckled and opened the door. âYou don't have to come down, I'll help him carry the food,â you explained and went up with him before she could say a thousand times how it was very sweet, but wasn't necessary.
When she greeted you at the door, she was already in her pajamas, or at least what you thought they were: a worn-out T-shirt with a really cool David Bowie print and sweatpants that had a strange bulge at the left heel. Not that you were paying much attention to her details, like the fact that the makeup she had put on for the performance wasn't completely smudged, how there was still a little red lipstick on her lips, and the eyeliner definitely hadn't come off her face.
Her breathing faltered for a moment, she tilted her head slightly to the side, staring at you.
âThat seems like a lot of food for one child.â Her voice didn't sound disapproving, even though the sentence seemed to imply it.
âI thought the child's mother might enjoy a snack too.â
She opened her mouth slightly, her eyebrows raised as if thinking about how to respond. You were very prepared to have a moment with her today, even if it was in the middle of a silly dinner with your children.
âWell, then, thank you.â She said as Harrison walked in with one of the packages under Cassie's arm, and yourson followed him.
âHey, heyââ You started, about to call your son back. You weren't going to walk in without being invited, of course, but this just ended up helping your side.
Cassie laughed as she watched the boys come in and head straight for the couch with the snacks in their hands. She bit her cheek, pondering what to say or do.
âWould you like to come in and eat too?â
And she didn't need to ask again.
You both sat down at the small kitchen table, which had a clear view of the living room, where the two boys were watching cartoons while eating their snacks, clearly unconcerned with the events of the presentation now.
Cassie turned to look at them and then turned her attention back to you.
âThank you, you didn't have to bring me anything.â She waited for you to take the food out of the packages.
You began to eat in silence, not exactly uncomfortable, but you felt the heat on the back of your neck, your mind almost begging you to do something.
âCome on, I insist, Cassie.â Her name sounded so beautiful in your voice. âHarrison made it very clear what you like and don't like, so I don't think you'll be disappointed.â
âOh my god.â She put one hand on her forehead, smiling awkwardly. âHe made me sound very demanding, didn't he?â
She smiled and took a sip of soda while looking at you, her gaze complicating things a lot at the moment.
âDon't worry, I was already looking for an excuse to buy you dinner anyway.â
She smiled awkwardly again and you felt too direct for a moment.
âWell, hamburgers aren't exactly the dinner I had in mind for a first date, but I guess that's what we have for now.â There was silence after you spoke again, and you weren't sure if you had screwed up or not.
She got up with one of the boys' leftover potato chip plates in her hands and went to the kitchen counter. After putting it in the sink, she turned to face you, her hip leaning against the counter.
âYou know my problem earlier was because of...â She didn't finish the sentence, just lifted the hem of her pants, revealing the electronic in her ankle.
You looked down at it and back at her, too quickly.
âI know.â Cassie's face looked so confused that you almost laughed. She thought it was something that was really hidden from everyone, or well, from most people.
âAnd yet you're still standing here with me?â There was so much doubt in her question, so much uncertainty. She was smiling nervously again, as if she were embarrassed by that type of attention.
âHarrison once briefly mentioned something that hinted at it, it wasn't hard to connect the dots.â You explained and tilted your head slightly as you looked at her.
You put your snack on the table and stood up, your hands resting on the table behind you, the soles of your feet touching lightly against hers.
âIt turns out that their presentation took so long to get a definite date because I was trying to guess from Harrison's terrible hints when your domestic torment would end.â
You pointed to her ankle after speaking, and she remained silent for a long time, staring at you in a way that you couldn't tell if it was appreciation, disbelief, or something else more profound.
âWhy would you do that?â
âWhy wouldn't I?â The answer came out of your mouth very automatically because the reason seemed so obvious.
She didn't respond, still somewhat incredulous.
âHarrison was really excited for you to go.â
âJust like all the other kids and parents, it is- it is normal, I-â She didn't know what to say exactly, still somewhat incredulous.
âI wanted him to see you there.â
It was easy to use the kids as an excuse again. Not that it was a complete lie, you wanted him to see her there, but you also wanted to see her there. Jesus, you would make up any excuse to see her in person for more than 10 minutes.
âNot just him.â You moved a little closer to her, your hands in your back pockets, leaving a gentle distance for her to leave, but at the same time enough so that if she decided to stay, you would understand.
âI see.â She smiled slightly, one finger going to her mouth, as if she were embarrassed, and she was, her ears clearly red. âSo this was all your plan then?â
âWell, you complicated part of it, but it worked out in the end.â
âOh, so it's over then?â Cassie said with greater confidence this time, as if testing you and now very interested in it.
You felt your cheeks burn and moved closer again, one step closer, more tense now, one of your hands resting at the side of her hip, leaning on the counter.
âI mean, unless you don't mind continuing...â
She sighed and laughed, shaking her head.
âMy God, just stop with these allegories.â It was the last thing she said before moving her hands to your neck and pulling you close, leaving a kiss on your lips that made you melt.
Your free hand went to her hip, pulling her closer, you could feel her warm breath against your face and a little of her skin sliding through your fingers as you caressed her waist.
It was only when she pulled away a little that you realized how much air you were missing and how immersed in the kiss you had become.
âYou should have focused on the plan to have dinner alone if you were going to come with all this excitement.â She smiled, still close to your face, you could feel her warm breath against your nose.
âYeah,â you murmured, still a little dazed. âI guess so.â
You two were so focused on the moment that you didn't even notice when the two children stopped near the table and stared at you both, saying âEwâ in unison.
Thinking about Dana Evans letting her younger transmasc partner try topping via strap for the first time...
Cw: smut/nsfw content, transmasc reader, age gap relationship, subtop! reader and softdombottom! Dana, strap usage + pentrative vaginal sex (Dana receiving), praise kink, petnames used (good boy, big boy, sweet boy, etc.), hickeys mentioned, brief cockwarming, he/him pronouns used once for the reader at the end
A/n: this isn't meant to be long or a great big thing, hence the different format than usual. It's just a little idea that I had bouncing around in my head that I wanted to share with y'all đ«¶
You'd used a strap with her on the receiving end before, but it was always you on the bottom and her on top, your hips desperately bucking upwards into her while she gazed down at you with lustful eyes, riding you to her satisfaction until she was done.
Tonight, though, you were going to be trying something a little different: for once, you'd be the one on top, the one taking control. Well, physically, anyway.
"That's it, there we go," she murmured encouragingly when you pushed inside, gently easing the tip of your silicone cock into her entrance, which was already wet from your attentive foreplay. "Such a good boy you are for me, already doing so well."
You felt your face heat up at her praise, a low whine escaping you as you did your best not to shove it in the rest of the way. Good boys didn't do that; good boys waited and did what they were told.
The gold from her necklace shimmered in the dim light, giving you something to focus on throughout the event so you wouldn't lose your mind completely. Next to it, dark purple marks had bloomed across her skin like a field of wisteria, a clear display of your earlier desperation to claim her like the needy little thing that you were.
"Easy, big boy. Don't bite off more than you can chew," came her voice in a slightly teasing tone as you bottomed out, resisting the urge to start thrusting right away. "Just sit here with me for a moment, okay? Do you think you can do that for me?"
One of her hands reached up to cradle the side of your face, your eyes fluttering shut while you nuzzled affectionately against her warm skin, placing soft kisses to her palm as a show of tender obedience. You ached with the need to move, to make her feel good, but you wanted to behave.
It felt like an eternity for you, being stuck there like that, but eventually she gave you the go ahead. Not before playing with you a little bit more, though. "You wanna move, big boy, hm? Wanna make me proud?" Dana cooed, her hand slipping from your face upwards so she could scratch at your scalp in the way she knew you liked.
Her words were met with a whimper of pure need, your eyes pleading as they met hers, hoping to convince her to decide in your favor. At that, she chuckled, and her hand moved yet again to grasp gently onto your chin.
"What a sweet little thing you are. Such a sweet boy for me." Her tone was dripping with honey and condescension as she gave your face a light squeeze. "Go ahead, sweet boy. Make me proud."
It was then that you finally did what you'd been begging for all along, hips snapping forward insistently as soon as you were allowed to. She sighed in pleasure and tilted her head back, eyes fluttering shut and mouth parting as a chorus of groans and hums exited her lips.
Your movements were sloppy and fast, strap pushing in deep before pulling out again, her arousal almost gushing out onto the sheets below due to the pure intensity of your actions. Propped up on your arms, you braced yourself against the mattress so you wouldn't topple over amidst your greedy rutting.
You felt as though you could keep going forever and never stop, but soon she was arriving at her destination, arms wrapping around your neck so her nails could dig into your shoulder blades as a grounding mechanism. The combined noises between you grew louder than ever, her delighted moans mixing with your pathetic pants and filling the room completely with sinful sound.
Per usual, you kept going even after she'd finished until you heard the gentle coaxing from her to stop. "Alright, good boy, I think that's enough for now."
A mewl of resistance left your throat, and you gave a few more weak thrusts before collapsing on top of her, both of you covered in sweat and exhausted, but happy. You pressed your face into the space of skin between her breasts, inhaling her scent as her fingers trailed along where your arm rested beside you.
"Such a good boy for me," she spoke in a fond lull, watching you with an admiring gaze as you fought to catch your breath. "My sweet boy did so well, didn't he? What a big boy you are, getting on top for once. Your first time doing it, and you did such a good job. I'm so proud of you, do you hear me? So proud."
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observant victoria javadi who loves staring ⥠tw nsfw
victoria who could be at the other side of the er, but she would still be staring at you instead of doing her charts.
when she's around you, you can't stop yourself from getting nervous because of the way she looks at you, the way she follows every move you take with an unreadable expression. you never know if she's judging you or if she wants to eat you alive.
girlfriend!victoria javadi who's always holding you in bed when she stays over your apartment, so she can stare at your face while you sleep. And if you suddenly wake up? She won't even try to deny the fact that she was staring at you like a weirdo, claiming that you look the cutest when you're asleep.
she's so attentive to your needs. she quickly notices by the way you act or by the expression in your face if you're feeling sad or happy. you're complaining more than usual at work and walking slower, almost like you're dragging yourself?? she knows it means that you're tired and needs extra rest when you get home, which means javadi inviting herself to your apartment to take care of you. âĄ
rival!victoria javadi who keeps watching you from afar, being so irritated at you for daring to compete with her that she silently judges you... she knows it's mean but she can't help it. She judges the way you walk, the way your laugh sounds, the way your hands move and how they would fit perfectly around her body, the way the clothes you wear after the end of the shift fit make you look so good she wishes she could see it more often... wait.
javadi who can't keep her eyes off you during sex. she can tell if you're close just by looking at your face, just by hearing how loud your moans are.
she won't let you take your eyes off her either. She wants you to adore her, to look at her with the same admiration she looks at you. She needs to know how much you love her just by looking at your eyes.
Just a bi-curious Frank Langdon that is getting fingered and making out with his roommate.
Light Tone, Playful Male!Reader, Fingering & Making out (just to shut up the other)
Frank Langdon sat on one of your thighs, his weight fully on you as your hand was between his legs and slowly fingering in and out of his ass. He had his hands on both your shoulders, his head in the crook of your neck as he panted at the sensation.
"You're taking it better than expected." You chuckled into the side of Frank's neck.
He shuddered a breath "You had expectations?"
You hummed. "I expected you to fuss a bit more?"
"Fuss? I agreed to-- ugh." He groaned as you scratched at just the right place.
"Ooh," you cooed. "Is that it, pretty boy? Is that where you like it?" You breathed into his ear and forced a shiver out of his body.
"You're enjoying this far too much..."
"Can you blame me? Pretty boy ken is riding my fingers and making the sweetest of noises."
"Shut up."
You chuckled. "If you really want me to." You pulled his jaw with your other hand forcing him to face you. You leaned forward, lips a breath away from his. "I'm sure you can find a way."
He glared at you through lidded eyes before crashing his lips onto yours. His tongue parting your lips as he explored your mouth. You moaned into the kiss, your one hand resting on his jaw as the other quickened its pace inside of him.
He moaned into your mouth as he involuntarily bucked his hips forward, pushing his hard-on into you.
You shallowed in the moan, pulling him into a deeper kiss, you pulled away slightly to comment: "That good, huh, Frankie?"
"Do you ever shut up?"
"Not when you glaring at me whole I'm fingering so good into you. It's an amusing sight really, i wish you could see it." Your hand travelled down his jaw to his chest and rested right on top of his abdomen just above his throbbing cock. "And I can make you feel so much better if you just ask me to."
He huffed, trying to look annoyed, but you didn't miss the shudder that ran down his body and the bob of his Adam's apple as he shallowed down after your offer.
"Do what you have to..." he averted his eyes.
"Have too?" You smiled. "Baby boy, that's not how you--" You pushed your fingers into him. He gasped at the punch of pleasure and collapsed forward and into you "Not how you ask for things, is it?" You breathed into his ear before nipping at it.
"Shit, fuck, fine, please. Fuck."
"You can do better--"
He hissed your name, interrupting you.
You laughed into the side of his neck. "okay, I got the message."
You finally grabbed hold of him and he let out a stranggled groan.
Predicting that you'd comment on his reaction, he pulled you into a kiss before you could get a word in.
You gasped in the kiss and began stroking his dick in rhythm with you fingering into him. He whined into your mouth and you pulled away to hear more of him.
Kissing down his neck, you rested your lips on his Adam's apple.
"Come on, Frank. Give in for me. You know you want to." You nipped at his Adam's apple as he head threw back in pleasure.
"Fuck!" he gritted his shaking his head as if fighting the sensation.
"Come on, Baby. Give in me for me. I want to see you fall apart." Your voice going low as looked you up Frank panting and moaning, his brow knitted in held back pleasure as his hips bucked into you hand.
It didn't take long after that before he came into you hand and on to your stomach.
He collapsed his head onto yours, catching his breath.
You combed back hair that was stuck on his temple, leaving behind a kiss. "You did so good."
He huffed, meeting your eyes with a weak playful smile, "Better than you expected?"
Jealous!Baran Al-Hashimi who notices your patient's hand on your arm from across the department and is immediately bothered by it. Even moreso when you don't pull away because you're too focused on the task at hand.
Jealous!Baran Al-Hashimi who has never considered herself a jealous person, but something about this particular patients attention on you gets under her skin.
Jealous!Baran Al-Hashimi who is painfully aware that she's feeling this way because of her own rules. She was the one who insisted your relationship remain private at work. Logical at the time, but unbearable now that she has no leg to stand on, no claim to you while someone else is touching you.
Jealous!Baran Al-Hashimi who finds herself trailing after you the next time she sees you heading toward that patient's bay, even when it's not her case. And when you have the nerve to look surprised, she coolly reminds you that she is the attending on shift and is therefore responsible for patient oversight.
Jealous!Baran Al-Hashimi who immediately regrets it, because up close the flirting is even worse. Your patient is throwing you lingering looks and words filled with implications and hope and completely ignoring Baran's presence at all.
Jealous!Baran Al-Hashimi who has to physically reign herself in when the patient touches you again as she thanks you.
Jealous!Baran Al-Hashimi who does something both impulsive and deeply uncharacteristic when she moves to pass by you, both hands settling on either side of your waist to hold you steady, leaning just close enough to mumble "excuse me, Eshgham" in acknowledgement.
Jealous!Baran Al-Hashimi who feels you go still in surprise beneath her hand and has to force herself not to smile triumphantly.
Jealous!Baran Al-Hashimi who notices the patient taking notice of the change in the air, her smile faltering on her face as she looks between the two of you.
Jealous!Baran Al-Hashimi who does not wait for you out in the hallway as she exits the curtain. By the time you follow her out, sheâs already halfway down the hallway, every inch of her back to the composed attending everyone knows.
Jealous!Baran Al-Hashimi who doesnât say another word to you as she leaves you blushing and stunned at her total 180 - which of course is when you notice Dana watching from the nursesâ station over the rim of her glasses.
Jealous!Baran Al-Hashimi who has apparently not been nearly as discreet as she thought, because Danaâs expression is pure knew it, topped off with an eyebrow arched high enough to be felt from across the department.
Jealous!Baran Al-Hashimi who says nothing about it afterward and offers no explanation, because she doesnât need to. The message was received, loud and clear. And the permanent smirk on her face for the rest of the shift tells you that youâll be getting a very firm reminder of who you belong to later at home.
Jealous!Baran Al-Hashimi who knows you wonât be allowing another patient to touch you like that after tonight, when your body is sore and her handprints are permanently seared into your skin.
Tags: No Use of Y/N for Reader-Insert; Male Reader-Insert; Trans Male Reader-Insert; Fat Reader-Insert; Insecurity; Transphobia; Angst; Hurt/Comfort; Kissing; Body Worship; Cunnilingus; Praise Kink; Multiple Orgasms; Come Swallowing; Fade to Black
Word Count: 3,321
Summary: Coming home after an outing that made you feel less than stellar about yourself, Zeno is quick to dissuade of any notion that you aren't perfectly gorgeous exactly as you are.
Also on Ao3: Here
Requested here
a/n: Flexing my French in this fic đ€Ș (I had to Google every single word to make sure it was correct and spent like 5 minutes trying to figure out how to say 'as you wish' in French. I'm much better at understanding French than speaking it đ If there's mistakes, gently point them out to me but don't be mean cause I'll cry.)
You may notice that I didn't describe the downstairs equipment AS heavily as I usually do. I did that because I wasn't sure if I should use AFAB language or not, since I know there are trans men without bottom surgery who don't like those terms being used to describe their genitals. I tried to keep it as neutral (?) as I possibly could so they could enjoy reading this fic too. Idk if I succeeded since I'm mostly a cis woman but also not really cause gender is weird but also I don't mind 'gendered' terms for my body and it's. yeah. Bottom line is I'm not a trans man even if I thought I was for a while and obviously the experience of my trans masc friends is not the same as all trans mascs. Anyway, I'm rambling, sorry. Feel free to gut me in the streets if I wrote this wrong lmao slash gen
The Audi's engine is purring softly as Zeno drives it down the highway towards home. The car rumbles beneath you, a gentle, nearly inaudible sound and an even more subtle vibration as it sails down the road and seamlessly changes lanes as Zeno directs it. Your seat is comfortable, reclined just right to give your back a break after the endless hours you were on your feet for the fancy fundraiser The Connections forced Zeno to attend, and the bottom is heated, warming up your butt and soothing your thighs, letting warmth travel down your legs and relax your muscles slightly.
You look out the window, watching the world pass you by in a blur. As Zeno exits the highway and enters the city proper, streetlights and neon signs get mixed up until they're little more than streaks on your peripheral, as if someone took a wet brush to them and smudged their colours across the canvas.
Drives with Zeno are peaceful. They always have been. He's content to sit in silence with you for hours, just looking at you out of the corner of his eye every few minutes or so and letting you get lost in your head or lose yourself in a book. He doesn't mind when you want to put music on and he's not fussy about what kind â while he has his own preferences, he's always more than happy to listen to your own music even if he doesn't usually go for it when he's by himself.
He's just⊠so good to you. You wouldn't call him perfect â nobody is and Zeno, especially, has plenty of flaws after the way he grew up and the shit The Connections shoved down his throat when he didn't know any better â but he's perfect for you. You don't think you've ever been loved so unconditionally before. So selfishly in a way that makes you feel precious and priceless. He covets you and he is not shy about it, but he makes you feel like you're the center of his world even when he's pursuing his own goals and desires in relation to you. Because, more often than not, your happiness, pleasure, and comfort are his as well. He gets a kick out of taking care of you and seeing you thriving at his side.
He's an odd man, that's for sure.
But despite his love â and how obvious and hard to overlook it is â insecurities don't much care for logic.
Tonight has been hard. Every day is hard when you don't conform, truly, but tonight has been harder than usual. As a plus size trans man who hasn't had top surgery, you always feel like you stand out even when you're not under scrutiny â but when Zeno paraded you around that ballroom clad in an expensive suit tailored just for you, glued to his side all evening and introduced as his boyfriend to every person he started a conversation with, you'd never felt more scrutinised.
You know what they saw, what they thought when they looked at you. When their gazes flicked from you to Zeno and back again.
âWhat's a man like him doing with someone like that?â
âSurely that's just a passing fancy, rich men's whims, exotic tastes.â
âIt must be a fetish. Young men these days!â
You've heard them all. You know how it goes. You refuse to let it get to you, you really do, but it's hard to do that when everywhere you go, you feel out of place. Growing up, you never fit into this uncomfortable mould everyone tried to shove you into. Even when you didn't hate everything that being a girl âmeantâ, you didn't enjoy it correctly. You didn't perform it right. And any enjoyment was sapped out of you when you saw the quiet hope in people's eyes that you might finally be a proper girl every time you did something right.
Yet now, even when you're being yourself â or trying to, if only the world would let you â you still feel like you don't belong. You still feel wrong.
Not being skinny on top of that is just the cherry on top of this horribly tasting cake iced with poison.
Zeno, of course, noticed your growing discomfort the longer the night dragged on. Finally, at around close to midnight when it was acceptable to leave at long last, he made your excuses and led you quietly out of the venue and back to the car. He hasn't said anything â he never does, he just waits you out and lets you speak when you're ready â and by the time he pulls up in the driveway of his sleek, modern villa in the richest neighbourhood in the city, you haven't spoken a word since you walked out of that place.
He quietly opens the door for you, helping you out of the car, shutting the door in your wake, and locking the car remotely while already pulling you into him. Zeno's arm is warm around your waist when he walks to the front door with you and you lean into him despite it all, because the one thing you can count on in this world is Zeno. His steady, warm presence at your back, his strong, soft hands on your body, his scent in your lungs and his sweetness on your tongue.
Anything else pales in comparison, even if it doesn't quite go away.
You toe your shoes off at the door, not really caring if the expensive Italian shoes you wore to this thing get creased by your rough handling, just needing them off, then let Zeno steer you towards the bedroom. Inside, he sheds his coat first, putting it in the closet on a hanger, then comes back and slowly, one piece of clothing at a time, undresses you.
When you're left in just an undershirt, boxers, and socks, that's when Zeno steps away and starts slowly removing his own suit.
You watch him undress and finally speak.
âI felt inadequate next to you tonight.â
Zeno stops in his movements, letting his very expensive white shirt fall to the floor unceremoniously, and steps over it without care as he comes closer to you. You're sitting on the edge of the bed, which makes you so much shorter than him, but you look up at him to meet his eyes without complaint when he takes his glasses off.
âWas it something I did?â
Of course. His first concern is to make sure he didn't accidentally undermine or belittle you â as if he ever could.
âNo,â you deny, shaking your head with a small, wry smile. âYou didn't. It's not something you could have helped, anyway. It's just⊠a reality, I guess.â
âYou are not inadequate. You're perfect, I've told you before. There is no reality in which you don't meet every single one of my standards,â Zeno rebuffs immediately.
His words warm you up, of course they do, but a bitter pit of acid still sits in your stomach as you recall the sly glances, the hidden smirks, the side eyes.
âI feel wrong. Too fat, not man enough, notââ
Zeno tilts your chin at the perfect angle to silence you with his soft, warm lips. His kiss is short but sweet, meaningful but meant to simply stop you in your tracks before you can pick up steam. It leaves your lips parted and tingling with the need for more when he pulls away and looks you in the eye. There is softness in his eyes and there is love, but you can also see a fire that is so characteristic of Zeno â always blazing, always intense.
âYou,â he starts, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip and digging just slightly into your front teeth, âare gorgeous to me. Man, woman, neither, both â it doesn't matter, not to me, not ever. I love your body whatever it may look like, I love you whatever you may look like. Why would I care? You think I didn't know you were fat when I first saw you? That I wouldn't have walked away if you being trans bothered me?â
âWell, no, butââ
âNo âbutâ. I love you, sweetheart. You're more than manly enough for me. You're hot and beautiful and pretty and handsome and every other adjective there is in every dictionary in the world in every language on the planet. Do you want me to say it in French, too, mon amour?â
You laugh at that, charmed by this silly man's devotion and commitment to making you feel loved, and shake your head slightly. His hand is still on your chin, holding your face while his thumb is resting on your bottom lip.
âI don't think that's necessary.â
âĂ votre guise, monsieur.â
âCheeky,â you scold without heat, a giggle bubbling to the surface when Zeno leans forward and rubs his nose affectionately against yours.
âPour toi, beau gosse? Toujours.â
The sound of French rolling so effortlessly off his tongue while so close to your face ignites a fire that had simmered for a time in your gut at the beginning of the evening, before the reality of an imperfect world crashed over you like a bucket of cold water. That fire blazes inside of you once more now and you slide your hands across Zeno's hips and pull him closer into you as your head dips down just right and you capture those perfect lips in a hungry kiss again.
When you break away from him to breathe and see how disheveled he looks after only a kiss â admittedly on the heated side â with a blush high on his pale cheeks making him look good enough to eat, you can't help throwing in your own cheeky line.
âVous-voulez coucher avec moi, Zeno?â
He laughs, delighted at how lame you are yet so charmed by you nonetheless, and his hands go to his belt buckle and zipper so he can pull down his pants.
The first press of his lips against your throat makes you gasp. His touch is scorching, stoking the flames of your arousal and making you squirm beneath him for a measure of relief. Zeno graciously obliges, placing his knee in between your legs and letting you rut against it while he slowly, heatedly kisses down your throat, across your collarbone, and pulls up your shirt and throws it aside so he can kiss your chest too. He doesn't linger in a way that would make you uncomfortable â just treats it like any other body part, the way you treat his chest, before he moves further down. When his lips reach your belly, discomfort and the urge to hide rise up in you, but you force yourself to ignore him when Zeno gently pulls your inching hands away and keeps them pinned to the sides for a moment.
âNone of that,â he scolds, giving you a light glare when you try to avert your gaze. âDon't hide from me. You have nothing to be ashamed of.â
He pulls your underwear down in one swift movement then pulls your legs apart and dives down to taste you. The feeling of his tongue licking up your wetness, his nose bumping against your clit and inhaling your scent loudly as if it's the most exquisite fragrance in the world makes your head spin as you moan without restraint.
âThere he is,â Zeno rumbles in approval as his fingers dig into the meat of your fat thighs and pull them apart so he can have better access. âKeep these open for me. Good boy.â
A shiver runs through you at the praise, warmth spreading from your chest outwards, as you do your best to keep your legs apart so Zeno can fit between them comfortably. Satisfied with your compliance, he goes back to what interests him most and starts eating you out like he's at a competition and the prize is getting to do this for the rest of his life.
Zeno is so good at eating you out â it seems like his favourite activity in the world. He makes it feel so natural to not have a cock as a man when he swirls his tongue around your clit and fucks in and out of your hole with just that talented muscle you love so much. He gets lost in it, moaning when you grip his perfectly styled hair and pull, grinding his pelvis down into the mattress with every moan and sigh and whimper that escapes you. When you grab his ears â something he's surprisingly sensitive about, you found out the first time you gently teased him about them â and basically ride his face as you chase your pleasure, he very clearly has to stop himself from chasing his own orgasm and making himself come untouched just from the beautiful sounds you make.
You lie there, panting, in the aftermath, staring at the ceiling as you slowly loosen your grip on him and smooth his hair back in a silent apology for being so rough.
Zeno emerges from between your legs looking like he's on cloud nine, though, and when he steals your mouth for his own you can taste yourself on his tongue. Even his chin is glistening with your release.
âCan I fuck you, sweetheart?â Zeno whispers as he pulls away, licking his lips and looking at you like you're a wonder, like he wants to devour you and leave nothing in his wake. You can feel his erection poking your inner thigh â thick and almost scorching through the fabric of his boxers â and it makes you feel feral with the need to have him inside you right this second.
âYes, please,â you sigh, whining when he pets your mound and stimulates your still sensitive clit, then roll over until you're on your stomach, two pillows under you keeping your ass up exactly at the height Zeno wants you at.
âSo beautiful,â Zeno murmurs, rubbing a broad palm over your cheeks and up your back, making you melt under his touch with just two whispered words. âAnd all mine.â
He enters you easily, pulling a groan out of you at the delicious stretch, then adjusts his position so he's covering your entire body with his own as he starts fucking you. It's slow and sensual, deep, intimate for the first couple of minutes. His cock seems to reach every hidden nook and cranny of your body as it stretches your hole and presses up against that spot that makes you moan loudly and call out his name in a broken voice. Zeno moans when you tighten around him and snaps his hips harshly against your ass in response. The sharp, abrupt thrust makes you yelp and tighten again, even harder, so Zeno pulls out almost entirely before slamming back in, balls deep, hammering that spot again.
âOh, just like that,â you moan, sobbing almost when he pulls out again and crashes his hips into your ass, making the bed shake from the force of his thrust. âPlease don't stop. Don't ever stop!â
âAnything for my pretty boy,â Zeno purrs in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine from where it hits your nape.
He grabs your hips tightly then and pounds into you for long minutes â just his powerful thrusts, hard and precise, knocking the breath out of you and turning you into a moaning mess drooling on the sheets. Your orgasm takes you by surprise; you're so lost in how good it feels to have Zeno on top of you and inside of you that you barely notice when the pressure in your lower half becomes unbearable and it finally snaps.
âOh, oh, fuck!â you curse, moaning loudly, as pleasure takes over you and makes your toes curl while Zeno keeps fucking your spasming, leaking hole and encouraging you to keep going with his whispered praise in your ear.
âThat's it, good boy.â
You whimper when he says it, especially when he pulls out a few seconds later and rolls you onto your back again. Zeno climbs up your body until he's hovering over your face while you catch your breath, heavy, wet cock in hand, and you happily open your mouth to let him shallowly thrust into your mouth while jerking off until he spills onto your tongue with a low moan. You swirl your tongue over the tip to gather every last drop then swallow his cum and kiss the tip when you're done.
He gently pets your face in gratitude, his breathing laboured and his eyes half mast as he gazes down at you. You give him a smile and a pat on the thigh in return before he shuffles down the bed until he can lie down on his side and pull your body close to his.
âThat was very good, thank you,â he says, smoothing a hand over your flank and leaning closer to nuzzle his nose against your neck, pressing soft kisses there that tickle your skin and make you squirm.
âYou're the only person who's ever thanked me for sex, you know.â
He pulls away from your neck to grin down at you and he looks like such a young boy instead of the forty-something year old he's supposed to be â biologically at least â that it pulls at your heartstrings immediately. You love it when he's so open and honest about his feelings around you that he forgets to glare down at everything around him and frown in displeasure to appear more intimidating.
âI may have been raised in a lab, but I was taught manners, sweetheart.â
âHmm, so should I start thanking you after every orgasm, too?â you wonder teasingly, rolling over on your side and placing a hand on his chest as you lift yourself up enough to kiss his collarbones and lightly nip at the bones that stand out against his pale skin.
âThat's notâ ugh! â necessary,â Zeno dismisses between hitched breaths that get more laboured the more you kiss and suck at his skin, leaving marks that will fade away in a day at most, while your thigh wedges itself between his legs and rubs gently at his flaccid cock. It won't take much to get him hard again, especially when he's already twitching and starting to leak from the tip again.
Your fingers skim over his belly, feeling the muscles jump and contract under your teasing touch, and this is much better at making you feel confident that, no matter what others might think, this gorgeous man loves you just fine. It's hard to deny â no pun intended â when only a few touches and a well placed kisses can get him hard again after just coming in your mouth not even a minute ago.
âI think I'd rather show you how thankful I am, anyway,â you whisper, right against his ear, before you bite down on his lobe and swirl your tongue around his dagger earring. Your hand finds his half-hard cock and starts pumping slowly while you play with his ear and Zeno shudders and moans, melting into a puddle and letting himself be played with to your heart's content.
You banish your insecurities for the night to a dark corner of your mind and instead focus on getting your boyfriend erect again so you can ride him until your thighs start cramping, then let him take over and fuck you into the mattress again. Bet a lot of those posh assholes at the fundraiser would kill to be in your place right now, huh?
Only I can achieve using fade to black for smut after ALREADY writing smut. Truly.
Idk why I decided that Zeno can speak French. It just seems like something he'd do. And surely The Connections would want a weaponised clone with lots of features, foreign languages being one of them. Now I'm thinking what languages Wesker might know bc you KNOW his nerdy ass speaks at least one other aside from English.
Also the bit about Zeno's ears is inspired by a conversation I had w Kenny a few says ago when we made fun of Zeno's big ass ears đ€Ł dumbo looking ass (affectionate) â€ïž
Written w Re6, ReDI, anddd ReVendetta Chris in mind (Ik ik a lot at once am I right)
Chris had finally arrived home from a brief mission sent by the BSAA. He couldnât help but fold from exhaustion as soon as the door opened, fumbling to tear off the remains of his gear and then slide onto the couchâ the closest, most comfiest thing nearby at the moment. He lay there for a while, basking in relief and the comfort of his own home. After a minute or so, he heard the door of the bedroom open, followed by your footsteps and a small yawn. The couch dipped with your weight as you sat down next to an exhausted Chris, hand reaching over to gently comb your fingers through his hair. âIâm glad youâre home, baby.â You whispered tiredly. Chris hummed, a smile forming on his face as he subtly leaned into your touch⊠âAnd Iâm glad to be home.â He replied.
It wasnât long before Chris had you in his lap, holding onto you like a clingy bear, his eyes closed as he listened to your steady heartbeat. One of his hands slowly slid up and down your spine, caressing you as if you were the only thing steadying himâwhich, you were. âI made dinner earlier,â you said suddenly, âwould you like some leftovers?â Chris opened his eyes, looking up at you. âIâm the luckiest man alive,â he droned, âIâd definitely like some leftovers.â
After Chris had finished eating, you led him to the bathroom to aid him in cleaning up. Soft kisses were exchanged as your hands glided smoothly and expertly through the process of removing Chrisâ clothing. Chris hummed contentedly as a kiss was placed upon his cheek. âThank you, baby boy.â He murmured, eyes glazed over as If he was half asleep (he most likely was). The shower was started, steam slowly filling the bathroom and landing on on the surface of the mirror(s), Chris asked if you would like to join him in the shower, to which you politely declined. Chris gently pushed on the offer, saying he missed seeing you. You sighed and reluctantly agreed.
Chris helped you get undressed to repay you for helping him. He noticed your eyes avoid your own body and he frowned, a thumb gently tracing over one of your top surgery scars. âCome on handsome, I want to see those pretty eyes.â He chuckled. Your eyes hesitantly met his. Chris was crouched down in front of you, admiring you in all of your glory in this currently vulnerable state. You didnât feel like looking down at yourself today, dysphoria had gotten the better of you without Chris being there to stabilize youâ just him being home and calling you his husband or anything masculine gave you gender euphoria. You almost winced at the sight of yourself: you looked like a fake man. Chris frowned once more and got up to press a kiss to your temple. He tried to lightly tease you with, âAre you so hot you canât even look at yourself?â And he was happy to get a smile and a giggle out of you. âThere he is.â He murmured sweetly into your ear before pressing a kiss right below it.
You both washed each other through calming touches. Chris had ran his hands over you as if you were a sacred piece of art, lightly caressing areas to spread soap over your skin as the water from the shower followed suit. More kisses were exchanged and you two hopped out to dry off. Chris slid on his boxers and shorts, then offered you one of his shirts to wear in bed. You took the offer, also sliding on your boxers. After some more of a basic hygiene routine, you both slid into bed.
Your head lay gently on Chrisâ chest as one of his arms lazily went over you, hand playing with your hair. âGoodnight, Y/n.â He whispered, kissing you on top of your head. Slowly but surely, the both of you drifted off to sleep.
Iâm a male so could I technically be a cowboy at the hybrid farm instead?
yeehaw partner đ€
A/N: I do not usually write for male readers but this is a little treat for yâall
Of course! The bulls need taming and the cows need tending, we need a cowboy that can handle it all!
Though⊠you have to be okay with getting mounted by/mounting a bull or cow every once in a while. They need very special attention from their handlers~
The female bulls and cows are basically the same as their male counterparts, so if you prefer females, theyâre happy to breed with you!
The male cows are more willing to bottom than the bulls. They love getting fucked and played around with, especially when they get kisses and praise after.
The male bulls though⊠you really need to tame and dominate them before theyâre willing to bottom for you.
The male cows and bulls are very interested in breeding you, not caring if youâre male or female, theyâre trying to put a baby in you regardless! Theyâll stroke your cock while cooing about how badly they wanna see your belly swell with their young while they give you a nice creampie~
They just love taking turns with you, seeing you can make your cock twitch in excitement the fastest, who can get you hard with just a few touches⊠theyâre very competitive.
warnings : gn!reader x baran . hurt / comfort . jealous , bratty baran . mild conflict / argument . tension . miscommunication . emotional vulnerability . established relationship . possessiveness undertones .
wc : 2k
notes : didnât know if i shouldâve done brat taming baran or lean towards this tamer versionâŠâŠ. but i got idea for brat taming if anyoneâs interested đđ
find the request here
you clock in right on time and the ptmc is already buzzing with people. baran usually clock in before you and she spots you the second you round the corner by the nursesâ station, and her whole face shifts into a a big smile on her face that reaches her eyes.
âhey,â she says, voice low and warm like sheâs been waiting for this exact second since she hurried out the door this morning. she steps in close enough that her shoulder brushes yours while she pretends to check the same chart youâre pulling up, her fingers lingering on the edge of the tablet. âmissed you this morning. coffeeâs still hot if you want the last of it.â
you say a quiet thank you with grateful smile and take it. she watches you with satisfaction, like seeing you here settles something in her. the shift starts easy after that. you two fall into the rhythm you always do, her calling the shots and you assisting, anticipating what she needs before she asks. she praises a consult you wrap up clean, mutters âgood workâ under her breath, and bumps your elbow lightly on her way past. it feels normal, good. the kind of good that makes the long hours worth it.
then bay four rolls in with a woman in her late twenties, ankle swollen to hell after weeks of ignoring it. youâre the one handling the initial neuro checks and imaging orders while baranâs finishing up in trauma two. the patient is chatty, the kind who talks through the pain like itâll make it hurt less. sheâs got this easy laugh that fills the small space between the curtains.
âgod, youâre good at this,â she says while youâre palpating her calf, eyes tracking your hands. âthose fingers look like they know exactly what theyâre doing. bet you get told that all the time.â
you keep your expression neutral, professional smile in place. âonly when iâm poking needles in people,â you reply, light but clear. you chart the findings easily and explain the plan for the sprain to her.
she keeps going though, compliments slipping in between questions about your life and how she shouldâve listened to her body sooner. you nod, listen, but you donât lean into it. you tell her straight that dating patients isnât a thing here, never is, and leave it at that. no details. no mention of the girlfriend waiting for you. this is work and you stay focused on the medicine.
baran swings by just as the woman is laughing again, complimenting you, saying how charming you are and how good you are with your hands. you see the shift in baranâs posture from across the bay. she takes the tablet from your hand, scans your notes with a composed scan, but her jaw is tighter than it was five minutes ago.
she hands it back without the usual quiet nod. her fingers donât brush yours this time. sheâs gone before you can say anything else, your eyebrows furrow in confusion before you can dwell too much on it, you shrug it off and discharge the patient.
the morning is slower after that, you page her for a consult on the kid with the suspected appendicitis and her answer comes back clipped. âget the labs first.â no extra thought, no follow-up question like she usually throws in to teach or just connect.
you catch her rolling her eyes when youâre explaining a discharge plan loud enough for the whole bay to hear later, even though youâre doing it exactly the way sheâs drilled into the team a dozen times. she just gives you a flat, unimpressed look she gives when sheâs holding something back, and the air feel a little heavier which makes you frown.
you try to shake it off. focus on the next admit, the one after that. but it keeps building and itâs making you uncomfortable. sheâs not yelling. baran never does. sheâs just distant in a way that feels pointed. half-assed answers when you ask for orders. a sigh when you suggest tweaking the pain protocol for the next patient.
you catch her watching you from the nursesâ station once or twice, arms crossed, expression unreadable but definitely not the warm one from clock-in.
by the time a tougher case hits, a messy laceration on the construction guy whose arm got caught in machinery, youâre both scrubbed in. youâve done this together a hundred times. usually sheâd catch your eye over the drape, give you a small approving tilt of her head when you hand her the clamp before she even asks. today sheâs ice. you go for the retractor and she corrects you sharp before you even settle it.
âhigher angle,â she says, voice even but edged. âyouâre gonna nick the vessel doing it like that. come on, focus.â
you adjust fast without argument. the room stays quiet except for the monitors and the techs moving. you tie off a suture line thatâs clean, steady under pressure, sheâd normally mutter good catch, but instead she steps back after the last stitch and says, ânot good enough. redo the distal tie if you want it to hold in the field.â and itâs nowhere near soft. just an analytical stare like sheâs grading you and youâre coming up short.
the techs exchange a quick glance but keep their heads down. you feel your face heat under the mask but you do the tie again, precise, swallowing the frown.
she peels off her gloves the second itâs closed and stalks out of the bay without a word. you follow because what the hell else are you supposed to do? her shoulders are set tight under the scrubs, steps measured but fast enough that you have to pick up your pace.
âbaran,â you call, keeping it low so it doesnât carry. âwait.â
she stops at the supply closet door, hand on the knob but doesnât open it, she only turns halfway and gives you a flat âwhat.â
âwhatâs going on with you?â you keep your voice steady, confused more than anything. âyouâve been off since that patient in four. biting my head off every chance you get.â
she looks at you, eyes sharp but still composed. ânothingâs going on.â
âcome on... you were fine this morning. happy, even. now youâre acting like i personally ruined your whole shift.â
she exhales through her nose, arms crossing in a defensive manner. âmaybe iâm tired of watching you play nice witg every patient who decides your hands are the highlight of their er visit.â
you blink. the jealousy lands so out of left field for her that it almost throws you off, sheâs been jealous before, sure, but never like this. sheâs usually very touchy and affectionate when jealous, never mad. âthe woman in four? she was flirting, yeah sure⊠but i shut it down, told her we donât date patients. that was it.â
âsure looked like you were enjoying the conversation,â she says, dry as ever, a restrained tone carrying just enough edge to cut. âshe called you charming. twice, actually. you let her keep talking, didnât mention me once. not that you have to, right? weâre professionals here. wouldnât want to broadcast anything.â
you stare at her dumbfounded. âi didnât encourage it. i did my job. you know i only have eyes for you, always have. i couldâve said i have a girlfriend but thatâs not the point in the middle of a bay with a patient waiting on imaging.â
she huffs a short breath that might pass for a laugh if it wasnât so annoyed. âgirlfriend. right. sounded real professional when she was going on about your hands.â
the rest of the shift drags slow as ever. she keeps the distance up, gives you half-assed answers on the next page for orders, rolls her eyes again when you suggest something. you catch her watching you more than once, her analytical gaze turned inward now, like sheâs pissed at herself as much as at you. you try not to let it dig in. you know her, determined and ethical. but this version, the quiet bratty one who wonât just say whatâs eating her, is new territory.
you ride home together in the car, the radio low because neither of you feels like filling the silence. the house is dark when you pull up, she kicks her shoes off harder than she needs to and heads straight for the fridge, pulling out the leftover food like itâs the only thing that makes sense right now.
you lean against the counter and watch her stab at the food with a fork. âyou gonna tell me whatâs really eating you or are we dragging this silent treatment into tomorrowâs shift too?â
she sets the container down with a soft clack, turns to face you. arms crossed again, jaw working like sheâs deciding how much to let out. âyou really donât see it?â
âsee what?â you ask with tired, defeated eyes. you want to step closer so badly, wrap your arms around her and kiss all over her face. but you donât, you can see the defensive wall sheâs put up.
âthe way she looked at you the whole time. the way you let her keep going instead of shutting it down faster.â her voice stays even but frustrated. âi get it. weâre at work. you donât want to make it about us in front of a patient. but you didnât even glance my way when she started in on how steady your hands are, or how charming you are. like it was nothing. and then in the or⊠i didnât even praise the suture line. usually i would. instead, i gave you a hard time because i couldnât stop thinking about her eyes on you.â
you step closer just enough to not crowd her but close enough to see the way her shoulders drop a fraction when youâre in her space. âi handled it, i told her straight. i didnât want to drag our personal life into the bay. you know thatâs not how we do things there. and yeah, you were tough on me. i noticed. but i figured you had your reasons.â
she looks away, but not before you catch the embarrassed flicker in her face. âi hate feeling like this⊠petty. like some girlfriend who canât handle their partner getting attention from a patient. you handled it fine. you always do. but it just got under my skin and i couldnât shake it. so i got bratty. half-assed everything, rolled my eyes like a child. god, i sound ridiculous even saying it out loud.â
you tug lightly at the hem of her scrub top, feel the fabric still warm from the long day. âyouâre not ridiculous. youâre human. and⊠yeah, a little bratty when youâre jealous. itâs new, coming from you.â
she snorts, her eyes crinkle at the corners despite everything. âbratty. fantastic diagnosis, doctor. next youâll tell me i need to work on my bedside manner with my own partner.â you snort at that and wrap your arms around her.
she doesnât move away when you pull her in, arms around her waist. her hands settle at the small of your back with a tired sigh, fingers pressing in just enough to say sheâs still annoyed but not enough to push you off. she rests her chin on your shoulder for a long second, breathing steady against your neck like the shift is finally bleeding out of her.
ânext time someone flirts,â she mutters, voice low and a little smug now, âshut it down faster. or iâll do it for you. professionally, of course. maybe talk about boundaries.â
you laugh under your breath, feel her relax by degrees against you. âokay,â you press a lingering kiss on top of her head and tug her with you to the couch after a minute.
