Here it is, folks. I write mostly reader insert fics, and I do take requests, but it will take me time to get through them. I write for a wide range of characters and am willing to write for characters not yet in the masterlist (pedro characters, star wars, star trek, marvel, harry potter, you get the idea) so feel free to request anyone you want (even if you think i might not know the show). I try not to describe the reader ever and I don’t write specifics, so if you do request anything and ask for a specific trait, I’ll most likely not write that part. Happy Reading!
THIS IS A SAFE SPACE FOR LGBTQ+ AND POC AND I WILL BE BLOCKING ANYONE WHO TRIES TO MAKE ANYONE UNCOMFY!
**indicates Smut/Spicy
Star Wars
Din Djarin
Wasteland, Baby! Series (WIP): Wasteland, Baby!, Movement**, Talk**, As It Was, Shrike**, Nobody, Be, Dinner and Diatribes, Sunlight, No Plan, NFWMB, To Noise Making, Moment’s Silence
Obi-Wan Kenobi
The Ambassador(WIP)-What happens when Obi-Wan’s childhood friend returns from a ten year, off-world mission? Will he be able to calm his mind and leave his feeling in the past, or will he drown in the passion she brings? (Smut/Comfort)
this is a lawless land and i have no posting schedule so....
Law came back to the cabin looking like someone had carefully removed every working part of him and left the attitude behind out of spite.
He shut the door with his heel, Kikoku still in hand, hat low over his eyes. His shoulders were tight. His jaw was worse. There was blood on his sleeve that probably wasn’t his, which meant he would ignore it until someone else made it inconvenient.
You were already on his bed with one of his blankets over your legs, reading a book you had stopped pretending to care about twenty minutes ago.
“You look charming,” you said.
Law gave you a flat look. “Don’t start.”
“That bad?”
He set Kikoku against the wall with too much care. “No.”
So yes.
You put the book aside and stood. He watched you like he expected you to ask him what happened, and you didn’t. You just took his hat off, placed it on the desk, and reached up to push your fingers through his hair.
For a second, he stayed perfectly still, then his eyes shut.
“You’re eating,” you said.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re eating.”
“I’m your captain.”
“And I’m very impressed. Sit down.”
His mouth twitched like he wanted to argue, but he was too tired to make it worth the effort. He sat on the edge of the bed while you brought him the bowl from the little warmer you had stolen from the galley. Rice, broth, fish. Nothing fancy. Nothing heavy.
Law stared at it. “You poisoned this?”
“I considered it, but Bepo looked sad.”
“Mm. Weak.”
You sat beside him and held the bowl until he took it. He ate slowly at first, like he was doing it only to shut you up. You kept your fingers in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp between pauses, and the longer you did it, the more his posture sank.
Not enough for anyone else to notice.
Enough for you.
There were entire confessions in the way Law accepted being touched without making a miserable comment about it.
When the bowl was empty, you took it from him and placed it aside. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, face hidden in his hands. You kept stroking his hair.
Neither of you said anything for a while.
The Polar Tang hummed around you, deep and steady under the sea. The sound filled the room, safer than silence, gentler than the things neither of you wanted to name.
Eventually he turned his head just enough that his cheek rested against your thigh.
You looked down at him. “That’s new.”
“Shut up.”
“You’re cuddling my leg.”
“I’m resting.”
“On me.”
“Mm.”
You smiled, but you didn’t tease him further. Your fingers slid through his hair again, slower now, nails barely touching his scalp. He exhaled through his nose, quiet and rough.
It should not have felt intimate, but it did.
He turned his face slightly, and his lips brushed the inside of your wrist.
You stopped breathing for half a second.
His eyes opened, sharp even half-dead with exhaustion. For a moment, he looked at your wrist like he hadn’t meant to do that. Like his body had moved before his control returned.
Then, because he was impossible, he did it again.
A warmer kiss.
Your fingers tightened in his hair. “Law.”
“Problem?”
His voice was low, tired, almost bored. You hated him a little. “No.”
“Then stop looking offended.”
“I’m not offended.”
“You look like you’re trying to decide whether to hit me or climb me.”
You stared at him. He looked back, deadpan, mouth barely curved.
“You’re the worst man alive.”
“Probably.”
Then he kissed your palm. Not quickly. Not as a joke. His mouth pressed there like he was testing your pulse, your patience, both.
Heat crawled up your arm.
He pulled back just enough to look at you properly. His eyes were dark, shadowed from lack of sleep, but clearer now. More present. More dangerous in the quiet way.
“You’re still thinking too loudly,” he murmured.
“I’m thinking you should sleep.”
“I was.”
“You were kissing my hand.”
“Multitasking.”
You laughed under your breath, and something in his face changed. He reached for you then, one hand closing around your hip, and pulled you down with him under the blanket. It was clumsy only because he was exhausted. Law being clumsy felt illegal.
You ended up half beside him, half on him, your knee between his legs, his arm around your waist. The blanket slipped over both of you, trapping heat fast.
“This is a terrible sleeping position,” you said.
“Then leave.”
His hand spread over your back and held you there.
You looked down at him. “You are very bad at bluffing.”
“I’m excellent at bluffing.”
“You’re literally holding me hostage.”
“You’re not resisting.”
Fair.
His mouth found your wrist again, then your forearm, slow little kisses that did not match the sharpness of his face at all. You watched him do it, feeling each one settle lower in your stomach.
Comfort turned strange that way. One moment you were keeping him together. The next, his lips were on your skin and the air was too warm and his hand had slipped beneath the back of your shirt.
His fingers were ice cold.
Law’s mouth twitched against your arm. “Sensitive?”
“Your hands are freezing.”
“I’m a doctor.”
“That explains nothing.”
“It explains enough.”
His hand flattened against your lower back, then slid up, warmer now from your skin. He touched you like he was still trying not to ask for anything. Like he could make this practical if he moved carefully enough.
You leaned down and kissed him.
That broke the last useful thought in the room.
He kissed back slowly at first, his mouth firm and tired, one hand cupping the back of your neck. Then your fingers tugged lightly in his hair and he made a sound so low you almost missed it.
You didn‘t miss the way his grip tightened.
“Do that again,” he said against your mouth.
You smiled. “Ask nicer.”
His eyes opened. Exhausted, half-wrecked, still somehow arrogant enough to ruin your life. “You’re warm, fed, and in my bed,” he said. “Don’t get ambitious.”
“You dragged me here.”
“I made a medical decision.”
“Was kissing my palm also medical?”
“Your circulation looked poor.”
You laughed, and he kissed you harder to shut you up.
His hand slid under your shirt again, and this time he didn’t stop at your back. His palm moved over your waist, your ribs, then higher, dragging heat after it. He gave you just enough time to pull away. His thumb brushed under your breast, light enough to be cruel.
Your breath caught.
Law’s mouth paused against yours. “Still fine?” he asked, quiet now.
You nodded once.
His eyes narrowed. “Words.”
“Yes,” you said. “Still fine.”
Then his hand covered you properly, and the sound that left you was embarrassingly soft.
He kissed your jaw, your throat, the spot below your ear, while his thumb moved slowly over your nipple through the thin fabric. Not rushed. Not sloppy. Precise enough to make your hips shift without permission.
His thigh slid between yours under the blanket, pressing up just enough to make you tense.
You broke the kiss with a shaky breath. “Law.”
“I know.”
That was the problem. He always knew.
His hand left your chest and slid down over your stomach. Slow. Warm now. His fingers traced the waistband of your shorts like he was considering the most annoying possible way to take you apart.
You grabbed his wrist. He stopped immediately. For half a second, his face went still. Careful. Too careful. Then you guided his hand lower.
“Brat,” he murmured.
“You were taking too long.”
“I was being considerate.”
“You were being evil.”
“That too.”
His fingers slipped beneath the fabric.
Your whole body went hot.
Law watched your face as he touched you over your panties first, slow pressure between your thighs, finding the wet warmth there. His mouth parted slightly, the smallest crack in his composure.
“You’re soaked,” he said, low.
Your face burned. “Don’t sound surprised.”
“I’m not.”
“You sound proud.”
“I am.”
You should have had a comeback. You did not. Because his fingers moved, and the blanket made everything worse. The heat. The closeness. The tiny space where every breath hit his mouth and every movement rubbed your body against his. His hand stayed steady between your thighs, stroking you through the damp fabric, watching you try not to fall apart too quickly.
“You’re quiet now,” he said.
“I hate you.”
“Mm. Of course.”
His fingers pushed your panties aside and your nails dug into his shoulder.
He exhaled once, controlled but rough, when he felt you bare. His fingers slid through you slowly, gathering slick heat before circling your clit with the kind of patience that made you want to bite him.
You buried your face against his neck.
He let you for exactly three seconds, then his free hand caught your jaw and tilted your face back. “Don’t hide.”
“You are annoying.”
“You knew that already.” His fingers circled again, a little firmer, and your hips rocked into his hand.
That made his eyes drop. There was something devastatingly hot about him like this. Still tired. Still half-dressed. Still acting like he had control while his breathing slowly betrayed him. His hair was messy from your fingers. His shirt was wrinkled. His gaze kept moving between your face and the shape of your body shifting under the blanket.
He touched you like he had all the time in the world. Like the world outside his cabin had finally shut up.
When one finger slipped inside you, your breath snapped.
Law kissed the corner of your mouth. “There?”
You nodded.
“Words.”
“Yes.”
His mouth brushed yours. “Good.”
He worked you open slowly, one finger at first, then two, his palm pressed against your clit with every shallow thrust. Not rough. Not gentle either. Intentional. The kind of touch that made your thighs tighten around his wrist.
“You’re making this difficult,” he muttered.
You laughed breathlessly. “For you?”
“For my self-control.”
Your eyes opened, and for once you caught him before he could hide it. The hunger in his face. The strain in his jaw. The way his hips had shifted closer without him seeming to notice.
“Oh,” you whispered.
“Don’t.”
“You’re turned on.”
His stare went flat. “Excellent medical deduction.”
“You’re really turned on.”
“You want me to stop?”
“No.”
“Then stop talking.”
But you felt him against your thigh now, hard and hot through his clothes, and the knowledge made your body clench around his fingers.
Law inhaled. His eyes sharpened. “You did that on purpose.”
“I didn’t.”
“Liar.”
His fingers curled inside you.
You gasped, hand flying to his shoulder, and his mouth found your throat again. He kissed you there messily now, less controlled, teeth grazing skin as his fingers kept their slow, ruthless pace.
Under the blanket, your hips moved against his hand. His palm rubbed your clit every time his fingers pushed deeper. You were hot everywhere, trapped between his body and the blanket and his voice near your ear.
“You’re close,” he said.
You hated how calm he sounded.
You hated more that he was right. “Shut up.”
“Very close.”
“Law.”
“Mm.”
A laugh broke out of you, shaky and breathless, and he kissed it straight from your mouth. His fingers moved faster then. Just enough. The angle changed, his thumb pressing directly against your clit, and your body went tight.
You grabbed his hair and he groaned, not a neat little sound. Not controlled. Low, rough, dragged out of him before he could stop it.
That was what pushed you over.
You came against his hand with your face pressed into his neck, trying to keep quiet and failing in small, broken sounds. Law held you through it, fingers slowing but not stopping too fast, his mouth at your temple, his voice low and close.
“There,” he murmured. “That’s it.”
Your whole body shuddered.
“You’re evil,” you whispered again, weaker this time.
His lips brushed your hair. “You keep saying that.”
“Because it keeps being true.”
He was quiet for a moment. His fingers slipped out of you slowly, and you felt the loss of them in a way that made your stomach twist. Then he pulled back just enough to look at you.
The exhaustion was still there, but underneath it was something rawer. Needier. Law, caught between wanting to pretend he was unaffected and being very obviously affected.
You looked down. His belt was still fastened. His shirt still buttoned. He looked unfairly composed for someone who had just ruined you with his hand. “That seems unbalanced,” you said.
His mouth twitched. “You’re recovering fast.”
“I’m talented.”
“You’re annoying.”
“You’re hard.”
The silence after that was deeply satisfying. Law stared at you.
You smiled.
For once, he did not have an immediate answer. Then his hand caught your waist and pulled you closer until your thigh pressed between his legs. He shut his eyes for one second, jaw flexing.
You moved against him lightly.
He sucked in a breath.
“Oh,” you said softly. “Sensitive?”
His eyes opened. “Careful.”
“No.”
“No?”
You reached down between you and worked his belt open under the blanket. Your fingers were less elegant than his, mostly because your hands were still shaking. Law watched you struggle for three seconds before looking personally offended.
“You’re going to break it.”
“I am not.”
“You’re attacking it.”
“It’s dark under here.”
“It’s a belt, not an enemy.”
“Help or shut up.”
He huffed a tired laugh and helped, undoing it with one hand like an irritating show-off. You pushed his pants open just enough to slip your hand inside.
The moment your fingers wrapped around him, his entire body went still.
He was hot in your hand, hard and heavy, and the sound he made when you stroked him once was almost silent. Almost.
You kissed his jaw. “There?”
His eyes cut to yours. “Don’t start.”
You stroked him again, slower, and his forehead dropped briefly against yours.
That shut both of you up.
The room got quiet except for breathing. Yours uneven. His controlled until it wasn’t. Your hand moved beneath the blanket, fingers sliding over him, learning what made his mouth tighten, what made his hips shift, what made his grip on your waist go almost too firm before he forced himself to ease up.
He was beautiful like this in the worst way. Still trying to hold himself together while letting you touch him. Still trying to be Law about it, even with his breath breaking against your mouth.
You kissed him softly.
He kissed back harder. His hand returned between your thighs, slick fingers finding you again, and you jolted. “You’re sensitive,” he murmured.
“I just came.”
His mouth curved faintly. “You’re welcome.”
You squeezed him in warning.
His smugness died immediately.
Worth it.
He groaned against your mouth, hips pushing into your hand before he could stop himself. His fingers pressed against your clit again, slower now, less calculated, more distracted. That made it hotter. Law losing precision because your hand was around his cock felt like something you should put in a museum.
A terrible museum.
For horrible people.
You moved together under the blanket, messy in a quiet way. Your hand stroking him. His fingers rubbing you. His mouth dragging over yours, then your cheek, then your throat. Neither of you fully undressed. Neither of you needed to. It felt almost more intimate like this, half-hidden and overheated, clinging to each other in the small private dark.
His voice dropped near your ear. “Can you come again?”
Your stomach clenched. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“You’re very demanding for a man I fed rice to.”
His laugh was barely there, rough and low. “Answer.”
“Yes.”
His hand changed pace.
He kissed your cheek like he was pleased with himself and too tired to pretend otherwise.
The second time built slower, deeper, your body still oversensitive from the first. He kept touching you like he knew exactly how much you could take, while your hand grew slick around him from his own precum. His breathing got worse. His jaw pressed against your temple. His hips started moving into your fist in short, restrained thrusts.
“Law,” you whispered.
His fingers stilled for half a second. Not stopped. Checked.
You nodded quickly against him. “Keep going.”
He did. Your legs tightened around his hand again. The blanket had slipped down to your hips, but neither of you cared. Your shirt was pushed up. His pants were open. Everything was too warm, too close, too much.
And still, somehow, soft.
Because his other hand was in your hair. Because his mouth kept brushing your forehead between kisses.
Because even while he was touching you like he wanted to ruin you, he held you like something precious he would rather die than name.
You came again with a broken little sound against his mouth.
This time Law followed almost immediately. His body went tense, his hand closing hard around your hip as he came into your fist with a rough, muffled groan. His face pressed into your neck, breath hot against your skin. For a few seconds, he did not move at all.
You held him through it, fingers gentle now.
His breathing slowly evened out. “Messy.”
You laughed, exhausted and warm. “That’s your first comment?”
“It’s accurate.”
“You’re romantic.”
“I’m tired.”
“You came on my hand.”
“You were involved.”
“You’re stupid.”
His mouth brushed your shoulder. “You’ve said that too.”
“And I’ll keep saying it.”
He shifted carefully, cleaned you both up with a towel from beside the bed. He was efficient about it, but his touch had gone softer. Almost shy, if Law could ever be accused of such a thing without committing murder.
When he settled back down, he pulled the blanket over you both again. You ended up against his chest, your leg tangled with his, your hand resting over his ribs. His heartbeat was slower now. Heavy. Human. He held your wrist for a while, thumb moving over the inside of it.
You thought he was asleep.
Then he murmured, “You’re still not allowed to tell anyone I cuddled you.”
“You didn’t cuddle me.”
“Good.”
“You medically restrained me under a blanket and then got me off twice.”
His chest moved with a quiet laugh. “Accurate.”
You smiled against him, boneless and warm. After a long silence, his hand slid up to the back of your head. He held you there, not tightly. Just enough.
“Thank you,” he said.
It was so quiet you almost pretended not to hear it.
You kissed the side of his throat. “Anytime, Captain.”
“Don’t call me that in bed.”
“Oh, you like it.”
“I don‘t like it.”
“You’re lying.”
He sighed, but his arm tightened around you.
Later, he woke you up with his mouth already against your neck and his hand flat on your stomach.
Not soft. Not sweet. Possessive and warm, his fingers spread under your shirt like he had been holding you there for a while and had only just decided to make it your problem.
You opened your eyes into the dark cabin.
Everything hummed low around you. The walls were thin. Too thin. Somewhere outside, metal creaked, pipes clicked, and the ship sounded alive in the worst possible way.
Law’s mouth moved against your skin. “You awake?” he murmured.
You swallowed. “No.”
His teeth grazed the side of your neck. “Liar.”
You shifted back against him just enough to feel him hard behind you.
His hand stopped moving. For one long second, neither of you breathed right, then his fingers tightened at your waist. “You’re doing that on purpose.”
“I’m sleeping.”
“You’re bad at it.”
“You woke me up.”
“You moved first.”
“You were touching me first.”
His mouth brushed your ear. “I was checking your pulse.”
“At my waist?”
“You’re alive, aren’t you?”
You almost laughed, but then his hand slid lower, over your hip, dragging you back against him with enough pressure to make your breath catch.
Law heard it. His voice dropped, mean and quiet. “Careful.”
You turned your face halfway toward him. “Or what?”
That was the mistake. His hand came up and covered your mouth before you could say anything else. Firm. Just enough to remind you exactly where you were, exactly who slept outside that door, exactly how much trouble you were in.
“Or you’ll wake someone,” he murmured. “And I’ll make you explain why you can’t behave.”
Your stomach tightened hard. His eyes caught yours in the dark. “Yeah,” he said, too calm. “That’s what I thought.”
You made a muffled sound against his palm.
Law’s mouth twitched. “Still mouthy. Impressive.”
Then he moved. The blanket shifted over both of you as he slid down your body, disappearing beneath it. Heat flooded your face before his hands even reached your thighs.
“Law,” you whispered.
His answer came from under the blanket, low and dry. “Lower.”
Your fingers twisted in the sheets. “Law.”
“Better.”
His hands pushed your thighs apart, not gently, not cruelly. Just with that controlled strength that made your body obey before your pride could complain. His mouth pressed to the inside of your thigh first, slow and hot, then higher.
You grabbed the blanket. He kissed you once over the thin fabric of your panties. You jolted.
He huffed against you. “Sensitive.”
“You’re annoying.”
His fingers hooked into the waistband and dragged it down just enough. “Still talking.” Then his mouth was on you.
Your head fell back into the pillow, breath breaking immediately.
He did not ease into it. He ate you out like he had woken up starving and decided manners were a disease. His hands gripped your thighs under the blanket, holding you open while his tongue dragged through you slow, then deep, then mean. He was quiet about it except for the low sound in his throat when he tasted how wet you were.
The sound alone almost ruined you, so you bit your knuckle.
One hand left your thigh and pushed your wrist away. His fingers laced with yours instead, pinning your hand beside your hip under the blanket.
“No hiding,” he murmured against you.
“Then let me be loud.”
His mouth paused. The silence under the blanket felt dangerous. Then he gave a low, humorless laugh.
“You really want to embarrass yourself that badly?”
Your whole body burned.
He didn’t wait for an answer. His mouth returned to you, hotter, wetter, filthier. His tongue circled your clit with awful patience before he sucked lightly, just enough to make your hips jerk into his face.
His grip turned bruising. “Don’t move.”
“You’re under the blanket eating me out,” you whispered, breathless. “And you’re giving orders?”
His eyes flicked up from between your thighs. Even in the dark, you felt that stare.
“Yes.”
Then he lowered his mouth again and made you regret being funny.
You were close too fast. Embarrassingly fast. It climbed sharp and hot through your stomach, your legs shaking around his shoulders, your fingers gripping his hair beneath the blanket. He groaned when you pulled, and the vibration went straight through you.
“Law—”
Voices passed outside.
Both of you froze. You stopped breathing. Law went still between your legs, mouth still close enough that you could feel every exhale against your soaked skin.
Two crew members walked past the door, speaking quietly. Too close. Too awake.
You stared at the ceiling, one hand clamped over your own mouth.
Under the blanket, Law’s fingers dug into your thighs.
The voices slowed. For one horrible second, you thought they would stop. Then the footsteps continued down the corridor. Their voices faded. The ship hummed again. Silence settled.
Law did not move for another few seconds, then his mouth pressed one slow kiss to the inside of your thigh.
You whispered, shaky and furious, “You didn’t let me finish.”
He emerged from under the blanket just enough for you to see his face. His mouth was wet. His hair was a mess. His eyes were dark in that flat, devastating way that made him look meaner than he actually was.
“I wasn’t trying to make you finish.”
Your brain stalled. “Huh?”
His hand slid up your thigh. “I wanted to taste you.”
You stared at him. He looked completely serious.
“Do you ever hear yourself?”
“Unfortunately.”
“You’re disgusting.”
His mouth curved faintly. “You’re wet.”
You had no response ready for that. He kissed your stomach once, over your shirt, then climbed over you with an efficiency that should not have been attractive. His hand caught your hip.
“Turn over.”
Your pulse jumped. “Ask nicely.”
Law’s eyes narrowed. Then he leaned in, mouth beside your ear. “Turn over before I decide you don’t get to come at all.”
You huffed and turned. Fast enough that you heard him exhale a quiet laugh behind you.
“Asshole.”
“I’m about to fuck you into the mattress and you’re still insulting me.”
“You started it.”
“I’m going to finish it.”
He pushed you flat onto your stomach, hand between your shoulder blades, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to keep you there. Your legs were pressed together beneath him, thighs tight, body stretched out under the blanket. He straddled them from behind, knees bracketing your legs, trapping you in place with his weight.
The position made you feel pinned before he even touched you.
It made you quiet.
Law noticed that too. His palm slid down your spine, slow, possessive. “There,” he murmured. “Finally learned something.”
You turned your face into the pillow. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” His hand slid beneath you, finding you between your pressed thighs. He felt how wet you still were from his mouth and went still for a second.
Then his voice dropped. “Still dripping.”
You squeezed your eyes shut. “Stop talking.”
“No.”
He leaned over you, chest against your back, and his arm slid around your throat, forearm firm across your upper chest and collarbone, hand gripping your shoulder, holding you exactly where he wanted you. Your breath hitched anyway.
Law’s mouth brushed your ear. “Tap twice if it’s too much.”
Your hand found his wrist. You tapped once just to be annoying.
He went still, then you dragged his arm tighter around you. “Bad idea,” he whispered.
“Then stop.”
He did not. His other hand disappeared between you, belt shifting, fabric dragged down just enough. You felt him press against you from behind, hard and hot, sliding between your thighs first, coating himself in how wet you were.
Your fingers curled into the sheet. “Law.”
His hand came over your mouth again. “Quiet.”
Then he pushed in.
The angle stole your breath.
Because your legs were together, because he had you pinned flat, because he was above you and around you and everywhere, he felt deeper than before. Tighter. Hotter. You made a broken sound into his palm and his arm locked more firmly across your chest.
He stopped halfway in, forehead dropping against the back of your head. “Fuck,” he breathed, so low it barely had sound.
You clenched around him. His hand tightened over your mouth.
“Don’t.”
So you did it again.
Law went silent, then laughed once, dark and breathless.
“You really are asking for it.”
He drove in the rest of the way. Your body jolted under him, trapped between his chest and the mattress. His hand swallowed the sound you made. The blanket hid the movement, held in the heat, made every thrust feel secret and filthy and too close.
He didn’t fuck you fast at first.
He fucked you hard.
Slow, deep, punishing thrusts that made your thighs tremble together under his weight. His arm stayed around your throat, holding you up just enough that your back arched beneath him. His mouth hovered near your ear, breath rougher than he probably wanted it to be.
“There,” he murmured. “That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?”
You nodded against his hand.
His hips snapped forward again. “Of course it was.”
Your eyes rolled shut.
“Look at you,” he said, voice low and mean. “Couldn’t stay quiet from my mouth, and now you’re trying to take this without waking half the ship.”
You whimpered into his palm.
He slowed just to make it worse. “That was not quiet.”
You bit lightly at his hand.
His rhythm faltered. Barely.
But you felt it.
Law’s mouth pressed to your temple. “Careful,” he whispered. “I’m already being nice.”
You almost laughed. It came out as a muffled sob when he started moving again, rougher now, hips grinding deep every time he buried himself inside you. The pressure of your legs together made everything tighter, every stroke dragging against your clit through the way he had you pinned.
It was unbearable.
He knew. He had to know. His hand slipped from your mouth only long enough to catch your jaw and turn your face slightly.
“Breathe.”
You dragged in air.
“Good.” Then his palm covered your mouth again. It should not have been sweet. It wasn’t, not really. But there was something in the way he kept checking, kept holding you together while taking you apart, that made your chest ache under all the heat.
Law’s voice roughened near your ear. “You can take it.”
Your nails dug into his wrist.
“You can,” he repeated. “You’re doing it.” A hard thrust made your whole body jolt. “Quietly.” You made a desperate noise into his palm. His breath shook. “Mostly.”
That almost ruined you. The dry little correction. His voice half-wrecked, still somehow sarcastic while fucking you into the mattress under a blanket with people sleeping down the corridor.
You pushed back against him as much as you could.
Law’s grip turned rough. “Greedy.”
You nodded.
“Yeah?” His mouth brushed your ear. “That all you wanted? Me pinning you down so you’d finally stop pretending you don’t like being handled?”
Your body clenched hard around him.
He cursed under his breath. “Thought so.”
His thrusts got rougher then. Less patient. His chest stayed pressed to your back, his arm around your throat, his hand over your mouth. You were completely trapped under him, legs together, body pinned flat, taking every deep stroke while the bed barely creaked beneath the blanket.
He was trying to keep it quiet.
That made it hotter, because you felt how much effort it took him. The strain in his arm. The way his breathing kept catching. The way his hips wanted to move faster but he forced them into deep, controlled thrusts instead.
“You’re close,” he said.
You nodded quickly. His hand slid from your mouth to your throat for half a second, just to hold your jaw, to keep your face turned enough that he could see you.
“Not loud.”
You swallowed. “Then don’t make me come.”
His eyes darkened. Wrong answer. His hand returned to your mouth, and his other arm tightened across your chest.
“I told you,” he murmured. “Brat.”
Then his hips changed angle.
Your whole body went rigid.
He had found exactly the spot he wanted, and because he was Law, because he was cruel when he was right, he kept hitting it. Again. And again. Deep and rough and controlled, his mouth at your ear, talking you through every second like he could feel your mind slipping apart under him.
“There. That’s it.”
You shook beneath him.
“Don’t fight it.”
Your fingers clawed at the sheet.
“Just stay quiet.”
You came with his hand clamped over your mouth and his arm locked around you, the orgasm tearing through you hard enough that your body tried to curl under his. He held you down through it. Kept you flat. Kept fucking you while you pulsed around him, every sound trapped against his palm.
Law groaned into your shoulder. Not quiet enough. Not nearly as composed as he wanted to be.
You heard it and clenched again, that made hips stutter.
“Don’t,” he rasped.
You did. His control snapped in a way you felt more than saw. His thrusts turned shorter, harder, less even. His face buried against your neck, teeth grazing your skin, breath hot and broken. “You’re unbearable,” he muttered.
You made a muffled sound that might have been a laugh.
His hand pressed more firmly over your mouth. “Still not funny.”
It was absolutely funny.
Then he drove into you deep and stayed there, his whole body tensing over yours as he came with a rough, smothered sound against your shoulder. His arm around your throat held you close while he shook twice, breathing harshly into your skin.
For a while, neither of you moved.
The cabin was silent except for both of you trying to remember how to breathe like normal people.
Then another set of footsteps passed outside.
He froze instantly. So did you. His hand was still over your mouth. He was still inside you. The footsteps paused.
Your eyes went wide. Law slowly turned his head toward the door, expression murderous in the dark.
Someone outside yawned, then kept walking. The footsteps faded.
You started shaking beneath him. Not from fear. From trying not to laugh.
Law’s hand tightened over your mouth, but his own breath hitched once near your ear. “Do not,” he whispered.
You shook harder.
He pulled out slowly, and you both winced. He cleaned you up with infuriating efficiency, still under the blanket, still half-dressed, still trying to look like he had not just lost several pieces of his sanity. Then he dragged you back against him, your back to his chest, his arm around your waist this time.
Much safer. Much less threatening. Still possessive.
You whispered, “You didn’t make me explain.”
His mouth brushed the back of your neck. “Next time.”
Your stomach flipped. “You covered my mouth.”
“And you still almost got us caught.”
You smiled into the pillow. Law exhaled slowly behind you, then pressed one quiet kiss to your shoulder. Soft enough to make the whole thing worse. After a moment, he muttered, “You okay?”
You reached back and touched his wrist. “Yeah.”
His fingers laced with yours. “Good.”
Morning on the ship was usually quiet in a way that felt medical. Dim lights. Low engine hum. People speaking in tired voices because being loud before coffee was how accidents happened.
Law walked into the galley looking like death had filed a complaint against him and lost. Hat on. Shirt buttoned. Face blank.
Completely normal.
You were already at the table with your cup in both hands, trying to look like a person who had slept. You had not. Not properly. Your legs still felt suspicious. Your throat had one spot that made you want to slap him and kiss him every time you swallowed.
Law did not look at you first. That was how you knew he was looking at you.
Bepo was making breakfast with too much cheer for the hour. Shachi and Penguin were half-dead over their plates. Ikkaku was reading something and pretending she was not watching the room with deeply feminine intuition.
Law sat across from you. Calmly. Like he had not had his hand over your mouth a few hours ago because you were both idiots in a submarine full of people with ears.
“Morning, Captain,” Penguin mumbled.
“Morning,” Law said. His voice was normal.
Terrible man.
You lifted your cup to hide your mouth.
Law reached for the coffee pot, then stopped. Just for half a second. Barely anything. His fingers flexed around the handle.
You noticed because you were a bad person. A ruined person. A person with evidence.
His hand was close to his face, and he had smelled it. Not strongly. Not obviously. Just enough.
His eyes went flat.
Oh.
Oh no.
You looked down into your cup so fast your neck nearly cracked.
Law poured his coffee with terrifying precision.
You were going to die.
Not from shame. From trying not to laugh.
He set the pot down. His thumb brushed once over his index finger, like he was trying to decide whether his own hand was guilty of a crime.
It was.
You bit the inside of your cheek.
Across the table, Law’s gaze flicked to you. Sharp. Warning.
You widened your eyes innocently.
His jaw tightened. That was when it got worse. He took a sip of coffee. Then his chin dipped slightly, and the faint shadow of his beard brushed the rim of the mug.
His whole face changed by exactly nothing.
But you saw it.
He smelled you there too. On his own skin. From last night. From under the blanket. From the way he had buried his face between your thighs and then still had the nerve to act like breakfast was a normal social event.
His eyelids lowered for one second.
He stared into his coffee like it had personally betrayed him.
Your shoulders started shaking.
Law looked up slowly. “Something funny?”
“No.”
Your voice was too high.
Shachi looked at you. “You okay?”
You nodded quickly. “Coffee went down wrong.”
“You didn’t drink any.”
“Emotionally.”
Ikkaku’s eyes lifted from her page.
Law’s stare could have amputated you.
Bepo turned around with a plate. “Captain, do you want eggs?”
Law did not answer immediately. Because he had moved his hand again. Because his fingers were near his mouth. Because, apparently, his own body had decided to spend the morning reminding him exactly what you tasted like. His nostrils flared once. Very slightly.
You pressed your lips together so hard it hurt.
Law shut his eyes for half a second. He looked like a man trying to survive war.
“Captain?” Bepo asked, worried.
Law opened his eyes. “No eggs.”
Bepo’s ears drooped. “Oh. Sorry.”
Law’s face softened by a millimeter. “It’s fine. Rice.”
“Okay!”
You watched him pick up his mug again. His hand was steady. His face was blank. His control was flawless. Except his ears were faintly red.
You placed your cup down very carefully.
He looked at you. You looked back. Neither of you said anything. Then you smiled.
His expression turned dangerous.
Under the table, his boot nudged your ankle.
A warning.
You nudged him back.
A mistake.
His eyes sharpened. You looked away first because you were not suicidal before noon.
Penguin squinted between you both. “Why is it weird in here?”
“It’s always weird in here,” Shachi said into his plate.
“No, this is different.”
“It’s your face.”
“My face isn’t weird.”
“It’s morning. Everyone’s face is weird.”
You made the mistake of glancing at Law again. He was staring at his rice like the entire concept of appetite had become complicated.
You knew exactly why.
You imagined him trying to eat breakfast while still smelling you on his chin, still catching it on his fingers every time he moved, still pretending that it was not making him think about throwing the whole tray across the room and dragging you back to his cabin.
He would rather be executed than admit it.
That made it so much better.
You took pity on him. Mostly. You leaned forward slightly and said, very casually, “Captain?”
His eyes lifted. “What?”
“You have something on your face.”
Law’s stare went black. Ikkaku slowly lowered her page. Bepo turned around. “Where?” Bepo asked, deeply concerned.
Law did not move. You reached across the table before he could stop you, thumb brushing lightly over the edge of his chin.
His skin was warm. His eyes did not leave yours. The whole room narrowed around that tiny touch.
You pulled your hand back and looked at your thumb. Nothing there. “Nevermind.”
Law’s expression stayed perfectly blank. Too blank.
He was going to kill you.
Penguin blinked. “What was it?”
“Nothing,” Law said. His voice was calm enough to be a medical threat.
You took another sip of coffee. This time you could not stop the smile.
Law leaned back in his chair, one hand around his mug, the other resting on the table. His fingers flexed once.
Still guilty. Still remembering. Still pretending. Then he said, without looking away from you, “You’re assigned to inventory after breakfast.”
You stared at him. “What?”
“Medical inventory.”
“That’s not my job.”
“It is today.”
“That sounds personal.”
“It’s organizational.”
Shachi pointed his spoon at you. “You should never question medical inventory. That’s how he gets mean.”
You looked at Law. Law looked back.
There was no expression on his face.
None.
Except his eyes said very clearly: Keep laughing and I’ll give you something to be quiet about later.
Your stomach flipped. Unfortunately, your mouth was still alive. “Do I need gloves?”
Law’s hand stopped around his mug. Ikkaku made a tiny sound and hid behind her page. Penguin frowned. “For inventory?”
You looked at Law with the innocence of a war criminal. “Just asking.”
Law stood. Very calmly. Pushed his chair in. Very calmly. Picked up his tray. Very calmly. Then he leaned down as he passed behind you, close enough that only you heard him.
“You are going to be quiet when I deal with you.”
Your smile vanished so fast it was humiliating.
There you are. I knew you would stay.
The Masterlist is here. If that still does not satisfy you, requests are open.
content warnings: 18+!!!! Gets quite smutty, fluffy, jack abbot invented YEARNING, age gap!!!, no use of Y/N
notes: i know this one sounds kinda depressing but i promise its fun and funny and flirty and it’s my favorite one ive ever written!! also debating on making an ao3 account - should i?
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Jack Abbot was unfortunately intimately familiar with the 5 Stages of Grief. Depression, Bargaining, Anger, Denial, Acceptance.
He grieved his leg at the ripe age of 31 - courtesy of an IED in the desert of Afghanistan.
He began grieving his late wife the following year at 32 - courtesy of an arrogant, misogynistic emergency medicine resident.
At 33, he grieved the life he thought he was going to have while he started a new one. No longer a husband, but a widow. No longer an army medic, but an Emergency Room attending at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center.
Sometimes when he would come back to the empty home he bought at 34, the ghosts of that life were louder than any silence he thought he could drown out with the police scanner.
Jack Abbot knew the 5 Stages of Grief like the back of his hand.
In hindsight, he didn’t know how he didn't realize the 5 stages in which he fell in love with her were quite similar. A mirror of his grief refracted through a lens of unconditional love.
depression
If someone would have asked Jack at the time, he wouldn't have admitted he was depressed. He truly didn't think he was.
He didn't need therapy to deal with his trauma. His wife passed away a decade ago. His leg, or lack thereof, the constant reminder of the time he gave up while he had her on this earth - was physically healed. As much as it was going to be anyways. So therefore he was mentally healed. As much as he thought he was going to ever be anyways.
He'd been running on autopilot. It carried him from but mostly to the emergency room at PTMC. It's what made him stop at the unfamiliar sight of Gloria in his ED. This is why he didn't work the day shift. He never wanted to deal with all of the bureaucratic administrative bullshit. The only business Jack Abbot was ever interested in was the one of saving lives. Gloria hadn't even opened her mouth and Jack already knew that Robby was going to owe him one.
"Dr Abbot! Wonderful timing. I have a residency interview waiting in Robby's office for you."
Now Robby really owed him one. "Doesn't Robby usually..." Jack scratched at the back of his neck, still confused as to why Gloria had involved herself, and now him, in a residency interview, "...facilitate those?"
Gloria gave a curt nod before glancing around them, as if checking to make sure they would not be overheard. She lowered her voice as she spoke, "Yes but I specifically scheduled this one when I knew you were covering. She is the best candidate we have ever had and probably ever will. I cannot risk Robby running her off."
Right. The Adamson of it all. There was a joke in there somewhere about Jack being considered the stable one in the ED. He guessed he must be. He had become fairly good at presenting an even keeled, calm front. He still had kind of felt like a mess in every other area of his life but the ED was the one place he was the furthest from one. It's where he solved the mess instead of becoming it.
She shoved a printed resume into Jack's hands before she was off. Back up to her ivory tower. He took a look as he strode over to Robby's office. Full ride to Stanford for both her undergraduate and medical degree.
For once, he agreed with Gloria. What the hell did this candidate want to do with PTMC?
He asked her as much as he sat across the desk from her, brow furrowed in genuine curiosity. Residency interviews usually went one of two ways. The candidate was either far too cocky or so nervous they barely got a complete sentence out.
She struck the balance. She was confident. More so than some of his residents who had been out on the floor. She wore a dark gray wool sweater and maxi skirt set. The monochrome was only cut by the deep maroon of her belt, tights, heels, and purse. Her long hair was slicked back into a simple pony tail and her makeup was minimal, if any.
It wasn't the typical look of a medical student on a residency interview. Still completely appropriate, but far less stuffy and much more self assured.
Jack wouldn't know good style if it had slapped him in the face but he did know what hers revealed to him about herself. It was the kind of style that someone who knew who they were had. Who had spent time getting to know what they liked. Whether it was what they were reading, listening to, watching, or doing. Her style wasn’t an afterthought but she carried it with a quiet confidence that let everyone know she was not overcompensating for anything either.
It was a demeanor and style that was derivative of having a life outside of medicine - which was quite uncommon for medical students and residents alike. It was completely foreign to Jack. It intrigued him. She intrigued him.
Her body language was relaxed but respectful. One leg crossed over the other as she leaned back into the wooden chair that was probably older than she was, hands clasped in her lap. Jack doubted her heart rate had reached over 65 the whole time she had been in there.
She took a beat to answer his question which also intrigued Jack. She was not rushing to answer just to fill space. She seemed to be comfortable with the time silence gave her to craft intentional responses. Why PTMC?
A ghost of a smile that looked like it might be haunted by one appeared on her face, "My family is here."
"That's it?"
"Do you want the practiced professional answer that every other interviewer has gotten or do you want the real one?"
Jack bit back a grin at her bluntness. Ignored the stirring in his stomach that made him feel special that she may share something about herself with him that she hadn't with anyone else. He tells himself to Get. A. Grip.
"I am sure the absolute best residencies in the country are foaming at the mouth to land you and you want to come here because of your family? Give me the real reason." He let his smirk slip through as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, "I'm a captive audience after all."
The airy laugh that he got out of her almost knocked him out of his seat. What was wrong with him? He had a feeling she didn't just hand out a laugh as ethereal as that one. That she was not the kind of woman who just giggled because it was the part of the conversation where she'd been socialized to appease the man speaking that he was funny. She seemed far too smart for that. For probably everyone in the building. For him, especially.
"I have already been away in California for eight years. I could have fifty years left with my dad and my brothers and my sister in laws and my nieces and nephews or they could be gone next week," she uncrossed and recrossed her legs before continuing. Didn't rush before speaking again, "I don't want to build an unguaranteed future alone and then have no one to share it with when I get there. I wanna spend time with them now."
Jack's adam's apple bobbed in his throat. His eyes burned as he fought to hold back tears. It must be some kind of cruel joke that right then his phantom limb pain wanted to shoot up through his thigh. Like a reminder of the time he spent wasting while he had his wife alive.
He had joined the army to become a doctor debt free. Then he had spent all of their marriage overseas, saving money for a life they never even got to spend together. He had borrowed time from the future that didn't even exist. And all he had to show for it was ironically - more money - monthly life insurance, disability, and veteran affairs checks. Oh and one and a half legs.
He blinked rapidly. He was not about to cry at work. Nevertheless while he was conducting a residency interview. He diverted the conversation away from himself, "You didn't mention your mom."
"She died. When I was a teenager, about ten years ago. After coming here actually," She coughed out a dry laugh that sounded like she dragged it up through her throat, kicking and screaming. Awfully different to the one Jack had floated out of her moments prior, "She was pregnant and they sent her away without so much as a full consultation. Just chalked her symptoms up to pregnancy and she died from an aortic dissection later that night."
Jack wanted to vomit at the almost exact recountance of how his wife had died. He was so focused on not emptying his breakfast onto Robby's desk that a tear slipped - the first in probably years.
"Oh, Dr Abbot. I didn't mean to make you emotional. I can go back to the professional answer any time you want." Another scoffed laugh, her eyes full of compassion but no tears, "Trust me - it's probably easier for both of us."
Jack really never talked about his late wife anymore. He liked to tell himself he was healed. He most definitely didn't talk about it at work. But he found himself wanting to then - with her, "No it's just - my late wife - she died the same way, about a decade ago. I was away on a stupid bachelor party trip and she didn't want to worry me so she didn't call me about it and then she, uh, never called again."
"Jesus - I am so sorry, Dr Abbot."
He noticed, appreciated, the way her head didn't tip and her eye contact didn't waver. She was not expressing her condolences out of pity or not understanding but of exactly the opposite. She knew exactly how he felt. He ignored the way his heart jumped out of his chest at the thought.
God, Robby really owed him one.
"Thank you - I am sorry about your mom. I am just impressed you still wanna work here. I could never work in the hospital that did that to my wife. The couple years after she passed - I could barely work here."
"Well, the other option was becoming one of those weirdos who swears off doctors and hospitals and science."
Jack tilted his chin at her in consideration, rubbed at the scruff there, and let out a sputtering laugh, "Are you sure that is the only other option?"
He pulled another light chuckle from her and he exhaled. Truly exhaled. For the first time in maybe ten years - like he had been underwater for so long he had forgotten what fresh air felt like.
"This is my way of letting her live on through me. To do something about what happened to her rather than using it as an excuse to sulk through life. I wanna see life as something that comes from me and not at me."
She picked at the lining of her purse that was perched in her lap. The first sign of potentially any nerves. The first time he realized that he was getting the true her. Not the front she must put up for interviews. It didn't seem much different - just a little more vulnerable.
Jack could talk. So much so he had a reputation for it in the ED. He was no stranger to being on the receiving end of a 'God do you ever shutup?' so he was a bit stunned that she had managed to shock him into silence.
He hugged his crossed arms closer to his chest as if that was even possible and just stared.
She cracked a smile, back to what was seemingly her calm and confident self, "Too esoteric for a residency interview?"
"Oh no. Not at all. I just..." Jack couldn't seem to find the right words to tell her that she had just reframed his entire outlook on his life and his grief in one sentence so he settled on, "...I uh never really thought of it that way."
"Me neither. But I have an excellent therapist."
"I will have you know, if you choose to do your residency here, I do not make it a habit of trauma dumping on my residents like I did on you today."
"I think I started that, Dr Abbot. But since I made you cry - does that mean I am in?"
That earned a genuine cackle out of Jack. A cackle. A kind of sound he wasn't even sure he was capable of making anymore but the bright, beaming smile she reciprocated made him want to do it for the rest of his life.
Maybe he owes Robby one.
Jack tried not to think about her as he got the old laptop down from his hallway closet later that night. He may never even see her again. He ignored the fact that that thought made him sick to his stomach.
Tried not to think about how Gloria had never ever personally been the residency candidate welcome committee until today while he googled 'Veteran, disabled, widower therapists near me'.
He tried not to think about how she looked the best anyone has ever looked in that emergency department as he murmured to himself, "God, that's a depressing search."
He tried not to think about how she had the most beautifully intriguing brain of anyone who had ever stepped foot into that hospital, potentially his entire life, as he booked his very first therapy appointment.
bargaining
"Remember when you told me you didn't make it a habit of trauma dumping on your residents?"
Jack didn't even have to look at her to know there was a huge smirk plastered on her face. She had been his resident for a little over a year. Although, it had taken much less time for the ribbing to start.
"Telling you about how Shen won't stop calling me 'Unc'," Jack had put air quotes around the Gen Z slang term as he continued, "is not trauma dumping."
"You seem pretty traumatized by it. You've only brought it up 85 times this shift."
"And to think - I was gonna ask you to a research breakfast after this." Jack nudged his shoulder gently with hers, tried his best to stave off the grin that played on his lips.
"And to think! You're going to anyway, old man." She nudged him right back, a little less gentle causing him to turn his shoulders and gaze towards her, feigning shock and offense.
That got the exact reaction he was fishing for - a big bright smile, loud laugh, and a second or so more of eye contact that he wouldn't have had a reason to justify otherwise.
What can he say? When it came to her - he was greedy.
"You two! I would prefer to get the hand off completed before you're both back on shift tonight. I swear you're like young and dumb medical students after shift sometimes." Dana chastised them but not without a hint of a smile.
Dana had known Jack for over ten years at this point. Seen him in a lot of different moods; but never as happy as this.
"Well, I'm young." She emphasized the 'I' with a smirk and pointed the finger that she had aimed at herself over at Jack, "He is just being dumb."
Jack barked a laugh. A sound that was no longer so foreign to him. No longer so foreign to everyone else in the ED.
He didn't miss the knowing glance Dana shot his way, a grin fighting to appear on both of their faces. He did his best to give Dana a look that said that he wasn't hopelessly infatuated with his resident. That he enjoyed spending time with each of his residents equally. He was not entirely sure he convinced Dana. He wasn't even good at convincing himself.
He could take her to breakfast if it was to help her with her research. It was most definitely not to see how many times he could pull a laugh from her. Bonus points if he got a nose scrunch or an accidental spit take of the orange juice that was already half way down her throat.
He could bring her a coffee every shift if it was to ensure his best resident was energized for her shift. It was not because of the way she looked up at him with her bright, big eyes through her lashes and said "Thank you, Dr Abbot!" like it was some sort of melody. If he started buying coffee for Dr Ellis and Dr Shen as well to make his affection less obvious - what was the difference?
He could let her do a pericardiocentesis way before anyone else her year probably should have if it was to improve her education. And because she truly was ready. He'd have bet his entire career that she was better at it than all of the surgical residents upstairs. Which meant it wasn't so totally obvious that he was staring at her in awe all of the time. Because when she was doing shit like that - everyone was. Being able to guide her hands through a procedure was just a bonus. Even if there were latex gloves between them.
He could bring extra food to shift, knowing she was going to eat half of it, if it was because he wanted to ensure his best resident was properly fueled and empowered to do her job to the best of her ability. He kept it to himself that he drove to a grocery store thirty minutes out of his way to get the specific kind of candy he knew she liked.
He could drive her home if it was to ensure his smartest resident got home safe. It was totally not because he got to spend more time with her. He definitely didn't take the long way to her apartment and he went exactly the speed limit because that was what was safe. Not because it meant extra time with her. No one else needed to know that he went at least fifteen over when she wasn't in his passenger seat.
No one also needed to know that he bought an aux cord just for her because he loved to hear what kinds of songs she liked. He definitely didn't have a playlist compiled of them all that he listened to at home now instead of his police scanner.
denial
She had been his resident for a bit over two years now and the ED was Q word tonight. No one had said it but the combined time they had all spent fucking around at the Hub proved it.
Shen was on his fifth tiktok trend of the night. He thought he was being inconspicuous in the amount of time he had been spending with Javadi but his new found interest in the social media app gave him away. Jack couldn't really say anything to his new junior attending about the dangers of falling for someone that you were the superior to without blowing up his own soft spot for a certain resident.
So Shen was on his fifth tiktok trend of the night and he had roped her in.
Jack thought he knew all of her secret talents by now but he watched from behind her, amused and hands tugging at his stethoscope looped behind his neck, as Shen played various Britney Spears songs to see how quickly she could guess them.
She hadn't needed more than 3 seconds for any of them.
Then they were busy for an hour or so. A couple drunk twenty somethings with some concussions and laceration repairs - nothing too crazy. And then they were back at central. The quiet was interrupted by a gasp from Dr Shen. Which was quickly followed by Dr Ellis looking over his shoulder at his phone and then both of them dying laughing.
"I don't even want to know." Jack threw his hands up in surrender.
"Oh, yes you do! You're going viral for being hot!" Shen exclaimed.
"I don't know what viral means if it’s not to do with an infection and I already know that I’m hot thank you very much." Jack didn't even glance up from his charting as he spoke.
“For being hot and being hopelessly in love.” Ellis clarified.
That got Jack's attention. He got up, snatched Shen's phone out of his hand as he muttered, “I am not hopelessly -" he didn't even want to give the accusation a real denial to validate it, "-let me see that.” He pressed play.
It was ironic that he had been telling himself he needed to start schooling his expressions when it came to her when the same dopey smile and enamored eyes he had going in the video were on his face as he watched the video.
He knew Shen and Ellis were monitoring his reaction closely but he couldn't help but let out a laugh at the part of the video where he had guessed the song 'Lucky' before she had.
She had whipped around in the spinning chair so fast - her hair had stuck to her glossed lips, "How the hell do you know that?!" she asked surprised, a wide smile taking over her face.
Jack shuffled around in his wide stance, large hands going from the ends of his stethoscope to clasped behind his back, his chin tilted up at her as he spoke with a drawl, "I let you play your music when I drive you home, don’t I?”
In the moment, Jack had missed what was caught on camera - the knowing smirk Dr Ellis had leveled at Dr Shen off camera as she said, “Oh, I’m sure you do.”
Jack's rebuttal hadn't even had a chance to leave his mouth before Shen and Ellis were reading the comments aloud, taking turns as they went.
"WHOOOO DAT IN THE BACK!?"
"Paging Doctor biceps in the back"
"Close enough. Welcome back Lexie grey and mark sloan"
"What in the greys anatomy"
"Do the two doctor sexys know that age gap august is upon us"
"If she doesn’t wanna bite on his biceps I will"
"Does that girl know she has 45mins to claim that man before I do"
"He does not play about her!"
"A man who YEARNS is a man who EARNS"
"Dr sexy is down bad for the other doctor sexy"
"Where is this emergency room at … for research purposes"
"I want Doctor sexy to look at me like that"
"Okay, I don’t look at her like anything!" Jack hissed low in a whisper, hoping to a god he did not believe in that she was still busy with the drunk college kids and was not hearing any of this.
"Well, you definitely don’t look at me like that." Shen laughed, sucking on his Dunkin straw even though nothing had been left in his cup for hours.
"I look at you all the same." Jack deadpanned. He sat back down at his computer. An attempt to get back to charting. But not before taking a sweep of the ED and making sure she was nowhere within earshot. Not that Shen and Ellis were making it easy with their hysterics.
"Bro - if you looked at me like that I would call HR. She's just into it."
“Into what?" She asked monotonically, not even looking up from her iPad as she approached the rest of the night shift crew at the hub.
“Nothing!” Jack barely got out, grumbling and exasperatedly running a hand through his silver curls as he got up from his computer and went to chairs.
He didn't miss the raise in her brows as she looked at Shen and Ellis, silently asking 'What the hell is up with him?'.
He couldn't tell you the last time he voluntarily went out to chairs but he was hoping his fair Irish skin would be finished betraying him with the pinkness in his cheeks, ears, and neck by the time he made his way back to central.
He knew it was only a matter of time before Shen and Ellis showed her the video and he did not want to be there when they did.
So he missed the flush in her cheeks, ears, and neck that had been identical to his.
And her slightly embarrassed, definitely exaggerated, "You guys stop - he is literally our boss."
"But you're not not into it?" Ellis had pushed. If anyone was getting it out of her, it was Ellis. They had been attached at the hip since their residency began.
"It doesn't matter if I'm into it. He is our boss! He is not into it."
"God, for someone so smart you are so stupid sometimes."
Jack had waved Shen off when Shen had come out to chairs to tell him about that interaction, practically vibrating with excitement. Or maybe that was the caffeine. Jack had parroted her, tried to make a joke of it all. Said something along the lines of, "I know you guys like to pretend otherwise but I am your boss."
But once Jack was home, black out shades drawn and snug in his bed, he couldn't wipe the huge, stupid grin off of his face.
anger
Jack was not an angry man. Never had been. Very few things on this earth made him genuinely angry - one of them being the annual hospital gala. Every year they were trotted out as show ponies to raise money that the ED would never even see. You can't save patients with empty compliments and an open bar.
He had managed to avoid it the past couple years - always worked instead. So when he saw he wasn't scheduled to work the night of this year's gala, he printed out the schedule and marched right over to Robby's workstation to rectify what was surely a mistake.
"Why am I not scheduled to work tomorrow? I didn't even check the schedule until now because I just assumed that my friend would do me a solid because he owes me one-"
"-Because you have to go to the gala, man." Robby interrupted Jack's rambling.
"What part of 'you owe me one' did you not understand?"
"Did you happen to see who else is not scheduled?"
Neither of them had to say anything for them both to know who's name Jack was scanning that piece of paper for.
Robby clapped him on the back, satisfied with a smile on his face as he walked away, "Go home and rest, Romeo. You got a big date tomorrow night - you’re welcome!"
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
So again, Jack was not an angry man. Never had been. But he had decided to add a new line item to the short list of things that made his blood absolutely boil. The thing being every single young, conventionally attractive, rich, tall surgeon working in his hospital hitting on his resident at this stupid fucking gala.
They hadn't even made it to dinner yet and he was sure she'd been approached over ten times. Jack had to step away after the most recent one - under the guise of getting a drink.
Jack unfortunately was very familiar with this particular suitor of hers. She was well into her last year of her residency and it had not been an uncommon occurrence for Dr Harvard from cardio thoracic surgery to make any and every excuse to come down and consult when she was on shift.
Jack made a conscious effort to forget his name. Shen and Ellis loved to remind him of it.
They'd tease him about it. They'd say that there was a plus side to it all. They never had to wait long on a cardiac surgery consultation anymore. But selfishly, Jack would wait fucking years if it meant he was chatting her ear off instead of Mr Harvard.
Jack wasn't naive. She was practically glowing. She always was. She always looked beautiful. Before tonight, he basically only ever saw her with no makeup on, hair a mess, wearing hospital issued scrubs and he still thought she was the most gorgeous person alive.
But tonight. Tonight, Jack was surprised he did not end up as a patient in his ED the first moment he had laid eyes on her. Her hair was carefully curled, framing her perfect face that was painted with just the right amount of makeup. Her lashes were more prominent than usual, her cheeks more flushed and her lips a bit more pink and a lot more glossy.
And then her dress. That damn dress. It was vintage because of course it was. Of course, she found time to vintage shop on top of the grueling hours she put in at the ED. Even in her last year of residency, she had never lost sight of being her own person both in and outside of work.
The dress reminded Jack of something from the prohibition era - celebratory. He was trying not to be so obvious in his celebration of how the structured seams of the powder blue silk created a corset shape that wasn't too tight for a work function but definitely was tight enough to have his imagination wandering.
With delicate lace panels towards the bottom of her dress and the swooping off the shoulder neckline with draped cap sleeves - Jack was being a sap but she looked like she had stepped out of a romance movie. Or off of a runway.
It was the kind of dress that reminded him of when they first met. He loved getting glimpses of her like this. Of who she was outside of the ED.
She had said she found the dress at a second hand shop on consignment. After that he had spent most of their evening dreaming about what it would be like to hold her hand and watch her shop.
Get to see the process of how she selected what she liked. Get to bring her hand up to his lips and kiss it - knowing that he was one of those things that she liked. Maybe even loved. And of course, buy everything her gaze lingered on even when she insisted not to. Especially then.
So Jack was not naive. He knew she was absolutely, positively stunning. He knew even beyond that - she was kind and funny and fucking whip smart. Smarter than anyone he had ever met and in so many different ways. If he could move into her brain - he would. So he was not naive enough to think other men wouldn't flirt with her. They would be fools not to. He just wished he could be the reason they wouldn't.
He sipped his old fashioned and did his best to pretend like he was looking anywhere but at her and Mr Harvard. He can't imagine that he was very successful. A ding from his phone took him out of his misery.
From Shen: Yo - i know you hate that gala shit. Kinda bogus robby made you go. Thought you guys were friends. Anyway, can you come help? Ellis has got a hot date. Or so she says
Jack had never been more thankful to receive a weird text from Shen in his life. He replied with a quick 'On my way' before taking one last glance over at her.
He sighed at the sight of her digging through her purse for something. He couldn’t see her expression but he sure could see Mr Harvard's. Dude couldn’t wipe the grin off of his face. Jack wished he could do it for him.
Okay chill, he reminded himself. As much as he wanted to, he figured it would be rude to interrupt her to say goodbye. She probably didn’t want her old attending cock blocking her anyways.
Jack set his half finished drink on the bar counter along with a $20 tip and turned on his good heel. He had his hands on the cold metal of the event venue's door when he heard his favorite voice behind him.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Jack turned to see her and the sight made him melt. Arms crossed over her chest, brow furrowed, and lips in a stern line that was slowly slipping into a pout.
"Shen and Ellis need a cover."
"And when were you planning on telling me?" Her hands moved to her hips. Jack's hands flexed at his sides. All he wanted to do was kiss the sass out of her. But he couldn't. She was still his resident. And probably not even interested in him.
"You seemed busy. We haven’t even eaten dinner yet." Jack's response earned an eye roll out of her.
Before he could even blink, her arm threaded under his own - grabbing his bicep, "I'm coming with you."
Who was Jack to argue with that?
"How'd you get out of your conversation with Mr Harvard?"
Another dramatic eye roll. He loved it. Then the prettiest little smile he had ever seen.
"Told him my mean, scary boss said we had to leave."
He couldn't decide his opinion regarding the short walk to his SUV in handicapped parking. One part of him was thankful. He wouldn't be shocked if he had burnt holes in his suit jacket from the way his skin had heated up under her feather light touch. The blush was sure to creep up into his cheeks any moment now.
On the other hand, he could walk for miles if it meant she was touching him the whole way. She stopped at his passenger car door and turned to look at him.
"Mean, scary boss huh?" was all Jack could get out while he was under her gaze. It sounded like he had dragged his words through gravel on their way out. But with the way her eyes still shone in the moonlight and the fact that they were solely trained on his own - he was lucky he managed to get any words out at all.
"The scariest." she winked. She fucking winked. Jack had never been more thankful that he had metal for a leg because if he didn't - his legs were sure to have wobbled out from beneath him right then.
His hands were stuffed into his slack pockets. He didn't trust himself for them to be anywhere else. Her hands had given him a moment of reprieve. No longer lightly squeezing his bicep. But now they trailed up his chest, stopping to pretend to fix his tie even though Jack knew it was perfect. Military habit. Didn't matter - she could do whatever the hell she wanted if it involved touching him.
His breath hitched at her touch. He hoped she didn't notice.
"He cleans up nice though - makes up for all the mean and scary."
"Did your mean, scary boss mention you look beautiful tonight." Jack kept his hands in his pockets but took an experimental step forward. Was this really happening? Was she really hitting on him?
It was almost as if she had heard his inner monologue. Wanted to make her intentions clear as she looped her arms around Jack's neck and absentmindedly threaded her fingers through the curls at the nape there.
Ever since she had started fiddling with his suit, her eyes had dropped to anywhere but his face. Typical Jack would have dipped his head, forced eye contact but Jack right now was just trying to stand up right.
Her gaze snapped to him and this time he hadn't even tried to hide the palpitation in his heart or his breathing, "No." was all she said. Barely a whisper but Jack heard her loud and clear.
His hands immediately fell to her hips. He filed away the way she seemed to sink into his grip. Exhaled a little. Like it was muscle memory from a past life.
Her fingers circled their way higher up onto his head, fully tugging on his curls and lightly scratching at his scalp. Jack had to bite back a groan as he squeezed at her hips and pressed her fully back onto his unopened car door.
"Jack." She murmured out low somewhere between a moan and an airy breath, head tilted back in pleasure at the pressure of his fingers on her hips. Jack was fucked now that he knew what his name sounded like falling off her lips without inhibition.
The expanse of her neck now available to him was like a siren song. The past four years had felt like a siren song and he couldn't help himself any longer. One of his hands found the back of her head, gently cradling it back up for her to look at him. His other hand rubbed at her jaw in sweeping strokes of his thumb.
Neither of them could rip their gaze from the others' lips - their panting chests just a mere centimeter apart. He was finally going to do it. He was finally going to kiss her.
Until he wasn't.
Until a loud bang of the door opening broke them apart. A slew of hospital administrators spilled out behind it looking for their next smoke break. Had Jack mentioned that he fucking hated the annual hospital gala?
They flew off each other at what would have been a rather impressive speed if it hadn't felt so agonizing. What was Jack thinking? That he could make out with his resident against his car like they were a horny teenage couple while all of the people in the building a few feet away from them could have her fired for it in a heartbeat? He had to be better. At least until her residency was over with.
He had to get it together - for the both of them it seemed like. Jack cleared his throat and ran a hand over his stubble to hide the smile threatening to take over his face at the realization that she had wanted to kiss him. The way she had said his name with so much...want. Need, even. Maybe this thing wasn't so one sided after all.
He got out of his own head just in time to stop her closing of the passenger door. He wrapped his hand around the top of the door, held it open and waited for her to look up at him after she had buckled up. But the buckle clicked and her gaze stayed trained on her lap.
"Hey." He whispered softly. They both knew the eye contact he was seeking. She slowly turned her head in his direction, gazing up at where he was standing in front of her.
"You look absolutely breathtaking. You always do."
She sucked in a breath and then there she was - big bright smile, shoulders no longer slumped, no more fiddling with her purse strings just to avoid the space between them. She was back to herself.
"Just for that I'll order pizza to the hospital." His favorite.
"Thank you." He probably should have shut the door by now. Should have probably already been on their way to the hospital. But he couldn't stop fucking staring at her. What's new?
"Don't thank me. I still have your card in my DoorDash account." She giggled and all Jack could get out was good before he shut her door.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
They ate their pizza in their gown and tux at the hub with Ellis and Shen.
Ellis raised the polaroid camera that Dana kept at the hub desk and signaled for them to get together for a photo. Jack hooked two fingers under her rolling stool and tugged her over into his side.
"Woah! Old man still has moves!"
Jack ignored Shen as he wrapped his arm over her collarbone from behind her, pulling her closer. Her head instinctively leaned toward his and her fingers delicately held his wrist as they smiled for Ellis's camera.
Jack didn't miss the look Ellis had given her. Maybe he was delusional or maybe she had gotten her best friend Ellis's advice on making a move on her attending at the gala and now Ellis was checking in on the results.
Jack also didn't miss the way her cheeks heated up and the subtle shake of her head at Ellis. As if to signal that they would talk about it later. Probably, when Jack was out of earshot.
Shen tried to get them to pose like they were going to prom. When they both refused citing unprofessionalism, Shen threw a bit of a hissy fit. Mumbling something along the lines of "Oh, now we are being professional!"
Ellis settled on writing ‘Gala Girlies' as the caption for their polaroid before taping it onto the hub counter with the rest of the pictures that had accumulated over the years. This one was definitely Jack's new favorite.
He knew exactly what Robby was going to say when he saw it tomorrow morning, “You owe me one, brother."
He was so fucked.
acceptance
Jack was bored. He never thought he'd say that but this hospital without her was straight up boring with a capital B. He worked here without her for ten years and now - the ten days of PTO she had taken before her first day as a junior attending - felt like the longest of his life. And he was only on day 6.
He wasn't even supposed to be there right now. He had come in after a Tactical EMS job gone bad. His buddy had already gone up to surgery. Before Jack could leave, Robby had roped Jack into joining him on the new day shift attending, Dr Al-Hashimi's, welcome tour.
He was waiting on a text from her. She was spending the day with her family and then she and Jack were supposed to go watch the fireworks together - alone. It was the Fourth of July after all. He had it all planned. He had practiced how he was going to profess his feelings to her in the mirror like a dork more times than he cared to admit. He had long accepted that he was in love with his resident. Now his colleague. He could work with that.
He checked his phone again. No luck. He ignored Robby's inquisitive glance. Jack had never been so interested in his phone like he had been today.
They stood at the hub as Robby droned on and on about day shift procedures that Jack was so thankful not to have to know too much about. Jack just admired the polaroids on the desk in front of them. He was still plotting a way to inconspicuously steal the one of him and her from the gala for his wallet but it had become a fan favorite in the past few months.
Dr Al-Hashimi directed her next question to Jack, pulling him out of his thoughts. She held up his second favorite polaroid with a raised brow, "Am I going to have the pleasure of meeting..." Dr Al-Hashimi squinted to read the writing below the picture, "...Abbot's Angels?"
Jack couldn't help but laugh. The photo had been taken over a year ago. Shen had begged him to take it. Handed the camera over to Jack as he maneuvered himself between the two girls. Both her and Ellis's backs to Shen. All three of them holding up finger guns to their lips with faux serious expressions.
As if her ears were ringing, Dr Ellis appeared behind Jack at the hub. Clapping him on the shoulder and extending a hand out to greet Dr Al-Hashimi, "Don't bring it up to him. He is going through withdrawals because his favorite is still out on PTO."
"Parker - I do not have favorites. You guys aren't even my residents anymore." Jack muttered in defense as he checked his phone again.
Dr Al-Hashimi clocked him, "Dr Abbot - I am good to go here and I am sure I will be seeing you. You should go. It's your day off and a holiday. I am sure you have plans."
"Yeah, what are your plans, Dr Abbot?" Ellis teased. She must have known her best friend's plans were with him for the night. Ellis was enjoying herself. Jack shot her a glare.
"I think his plans just showed up!" Robby clapped his hands together, sputtered out a laugh at the coincidence.
"Brother - I am not taking another case! I am leav-" Jack looked up from unscrewing his water bottle to follow Robby's gaze.
He spotted her mid sip and he genuinely choked on his water in a way he thought only happened in cartoons. He was ready to send Ellis out to chairs when she patted his back like she was burping a baby and suggested that there was a cooling room in North 5 if he needed it.
She was simply glowing. Wavy hair, bright eyes, sun kissed skin donning a short jean skirt and a white halter tank top that accentuated the tan lines over her collarbones left by her bikini.
"Well if it isn’t the prodigal princess of the pitt herself!" Robby goaded, grabbing a clip board and rounding the hub.
The man she was pushing in the wheelchair piped up at that, "You guys actually call her that? Seriously? I thought she was making that up. Please stop - her ego is big enough as it is."
"What do you got?" Robby asked. Jack was still staring. Who the fuck was this guy?
"Idiot male. 37 years old. Broke his ankle trying to relive his glory days coaching youth soccer practice," She was leaned over, pushing the wheelchair with all her might, "and could stand to lose a few pounds."
That pulls an almost relieved huff from Jack. Whoever this guy was - she must've not been that fond of him.
"Hey -" the man reached behind him and tugged on her hair "-my arms still work!"
Oh hell no, Jack thought. Ellis must have noticed he was about to step in and she stopped him before he could, "At ease, soldier. That is her brother."
"Well your brain clearly doesn't" she whacked him right upside the head.
Her brother imitated her, high pitched while she made a show of dramatically handing over his wheelchair to Robby so he could take him away for X-rays.
She thanked Robby as she made her way over to the hub, introducing herself to Dr Al-Hashimi and grabbing the bag of candy that Jack was offering out to her.
She looked him up and down and nodded her head at his camouflage pants, "Really? What is with the GI Jack get up? I thought you were gonna get a hobby.”
"And I thought you said you were gonna stop stealing my food."
"And I thought you said you were gonna stop buying t-shirts one size too small."
"From Walmart." Dr Ellis added.
"You guys, I told you - I do not shop at Walmart."
She giggled and gently nudged her shoulder into Ellis's, "Oh yeah Parker, how could we forget? He shops at Costco!"
"They send good coupons in the mail!" Jack defended himself
"Bro - you're a disabled, widowed veteran who makes more than half a million dollars a year. I think you can afford real clothes." Ellis deadpanned.
“Any other comments from the fashion police about my outfit?”
“Don’t threaten us with a good time.”
Jack cocked his head towards her, smirk widening. He couldn't hide how happy he was to see her. It had been a long couple of days, "And to think I was just starting to miss you."
"Just starting to!?" She raised her eyebrows in challenge, feigning offense while her eyes practically sparkled up at him. He could feel the weight of Ellis's knowing smile on them. He didn't care.
He was debating how obvious it would be for him to pull her into a hug until Dana beat him to it.
"Dr Al, you have just met one of our finest," Dana squeezed her harder, "Except you probably won't see her much because Abbot is always hogging her on nights."
She was released from Dana's grip just enough to clap a light hand on Jack's shoulder, giving him a squeeze, "He needs someone to keep him sharp in his old age."
Jack grimaced the second her hand had made contact with his shoulder and dread washed over her face. Dana fully released her now. Letting her turn all of her attention onto Jack.
“Jack…”
“I’m fine.” He avoided her probing stare and that was exactly how she knew he was not fine.
“Really?” She asked - not buying what he was selling.
“Yes!" She applied light pressure on his shoulder again and he wriggled out of her grasp with a sharp and hissed, "- ah!”
“The room right there is open. Go patch him up.” Dana pointed to the room across the hall. Shooing them in there before Jack had a chance to protest.
Jack sat on the bed as she shut the door and pulled the curtain. Her back was still turned to him as she said, "Take off your shirt."
"At least let me take you to dinner first." Jack tried to pull a laugh from her. It didn't go over well.
"Jack." She warned. Now turned toward him with her arms crossed, “What happened?”
“I was intubating in open fire and a bullet grazed my vest. I’m fine.” He shrugged as he pulled off his shirt. As if what he just said was a completely normal and frequent occurrence.
“You were shot!?” She hurried over to him, standing in between his legs as he sat on the bed.
“Shot…at."
She tilted her head at him in annoyance. Pausing her opening of the various utensils she was preparing to clean his wound.
“What?” He asked.
“Can’t you just take up tennis or golf or literally anything else? Like a normal person?”
“What fun would that be?” Jack insisted upon keeping it light. She shouldn't ever have to worry about him. That was his job.
She lathered some kind of ointment onto his open wound that was on the front of his chest, right above his collar bone. Jack was too distracted by how close they were to care and see what kind.
“There is nothing fun about me coming to work one day and finding out you’re dead because you wanted an adrenaline rush.”
“That isn’t gonna happen.”
“You don’t know that. You think you’re invincible and you’re not.”
“Is that an old joke?”
“Jack-“ her voice cracked and Jack was immediately on his feet, cupping her face in his hands.
“Woah, woah honey okay - I thought we were kidding. I’m fine.” He cooed, one hand stroked her cheek bone making sure not one tear fell while the other steadied her at her hip as she stood between his legs.
“Look at me." He tilted his chin down while he tilted hers up, holding her gaze with his own, "I’m fine. And I’m not going anywhere."
“I won’t survive you dying, Jack. I can't.” Her voice sounded wrecked as her chin wobbled. Jack felt horribly responsible. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. Naturally, like they had been in this position a million times before. He murmured into the side of her hair, “Okay forget the SWAT thing. Although, you should’ve seen me earlier in my full uniform I looked pretty sick”
Jack huffed a sigh of relief as he felt her laugh vibrate through him. He pulled her back with his hands on her shoulders to get another good look at her, "There's my girl."
She wiped a sniffle with the back of her hand and lightly pushed him back down to a seat. His hands never left her. Just slid down her body until he rested them on the outsides of her upper thighs - a safe distance away from the hem of her jean skirt.
She worked in silence for a moment until Jack piped back up, “I’ll pick up tennis or golf like a normal person. I promise.”
“You don’t have to do that, Jack. I just want you to have a little more regard for your life okay? Can you please just do that for me?”
“I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t do for you.” Jack didn't even think that was an exaggeration.
“Except for wearing the correct size shirt.”
He teasingly pinched her leg and she swatted at his good shoulder, laughing. She was done helping him but they hadn't moved. Neither of them really wanted to.
“That’s for you too. Don’t think I don’t see you staring at my biceps.”
Her eyebrows rose in faux surprise as she dragged a hand down his freckled arm.
“Oh you wanna talk about staring? I must have picked that up from someone.”
“This is a teaching hospital”
“Could’ve mistaken it for a staring one.”
“Come on - you’re always performing medical miracles while looking like that. I can’t help it. Cut a guy some slack.” Jack's hands felt like they were on fire, practically kneading her thighs. God, she really had to wear this skirt today of all days.
“You’re a flirt, you know that?”
“Only with you.”
They had about a second to jump apart at the sound of a knock on the door before the curtain was pulled back to reveal Dr Al-Hashimi.
Jack rubbed at the back of his neck. Both him and her were looking anywhere but each other. Jack wasn't planning on getting excited but he was thankful he had placed his shirt over his lap to cover himself now that they were no longer alone.
Dr Al-Hashimi cleared her throat, obviously picking up on the fact that she had interrupted something, "Sorry to uh, interrupt. But my number, Dr Abbot. Like we discussed. For that date.”
Dr Al-Hashimi handed Jack a piece of paper and then turned to her, "You have a visitor from cardio thoracic surgery outside."
Jack groaned. Could Mr Harvard have any worse timing? She shot Jack a glare and stepped outside. Jack could see the shadow of Mr Harvard who he knew was down here pretending he'd have something to do with her brother's ankle surgery just to flirt.
He caught the end of her dismissing Mr Harvard's valiant attempt at being her knight in shining armor. Jack smiled to himself as he made his way back to the hub to catch up with her. He was explaining a procedure to Whitaker as he walked, "You're gonna have to start with your finger. And then slowly over a few minutes as the wetness gathers, go deeper. All the way to the back of the knuckle."
Whitaker nodded in understanding and was on his merry way. She turned right on Jack the second he was in her vicinity.
"What the hell is your problem?!"
"Problem?" Jack asked, genuinely perplexed.
Her voice pitched down, she whispered, "Why do you have to say everything so unnecessarily slutty? You wanna ask Whitaker out too!?"
Now that - Jack was not expecting. He quirked his eyebrow up in surprise. Also in confusion.
"Ask Whitaker out? What are you-"
He was cut off by a little girl screaming her name and running right into her arms, "Look! Look! Your work is on my new soccer jersey!"
The girl couldn't be older than five. Jack recognized the little girl as her niece from photos she had shown him. He noticed who must have been her sister in law a few feet away, talking to Robby presumably about discharge instructions for her brother as he awaited surgery that he would probably have next week once the swelling went down.
"What are you talking about? Lemme see that." She plucked the jersey from her niece and examined the PTMC logo on it.
Jack knew his cheeks were ruby red. He could see the gears in her head putting it all together as she stared at the small jersey with the ironed on PTMC ED patch. A couple weeks ago, she had told him offhandedly that her niece's soccer league was going to get cancelled since they had no sponsor. So Jack called up the park district and paid for it himself. Under the guise it was the PTMC ED. It was no big deal. If her niece was happy, she was happy.
She put her niece down next to her on the ground as her eyes looked up to Jack, softening, "We don't have the budget for this."
"I know. But I do."
She opened her mouth to say something but her niece cut her off, climbing into her dad's lap on his wheelchair as he, her sister in law, and Robby joined them at the hub, "Auntie, is this Dr Sexy?"
Jack's lips immediatley preened, quirking up into an amused smirk, Dr Ellis and Robby doubled over in laughter.
"No baby - this is Dr Abbot." She tried to recover, her eyes blown wide, mouth agape and her cheeks beet red. She couldn't even look at Jack.
"But you always call him Dr Sexy when you are talking to mommy. What does sexy mean?"
"OKAY-" she said loudly, still looking anywhere but at Jack. She turned her gaze on her brother as she clapped her hands together, "-it is time for you all to leave."
"Only if Dr Sexy walks us out." Her brother teased.
She groaned, putting her head in her hands as Jack wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She hid in the crook of his neck, "I am getting a new job."
"Oh no you're not."
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Jack met her at her car after he helped her family to theirs. “Dr Sexy, huh?”
“Shut up. I'm trying to be annoyed with you and you’re making it damn hard”
“Why are you annoyed with me?” Jack steadied himself with a wide stance, crossed his arms over his chest as she turned to look at him, leaning against her car door.
“Seriously?"
Jack just raised his eyebrows back at her in question.
She mirrored his stance, crossed arms over chest, "So you go on dates now?”
“What are you talking about? Is this about tonight? If you don't want to go anymore we don't have to-”
She imitated him and Dr Al-Hashimi from earlier, "Sorry to uh, interrupt. But my number, Dr Abbot. Like we discussed. For that date.” She emphasized the word.
Jack rubbed his hand over his face, stopping at his scruff and trying to mask the smirk that was threatening to take over his face, “Are you…jealous?”
She scoffed, trying to sound nonchalant but Jack knew her too well for that, “Me? Jealous? No, Jack I just think it’s wildly inappropriate. This is our workplace”
“Well that’s a damn shame because I didn’t ask Dr Al on a date. I’m setting her up on one. With my army buddy actually."
Her lips formed a barely there oh, "Well…now I just feel like a bitch."
Jack laughed and stepped closer, shaking his head in refute to her statement. He let his hands find purchase on her car, caging her in.
His voice came out far more groveled than expected, "But I’ve been wanting to ask you on a date for going on, oh I don’t know almost five years now, but if you thinks it’s so wildly inappropri-"
“I don’t!”
“You dont? But I thought-“
He earned himself an eyeroll and a stern, “Jack.”
“You just said-" He couldn't help the huge grin spreading across his face.
“I know what I said”
“So - let me get this straight - it’s only wildly inappropriate if it’s a date with anyone but you? Is that stated somewhere in the HR handbook or-”
"God, do you ever shutup?" And then her lips were on his.
His whole body felt like it was on fire. Her hands on each side of his face, his squeezing at her hips and pressing her up against the car. Just like that night at the gala. Except this time he actually got to kiss her. He was kissing her.
His head spun at the way her fingers circled around to the nape of his neck, tugging at his curls. He cradled her jaw in one strong hand and grabbed her waist with the other, hand pushing up the white tank she had on to make contact with her bare skin. They couldn't possible get any closer but it still didn't feel close enough.
Jack didn't want to ever stop the exploration of his hands along her body. He grabbed at the flesh on the outside of her upper thigh, hiking it up slightly around his hips. She ground herself down onto his bulge and the gasp she let out was heavenly. Jack took the chance to swipe his tongue into her mouth, as she ground down again, slower this time. Jack couldn't keep his moan from tumbling out.
He pulled back ever so slightly, their lips still practically touching as their chests heaved, "Baby, where are your keys?"
"My keys? That is what you care about right now?" She went to grind on him again but Jack's hands grabbed her hips, halting her.
"If you keep doing that I am going to come in my pants in the hospital parking garage and I would much rather come somewhere else in the comfort of my own home. I've been thinking about this for a long time. I want to take my time with you."
"How long?" She asked as she slipped her keys into Jack's front pocket.
"Inappropriatley long. Now get in the car so Dr Sexy can drive us home."
"I am never gonna live that down, am I?"
"Absolutely not."
"I hate you."
Jack grabbed her chin and peppered her face with kisses, ending with one on her lips as she giggled. Kissing her hard because he could do that now, "Somehow, I am not convinced."
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Jack's left hand flexed hard on her steering wheel. His right hand preoccupied with a steady grip on her upper thigh. Her left hand played with his curls as he drove.
"What are you thinking about?"
"How after the gala last year I went home and touched myself. Imagined my fingers were yours." Jack choked on nothing at her words.
"Jesus Christ - I am trying not to cause a mass casualty event, honey. Can you please just wait till we get home."
She groaned his name in frustration and squeezed his fingers between her thighs, trying to find friction anyway she could.
"You're that needy?"
"Yes, Jack."
"Show me then." His voice was gritty and low as he knocked her knees apart. He batted down the sun visor on her side, sliding the mirror cover up and aiming it perfectly to reflect her lap.
She whined at the loss of contact as both of his hands now gripped the steering wheel. Her eyes screwed shut and her chest lifted, breathing heavy. The way her hard nipples were peaking through her tank top was enough to make Jack scared he was going to crash the car.
"Show me how you touch yourself when you think about me. You think you can handle that for me, baby?"
His words seemed to hit her all at once. Demanding in the way it was when he was ordering people around the ED. The tone went straight to her core as she hiked her jean skirt up over her hips and slid her small lacy black thong down her legs. She stuffed it in one of the pockets of Jack's camo pants, lightly squeezing his bulge as she did. All Jack could murmur out was a hissed fuck as she angled her center to the mirror above her, giving him a perfect view of her absolutely soaked core.
"I asked you a question."
"Yes, yes I can handle it. I promise." She rushed her words out in one run on sentence, out of breath as her chest heaved.
"Good girl, baby. Show me how you touch yourself."
She nodded as she began to rub her clit, her voice shakey as she spoke, "I start like this and I think about everything you said to me that day. When you tell me good job after a prodecure or how you order everyone around or how-"
A tumbled moan falls from her lips, cutting herself off.
"Do you play with these pretty tits?" Jack reached over and gripped the nape of her neck, tugging at the string of her halter top and letting it fall. He pulled it down, her tits spilling out as he tweaked a nipple, kneading it after with his palm.
He thought she squeaked out a soft uh huh with a nod that trailed into a moan as her right hand slipped two fingers into her center. The sound was obscene as she pushed in and out, her head falling back and her chest pushing forward into Jack's hand.
"Jack!" She was getting louder now, the pace of her fingers moving quicker. The tone of her voice filled with unabashed need.
"What else, baby?"
All she could do was babble in response. Jack's hand fell from her nipples to her pussy, giving it a slap before grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at herself in the mirror, "Do you see how pretty your pussy is? What was that you said earlier? That I say everything so slutty? Look who's the slut now."
They both saw the way her pussy contracted around her two fingers at his words. The way her already dripping core somehow managed to get even more wet at the filth he was spilling.
"Oh you like when I am a little mean, don't you?"
She could barely nod, her chest hitting her chin as her breathing became more rapid the closer she inched towards her finish line.
"You wanna come for me?"
"Please." She panted. Jack smirked to himself as he grabbed her wrist, pulled her hand from her center before she could even think about finishing, and pressed her fingers into his mouth - licking them clean.
Her head lolled against the seat, she groaned his name. A mix of frustration and want as she dazedly stared at him.
"I've waited almost five years to taste you, honey. You can wait five more minutes till we are home, yeah?"
She huffed out an, "I hate you."
"Somehow, I am not convinced." He chuckled as he placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Jack held her hand gently as he tugged her into his house. She was practically bouncing on her heels behind him. "I'm gonna shower first and then-"
"Like hell you are." She snipped. Now she was pulling him. Through his foyer and straight to his couch where she perched herself on his lap, bracketing his hips with her thighs and grinding down on his bulge that was dying to spring out of his pants.
He pushed her skirt back up her hips and rubbed her upper thighs as she rocked her bare pussy down on him, her hands steadying herself on his neck as she leaned into press her mouth to his.
Jack's chest was heaving, "Baby, I'm all sweaty and gross from TEMS."
"I couldn't care less, Jack. You might be patient enough to wait five years but I sure as hell am not. Please touch me."
"Like this?" His fingers rubbed her clit, her head falling back in relief at him finally touching her where she needed him most.
"God, you were dripping all over your car and now you're soaking my couch? Who's got you so worked up?" She gasped as Jack entered two thick fingers in her, kissing up her neck as he did. Nipping at her jaw line as he pulled her tank top down so he could swirl his mouth around one of her sensitive nipples.
She pulled his shirt off over his head, flashing him a mischevious smirk before, "Dr Harvard from cardiac surgery."
Jack's fingers stopped immediatley. She whined and writhed in his lap at the loss of contact. Jack wrapped his other hand around her neck, squeezing slightly, "I thought you were gonna be good for me?"
"I will, I will. I am." She begged. Jack didn't know what he did in a past life to get her begging like this this in his lap but he was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Atta girl." He cooed, adding a third finger and plunging back into her tight core, "I am gonna ask you again - what's got you so worked up?"
"You, Jack! Your voice and your arms and your curls and these stupid fucking pants."
"Oh my girl likes my uniform, yeah? Is that what had you so bratty today? Want me to fuck you in it?"
"Please." she huffed. Sweat beading at the top of her forehead as she began to rock her hips, riding his fingers.
"Come for me first."
"Yeah, thats it." Jack hissed, trying hard not to imagine what it would feel like to have his cock where his fingers were. That would surely lead to an early curtain call, "That's it. My good girl."
"Fuck, Jack" She let out a shakey laugh as she came down from her orgasm, riding it out on Jack's fingers as she threaded her fingers in his hair.
"The uniform really does it for you, huh?"
She kissed him hard, "You do it for me. The uniform is just a bonus."
Jack readjusted her in his lap, pushing her legs open further over the expanse of his thick thighs. She whined at the stretch, "Come here, baby. you're doing so good for me. Wanna take my time with you."
"You can take your time with me later. I need you to fuck me now."
"Yeah? That needy, huh?"
"Yes, Jack please." She murmured as she undid the belt on his camo pants.
"You're the boss." Jack winked. He may have been her boss at work. She may have liked him bossing her around in bed. But she was the boss in every other sense of the word.
"Funny."
"Glad you think so." Jack hissed as she wrapped her hand around his hard length, preening with pre cum at the tip. She pushed his pants and his boxers down in one go, his erection immediatley slapping up against his stomach.
Jack's head fell back onto the couch as he let out a moan, her fingers rubbing the precum from his tip down his shaft and back up again. She spit into her hand and repeated the same movement. Jack thought he might come right then and there.
"Wanna ride you, please. I'm clean and on birth control. Need to feel you."
Jack couldn’t even get words out. He was too busy trying not to come from a handjob like a horned up teenager, "Same. Mm clean, too" He managed to get out, eyes fluttering shut as another wave of pleasure wracked his body, "Fuck, baby."
She sunk down on him in an instant, relishing the stretch and sending them both into a fit of whimpered moans. Jack used one hand on her hip to guide her motions, the other rubbing up and down her back, eventually landing in her hair as he tugged her forward into a blistering kiss. Now that he knew what her lips felt like he was never gonna go long without kissing them.
"Fuck!" She rocked down hard on him again, "You feel fucking phenomenal. So tight, So. Perfect." He emphasized his praise with kisses, "Taking me so well. Like you were fucking made for me."
He took the hand from her hair and placed it on her clit, rubbing it as she started to rock quicker. He could tell she was close again. He was in danger of spilling over at any second, "You have no business being this good at this. Fuck, I'm not gonna last long baby. Fuck, look at you." Jack brought the hand from her hip up to her mouth, pushing his thumb into her mouth, moaning as she immediatley began to suck on it.
"All these years. Had a feeling you'd get off on praise. Knew you'd wanna be so good for me. Knew you'd be such a good slut just for me, yeah?"
"Yeah, please. Just for you, I promise." Jack didn't know how he had managed to keep himself from finishing with the way she was riding him. She steadied herself on his shoulders, brought herself all the way up and then slowly rocked herself back down, taking all of him and making sure he felt every fucking inch of her velvety walls.
"If you keep doing that I am not gonna last long." He managed to grunt out.
"Then don't. Come in me, please. Want you to fill me up."
Those words alone did it for Jack as he spilled his warm release into her, continuing to rub her clit. "Give me another one baby. I know you can do it. You can do anything. You're fucking brilliant. Your brilliant fucking brain. C'mon, I feel you clenching. Let go. Come on my cock, please."
She tugged hard on his hair, mixing her own release with his as she came. Panting into Jack's mouth as he whispered, "Good girl."
Jack cradled her cheek as she rode out her orgasm on his cock, whispering praise as she did. He swiped two fingers through the mix of their arousals and brought them to her mouth.
Jacks eyes watched, mesmerized, blown out with arousal as she sucked on his fingers, released them with a pop and then, "The second I saw you in that uniform I wanted to drop to my knees in the middle of the hub and suck the soul out of you."
She wrapped her arms around his neck, laying her bare chest over his and nuzzling into his neck, peppering kisses there as he scratched her back. His laugh vibrated through her, "Jesus Christ - you can't say shit like that when I'm still inside of you."
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
He eventually gently cleaned her up. Once she agreed to finally get off of him. He had to bribe her with kisses. He didn't mind one bit. He dragged her to the shower which lead to him having to clean her up again. Again, he didn't mind one bit.
He was at the stove now. Donning only a pair of gray sweatpants as he cooked dinner and watched her pad around his kitchen in only his tshirt and some basketball shorts with probably the dopiest smile of all time on his face.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, tucking herself into his side. He used his free hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer, pressing kisses into her hair. She behaved for a moment until he felt a pair of soft lips pressing kisses across the side of his chest that was accessible to her.
He turned the burner down, dropped the spoon he had been using to stir the pasta on the counter and then grabbed her hips, trapping her against his kitchen island, "You're going to make me burn dinner."
She put her finger to her lips, pretended to think about what he had to say and then with a quick kiss to his lips she muttered against them, "Mmmm, don't care!"
He dug into his pocket, unlocked his phone and put it in her hands, "Put on music. It is already hooked up to the speaker system,"
He picked her up by her hips, causing the cutest squeal he had ever heard, and plopped her down onto his counter. He rubbed a gentle thumb against her cheek, the other against her hip as he stood between her legs, "You need to eat, baby."
She grumbled a fine. She knew when it came to taking care of her - Jack would not budge. She scrolled through his Spotify - she wanted to find something both of them would like but first she was gonna stalk what he already listened to. Of course her curiosity was gonna get the better of her.
A quiet gasp fell from her lips - causing Jack to look over from his spot in front of the stove, "What?"
She turned his phone screen to him, already spotting the flush creeping up on his chest. He recognized the playlist almost immediatley. Made up of all the songs she had played while he drove her home these past couple years - simply titled with her name. There was hundreds of songs on there.
"Did you make this? Do you listen to it?"
Jack figured now was as good a time as ever to lay out all his cards onto the table. Even if he was so embarrassed he couldn't even look up from the dinner he was cooking. He spoke fast, "Would you be entirely creeped out if I told you I replaced the police scanner with it?"
"Would you be entirely creeped out if I told you I am so beyond in love with you?"
Jack's head snapped up from the dinner. He'd never moved so quickly in his life. He was back to standing in between her legs, holding her face - just staring at her with a huge smile. The same expression was being mirrored back to him. It made his heart soar.
"You do? I mean, you are?"
She laughed, "Where have you been the past couple years?”
"Waiting for you to realize that I've been hopelessly in love with you."
"Are we the dumbest smart people alive?"
"Potentially. But doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Only you. Only us." He kissed her now. Slotted his lips over hers like the perfect final piece of a puzzle. His stomach fluttered at the sensation of her fingers finding their home in his curls. He couldn't believe that this was real. That she loved him. He already knew how much he loved her was very, very real.
"God, I love you." Kiss, "So much." Another kiss.
"Say it again." Jack whispered against her lips, smiling like a little kid.
"I love you, Jack."
He pulled back just a bit. Just enough to murmur how much he loved her and get a good look at her face, "Remember when you were so jealous earlier?" He teased.
"I was not-" She began to deny it but Jack leveled a look at her, "I hate you!" she giggled, swatting at his shoulder that was not bandaged up.
"Somehow, I am not convinced." He preened.
"Mmmm, good." She was kissing him again. He could do this forever. He will do this forever - if he has anything to say about it.
The ding of her phone was what made him pull away. But not by much. They both looked at the cause of the disruption, Jack planting kisses up and down her neck, jaw, and chest as she unlocked her phone.
From Robby: Doing scheduling. Can you pick up a shift next Tuesday night please? Shen needs off. You'll get to see your doctor sexy🤪
They both let out a cackle. Jack took her phone and took a selfie with his middle finger up. He sent it to Robby along with a message that read, 'Stop texting my girlfriend.'
"Girlfriend, huh?"
Jack rubbed up and down her thighs as he spoke, "Figured you might think I was insane if I said wife after just one day but trust me that is part of the plan."
"What else is in the plan?”
“Maybe a kid or two? Or four? Really as many or as little as you’ll give me. I’m just happy to be here.”
She chuckled, kissed him while lovingly stroking his face, “I like that plan.”
“Yeah?” He asked, brimming with hope.
She nodded as her phone went off again, a message from Robby flashing across the screen. Jack kissed each of her cheeks, her forehead, and then her lips before reading it out loud - sending them both into a fit of giggles.
mr. zero didn't knew your identity as a mugiwara. mr. zero fell for your bluffs. unfortunately, you never imagined it would be that hard not to fall for crocodile's charms.
❛ ⟡. o 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: afab!reader, strip poker, public sex, mob boss meets a good liar, pussy so good he wonders about marriage.
With a thick cigar between his teeth, Crocodile forced himself to smile. “Five of a kind”, he dropped his cards on the table. “Seems like the house won. Again.”
Crocodile’s presence in Rain Dinners works to reinforce his reputation as a hero in this wretched island. Unfortunately, it also means Crocodile is tormented by the most boring clientele.
To watch someone gambling everything they own out of delusional hope and losing it all because of sheer mischance is only interesting the first few hundreds of times. Now, all Crocodile feels is disdain.
He curses those vermin that stole the joy of victory.
Murmuring complaints, two bettors left the table. The croupier stretched his arm, reaching for the cards left far away from him. As the cards were shuffled, Crocodile took in the chance to observe the tables nearby. Searching for chaos to be dealt with, such a common occurrence in a casino, an unusual sight stole his attention.
A long, thick, light pelted fur coat. Crocodile inhaled the smoke, holding it in. Admiring you with that coat over your shoulders, no one would’ve imagined this is the middle of a desert. And still, you didn’t break a sweat.
One of the bettors decided it was the right moment to thank Crocodile for his protection over Alabasta. He did his best to sound modest, heroic. To embody the last hope of this dying island. The moment a white blur entered his peripheral vision, Crocodile simply ignored the man’s existence.
With a hand over the chair’s top rail, you stared directly at the croupier. “May I?”, you asked, voice sultry as the desert.
Crocodile took the cigar out of his mouth, releasing the smoke in the direction opposite from you. “Made just in time”, he moved his hand towards the croupier ready to start. “Do you know how to play, hon’?”
You took a sip from your glass, not bothering to answer him. Placing your coat over the chair’s rail, you reached inside its pocket and took the poker chip’s box. You left it open on the table, emerald dress moving on your body as you sat down and crossed your legs.
The box was filled to the brim.
Your lack of interest on him ignited something within Crocodile. Curiosity. Something far more interesting than gambling against weak bluffs. “New to poker?”, Crocodile smiled devilish. The sort of smile that make pretty women like you forget about decency.
If only you had looked at him.
“New to this island”, you answered, sounding as bored as Crocodile was before you got there. The way you danced around his question was enough for him to know you didn’t want the others to think of you as an easy target. Usually, Crocodile would simply profit on it. This time, with you staring straight into his eyes, he couldn’t care less about this game. “Is it worth?”
“It will be.”
A promise Crocodile intended to fulfill.
Feeling his gaze burning your skull, to not smile was never so difficult. If you were weaker, you would’ve laugh until your cheeks fell apart from your face. How funny. How alluring. Ah, Luffy really told you the truth.
Your life will be funnier around me, Luffy gave you the brightest smile you ever saw. Stroking your cheek, he cleaned the trace of tears. I will never let you get bored.
A Shichibukai stands before you, unable to see you as part of the threat he is so interest in dealing with. The man that sent thousands of bounty hunters after your crew, that forced Vivi to witness as unnecessary violence tore her nation in pieces, doesn’t even know that you’re part of the group he wants to exterminate.
Good. That means the plan of distracting Crocodile has a chance of working.
Each bettor made an initial contribution for the deal to start. At every round, you raised the amount of chips. It didn’t matter if others were dropping out of the deal or if Crocodile doubled the bet with no hesitance. You simply continued to bet more.
That was alluring. It told more about you than your pretty lips could. You’re not here to make money. You’re not here to waste it. You’re here for amusement. And that Crocodile can give you any time.
“Showdown”, the croupier called. “Please, bettors, show your hands.”
The woman sitting beside you sighed, showing two pairs. Two bettors had dropped out, choosing to wait until the next deal. You placed your cards on the table. 4, 3, K, 10, 10. One pair. “Does that mean anything?”
The first man to drop out chuckled. “Only that you lost.”
Lost in the way your smile spread across your face, the croupier had to remind Crocodile it was his time to show the cards. “Three of a kind”, he murmured. This time, he put no effort into acting as if he cared that he won. Crocodile just wanted to learn more about you. “Do you know the rules?”
“Does it really matter?”, your bright smile was enough to enlighten the whole place. As the croupier changed the card sets, you gave him your solely attention. “The best liar wins at the end.”
“No surprise you haven’t won yet”, Crocodile smirked. He spread his legs, cigar between his fingers. His golden hook glistened, reminding you of the threat he represented simply by breathing. “It’s so easy to see right through you.”
But not to see how I stole all those chips from you, was what you thought. “Seems like a failure of mine”, was what you said out loud.
With a movement of his hand, a waiter approached. Crocodile whispered into his ear; eyes still fixated on you. Intoxicated on his presence, you forgot to look away. What a tempting man. From then on, your glass never remained empty.
Deal after deal, you continued to lose just as Crocodile continued to win. Deal after deal, you continued to answer just as Crocodile continued to ask.
Until there were only you two left at the casino. You let go of your glass and closed the poker chip’s box, raising from the chair. “Should have expected a pirate to be a good gambler.” You took your coat, walking away from the table. “Have a good night, Crocodile.”
“One last deal?” Crocodile was quick to offer. Desperately, you would add. “And then we call it.”
You raised the empty box. “I have nothing left to bet.”
And at that, Crocodile saw his last chance of amusing you. “Then let’s bet everything we have.”
Sat down again, chin supported by your palm, you frowned. The wine had started to affect you both. “And by that you mean…”
“Everything”, Crocodile spread his legs, resting his hook on his thick thigh. You told yourself he was begging for you to stare, but you weren’t that sure of it. “Every chip on this table. Everything on our bodies.”
As he closed his mouth, a part of Crocodile feared his proposition would offend you. It doesn’t happen often, but there is a chance he misread your signals.
“I’ve been eyeing your rings since I sat here”, you wondered out loud. “Just as you been eyeing my dress.”
But to be so straight to the point… Crocodile wasn’t quite expecting that. It was what he wanted, but to see how you two were connected made harder for him to breath.
Then you sighed.
“As tempting as it is,” and you were standing again. Crocodile hated to see that. He would hate even more to see you leaving. “It is also getting late. Like I said, I’m new to this island.”
“You have nothing to fear”, Crocodile bargained. “Not when I’m around.”
“But you won’t be around on my way back to the hotel.”
“Then stay here”, he offered. You arched an eyebrow. “I don’t intent on letting you walk away that easily. I’m a pirate. I’m used to taking what I want for myself.”
For an eternity, you both stared into each other’s eyes. A silent negotiation. His final offering, your final chance of doing the right thing and walking away from danger. You could see his very soul. How it burned just beneath the surface. Crocodile felt the same heat coming from you.
The croupier forced a cough, remind you of his presence. It took much of his strength for Crocodile to not kill him right then and there.
“Shuffle the cards and leave”, you ordered.
He obeyed. Quickly. You both took a look at your cards sets. A smile died within you. A smirk grew on Crocodile’s face. The moment the croupier closed the exit door, Crocodile showed his hand.
Crocodile looked even bigger than he already was, filled with the confidence of a winner. “Four of a kind.”
Dropping your hand on the table, you were the winner he believed to be. “Royal flush”, you smiled. “Pretty sure that’s the highest since we’re not using any wild cards.”
Shock was a good look on Crocodile. After analyzing your cards, his gaze returned to you. “You said you didn’t know how to play.”
“Oh”, you drank the last sip from your glass. “Did I?”
And at your answer, all he could do was laugh. Crocodile ran his hand through his black hair. “You hustle me”, he whispered. Crocodile wasn’t able to get rid of this genuine smile.
Your laugh was real too. It made Crocodile breath in your scent, get drunk on the sweet sound coming from you. Not a bluff, not an act. It was real, and it only made you more beautiful. “And now you have a debt to pay.”
His face darkened, reminding you of who he is. You hustled Crocodile. You hustled Crocodile. You never thought of yourself as a stupid woman, but here you are. For fucks sake. Luffy really is rubbing on you.
Crocodile bended over the table, his broad shoulders creating a shadow over you. His hand grabbed your chair’s arm, his hook moving your chin upwards. A strand of hair fell in front of his orange eyes, and looking into them you felt like a powerless prey about to be ravished.
Face lurking inches above yours, Crocodile smiled devilish. A smile that made you forget about decency, focusing only on the promise of more of him. More of the man that wants to kill you. “Enjoy the show”, Crocodile whispered.
His blue scarf was the first to be throw away, and neither of you cared about where it would land. His long fingers worked on the buttons of the rumpled black-striped vest, so slowly you almost took it off of Crocodile by yourself.
The peach shirt beneath showed a portion of his wide chest and instead of finally getting rid of it, Crocodile held the leather belt around his waist.
He had so much fun teasing you, admiring how you couldn’t look away. A man as handsome must feel entitled to the silent praise. He really thought he was the one in charge, didn’t he? And for long enough, Crocodile was.
You’re a lot of things, but you’re not patient.
Leaning against the chair, you raised your leg. The silver heel brushed against his pants, from down on his ankle until the insides of his thigh. And when your painted nails shined right in front of his crotch, you forced your feet against it.
“Stop playing around.” Cocking your head, eyes explored his still covered up body. “Don’t make me wait.”
Crocodile grabbed your ankles, calloused hand stroking softly your skin. It wasn’t a rough touch, but not less possessive because of it. You put more pressure, making him groan. “You are insane.”
“And why is that?”
“Anyone else would fear me”, Crocodile’s voice reminded you of velvet and sharp knives. It lingered on your ears. “And here you are. Demanding more.”
You sighed, fingers brushing against your lips. That voice… it was your last straw. Fighting his hold, you put your foot down on the ground. You grabbed his shirt, pushing him back until Crocodile sat down on his chair again.
He opened his mouth as you sat down on his lap, but you gave him no time to do anything. “You talk too much.”
Holding the chair’s top rail as leverage, you dive into him. Tooth biting his lower lip, tongue forcing a passage into his warm mouth. Your free hand found a spot on his large neck, bringing Crocodile closer to you. Instead of waiting, you took what you wanted for yourself.
Just like a pirate would.
She isn’t fragile, Crocodile thought. She won’t break.
Sinking into you, Crocodile forgot about self-control. He simply ravished you, just like you demanded of him. A wild animal and nothing more. Exploring your mouth as if it was his to control, hand grabbing your soft skin without a care about finesse or decorum. Crocodile pressed his hook against your chest, enjoying how it didn’t stop you from moving as you wanted to.
You got him out of that stupidly tight shirt, hands scratching his chest as your hips moved on top of his crotch. He forced you down, putting your whole weight upon himself, and ripped your emerald dress into pieces with his hook.
“You’ll pay for this one.”
It was a complain, but your fingers working to unbutton his pants made clear you couldn’t care less. His kisses travelled to your neck, tongue leaving a trail of drool on your shoulder, mouth closing against your nipples. Your fingers intertwined with his hair, encouraging Crocodile to continue.
“I will get you anything you want”, he said, voice muffled. He couldn’t get away from your body to speak. “You burn hotter than the fuckin desert.”
No shame, no hesitation. Freed from his pants, you licked your palm before grabbing his cock. You pumped him with zero delicacy, thumb pressing against the dark, sensitive head. Just like everything in Crocodile, it was big enough to make you wonder.
As if he could read you mind, Crocodile slid his hand into your panties. Long fingers explored your lips, precise with every movement. Thumb pressing against your clit, two fingers against your wet slit. His hook brushed against your thigh, arm locking around you to press you down on his fingers.
Your loud moan embarrassed your very soul, but all Crocodile did was laugh. His teeth closed around your neck, biting hard enough to make you whimper. That’ll mark you for sure. “Ride me, hon’.”
With your nails deep into his back, you stretched yourself on Crocodile’s fingers. You bit his earlobe, brushing your face against his as you speed up your movements. In your hand, his cock throbbed. Crocodile was leaking, burning in the same way you do.
“Take what you want”, you whispered against his ear. “Fuck me already.”
It happened so quickly, you barely understood how he moved. A second before you were on his lap, two fingers deep into your hungry cunt, lips around his ear. Then you were sat on the table, poker chips falling on the floor, Crocodile standing between your legs.
A fucking monster.
Crocodile took his drenched fingers from you, and wasted no time before sucking them clean. He grabbed your thighs, exposing yourself from him. “She’s delicious”, Crocodile stared at your pussy. His fingers pulled your lips apart. “Will get me addicted to her.”
Using your legs, you got him even closer to you. Crocodile grabbed your hair, pulling you into a messy kiss. Fighting against your tongue, he fit the head of his cock into you. You moaned into his mouth.
Moving your heels against his thighs, you forced him inside of you. A stupid decision. Your head collapsed against his shoulder, the entirety of his length touching all the right places. So good, so right, so… much.
Crocodile wasn’t in that much of a better situation. Eyes closes tightly, lips hanging open as a deep cry escaped. So wet, so warm. Moving slowly, Crocodile chortled. He had no control over his mind anymore.
“Don’t you dare stopping”, you manage to say. “Just… fu-fuck, just like that.”
Deep thrusts as his fingers worked on your clit: Crocodile wouldn’t dream of doing anything other than you wanted. He could feel your drool gathering on his shoulder. How your fingers were deep into his forearms, or how the hold of your legs around his waist weakened.
All Crocodile wanted was to make you as addicted to him as he already was to you. To get you to scream his name, begging for more and more. He wanted you to take from him. To get what you wanted. And Crocodile wanted everything you could give him.
Feeling waves of pleasure washing over you, mind empty as a white canvas, you tilted your head back. Eyes half-open, you admired him. His raw lips, face covered in sweat. Marks of lipstick all over his chest, just as deep nail marks and surface scratched. You looked down, watching as he entered you.
“You are worth way more than eighty million.”
Crocodiled bended, tongue playing with your aching nipple. “After my head, hon’?”, he sucked on them. You stroked his hair, enjoying how primal Crocodile looked.
“Do I look insane?”, you moaned.
Crocodile looked into your eyes, face near yours. You placed your arms around his shoulders, but he held you in place. Crocodile simply looked at you. As if there was something new, something he never saw before.
“You do”, Crocodile whispered. It felt so intimate. For a moment, you weren’t being fucked in an empty casino. For a moment, you two were sharing a secret. “You’re perfect.”
You melted against him. Lost on your orgasm, you unlearned how to breath. The fact you couldn’t think didn’t stop Crocodile from kissing you. As you closed around him, Crocodile reached his limit. Tooth deep into your throat, he marked you again.
Tears formed behind your eyes, throat aching as you finally breathed again. You laid your head on his chest, feeling it rising with his unregulated breathes. A firm hand held your waist, his nose stopped in the union of your shoulder and neck. His biting hurt so good, just like your scratches on his skin.
When Crocodile opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was his hand holding onto the table. He looked at the fours rings you said caught your attention. And he saw how there was only one finger lacking a ring.
Insane, Crocodile thought. She’s making me insane.
As his hips moved away, a cry left your throat as he emptied your pussy, your legs finally stopped working. Crocodile took his cigar from the ashtray, smoking it for a few seconds. When he released the smoke, you grabbed his chin and made him face you. Inhaling it, you closed your eyes.
Not a second after you let it go, his hand and hook slid beneath your thighs. Effortlessly, Crocodile took you from the table. Your shaken legs closed around his waist as he carried you. “What you doing?”
Crocodile finally looked into your eyes again. He smiled, and it was genuinely. “Taking what I want for myself.”
you look over at an equally as confused atlas, the bedsheets wrapped around the two of you. you look down and breathe a sigh of relief that you’re in a white shirt and panties, but when you realise it’s atlas’ shirt your eyes widen. he’s very shirtless next to you.
“oh my god!” you jump out of the bed, noticing the clothes strewn around the room. the skimpy dress you’d had to wear for the mission, atlas’ tie and suit jacket…
you run over to the vanity in the hotel room and find the makeup you didn’t get a chance to remove last night dried into your skin, but it isn’t hard to tell your lipstick was removed via other methods.
you spin on your heel and look at atlas in bewilderment, “we didn’t… we wouldn’t.”
atlas says, “is the thought of sleeping with me really that mortifying?”
“we’re coworkers!” you burst. “you’re our leader, our… oh my god, you’re practically ancient!”
“i’m thirty two!” he exclaims, a hint of amusement in his tone.
“june’s gonna have a fucking field day when she finds this out,” you continue to ramble, wiping at the flaky mascara under your eyes in the mirror. “i can’t believe this. couldn’t it have been wilder? or even bosco.”
“wow, you wound me.” atlas rolls his eyes, grabbing his pants from the bedroom floor.
“you don’t even like me!” you hiss. “you’re always shitting on me. you’re not practicing enough, (y/n). your performance isn’t convincing enough, (y/n). that dress doesn’t make you look hot enough, (y/n).”
“i’ve never said that.”
“you were thinking it.”
“sweetheart, if i’d have thought that you wouldn’t have ended up in my bed, would you?”
that shuts you up. he cocks an eyebrow at you and you turn away so he can’t see your burning cheeks.
“yeah, well, it clearly wasn’t that memorable,” you grab your dress. “tequila makes me do crazy things and this is another to add to the list.”
gathering the rest of your things, you pause to look at atlas.
“i’ll give your shirt back later,” you promise. “and uh… see you at breakfast? please, don’t say anything to the others. i’ll never live it down and they already make fun of me for my tragic dating life.”
“my lips are sealed.” atlas mimes locking his lips and throwing away the key.
you give him a genuine smile, “thanks, danny.”
you let yourself out of his hotel room and when the door closes, atlas falls back against the pillows and lets out a groan.
he remembers everything.
he remembers his hand on your thigh in the booth of the club. once the mission was complete, jack brought a round of shots for everyone and henley managed to convince the bartender to hand over two bottles of champagne.
he remembers you leaning into him, the two of you talking in low voices as your friends chattered on around you. he remembers your lips curling up into the prettiest smile he’s ever seen.
he remembers bosco and jack challenging each other to a drinking contest, and remembers you taking the rest of the shots when they both had to tap out. he remembers doing some of them with you.
he remembers all of you stumbling back to the hotel and inviting you back to his room for a nightcap before the two of you would inevitably turn in at your respective rooms.
he remembers the two of you giving into the tension and making out on his bed, your lips travelling to lower places. he remembers the smell of your perfume, the noises you make when you come undone, and how beautiful you look with your head on his chest, sleep overtaking you.
atlas’ head pounds and it isn’t from the impending hangover.
After months of adventuring with your party, you can't help but be curious about a certain dragon born....
cw: cisfem reader, Monster fucking, OC x reader, fantasy racism (someone is not nice to dragonborn), biting, slight mention of bleeding, fingers in holes
PART ONE OF TWO
a/n: A very special thanks to @tyga-lily, who talked with me about her little dragonborn and made me fall in love with this concept and to @saetyrn9 who came up with his name :)
"The bath is free, Obi."
For how much a night costs, the room is nothing special, but any inn with running water is heaven sent. It’s been almost two months since anyone in your party has slept in a proper bed and your body can feel it. Simply wearing the silk of your nightgown feels luxurious at this point; sleeping on down is going to feel obscene.
"I'll be quick." Your party mate stands with a grunt, the day heavy on his joints. You almost want to tease him, but after this adventure, your knees are screaming too. It's hard enough for you to throw yourself on to the bed
Despite knowing him for the greater part of a year, you always forget how large the dragonborn is until he’s next to you. Towering over you with delicate horns and ridged crest, Obsidian Vyke -Obi, to his friends- is all black scales and teeth. The air crackles around him the way it crackles around all sorcerers, subtle yet wild, so it’s unfair that he’s also built wide. Thick biceps and a barrel chest: no magic user should be that muscular.
"Take your time." You watch him as he moves around the room, dipping around the singular bed and pulling his sleeping clothes from his travel sack.
"I'm sorry about this," Obi says, peering over his shoulder, "I know I'm not as nice to room with as Kiri."
The two other members in your party had been fast friends-- unfortunately, they were also quick to become lovers. Usually, that did not pose any issues to the group, but tonight, the inn only has two rooms available. It seemed cruel to separate the lovebirds, so you and Obi agreed to cohabitate for the night.
"I don’t mind sharing a bed with you." The idea gives you butterflies, this flitting, nervous energy. You trust the man with your life-- fuck, he’s saved your life in battle -- but something about sleeping next to him makes your skin goosepimple. "As long as you don't snore."
His eyes narrow in a smile. "I'll try my best."
The dragonborn undoes the lacings of his leather outerwear using the sharpened tips of his claws, delicately catching them under and pulling. The motion is careful and patient, repeated until he can toss the garment into the room's only chair.
It’s not that you don’t want to share a room with him. In fact, you think you want this a little too much. You're absorbed with all of his movements as he primps a bit, adjusting the hem of his shirt so it sits properly, running a palm over his crest, sliding off his traveler's boots. If you're lucky, his shirt will be next and you can catch a peek of the toned spance of his stomach.
"My lady," His teeth flash in the fire light, pearls against the deep, dark opalescent hues of his scales, "You're staring."
"Ah, I'm sorry!" He’s one to talk; you’ve felt his gaze following you for weeks now. That's the only reason you're thinking about him and his body.
And, using that logic, he's the only reason you bought that bodice ripper last week, the one starring a pretty red dragonborn and his human lover--
"Is there something in my teeth?" Obi teases. That earns him a giggle, but, when you don't respond, he exhales through his nose and moves closer. "We're rooming together tonight, so if there's any tension between us, I'd rather-"
"I heard a rumor," you blurt out.
He goes pale. "About me? What did Thyrll tell you?"
"No, about dragonborns in general."
Relief relaxes his features.
"And you just want to know if it's true?" There's a click in his voice as he laughs, something strange and inhumane, "It's okay. You can ask. Let me guess- I eat poor little gnomes? I enchant humans with my-"
"Is it... inside of you?"
The dragonborn pauses at that, eyes wide. "Excuse me?"
"Your..." You cannot believe you're about to say this, "Cock."
"Oh."
You scramble up, hands over your face as you head towards the door. You aren't sure where you're going to go in a nightgown, but anywhere else has to be better than here.
"Oh, I'm sorry! That was so rude of me."
A wall of muscle suddenly blocks your way. Those dexterous hands that you were admiring moments ago are now touching your shoulders, rubbing up and down affectionately.
"It's alright, my lady, I'm just... surprised." He smells like petrichor, something strangely earthy and yet unnatural clinging to his scales, and laughs like summer rain, "I think it's natural to wonder about different races, I just didn't think..."
His sharp eyes are dilated a bit, the pupils closer to almonds than slits as they bounce up and down your body.
"I've had my own... curiosities about others as well," he admits, "So, who am I to judge?"
Your spine prickles at that. Who exactly was he curious about? One of the elves in your party? The barmaid downstairs? Or is it you that the thinks about at night, cock in fist?
The dragonborn misreads the upset look on your face. "I promise that I am not cross with you. How about I answer your questions and you'll answer mine? No judgments."
You settle a bit. "If you're sure."
He smiles a draconic smile, all teeth and the smallest flick of his tongue.
"Of course I'm sure. I'm not embarrassed because my species is a bit different than yours."
You watch him for a long moment. He’s kind. A scoundrel at times, but kind. It's etched into his face, always reflected in his wide, chartreuse eyes.
"So, it is different,” you say carefully.
"It is."
“Very different?”
“When my cock is hard?” He says it so easily. Always proper, it makes you squirm to hear him curse, “No. But when I’m not, it is, in fact inside.”
"It's just... flat down there?"
"Yes- give me your hand."
You weave your fingers in between his without a second thought, but he just shakes his head and pulls away. Then, he takes your still open palm in his and brings it to his torso. The muscle there is just as firmed as you imagined and it's hard not to linger in once spot to appreciate it, Slowly, Obi guides your hand down, running it over the linen of his pants. Underneath, you can feel how it's slightly ridged with larger scales than the rest of his body and, subsequently, larger gaps form in between. It's just skin-- well, it's just scales. You're touching nothing technically intimate, but your heart races anyway, caught in your throat.
"See?" His voice has the edge of a tremble and, when you look up, you realize just how close you two have become. Practically chest to chest, his snout is only inches from your face, close enough that you can see how each individual scale slightly shifts in color as the fire dances. He seems to have realized too; dragonborn expressions are hard to read, but you don't miss how deep his breathing has become.
"It's nothing like touching a human, is it?" he mumbles, hand squeezing yours ever so slightly, “Not intimate at all.”
"Well." You curl your fingers up, clumsily feeling through the fabric, "Maybe a bit.”
The fire crackles in the fireplace. He breathes again, on the brink of a sigh, and you think he’s just as caught up in this as you are.
"Just a bit?" Heat radiates from him. If he were human, it'd be alarming, but instead there's a comfort to it. You're still warm from the bath, and yet you chase that heat, slipping your hand from his just to bring it under the waistline of his pants.
"More than a bit."
He's hot underneath it all, almost uncomfortable to the touch as you explore the space blindly. His eyes haven't left yours, his lids getting heavy with every prod and poke of your fingers.
A vertical line of soft, exposed skin catches your ring finger and his body jumps reflexively as you accidentally dip inside of him. It’s strangely dry, yet much softer than the rest of his scaled body. Despite yourself, you explore it a bit more, pressing in the same way you’ll be playing with your own pussy tonight.
"A-ahh--" The dragonborn sucks in a deep breath and you can feel his abdomen crunch under your touch, "Be careful."
"Did I hurt you?" you ask as you pull away.
His chittering laugh returns. His hands rest on the small of your back, not pushing, but not entirely platonic either. When he talks, the air tastes like distant embers, just far enough away, yet not close enough, "You didn’t hurt me, don’t worry."
“Are you sure?” you press, “You made a weird noise.”
“Very sure,” He dips low enough to press his lips against the shell of your ear, "You’d do the same if I put my fingers inside of you."
This time, the heat is coming from inside you, twisting and pulling with want.
"With your claws?" You manage to joke through your suddenly dry throat, "I might cry."
"I could cut them," His voice is rolling and low as his hands explore, one traveling up your spine and the other dipping the smooth over your ass. When they both reach their zeniths, they switch directions. The silk of your dress catches against his skin, pulling it up and revealing the fat of your ass to the air. "Nice and short."
His nails dig gently into your skin, nothing more than a nip, a test.
"You’re so soft, all over. Your body just gives when I touch it,” There’s a distant tone to his voice as he speaks into the curve of your neck, “Too delicate for me, aren’t you?”
You hum in disagreement and his teeth prove you otherwise. It’s barely a graze, but the nip against your pulse point drags a whimper from deep within you. Your companion chuckles, then coos with pity as he does it again, much, much kinder this time.
“Oh, you’re knock kneed and sweet for me,” The already blossoming bruises are soothed by a warm, textured flash of wet. His tongue is rougher than a humans, longer too, and it leaves behind a string of spit that is more viscous than any human’s. “Like a fawn. My sweet fawn.”
The hand that once explored him is trapped in between your bodies, unable to move, but you can feel something against your stomach: something hard, something thick. Too much cock for your human body, but, fuck, you’re going to try.
“Bet you’re even softer down here.” A singular clawed drags over your bare ass, searching for underwear that isn't there and your body trembles with want, “Oh, look at that, shaking like a leaf. I bet you’d melt if I-”
A sharp knock at the door scrambles you two apart. A moment passes and the sound almost feels imaginary, but then it happens again. You smooth your still wet hair and try to gather yourself, heading to the door in a hurry. Somehow, the dragonborn is more flustered than you. His scales are physically ruffled and his usually stoney brow is creased. He can’t blush, but you swear you can see his face alight as you swing the door open.
There stands a familiar elvish figure, with dark straight hair and the prettiest of smiles.
“Kiri!” you exclaim. She’s a natural beauty, like most elves. All legs and sharp angles, she’s a good head taller than you, leaning over with almost a condescending grin. She’s so beautiful that you almost hate her for it.
“I am sorry to be a bother, rogue.” She speaks in Elvish and the dragonborn’s head tilts slightly side to side, like a dog who hears his name, as he tries to listen. “I came to thank you and the sorcerer.”
“Oh, yeah, no worries,” Your Elvish is unnatural on your human tongue, “We are fine here.”
“My lover thanks you too,” she winks and giggles. She’s over a hundred years older than you, and yet still head over heels like a schoolgirl. Elves might live for thousands of years, but they take hundreds to mature. “We will not be sleeping much tonight.”
You roll your eyes and pretend to gag, biting back a smile, but then Kiri grows serious.
“If he scares you, please let me know,” she continues.
“Obi?” you say, “He’s a sweetheart.”
“I’m sure he is, but those teeth! Like needles. Braver than me, sleeping next to a monster like that.”
You glance at your dragonborn and he looks away before you can meet his eye. A disappointment settles in your stomach. Monster is such an ugly word for a pretty man. Everything about him is charming and refined, from the way he speaks and the way he walks, to the way he shines his scales when he thinks no one is looking.
“That’s rude.” You’re quick to reply. Kiri grew up around only her own kind and their ideas-- she doesn’t always know what’s uncouth or offensive because of it, “Don’t say such awful things.”
“It seems like he’s already gotten hungry.” She jerks a chin to your shoulder. You reflexively reach to cover it, only to pull away when the spot feels wet. Blood speckles your fingers- not enough to warranty any worry, of course, just the slightest graze of the skin.
“That’s not--”
“I tease, I tease!” she continues, “I know it is just a scrape. Can you imagine? To lay with someone who is all claws, fire and untamed magics! I-”
The man in question stalks in between you two silently. With a towel in his arms and a chip on his shoulder, he stomps by with a snort of his nostrils.
“I’m going to bathe.” His Elvish is worse than yours, but it's enough to make Kiri’s face drop. The worst part is that he doesn’t sound angry-- you could deal with anger. Instead, he sounds heartbroken. “I don’t mean to be frightening.”
You both walk him stalk down the hall until he disappears around a corner. Kiri swivels to look at you, bewildered. “Since when does he speak Elvish?”
reading you right (father paul hill/john pruitt x reader) -nsfw
Father Paul Hill, Midnight Mass
prompt(s): "Me. You. Bed. Now." [from this post]
[Pt. 2 Out Now!! Linked Here :)]
anon: I had a normal amount of fun writing this, hope you enjoy :) i wanna do a pt. 2 because ofc i do,, honestly I got a lil hot n bothered lmao
notifs: paul hill is a tease!! ; shoe-grinding ; fluffy smut ; hierophilia ; you're father paul's dirty little secret ; denial ; reader begging ; reader's down HORRENDOUS ; terms used: good girl, slutty thing, pet
"You've been lying there moaning for ten minutes." Father Paul chuckles, trying to focus on his reading.
You feel your leg twitch as you lay on your stomach, looking a bit dazed across the room. A giggle escapes you. In your mind's eye a constant stream of images plays- every dirty thing you’ve done with Father Paul in the last 48 hours, a rare weekend’s reprieve from prying Beverly Keane, sitting bedside with her sister or aunt or who-the-hell cares on the mainland. It was too easy to sneak into the house behind St. Patrick’s, and too goddamn pleasurable to leave after the first night. A delightful ease of domesticity has settled over the two of you. And you’re even more whipped for the Father than you were when this whole messy arrangement began.
"I can't help it-"
"It's understandable to whine like a whore while I'm still inside you, but cooing like that when I'm not even touching you is a little ridiculous." Smug, he licks his finger and turns a page. "A man's ego can only grow so big."
“What are you reading?” you ask, completely uninterested, and your voice betrays it. You might enjoy a good book now and again, but something worlds more tempting is sitting before you. In his jeans and tee shirt, only his glossy ankle boots remaining, Paul is a rare sight out of uniform, like something sent from heaven. Or Hell. Both, somehow.
“You asked me that fifteen minutes ago. Or did you forget already?” He shoots you a disapproving, but playful look. He can hardly resist you more than you can him. Hardly. There is that last smidgeon of reserve that Paul prides himself on. He can’t be bothered to think of you as a sin, because life’s become far, far more complicated in the last few months than any one man can hold in his head, and because it feels like paradise to touch you.
Caught in your inattention, you abandon the ruse of asking about his book. "You fucked me too good...." You whine.
"You're going to complain about it?" He laughs at you.
"You're laughing at me."
"Of course I'm laughing at you," he admonishes. Not to be taken in by your wiles, Paul's eyes trace the paragraph he's started unsuccessfully three times.
"You whine before I fuck you, you whine while I fuck you, and you whine after I've fucked you. You're silly."
The vision renews itself in your mind of last night creeping around in here, your excitement waiting in the antechamber of St. Patrick’s late at night, Paul sneaking up on you in the dark and taking you in that muggy little den where they keep the wine and spare things. You want him to grunt against your ear like that again, to fuck you like he needs you in order to breathe.
"I'm not silly!" You gasp out. He hears the difference in your voice and scans your body with his eyes. Grinning. He licks his bottom lip and pretends the fool. “I want it, please, I want it, I don’t caaaare…” Your caterwauling would be annoying if it wasn’t so bone-deep genuine. Paul could probably keep you here forever as a pet, a secret from innocuous parishioners, visitors from all walks of life, and you’d be satisfied as long as he used you from time to time. Fed you.
“Oh, that’s undignified.” He smiles, turns the page and hopes he can pick up without the aid of the passage his mind simply refused to retain.
You get on all fours and start to crawl over to him. You tug on the leg of his jeans, utterly debased.
“You’re insatiable, you know that?” his tongue flicks and flutters around the word in a musical way that you know you could find better uses for. You nod. His voice. He could guide you anywhere with it. To make things worse, he imitates you. The facsimile of your lust in his voice is enough to make you jump him. “‘Father, I can't focus on my book....Father, please fuck me with your fingers, I can't without it, I need it...I told you pack things to stay because I imagined I’d be enjoying some downtime other than between my sheets.'"
You bite your lip, the adoring way you look up at him unfairly reminiscent of Biblical portraiture, the Madonna (too ineffably ironic), Saint Lucia, devout, suppliant little succubi. Paul’s heart breaks a little, and his cock twitches with interest, which he endeavors to suppress.
“What’s that look for, child?” He plays up the religious bent of your dynamic, something that presses inexpressibly sinful and delicious buttons in your dirty mind.
"I do need you."
You pout. Your words with Paul repeating them was enough to rev your proverbial engine. You shift just the littlest bit, yet the friction of the floor underneath you is enough to tease out a whimper. Not totally on purpose, but not totally by accident. John chuckles again.
“Present tense?” He pretends to turn a page, but he’s not reading a damn thing now.
"I need you all the time you're not in me.” It’s filthy, but it feels true in these moments when all the thoughts are leaving your head empty.
He smiles one of his private smiles. His eyelids crinkle as he reaches up to scratch his cheek. "Let's not be pornographic, huh?"
"I wanna fuck again..."
"What else is new?"
"You've ruined me." He looks at you then like you’re something to eat. The book is shut and put down. You have your beloved hot priest’s attention. His eyes ask, smoldering, what will you do now you have it?
“You have my boot. Or aren’t you smart enough to get yourself off.” His tone shifts and a shadowy, serious dominance settles in his countenance. Every behavior, every quirk of his expression, curve of his smile, owns and owns you. He may plead and beg to bury his head between your thighs from time to time, on one occasion he may have shown up at your door, his satchel a deceptive front for rope and ribbon, which you were to restrain and blindfold him with. Life’s too short for dynamics that don’t shift and change like the tides. But in this moment, this energy, you are his. And he intends to impress that upon you.
You gape at him just a moment, heady lust clouding your already addled brain. Then slowly, carefully, you adjust your position, grab the upper part of Paul’s calf, and hoist your lower body up onto his shoe, your pelvic bone bumping his shin. Any hesitations or embarrassment that linger in you drown in the deeper, sweeter excitement of feeling some real friction as you roll your hips. Oh. God.
This might be the senseless, reckless need talking, but fuck. Just the sensation of the toe of his shoe right between your thighs, exactly where you need it, makes you feel a little bit crazy. You look up at him in awe, and thank God he’s not picked up his book again but instead is sitting comfortably, his gaze dropped low to watch you, his groin thrusting the tiniest bit forward at nothing, too much nothing. He groans, and you chase your pleasure like a thing possessed.
Words slip out of your mouth without a shred of logic behind them, and Paul tells you to repeat yourself. He bites his bottom lip as he watches you. “Hello? Still a brain in there?"
“I said you make me so sensitive,” you mumble, finding a new groove in the contour of his shoe, where it meets his ankle, and leaning on his knee, shaking, groping for his thighs, all involuntarily. Your dripping, dripping on his shoe, and the thought of how uncivilized that is makes Paul bite his fist.
"Uh huh, so it's all my fault, then."
"Yes..."
"Yes, 'what'?"
"Yes it's all your fault, Father."
“It’s my fault you’re going to cum on my shoe?”
You whine again. Your soul’s leaving your body, want spreads through every inch of your body, intense and blinding, high, so high.
“C’n I cum, please, can I cum?” You pant, feeling his hands wrap around yours, warm and loving.
“Look at me, pet.” He orders. You obey. His irises envelop you. You steady yours on them, trying to get a grip, breath filling your belly and leaving your parted lips in rapid gasps. “No.”
Your brows shoot up in surprise. Disappointment isn’t the word for it, desire lets itself out as a sound. You slow down, somewhere in a high place you hear him say:
“Stop grinding, slutty thing. Your Father told you ‘no.’”
You sink against him, laying your head on one of his thighs. He kisses the top of your head, and murmurs, “Good girl. Good girl, good.”
Fireworks are setting off under your skin, your thighs are trembling, every bit of you is sticky. “That wasn’t easy, I bet.” He says, voice condescending and sweet, but every bit as needy as you are. You make another noise in response.
“I’m not done with you, you know,” he takes your chin into one of his hands, lifts your head. He kisses you again, with a fierceness that just sharpens your feeling. “I’m not even close to done with you.” He rests his in your neck, kisses you once, twice, up your jaw, on your cheeks, the ear he can reach. He bites your earlobe and almost hisses, “Me. You. Bed. Now.”
❀ N.SFW ❀ 5.7K Words ❀ Part 1 of 3 ❀
❀ Monster Boyfriend AU ❀
❀ 2023 MONSTER FUCKTOBER Masterlist
❀ Author's Notes: FINALLY! HNNN! IT HAS BEEN SO HARD TO NOT JUST POST THESE AND TO WAIT! I HAVE BEEN IMPATIENT WITH MYSELF! YEESH MAMA, WHY MAKE YOURSELF WAIT!?
Starting off strong with my faves. Sandwich me between Zoro and Kaku and leave me there. Forward my mail, that is where I live now.
This story is part one of 3 in the MONSTER FUCKTOBER List. Part Two is on the 19th (My Birthday), and Part Three is on the 31st. My entry into the One Piece Costume Contest hosted by @swampstew is also related to this story. So keep an eye out for that! Sort of the fun 1.5 I guess?
There are a few lines in here that are references to my darling friend @quinloki's "Souled Out" series. You can read it on their sideblog @punks-never-die205. It legit makes me feral, please read it.
The Chess moves they are making at the end of the chapter are taken from an actual professional chess match. Tbh, idk how to play, so I looked some up. It was a match that ended in a draw because they kept going back and forth.
There is not actually much fucking in this one. But I could care less, it was fun to write.
As a reminder, there will be no tagging for the stories this month.
PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING
❀ In an attempt to further your magic studies, you follow the instructions given to you by your mentor in summoning a familiar. However, when something goes wrong, you are face to face with two demons who do not seem to stop eyeing you up.
❀ CW: A lot of silly banter that I had WAY too much fun writing, nudity, language, oral (female receiving), implied threesome, polyamory.
❀ Listen to the Playlist: ❀ Spotify ❀ YouTube ❀
Your eyes went wide as you watched a hand reach out of the summoning circle, followed by a second. A head of green hair started to creep out with horns and fluffy cat-like ears, but was pulled out of the way by a different hand. It was followed by shouting; two separate voices. There were two sets of hands, and they started to slap each other, trying to push the other out of the way. Sitting there as you watched on in shock, as it seemed two men were fighting their way out of the circle, arguing in a language you did not know until their heads fully came out of the dead center of the circle. Once they broke the barrier, you could understand them.
"Shove off Kaku! I was here first, you fucker!"
"Over my dead body, Zoro! You're cutting the line, bastard!"
Two demonic looking men raised about halfway out of your summoning circle, shoving, slapping, biting, and pushing the other out of the way in their own attempt to be first through the portal from the other realm in which they had been brought. You already knew that whatever came out through the portal of your magic circle would not be human, but when you read over your book and notes again and again as the two bickered and argued, you could not figure out where things went so wrong. Your mentor, Robin, had very specific instructions for you on what to practice before she would see you again in a few weeks to assess your progress.
Magic was not something one openly studied or did publicly in the modern era, so your day job as a librarian for a local elementary school would have to suffice as what the world outside of your apartment knew you as. While many called themselves witches in the modern age, those who possessed actual magical abilities either lived in the middle of the woods where no one could find them or had a tendency to disappear in government black vans if they were too open about it. You understood the risks you took, but you were more than happy to learn and practice in the safety of your own space.
You flipped through the pages of the book that Robin had told you to obtain and compared it to your notes, both men now fully out of the portal and still wrestling with each other within the confines of the circle. While rather entertaining and the most action the floor of your apartment had ever seen, you were pretty sure that this circle was just for a simple spirit familiar. An axolotl spirit specifically, it looked so cute in the drawing. Two half naked dudes were nice, but you could not help your mild disappointment.
“Okay, something definitely went wrong here…” you squinted at the pages of your book, your furniture all pushed to the sides of the room and your area rug rolled to the side, the only light being from the various ritual candles and the kitchen sink light. The summoning circle was painted in chalk mixed with animal blood, as instructed, which helped with some of the smell. It would be easy to clean, or at least that was what the instructions said. Getting your hands on solid copper bowls for the offerings was the really hard part, most places sold things that were copper plated. According to your information, you had done everything correctly, even right down to wearing what made you feel the most comfortable, which was a loose fitting crop top that barely covered breasts and just a pair of lace panties hugging at your hips.
Glancing back at the two men, you saw that the one with green hair had the one with strawberry blond hair underneath him, both holding one another by the neck. A part of you was curious as to whether or not one could kill the other, but you knew you needed answers and one or both of them was your best bet. While two heads were usually better than one, you also feared what could become of your floor if they both continued fighting as they were.
You cleared your throat, remaining just outside of the summoning circle on the floor, knowing that the men could not leave the barrier or the circle unless you released them yourself. At first, neither of them responded, continuing to curse and spat at as the blond managed to gain the upper hand and now had the green haired man pinned down as they continued to choke one another. A second time you attempted to get their attention still yielded no results, so you took a deep breath to calm your nerves.
“HEY! KNOCK IT OFF!”
Both of them turned to look at you, their inhuman eyes reminding you of what they weren’t. You covered your mouth as the realization of what all had transpired started to sink in. There were two rather high-ranking demons in the middle of your living room, bound only to this realm by your will and crudely drawn lines on the floor.
And now you had yelled at them.
They blinked a moment, then looked to each other, a long silence as they started to gesture to each other wildly. Not a word came out of them, but finally after a few more slaps at each other, they separated and knelt side by side facing you.
“Salutations, oh gracious summoner!” the blond spoke first, bowing his head deeply, “I am known as Kaku. It is a pleasure to be in your presence!”
“Yo, ‘sup?” the one with green hair just casually waved a clawed hand, only to be swatted by the first and given a knowing glare. He huffed and continued, “I’m Zoro.”
“That’s it? That’s all you got for her?”
“What? These formalities are pointless. Why sugarcoat things? That’s not really my style.”
“Hell’s Bells…” the one named Kaku rubbed his face, “of all people to get stuck here with…”
Zoro growled at him, more animal sounding than man. It made sense as he had what looked like deep green tiger striping over his tan body, and a long, tiger-like tail. His ears were fluffy like a cat’s, and his hands were colored black with claws. A deep, gnarled scar moved across his beautifully sculpted chest from his left shoulder to his right hip, and a second scar over his left eye seemed to keep it perpetually shut. His green hair was short and had three tiny black horns sticking out of his hairline just above his forehead. He wore ripped pants of sorts and three golden earrings that dangled off his left ear, and his one good golden eye was still fixated on Kaku, making you notice just how black it was around the iris.
Kaku’s eyes were almost a solid red, the pupils reflecting light like an animal in headlights, which was the only real indication that he had them at all. He was much taller than Zoro, and while he was also muscular, he was more on the leaner side while the other was beefy. His body was covered in giraffe-like spots around his neck, shoulders, wrists, and sides. His feet were hoofed, and he had giraffe horns sticking out of his baseball hat that pushed his long ears down on either side of his head. The shorts he wore were also ripped, but your eyes kept drawing back to his long and square nose, wondering how in the world it was like that. Probably the fact he was not human.
“You could have far worse company than me,” Zoro folded his arms over his amply muscular chest, “I could have been Sanji, but he jumped in that other portal pretty damn quick.”
Kaku growled back—could giraffes growl? Did this count? He was a demon after all— “At least Sanji has manners! He somewhat knows how to treat a lady!”
Their foreheads pressed together as they continued to fight, causing you to sigh again, feeling like this would be a regular pattern for a while. Your sigh did at least catch their attention this time, both of them looking to you and then moving closer to the inner edge of the circle.
“I apologize for his behavior, Summoner,” Kaku bowed his head, “My companion here means well… I guess.”
Zoro’s arms remained folded, “I’m still here, ain’t I?”
Waving a hand at both of them, you shifted a little closer to the edge of the circle as well, “Look, formalities aside, I think there has been some sort of mix up. While I appreciate that both of you are very candidly yourselves, I um… didn’t mean to summon you.”
Both men blinked at you, a little wide-eyed and then glanced at each other a moment before looking back at you. Zoro rubbed his neck, “Um, how do you not mean to summon us? I mean, you didn’t put a specific name on the circle, it was pretty open ended, but this is… well…”
“This is the most perfect summoning circle I’ve seen in… probably…” Kaku blew some air out of his lips, then shrugged, looking at Zoro for the answer, “What, 300 years?”
“Sounds about right to me. Plus, it takes a lot of power and talent to pull off something of this caliber. Why else do you think I’d have to fight off this idiot to get here? We weren’t the only ones, either.”
You felt a heat rising to your face, looking away from either of them, “Oh… Um, I’m flattered and all, but, like… I am still rather new at this. You see, I’ve been following this book my mentor told me to get,” Looking to your side, you grabbed your papers and brought your instructional book over for them to see your work, laying everything out as comprehensibly as possible. Kaku seemed to be genuinely taking it all in while Zoro scratched his head, squinting a bit with his one good eye as he contemplated what he was reading.
Both men bopped their own fists in their hands in unison, “Oh!”
It caused you to blink, feeling that embarrassed heat overtake your face again, “O-oh?”
Kaku did his best to point, seeing as how they were restrained in by the invisible force of the summoning circle’s magic as if they were behind glass. The tip of his finger and even his nose pressed against the edge, going flat as if he were pointing at a fish in an aquarium, “You see, this book has a misprint. Look here, these symbols on this side have some added marks. Instead of being some of the more modern versions of these sigils, they are actually pretty archaic. A simple mistake, but I guess if you were new, you wouldn’t have caught that. I am more surprised you were able to read them correctly, let alone apply them functionally. You are literally writing in one of the deadest languages…”
You picked up the book, looking over the sigils as Zoro started to draw them with his fingers against the barrier. For whatever reason, they stayed there as he spoke, “The sigils you wrote are these, which calls upon any being from the other realms. What was it you were trying to call on? Especially for a first summoning?”
Their piercing gaze made you feel only three inches tall, holding the book up to hide your face. Because of it, you could not see the two of them eying up your body, “An… an axolotl spirit.” You felt as if you could light your whole apartment on fire with the heat of your embarrassment, "So, um… sorry to trouble you both. I guess I just did the equivalent of calling the wrong number." A small huff escaped you as you put your book down into your bare lap, still wearing next to nothing, “Man, I bet it’s because I bought an outdated edition. Damn it, Nami—” your fellow apprentice under Robin was your good friend Nami. She had found an older copy of the book that was much cheaper through a lesser-known online book retailer and forwarded you the link, “—All to save $30.”
Zoro started to laugh, but Kaku stopped him, the two of them glaring at the other again before the giraffe demon consoled you, “It’s alright, Miss Summoner. To be honest, it is still extremely impressive you managed this at your current level. The magic we can sense in you is quite high, so imagine our surprise to pop up here and find out you’re a newbie! But if you would like, I’m quite the handy-man when it comes to magic, and could be far more useful to you than any other familiar you’d try and call up. I could help you and have you doing high level magic lickity-split!”
“Aw, hell no!” the green tiger pushed Kaku out of the way and pointed at himself, “I’d make a far better familiar! We could have the simplest contract and I can teach you all you’d need to know to be the strongest witch! I have far more strength to help you!”
“Dream on, wet nose!” Kaku kicked Zoro, “You don’t have near the experience I do!”
Zoro hissed, his tail bristling, “Fuck off!” Then turned back to you and sat on his knees to display his body, “We all know the real reason witches call on us. Not only can I help you, but I can easily show you a good time. Nightly. Without fail.”
Your eyes went a little wide. Of course the thought had already crossed your mind, both of them were only wearing shorts, and their bodies were definitely a turn on for yourself. It had also been a rather long time since you last had a decent partner, let alone someone as attractive as either creature in the circle. Zoro’s offer was very tempting, and you almost opened your mouth to agree when Kaku shoved the green tiger away.
“Oh no you don’t! You got the last beauty! It’s my turn to give a pretty gal a twirl in the sheets!”
“That was over 150 years ago! Get over it!”
The two demons quickly devolved again into a shouting match, causing you to whistle loudly which made them cover their ears and wince. Once you had their attention again, you folded your hands flat in front of your face to collect yourself before speaking, “So, both of you are offering to become my familiar.” Your eyes trailed over both of their bodies, having to hide the slight hitch in your breathing when you realized what pleasures an inhuman creature of the other realms could offer, “Among other things it seems.”
“Other things?” Zoro cocked a brow, “Wait, what other things were we offering?”
“Oh for the—” Kaku threw his arms up for the umpteenth time in the short time they had been in your living room, “—SEX, you dolt! We were both offering sex!”
“Then why didn’t she say that!?”
“Some people aren’t comfortable with it!”
“She’s half naked! She seems pretty damn comfortable with a lot!”
“I’m actually very comfortable with being completely naked,” you chimed in, “the spell just suggested clothes. I was mostly being polite in my choice of words.”
They both snapped their heads toward you, looking as though they were going to yell since they had been yelling at each other, but luckily they stopped and took deep breaths, calming down. You also let out a sigh, then folded your arms as you contemplated all the information that had been presented to you thus far.
“Okay, so… my book has the wrong summoning information, so I can only assume most of it is incorrect. You both are offering your services in becoming my personal familiar by helping me to learn and advance my magic, and offering—” you bit your lip at just the idea of their bodies holding you down, “—physical involvement for… what? What is it that either of you would like out of this?”
Zoro blinked, “Is it not payment in sex?” You felt the heat rise in your cheeks as he then shrugged his striped shoulders, “Look, we of the other realms do not have easy access to your plane of existence. It’s a fresher source of magic. We like it. Being a familiar gives us ready access here. So when a high level summoning spell with no name comes through, it really is a brawl to get to that source first.”
“Yeah, unless you have a well known name, most of us don’t get out much…” Kaku sighed, looking to his companion, “Like Kid, that chump gets summoned for everything.”
“Yeah, but he’s stuck with some soulless vessel at the moment,” the tiger man chuffed a bit, “Even I wouldn’t have stayed.”
“Oh right, I heard about that. Poor human…” The giraffe man looked back to you, “Pretty much most of us just want the freedom that comes with it. Yes, we technically are at your beck and call and bend to your whims above all else, but for myself, I just ask for respect, honesty, and trust.”
Folding his arms, Zoro shrugged his shoulders again, “I mean, same, all of what he said. A lot of others want your soul if they can get you to agree, but frankly I’d just like to enjoy my time here while I got it, and enjoy it with you. And good sake.”
You nodded along with them, sitting more casually with your legs tucked off to the side, as you had now been sitting on the ground a while, “I can agree to forming mutual respect, honesty, and trust. And also maybe some help with things while you are here. I…” The two of them followed your eyes as they moved around the apartment. Even with the furniture and everything pushed away, and all the plants on shelves, hangers, windows, and many surfaces, it was obvious you lived very meagerly. Your furniture was worn, and a lot of your items well-cared for out of both love and necessity. There was nothing new in your apartment, and you even rented the space you did given the price, which was not the most well kept of places besides your attempts at spot repairs. You sighed, shoulders dropping, “…I do not live a super exciting life, nor a lavish one. Not that I’m looking for it, but whoever stays needs to understand that.”
The two men looked at each other, shrugging as Kaku spoke, “I’m good at repairs.”
“I could work to help with bills,” Zoro leaned back on his hands, “Just don’t put me in one of those phone jobs…”
You let out a small breath, feeling as though you had been holding it in for a long time, “Okay, so… now what?”
“Pick between us, I guess,” the tiger man grunted as he got to his feet, “Which, I am still the far more obvious choice. I mean, look at me.” Zoro motioned to his well built and muscular body. While he was shorter than Kaku, they were both still heads above you, “Plus, my cock is bigger and not square.”
Kaku’s eyes rolled at Zoro’s first statement, but when the mention of his possibly square appendage came up, his head snapped up at the other quickly, “FUCK YOU! YOU TAKE THAT BACK!” He rose quickly to his feet, glaring down at his green haired companion as he poked at his chest, “You have never seen my Johnson, and you have no basis to that claim!”
Zoro met his glare with a defiant one, poking him back, “Just because you’re taller doesn’t mean your cock is bigger! And how can I not assume? Look at that atrocious nose!”
This time, you let them both argue as it had apparently become white noise, weighing your options of one or the other. It was hard to really make a choice, you really did not know much about either of them, so where would you even start? You rubbed your chin, wondering if maybe you had a higher attraction to one over the other, but when you glanced up at them slap fighting and biting each other, you realized they were both morons and that was just endearing. Clapping your hands again, they both froze, Zoro’s ears tugged in Kaku’s fists while Zoro had a tight grip on Kaku’s nose.
“I’m still trying to make a decision, but I now have to assess all the goods.” You stood to your feet, brushing yourself off a bit, “Pants off, boys.”
Without any hesitation, they both released the other, hooking their thumbs into their ripped shorts and dropping trow. You were only a little surprised to find them both already erect, but you did not have the concentration to question it, practically drooling at the sight. Kaku’s was, in fact, not square, but it was longer than Zoro’s, tapered at the tip compared to the rest of it’s rather impressive girth. Zoro’s cock was far thicker for sure, veiny with a wider head that was more flared. A small gulp was all you could do to hide your dreamy sigh, thighs clenching shut at just the thought of what either of them would feel like deep within.
You knew you were failing miserably at hiding the arousal on your face, but at this point you didn’t care, “Now turn around.”
They both complied, sly smirks on their faces as they turned around and showed you their rears. Zoro’s tail flicked playfully, and Kaku’s swished, now able to actually see it since his tail was more stiff and not as animated as Zoro’s. It was obvious that the tiger man did not skip leg day with his round and muscular ass that just beckoned to be slapped, though something deep down warned you that would come with intense consequences. Kaku’s derriere in comparison was flat, but that was like comparing apples to oranges. He was not really lacking where the other just had more of an abundance, Kaku’s was also firm and well sculpted in a different aspect.
None of this made your choice any easier. Both men were practically perfect in their own way physically, and you felt as though you were running out of proverbial time. Fiddling with your hands, you saw both of them look over their shoulders at you, an expectant look on their faces.
“Well?” Zoro grunted curtly, “Who’s it gonna be?” Kaku rolled his eyes in response.
Biting down hard on your lip, you bounced nervously on the balls of your feet, “I… I don’t know? Do I really have to choose between you two? Can’t I keep you both?” Your hands covered your eyes, almost embarrassed at the idea of desiring two men at once.
Their eyes went a little wide at the thought, looking at each other, then back to you. The men mirrored each other as they pointed first at themselves individually, then to the other.
“Me? Him?” they spoke at the same time, “Both?”
You nodded to them, peeking between your fingers as the two of them whispered to one another in a language you did not understand. It almost sounded as if your ears could not comprehend it, so you assumed it was their demonic language. Kaku and Zoro went back and forth a bit, raising their voices only slightly compared to their earlier arguing they had been doing through the night, speaking wildly with their hands. Zoro motioned to Kaku’s penis, and Kaku slapped him upside the head with a growl. However, instead of it starting a fight, they both just folded their arms and huffed, turning to face you.
“We agree,” the giraffe man raised a finger, “On the condition that, at a later time we can work out a schedule where both of us gets at least one day a week alone with you.” The tiger man cleared his throat and Kaku sighed, “Because Zoro seems to think you need at least one day a week with—and I am quoting him—‘one guaranteed day of a good fuck a week’.” He had used his fingers to emphasize that these were the other’s words, “Satisfied?”
Zoro nodded, a smug smirk, “I’m more than satisfied. We’re even now.”
For the first time since they arrived, you felt yourself smiling, both excited for everything that was happening, as well as the nerves that were coming with it. Both men looked at you with slight surprise and blushed when they saw you smile, giggling as you bent down to pick up your book as you spoke, “So, is there more to this ritual for sealing the contract? Do we have to write anything down?”
“Wow, that book really told you nothing,” Kaku sucked air through his teeth, “Okay. So, verbal contracts are pretty common,” he said, “I will state as a part of the contract, we all agree to these verbal conditions, and any part of the contract can and could be subject to change with prior discussion and agreements by all parties, yes?” You and Zoro both nodded, and Kaku clapped his hands together, “Alright then, let’s seal this baby and get ourselves out of this damnable bubble.”
Holding up the book and your notes for them to both check over, you made sure that the binding spell you had translated and pieced together was correct. They both gave an assuring nod, and you held up your hands to the barrier of your summoning circle.
“I, Y/N L/N, have summoned you both and created a bond. With this contract, I bind you both to my side.”
You had not realized you were pressing your weight into the barrier as it suddenly dissipated (not that it could be seen anyway), and you fell forward into the waiting arms of Zoro and Kaku. Looking up to them both, there was a heat in your cheeks as you felt the warmth of their bodies against yours, both of them pressing into you, as they were, after all, naked.
Zoro then yawned, scratching his side, “You guys hungry? I’m hungry.”
Kaku nodded, “I do feel slightly peckish now that you mention it.”
Sandwiched between them, both still sporting erections, you tried to squeeze out from between them, “Oh, where are my manners? Let me go make you guys something!”
The giraffe man’s arm barred your way as Zoro, whom you were facing, tilted your head up to look at him, “I think there’s a sweet little morsel right here, don’t you think, Kaku?”
“Enough for us to share, Zo,” Kaku grinned, looking down at you from above as your back pressed against his chest, “Y/N, was it?” You were now kicking yourself for not properly giving them your name until now, “Such a beautiful name for our sweet little filly.”
You gulped loudly, feeling as though your head was spinning as Kaku’s lips brushed your ear and Zoro’s your jaw, “Wait, are you two actually going to eat me, or is this a foreplay thing?”
They both stopped, the tiger man suppressing a snort as his head went against your shoulder and the giraffe man sighed as he spoke, “We don’t eat mortals.”
“Well, at least not anymore—ow!” Kaku flicked Zoro’s ear for his statement, “Okay, I was joking, geez…” he then leaned back to look at you, cupping your face gently with his hand as his thumb ran along your cheek, “It’s not too much for you, is it?”
Your body was trembling, and you could not figure out if you were just overwhelmed from it all, or if you were being overstimulated already: the heat of their bodies, the musk of their skin, the soft touch of their fingers all about you as you felt even the moisture from their hot breath. “I… I don’t know. Just go slow. It’s been a long time since I’ve had anyone. Definitely not ever two at once…”
Zoro’s eye went a little wide, you thought for a second his scarred one may have even open in surprise, “Seriously? A sexy little kitten like you hasn’t had any takers?” You shook your head at him, “Do you not leave the house? What do you even do outside of your craft?”
“I’m a librarian at one of the elementary schools.”
Kaku chuckled, leaning back in by your ear, “A sexy librarian? Our sweet little filly is full of surprises. First succeeding at a high level spell, next being absolutely scrumptious…” His hands ran over the curves of your body, kissing your neck as his hands slipped under your over sized crop top and cupped your breasts. He massaged them, gently pulling and tweaking on your nipples.
“Smells good, too,” Zoro sniffed you at your neck, committing your scent to memory, “I’m willing to bet—” you shivered and gasped as his tongue licked over your pulse, thumbs hooking into the hem of your panties and pulling down, “—She tastes just as good.”
He dropped down to the floor, bringing your lace panties down to your ankles with him. You opened your mouth to protest, but your words instantly turned into a loud moan as his thumb found your clit faster than even you could. Kaku turned your head back toward him, leaning down to capture your lips as the two of them somehow managed to move you to the couch together and set you on all fours. The giraffe man’s lips never left yours, but Zoro’s found your wet folds quickly, lapping up your juices hungrily as his fingers worked your sensitive nub.
Lovingly, Kaku held your face, his eyes shadowed from from the brim of his cap, “You taste so sweet, Y/N. I don’t think I could get enough.”
You were pretty sure Zoro mumbled something in agreement; it was hard to tell with his mouth full of your pussy. The giraffe man leaned in to hold you up as best he could given your position, gently removing your shirt so now all three of you lay bare on your couch. He kissed you more, whispering sweet words against your lips as he encouraged you to let yourself go and give into the mindless pleasure. Your orgasm gushed over Zoro’s face, and Kaku kissed you more.
The tiger man trailed sloppy kisses up your back as the giraffe man held your chin, eyes hooded in lust as he stroked his cock, “Now come here, have a seat…”
You woke up to the sound of your phone ringing the next morning, fumbling around to find it in your sheets. Everything felt heavy, possibly from that cracked out dream about two dudes fucking your brains out all night. Grasping it and squinting at the screen with sleep coated eyes, unable to properly make out who the caller was. Still, you swiped to answer it, "Hello?"
"Y/N," A warm voice greeted you from the other end. It was Robin, you mentor and master, "How did the summoning go last night? Did you succeed? It's alright if you didn't on your first try. Summoning is a difficult task."
Sitting up naked, you rubbed your eyes. Your mind was still rather hazy first thing in the morning regarding your activities last night, "Summoning?"
Robin chuckled softly, "Goodness, I've woken you, haven't I? I should have realized you’d be off today if you were attempting a higher spell last night."
"Summoning…" Your head throbbed, rubbing your eyes as you then looked down at your body, noticing all the bite marks and bruises you were covered in, and how you skin smelled of cum. There was a scent in your sheets of men, finally causing the last bits of your brain-fogged mind to clear everything out and remember that it wasn’t just a dream.
"Y/N?" Robin asked through the phone, "Are you okay? Is there something wrong?"
You ran into your living room, eyes wide as the two men were sitting on your couch in your robes that were too small for them. Zoro was flipping through the television stations, complaining about there being nothing to watch. Kaku had a red pen as he was marking through your magic book and grumbling about how much of it was incorrect. The living room was clean, and both of them appeared human, possibly using a glamor you had heard books talk about before. There a tall plate of sandwiches in front of them, from where you had no idea, your fridge was practically empty.
“Can you believe this, Zo?” Kaku patted the green haired man with his hand to show him the pages he was looking at, “It’s using Solomon’s theories paired with lines from the Book of the Dead. Absolute rubbish. Nothing in here is viable. How Y/N even succeeded in what she did is nothing short of a miracle.”
Zoro was stuffing a sandwich into his mouth, “I’m beginning to think the summoning circle page was the only useful thing in that book. Unless Y/N is just that mystically talented and manged to pull us as a fluke…” he took another large bite of the sandwich, speaking with his cheeks full as his attention went back to the television, “King to D6.”
“King to F8,” there was no chess board out, yet the two of them seemed to be playing somehow, possibly a mental game, “And of course our sweet little filly is that talented. Honestly, this book is absolute garbage.”
“I count ourselves lucky then. Not the most ideal, but good thing we got through before some creep did. I’d say all around, all of us are in good hands with each other. Rook to F7, check.”
Kaku touched his chest, smiling teasingly to Zoro, “Aw, Zo… I didn’t know you felt that way.”
Zoro nudged Kaku with his shoulder, but was still chuckling, “Fuck off, you long neck freak. Make your move already.”
“King to E8.”
“OH FUCK YOU!”
Staring, you held your phone back to your ear, hearing Robin calling your name repeatedly, asking if you were safe and if she should call the cops. You weren’t entirely sure what to tell her, nor were you in the right mind to do so.
I was looking through your masterlist and I don’t think you’ve done this au….
Bartender bucky or tattoo artist bucky, honestly idc which one you choose to provide recommendations for(if you do)!:)<3
Tattoo Artist!Bucky
masterlist | req masterlist
I did tattoo artist!bucky this time, but if you send another req I am very willing to do bartender!bucky too😉😏
ONESHOT
Sugar and Spice by @navybrat817
You make a sweet impression on one of the new tattoo artists in the neighborhood.
And Everything Nice by @navybrat817
You visit the tattoo parlor when an uninvited guest shows up at the bakery.
Jacks and Sunshine by @rookthorne
You were the warmth and light to Bucky’s shadows and brooding nature – a match made in heaven, and it was a miracle that a certain someone realised as much.
Soft by @softlyspector
Bucky and the reader have been together for a few months. She wants him to stay the night with her, but he’s reluctant.
fingers by @buckycuddlebuddy
you couldn’t take your eyes off of his hands.
Sting by @adrinktostopyourthirst
TattooArtist!Bucky praising you during a session.
tattoo parlor by @alisonsfics
the beautiful artwork and craftsmanship wasn’t the only thing that kept you coming back to bucky’s tattoo shop.
american tattoo by @seventven
steve and bucky run a tattoo shop together in brooklyn. y/n, a friend of steve’s, decides to get inked. only bucky is present at the shop and he’s about to close it for the night.
inked by @buckys-black-dress
A Little Cover-up by @butwhyduh
You get a tattoo.
make it count by @serpienten
It’s cold and rainy when Bucky sees her for the first time. Within three minutes, he’s under her spell.
SERIES
A Touch of Ink by @deamstellarus
After a breakup with your ex, you decided to move to the small town where your long-time friend Sam lives, hoping for a change of pace and starting a new chapter in your life. You were prepared for a slower paced lifestyle, quaint diners, and a change of scenery. However, you didn't expect to be swept off your feet by two stunning pairs of blue-grey eyes.
Paws and Pins by @matchamunson
In which Bucky runs into the owner of the animal shelter across the street from his shop. (Social Media AU)
Fight For You by @revengingbarnes
Brooklyn, New York. At the annual local boxing championship, Y/N is the leading medical specialist on call. It’s a whole new environment, and despite the drastic change, she loves it. Bucky Barnes is the reigning boxing champion of Brooklyn. Virtually undefeated, this tattoo artist by day, boxer by night is someone that is now fighting his way into Y/N’s head. And she’s helpless in front of his winning streak.
Summary: Will you win a game of strip poker against the god of mischief?
A/N: A special cameo of my dear friend.
Word Count: 1.7K
Pairing: Loki x Female Reader
Warnings: Explicit. No details of smut, but heavily implied.
Dividers by: @firefly-graphics
Loki looked around the table trying to stifle his smirk from giving him away. He had a great hand – a winning hand. All he needed to do now was bait you in and he would win.
Rogers and Barnes had shown him how to play Texas Hold’em. They needed a third player as their usual playing mates were out on a mission. Things got more interesting when the women decided to join and turned it into ‘strip poker.’
Loki kept his cards face down on the velvet green table and placed his hands behind his head waiting for everyone else.
You knew that look. That pompous I-have-a-trick-up-my-sleeve look. You knew all his looks. His tired look. His hungry look. His annoyed look. Right now, he thinks he’s going to win. You watched him stretch, his shirt untucking, riding up to give you a peek at what you could be winning tonight.
Nearly everyone was on their last piece of clothing. Steve and Bucky were now in their boxers, having negotiated that each sock was one piece of clothing. Nat was in a white undershirt that barely hid the dark pink dusting of her nipples underneath.
Vision wasn’t allowed to play because he would count cards and calculate the odds in his head. Instead, he opted to hold Andrea, the new computer engineer Tony hired, in his lap as she happily lost each round. One by one, a piece of her clothing came off and Vision had to hide her body strategically, making you think she was losing on purpose.
You and Loki were the only ones who were fully clothed. You kept your head low and played safe up until now, letting the others lose their bets and hands. Your father would be damn proud of you.
“Geez, Loki. You have a horrible tell. I know you’ve got a winning hand,” Natasha said as she took a gulp of her beer. “I fold.”
“Ya, work on that poker face, buddy,” Bucky groaned. “I fold. I’m not losing my boxers.”
“I fold too,” Steve said.
“I can’t fold,” Drea said, smiling.
“That’s because you have nothing left, darling.” Vision said as his grip on her tightened.
“Well, my dear, that just leaves you and me,” Loki said in a smoldering voice. If you didn’t lose this hand, you would’ve taken off your clothes anyway just by the way he looked at you. His deep voice caressed you from across the table, making you squeeze your legs tighter together. “What do you say we up the ante? Last play for all your clothes.”
“Don’t you mean all your clothes, Laufeyson? You forget that I have a Las Vegas past.” You fired back, as resounding ‘oohs’ and heckles came from everyone else.
“All right. Bet.” He smiled.
“If I win, you take off all your clothes, Laufeyson. Including the next time we play poker, whether it’s strip poker or not. You will play naked - as the day you were born. No matter who else is playing.” You arrogantly raised your chin, calling out his bluff. His smile grew wide, reaching from ear to ear.
“And If I win, dear pet, not only will you strip down, but then I want you to walk your pretty little arse down the hall to my room and we can continue our own little game.” Gasps and jeers were heard all around the table as Loki finally admitted to some semblance of an attraction towards you. How genuine that attraction was, or how deep those feelings went, was still a mystery.
“Now hold on just a minute, Loki,” Steve said being protective of you.
“No, no. It’s ok, Steve. I accept.” You steeled your nerves and looked into Loki’s swirling eyes. Your body shook visibly, feeling his stare reach past your clothes and stroke your waiting skin underneath.
You looked down at the table where four cards were laid out. They were clubs, a 10, a 9, and an 8. Then there was the queen of diamonds. You had a King and a Jack of clubs. You already had a great hand with a flush, matching the suit to all five cards. But if that last card turned out to be a 7 or a Queen of clubs, you’d win with a straight flush.
But what did Loki have? Would his hand be better than yours? Would that last card help you or condemn you?
“Are you both ready?” Nat asked, burning a card and readying to turn the last card down onto the river. You looked into his eyes, deep and promising as you both nodded. Nat turned the card over and placed it on the table.
It was the queen of clubs.
You took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. Loki’s eyes turned deadly as he turned his hand face up. An 8 of spades and the queen of hearts. “I believe that I have a full house,” he prodded, misinterpreting your sigh as a sign of defeat. Everyone’s mouth hung open in shock at his assertion.
He leaned back onto his chair and placed his hands behind his head. A proud grin on his face. “Go on love, show everybody what I’ll be playing with later.”
His comment bristled your edges. He was so arrogant. So cocky. You’re going to relish taking him down a notch. Everyone silently watched with shock and awe as you stood up with your poker face still on.
Loki’s eyes changed into pools of desire as you decided to play with his emotions a little bit more. You traced the hem of your shirt, pinching it and scrunching it up in your fist.
His greedy eyes followed the movements of your hands as you reached for your cards and turned them face up. “A king and a jack of clubs. A straight flush. Which beats your full house.” The last part of your sentence was drowned out by the screams and yells of everyone at the table.
Surprised by the turn of events, Steve, Bucky, and Vision couldn’t stop laughing. Drea and Nat just sat there and whistled as they leered at Loki to start taking his clothes off.
Loki’s eyes were full and round- devastated that he had lost. He looked up at you, at your gorgeous playful face. That angelic smile that had him enraptured from the moment he laid his eyes on you, caught his breath. He was stunned.
It wasn’t until Bucky jostled him out of his reverie that he took a lungful of air. “You gotta do it now, man,” Bucky said, laughing at him.
Loki’s smile grew wicked as he stood up and looked straight into your eyes. “My pleasure,” he ground out, making your skin flush at his promise.
He wouldn’t stop staring at you. Not when he pulled his scarf down one side and threw it in your direction. Not when he started to unbutton his shirt, painfully slow. His grin growing wider with every button. You watched as his hands trailed down onto his belt and the sharp clank of metal resounded in your ears.
“Should we leave? I feel like I’m watching something intimate,” Steve whispered to Vision and Drea.
“You can leave if you want to. I’m getting my free show,” Nat said finishing her beer.
Loki had all but taken off his shirt, socks, and shoes. All that was left were his pants. His thumbs hooked into them, watching your reaction as he pushed them down revealing all his godly glory.
A resounding “OHH!” could be heard from everyone else as Loki stood there in front of you naked. His sculpted body was on display as your eyes took in all the details that they could remember. His wide shoulders, his defined abs, and the ‘V’ of his Adonis Belt leading your stare to his semi-erect cock.
“Do you like what you see, pet? Anything I can offer you later?” He asked with a proud smile.
“All right. All right. Put your clothes back on. I think we should all call it a night. I’m done,” Steve said.
“Awe boo, Cap.” Nat leered, getting up and gathering her clothes. Bucky laughed and followed her into the bar as he struggled to get his jeans back on.
Loki flicked his hands. In a flash, all his clothes were back on and put into place, immaculately.
“Why didn’t you just do that in the first place?” you asked, still watching him.
“Because I wanted to give you a show,” he winked, and he strode off down the hallway towards his bedroom.
Not long after, the compound had gotten dark and silent. The remnants of the game you all had played earlier are gone. The table was dismantled, and the cards were put away.
Your soft feet patted down the hallway and stopped in front of Loki’s door. You raised your hand to knock, but the door slightly opened to reveal a sliver of yellow light coming through. You pushed the door open, taking that as an invitation to go in.
Loki was sitting in front of his fireplace, a book in hand that he thumped shut as he took you in shutting his door behind you.
“And to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you grace my bedroom?”
“You reneged on our deal.” You said confidently. Loki looked confused as he ran by the terms of the bet earlier.
“I don’t think so, darling. The bet was, that if I lost, I would be the one to strip down naked. And I did.”
“What was the next part, Loki?” you whispered. His name on your lips sent a shiver down his spine, making him visibly tremble. You held his name on your tongue. Your breath invoking it like a prayer.
“The next caveat was that the next game of poker I played, no matter who I was with, I would have to play stripped as well.” He recited as a gleam in his eyes sparkled at your mischief. You took out a deck of cards from your back pocket and proceeded to shuffle them in your hand.
“Care for a game of poker, my prince?”
He bit his lips at your words. “With pleasure,” he smiled as he got up to unbutton his shirt.
Summary: Spencer translates a movie for you. Things get a little tense.
Request: reader getting hot and bothered when her and spencer are watching a movie with him translating whispering in her ear?
A/N: Filth. Pure filth. Thank you to @foxy-eva for translating for me (and always encouraging me to write).
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+)
Content Warning: Handjob, teasing, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, semi-rough sex
Word Count: 1k
MASTERLIST
When Spencer asked you to join him for casual German cinema, you had expected something innocent. Even after he’d explained that it was an attempt to become more “conversational” in German, you’d never considered how intimate it would become.
When the movie first begins, Spencer keeps a respectful distance. His couch has enough room for you two to sit without touching, but you make sure that you do; just an innocent brushing of thighs. He seems to savor the warmth, though, because Spencer is quick to inch closer.
At first, you are happy. You also lean into him, linking arms with him and holding onto his hand trapped in the middle.
You think you’ve made a smart decision.
Then the dialogue starts.
Spencer’s breath is hot against your ear. He speaks so quietly that you can barely hear him. Although, you wouldn’t have been able to focus even if he’d spoken at a regular volume. Your heart is beating too loudly to hear.
He’s still speaking English, right?
There is a lull between the characters. You try to steady your breathing.
Spencer remains focused on the screen.
The next time he speaks, you squeeze his hand tightly. He jumps but continues to whisper what might as well be sweet nothings into your ears.
The German subtitles blur on the screen. You let go of his hand and turn your palm to his thigh, instead. He jumps but continues to speak, albeit with a rougher, shakier whisper.
You begin to wonder where his limits lie.
The next time that a character speaks, you slide your hand several inches up his thigh. Spencer’s voice catches in his throat. He pants into your ear, yet still tries to translate.
It takes him longer, but he manages.
So, you continue. Between the lines, you inch your way closer to the steadily growing bulge straining against his pants.
Spencer whimpers when you creep your fingers around his length.
He misses a line.
“Keep going,” you whisper as you turn to him.
His pupils are blown and his face has turned the prettiest shade of peach.
“You first,” he challenges.
The still-existent wit earns him your obedience. You can see the simultaneous regret and relief as he realizes that things will only get… harder, as you continue.
Despite the difficulty, he continues to dutifully translate for you. Of course, he could be speaking gibberish and you would allow it. You would allow just about anything to continue your exploration.
Spencer’s voice cracks when you tug at the waistband of his sweats. He outright whines when you pull his aching erection free from their confines.
Then, he continues to translate. For approximately five seconds.
“Fuck,” he groans when your hand wraps around his dick.
You’re pretty sure that isn’t in the movie.
“Focus,” you whisper into his ear.
Then, to be cruel, you nip at his earlobe. You revel in the way it makes him shiver.
“I can’t,” he confesses.
“Try,” you coo, “do it for me.”
He tries. Even when your fingers start to move, he stutters out rough, broken English. You want to pay attention to the movie to better support his desire to learn, but the sweetness of his skin is more alluring than the screen.
You litter him with sloppy kisses while your fingers apply waves of pressure around his dick. By the time you begin lazy strokes, Spencer is already about to sob from the repressed passion.
He hasn’t even touched you, but he feels himself teetering on the edge of oblivion.
"Ich will dich ficken,” he absentmindedly grumbles.
“In English, Spencer,” you tease, failing to realize that he was long past with the teasing.
“I said I want to fuck you.”
Before you can even process what he’s said, he pulls you forward onto his lap. You scramble to compose yourself, but Spencer continues regardless.
His hands are ruthless in their pursuit, pushing under your skirt and forcing your underwear to the side without hesitation. His fingers are just as quick to slip inside you. They also find no hesitation. He groans with relief to find you already dripping with anticipation.
He’s waited long enough. His hand drops to his dick while the other helps position your hips. With one smooth movement, you drop onto his lap as your body accepts all of him.
Spencer wants to take his time, but he knows he won’t be able to last. His thrusts are staggered and rough. You grab hold of his shoulders to try to keep steady, but you find yourself slipping when he starts to move.
You grab his hair, instead. The force with which you do so is matched by the intensity of his hands digging into your hips. He holds you down, pushing himself even deeper into you until there is nowhere left to go.
He still wants more. He cranes his neck forward despite your death grip on his hair. He returns your torture with bruising kisses on your neck.
You cry out. You cling to him, holding his face against your chest and depriving him of everything but you.
He doesn’t protest. He kisses you more. He fucks you as hard as he can until he is gasping for air against your breast.
Then, the world goes quiet as everything left of his resolve shatters. Spencer buries his teeth in the sensitive skin beside your collarbone. His hands keep holding you down, even when your body starts to squirm. He forces himself all the way to the hilt as he comes.
The feeling of his release is like a balm for the pain. It is so warm, and he is so vulnerable, that you are almost happy that his hold is so brutal.
But when he lets go, panting and whimpering like he had been before, you realize that he is beautiful in every iteration.
Spencer is only gentle then. He holds you like something fragile, and you treat him just the same. You focus on the feeling of his hot, steady breath against damp and bruised skin.
“What wonderful sorrow it is to love,” Spencer whispers through the exhaustion.
Your face crinkles with confusion.
“What?” you ask.
“The movie,” he mumbles, "That's the line."
Once you realize, you laugh. He joins you. You both laugh at just how far from the plan you’d strayed.
In the background, the movie entertains itself.
(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)
Looking for more to read? Check out my Masterlist here!
Note: I’m not a chemist. Please don’t fact check this, it’s all an excuse for the reader to get railed. Also, this was not proofread, but I may come back to it some other time that isn’t 1:30am.
Synopsis: An unfortunate lab incident results in a more than pleasant night.
Warnings: NSFW. Aphrodisiac. Smut with Feelings. Dirty Talk. Friends-to-Lovers. Lab Sex. Slight Public Sex. Brief Oral. Riding. Unprotected Sex.
The series that started it all! My first ever Viktor x fem!Reader story!
Arcane Masterlist | AO3 | Ko-fi | Masterlist 2.0
pt one (sfw) -Viktor has a rather interesting theory regarding you that he wants to discuss.
pt two (nsfw) - After leaving the lab, you have a few options. Go directly to bed, brainstorm ways to run into Viktor in the morning, or read his journal full of observations of you. The latter. You very easily settle on the latter.
pt three (nsfw) - You have to kill some time before you can meet up with Viktor. And after getting your hands back on Viktor's journal, you know exactly how you're going to spend it.
pt four (nsfw) - Viktor drops his notebook off so you can read the newest entry.
pt five (nsfw) - You go to Viktor's room and he busts out those restraints.
sereniti speaks ♡: this is my first ever gangbang… masterlist
Your back pressed flat against the mahogany colored table, arching ever so slightly with each harsh thrust of Atsumu’s hips. His hands gripped prints that blossomed like newborn flowers into your skin, his eyes trained on how cute your tits looked bouncing as he fucked into you with no remorse.
“Isn’t she beautiful when she’s getting fucked?” Kuroo smiled, caressing your forehead before placing a sweet kiss on it. He reminded you of how much you meant to each and every one of them, his soothing words taking you to a certain mental space you’d never want to escape. “Such a good for us, aren’t you, angel? Let me hear you say it.”
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