#suggestive content

[blond3ang3l]

Pornstar! Price who only gets rougher and meaner the more you two work together.

Your first scene was intense already, but when he saw that you were able to take it in only made him worse. He wanted to be the one that fucked you every time. Not his you get coworkers, not the ones that sat and gossiped about how good you were.

They were all talk no action and that was a known fact. They could talk the talk, but when it came down to the scenes none of them were able to keep up with you. It was boring and made you start to fall out of love with the whole studio.

Price wasn't gonna let you go anywhere though. He was gonna prove to both you and the little fucks he called his coworkers that you were only going to be working him for now on.

This was the last video of the day, you and him, a tabooer scene of him acting as your "father-in-law" who was teaching how to be oh so good for his son. He had you on his lap, big hands that were scarred from years of war now lifting you up with ease and pushing you down on his dick. Seven thick inches stretching you over and over till the point you were in tears.

"What's my name, doll?"

"Dadd- fuck- daddy please. Fucking me so good. Can't get enough of you."

"I know babydoll. Daddy is just so fuckin' deep in you. Cut that crying out, not gonna put up with it much longer baby."

His hand gripped your jaw making you look back at him directly in his eyes. A dark look was written all over his face, one that you couldn't make out exactly. Your cum was all over both his and your thighs leaving a sticky mess that made the sound of skin sound even louder.

"Just needed a real man to fuck you, not some little ass boy huh? Easy whore. couldn't wait to open your legs for me. Could you?"

That wasn't a part of the script, at least not that you could remember. It wasn't unheard of for him to go off script though so you could ignore it enough. He pulled out just enough to turn you around to face him completely. Mascara was smeared all of your eyes and cheeks, a dazed look in your eyes only making him more feral.

Within two seconds you were flipped on to your back with Price rutting into you. Your ankles dangled on each side of his head. An unexpected squeal fell from your lips making his smirk deepen. With one heavy thrust he was able to push every single inch within you.

"God- Oh my god! You're driving me crazy John."

A swift but soft slap was given to your face the moment his name fell from your lips.

"So close doll. How bout you show me some respect and call me my name. You remember, don't you? Cmon, call out for your daddy."

Your hips bucked trying to get away only for him to pin your plush thighs to your chest.

"Where you going baby? Hm? Tryna run from me already? Can take me so easy any other time. Just be good for me."

Price was gonna have fun with this. Little did you know that this gonna keep going even after the cameras went off.

[jinjoohaaa]

JJK MEN X READER !!!

Four roommates. One girl. Zero self-control.

art by @ thatsallitchief ✧⁠*⁠。

Room for One more ?

pairing : jjk men x reader

synopsis : you moved in for cheap rent, not to get passed around. but with four insanely hot men under same roof, it didn’t take long before things got messy. now you're cockwarming nanami at midnight, riding gojo in the shower, bent over for geto before dinner, and getting your throat fucked by toji. college? peace? who needs it when you’re getting dicked down for good?

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten

eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen

eighteen

chapter nineteen coming soon...

Side stories are here

A/N : this fic is very smut-heavy and most chapters contain multiple smut scenes. if that’s not something you’re comfortable reading, please feel free to skip this one *⁠.⁠✧

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[ohclaire]

Suggestive :p

John won’t go to the club with you. But he will drag you to his old man bar.

It’s the type that has street signs and car parts stuck to the wall. They don’t have any of the nicely flavored liquor you like, but the drinks are half price on Thursdays…and there’s pool tables.

Which. Wouldn’t matter. You’ve never been known to play pool, frankly you don’t know how to. But that’s kind of part of the appeal…because now John wants to teach you.

So, he drags you to his old man bar where you’re the only thing that’s not aged, and buys you your drink of choice (though, without the fun flavor you like), gets himself a whiskey, and then drags you to the pool tables.

Then, when you absolutely whiff your first shot, he comes up behind you, pressing his whole front into your back, and caresses down your arms to place your hands properly. He slides the stick back and forth to show you how it should glide through your hands, and you try to ignore the image that creates.

Once you’re both griping the pool stick properly, he bends you over the table, pushing you against it with his hips, and bring his head around to your ear to whisper about aim. And you pretend like you’re listening, but all you really catch is a whispered “juuuust like that, sweetheart.” His breath is hot against your neck, and it makes goosebumps shoot up.

When he finally takes the shot, he jerks forward with the force, jolting himself into you and squishing your hips harder against the table. The force makes a small noise leave you, but he doesn’t acknowledge it, just gives you a peck to your neck and a “perfect, baby.”

And then he’ll pull back like nothing happened, like you’re not sweating and feeling the effects of that in…other places. And the rest of the bar will look at him like he’s a perv…which he is, but you like him like that.

So yeah…no clubs for John.

[qris-idk]

Vox gets to be the bottom once in a while

Someone on tiktok mentioned the stylish way Alastor tied Vox while they were fighting. So I drew smth based on it.

His tentacles are even thinner than usual just to have THIS spesific knot.

[thedeafprophet]

Being called out 😭

[bounty-jes]

if you want me to (i'll stay)

fandom: The Pitt

pairing: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!Reader

content: age gap (reader is early thirties, robby is fifty-ish), suggestive language (but no smut), fade to black, cursing, you’re both yearners, no use of Y/N, omegaverse, dana is trying her best to keep them from creating an HR nightmare but she ships it

18+ MDNI 18+ MDNI 18+ MDNI while this story does not contain explicit sexual content, there are very heavy suggestive themes. this work is considered mature and i ask that minors do not interact

word count: 7.4k

summary: No one has ever caught your scent and not gone running. You expect Robby to react the same. He doesn't.

line dividers from @chrisssiren, mdni banner from @cafekitsune

Omegas are indispensable to any Emergency Department. Their scents are a key factor in keeping patients calm and stopping brawls before they even start. Ever since the Study On Omegan Pheromones in High Stress Locales came out in 1986, most EDs employed at least one omega full time, if not more. Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center is no exception. On staff, they have at least five omegas working at any given time.

(Gloria is always talking about equity polls and patient relations. Robby is just glad she’s not like some of the older directors of medicine he’s worked with. Only thinking about having an omega around for eye candy. Glad that she lets his staff do their work with minimal micromanaging. Definitely some macromanaging, though.)

So, no, it’s not uncommon to see omega doctors and nurses in any part of the ED hierarchy. You don’t hide your scent because you’re hiding your designation. You don’t wear blockers every day because you hate being an omega. It’s because no one has ever liked your scent before. It puts people on edge, sharp and tactile. As if it will wrap around your neck and never let go. Too abrasive for any designation to have, let alone an omega. Even your roommate in college had complained about it. You roomed alone the next year, despite the extra cost.

You don’t care that your coworkers think you’re a beta. You don’t care that your friends can share their scents with you, but you will never be able to share with them. You don’t care because you stopped caring a long time ago. You had to. 

It’s not like you’re hiding the fact that you’re an omega, though. If anyone were to ask directly, you would tell them the truth. If they were to check your file, they would see the ‘Ω’ under your Secondary Gender tab. It just…doesn’t come up in everyday conversation. A bit taboo, really, to directly ask someone their designation. An implication that your nose isn’t good enough to tell the difference, even. 

COVID changed everything. Losing your sense of smell doesn’t completely preclude you from being affected by pheromones. But scenting is almost as important for your mental health. You read a paper that described the dissonance many alphas and omegas feel when they can sense pheromones nearby but can’t scent them. In developing or presenting youth, the issue is exacerbated. It’s a growing issue across the globe. One that no one can really solve. 

But this is an Emergency Department. You don’t have time to worry about that. You sigh, grabbing the next file and asking Mateo to bring them back. Omega female. Presenting for the first time at fifteen. A healthy enough age, if not a bit late. But she seems to have a higher stress response than most presenting omegas. You nod as Mateo tells you she’s ready and you push the door open. 

The scent of stressed omega hits you head on and you’re glad that your suppressants help to push back your instincts. There’s something in the back of your throat that wants to purr softly. To soothe the pup on the other side of the room. You shake your head and slip through the curtain, flicking on the scent-neutralizers as you go. The last thing the ED needs is omega pheromones stressing everyone else out. You smile at the girl and turn to the older man standing next to her. A beta. Probably her father. 

“Jennifer, hi. I’m going to be your doctor today.” You quietly introduce yourself, glancing down at the screen in your hands. “I see you’ve been in pain for most of the morning. Can you describe it for me?”

“Like cramps.” She says lowly, groaning as you press gently on her lower stomach. You apologize quietly, pulling back turning to the computer to type as she speaks. “But I don’t really get cramps. Not when I’m not on my period.”

“Doctor, is she going to be okay?” The man, you look at the file and see the name David Lowe, asks. Even with his weaker beta scent, you can smell the worry coming off of him. You smile softly, turning back to the pair.

“From the looks of things, this is a regular presentation. I’m going to order some blood tests to be sure there’s nothing else going on, though.” You glance back at her file, scrolling down. You see the COVID written in the notes as you skim and take a breath in, biting your lip. David shifts, noting your change and you try to send another reassuring smile to the pair. It feels wobbly at the edges. “Jennifer, I see on your chart you had a pretty bad case of COVID a few years ago. You were treated here. Were there any lasting effects?”

The unspoken question is clear. 

“My sense of smell, it…” She trails off and you nod, stepping toward the bed. You drop a hand on the edge of the bed before looking back at the father. 

“The stress response is most likely due to Jennifer being able to sense pheromones but not smell them. It creates a sort of gap in the mind’s senses, which can cause cortisol levels to rise and bring about stress responses. It is common in omegas and alphas who have lost their sense of smell.” You can see the way David grips his daughter’s hand just a little tighter. They know there’s no way to fix this completely. You turn back to Jennifer. “Do you have any omegas that you trust enough to scent you? Even if you can’t smell it, the calming pheromones are proven to help reduce stress.”

Jennifer shakes her head and you look toward the father, who mirrors her action. You hesitate for a moment. There are four other omegas on shift at the moment. You could ask any of them to come in and help. But this is an ED and two minutes of scenting could mean life or death for another patient. You let out a breath and swallow before speaking again. 

“If you are open to it, I could help you.” Jennifer’s eyes snap up and she scans you over once again, noting the scent patches that peek out of your scrub top as you tug the collar of your undershirt aside. You can see the hesitation in her gaze and you smile softly, if not a bit nervously, and grab her free hand. You can do this. Jennifer can’t smell. Your scent won’t affect her and the pheromones will help. “I won’t force you. We can give you some tylenol for the cramps and some suppressants to help stave off the worst of your symptoms. But scenting would be faster and have a longer lasting effect.”

Jennifer hesitates for a moment longer before nodding. You look toward David and he nods as well, letting go of his daughter’s hand. You lead him toward the door slowly.

“Okay. Dad, if you want to wait outside, I’ll be as quick as I can. You can watch through the window the entire time.” He nods and the door clicks shut behind him. You turn back to Jennifer, settling down in the uncomfortable chair next to the bed. Fans whirr softly in the vents as they suck out Jennifer’s stressed scent, running it through a scent neutralizer before cycling it back into the room. You smile softly at Jennifer. “Okay, Jennifer. I know scenting can be personal. If you get uncomfortable or want to stop for any reason, you just tell me. Understand?”

Jennifer nods again, glancing out at her father. Her shoulders seem to relax a bit at your words and you tug up the long sleeves of your undershirt, revealing the patches pressed against your wrists. Slowly, almost hesitantly, you peel the patch away. Your scent pierces the air, hard and loud. Jennifer barely responds, just watching as you reach for her wrist. 

“May I?” You ask quietly, pausing just inches from her arm. She nods again. You smile softly. She must be shy. You gently lift her wrist, pressing your own against it. The result is almost instant. Jennifer melts into the hospital bed, letting out a purr instinctively. The noise makes her tense, but you run your free hand up and down her arm. “It’s okay. No one is judging you.”

The girl relaxes into the bed again and you reach for her other wrist. You ask again before scenting it as well. When you’re done, you pull a fresh patch from your scrub pants and paste it onto your wrist before tugging down your sleeve. 

“Thank you, miss.” The girl finally says, her voice soft as she smiles softly. The stress is almost completely gone from her scent, replaced with something close to antiseptic but even closer to bleach. You wince slightly at your own scent mixed with hers. 

“No problem, kid. I’ll call in a nurse to draw your blood and when we get the results back, you should be good to go.”

The door clicks open and you look up, expecting David. Instead, Robby stands in the doorway, brow furrowed as he looks Jennifer over with a critical eye. He steps into the exam room, glancing between the two of you. Sniffs the relaxed scent Jennifer is now giving off. You make a mental note to offer them some scent patches on the way out. 

“Dr. Robby, this is Jennifer. She came in complaining of cramps and was experiencing a stress response to presentation. Likely related to loss of smell after COVID a few years ago. I scented her to help reduce stress levels and I was just about to call Mateo in to draw blood for some labs.” You quickly give him the details, hoping you didn’t miss anything. You’re in your second year of residency and your past attendings have always been sure to remind you of your place in the hierarchy. Instead, he just nods, turning his concerned look toward you. 

“Good job.” He nods and you feel something warm bloom in your chest at the approval. When he leans in toward you, his scent manages to reach your nose. Deep and warm. Soft. The opposite of your own. You pull back just slightly, realizing Robby knows your scent now. Knows that there’s something inexplicably wrong with you. “Doctor, a word please?”

You can only nod. This has happened before, too. Supervisors who tell you that you can’t scent patients anymore. That you only stress them out further with your scent. You know it’s coming as you follow Robby into the break room. He closes the door softly and you fold your hands behind your back. 

“Are you on suppressants?” The question makes you turn toward Robby, eyes wide. This is not what you had been expecting. He looks…concerned? Like he’s not worried about patient satisfaction. Like he’s worried about you. You can only nod, mouth gaping. You feel a bit stupid. Left out of the loop. Robby sits down in one of the shitty plastic chairs, gesturing toward the one next to him. You sit. “How long since you took a break from them?”

“A break?” You look Robby over like he’s gone crazy. Suppressants are there to suppress base instincts and regulate heats. Your mother told you early in your life that suppressants are the only thing that separate civilized society from heathens. You’re not sure you agree with her completely, but they’ve been useful to you since you started on them in college. 

“Yes. You are supposed to go off suppressants in time with your heat cycle to help regulate the hormones in your body. If you don’t, it can cause a buildup of toxins in your glands.” Robby’s voice is gentle and soft, as if he’s giving a patient some kind of difficult diagnosis. You tilt your head, trying to force a smile as panic builds in your throat. Robby sighs. “The buildup and affect scents. It’s the body’s way of letting you know what’s happening. And your scent is—”

“Toxic.” You finish, staring down at the table. 

“I was going to say it’s showing all the signs of suppressant overuse.” He leans forward and you catch his scent again. It’s faint under the neutralizing lotion he has spread over the glands, but enough to make your eyes widen a fraction. Robby doesn’t seem to notice. “How long have you been on suppressants?”

“A little over ten years.” You say softly, biting at the inside of your cheek. You feel like a pup again, being scolded by your father for watching a PG-13 movie. You feel small. It fucking sucks. 

“Ten years? Fuck, you’re—” Robby takes a breath, running a hand through his hair. You notice, not for the first time, that his hands are huge. Bigger than yours, anyway. Much bigger. He meets your gaze and his face is as serious as you’ve seen it when a patient flatlines. You wonder how close your predicament is to death itself. “I’m going to call Dr. Yamazaki and you are going to see her as soon as possible. Then, you are going to do whatever she tells you.”

You want to argue. Mostly just to be contrary. But you can’t when Robby looks at you like that. When he uses that voice that you usually only get to hear during an emergency. So you nod. You feel like a fifteen year old girl again. A fucking pup.

The consultation doesn’t take long. Yamazaki takes one sniff of you and confirms everything Robby had said. She also takes some blood to have official tests done. They come back within the hour. Suppressant overdose. Not nearly as dangerous as most overdoses, but a silent killer to those who ignore it. With a folder of information packets that make your cheeks heat, you trudge back to the ED. 

“So?” Robby’s voice behind you makes your shoulders jump as you punch in the code to your locker. You look back and see him eying the folder as it lays on the bench. One of the brochures sticks out. Your First Heat! You flush and shove the folder into your bag. You’ve had a heat before. Multiple. But that had been ten years ago. Yamazaki basically told you that your use of suppressants had reset your system. Everything would feel like the first. You remember your first heat. It sucked. 

“Yamazaki said I have to go completely off suppressants until they clear out of my system. Could take months.” Robby nods, glancing out at the ED to make sure everything is running smoothly before leaning against the wall.

“Okay. Let me know when you need time off for your heat.” He says it so casually. And, you suppose, it’s no worse or more invasive than all the other shit you see on the daily. But it feels different when it’s your heat Robby’s talking about. You make another mental note to be a bit more gentle when talking about such topics with your patients. At this point, you think you’re gonna need a whiteboard in your brain for all these notes. 

“About that…uh,” You pause, nervously fidgeting with the tie of your scrubs. Robby’s eye flickers down to the movement and you force your hands to still. “Yamazaki said it will be a pretty fast onset once I officially stop suppressants. Like, within a week?”

Robby pats your shoulder once and you can smell him again. Better this time, with his wrist right next to your nose. Woodsy, maybe something like cedar? And something dark and rich. He pulls away before you can identify it. “Go home. Get some sleep. I’ll explain it to Dana and we’ll put you down as on-call. Until your heat, only come in if we call. You need rest.” He takes a short breath and steps back just slightly, looking down at you carefully. “Let me know when your heat starts. I’ll get you the week off.”

Your cheeks flush. As much as the suppressants keep you less instinctual than most alphas or omegas may feel without, the idea of telling an alpha when your heat is starting makes you dizzy. An unmated, admittedly quite attractive alpha with a scent you want to huff. Okay, down girl. Time to go. 

You can’t make words come out of your mouth as you nod, slamming your locker closed and practically running out of the ED. 

Robby had felt something in his chest twist when he caught your scent. Ugly and abrasive, chemical. He’d caught it before, but never this strong. He could barely hear as you presented your patient, focused on the tangy undertone he could smell beneath the severe scent. It was wrong. Like an OR after a failed surgery. Too clean. Like bleach and failure. That’s now what your scent should be. 

Not you, who always pushes forward. Who faces every case head-on, even when Robby can tell you’re terrified. Your scent should be bright and sharp. Only abrasive to those who are afraid of something real.

He’s imagined it before. Your scent. Always thought it was strange that you didn’t ever seem to have one. Empty space in the invisible map he creates in his head. Robby always knows where his people are. Can track them across the hospital with a sniff. Not quite as good as Dana, the bloodhound herself. Even she hadn’t caught your scent before, which had sent a shot of confusion up Robby’s spine when he first heard. He was almost proud to be the first one to catch it. Then worry flooded his entire body in a way that he has to physically suppress.

God, he hates this. Hates the way he can tell you’re scared. And instead of facing it with a bright hope in your eye, you’re shying away from him. Scared and resigned, like nobody has ever helped you before. Like you’re used to being shunted off. God, he fucking hates this.

You think about him during your heat. Not the whole time. Just when his face pops into your mind and you imagine it hovering over you while his hands—shit. And you feel bad about it. Robby may be unmated, but he has also never given an inkling of wanting to be mated. Especially not around you. So you pretend you didn’t. You pretend that nothing clicked inside of you during the two weeks you were gone and you pull into the parking garage at 6:48 like everything is normal. 

The patches on your neck and wrists are thin and scratchy, but Dr. Yamazaki had said anything stronger would only slow your recovery. So instead of the soft, thick, medical grade scent patches, you get to use the ones from the dollar store that are cheerfully labeled suppressant free! like it’s a feature. They don’t hide your scent the way the other ones had. Just dull it down enough that it won’t affect anyone while you work. No lotion, no extra-strength scent patches.

“Hey, kid.” Dana greets you first as you trudge through the parking lot. Your undershirt covers the patches but does nothing to further dampen the newly exposed scent. Dana sniffs the air. She’s got the best nose you’ve had the displeasure of meeting. “That you? Suppressant overdose?” Her voice is gentle and it grates at you a little. Pity is the last thing you want. 

“That obvious?” You try to joke. Dana grins, swinging an arm around your shoulders and messing with your hair. You don’t miss the way her wrists brush against your shirt. She’s scenting you. The acrid smell of suppressants (that you hadn’t thought was too bad when you left for work) disappears under her honey and cigarette smoke. You can’t help letting out the tiniest rumble of a purr. Dana doesn’t comment on it. 

“It’s no big, kid. We’ve all forgotten to take a suppressant break at some point.”

You smile, something relieved finally relaxing against your ribs. You must smell better now if even Dana’s nose can’t tell how much shit you had put your body through. 

Dana pushes open the employee door, holding it behind her as you step through. She doesn’t even seem to register the action and you wonder if this is some kind of alpha thing. If she’s scented you and now she feels responsible. Even if it’s just little stuff like holding the door. You decide very quickly that it doesn’t matter. You just want to get on with your shift. 

Handoff goes well. Quick and efficient. You don’t want to say that the night shift had been quiet, but the estimated waiting time is only three hours. At the moment. You know that number will only go up. So you pick the name at the top of the list and get started. You don’t see Robby until afternoon. Really, it’s a shock it took this long. He’s usually everywhere, but you try to stay on triage. Easy stuff. Hopefully nothing deadly. By the time you glance up at the clock again, its 2:03 and your stomach is going to plan a revolt if you don’t give it a suitable sacrifice soon. 

“I’m taking my lunch. Don’t call me unless someone’s dying and everyone else is elbows deep.” You call out to Dana as you drop off a tablet at the charging station. She just laughs and reaches out to run her wrist along the inside of your arm. You manage to hold back the noise that wants to escape this time. 

The break room is a quiet haven from the chaos of the ED. Noise is muffled and soft through the door and you can almost pretend you’re back in your shitty apartment as you take a bite of cold pasta. It would be better warm, but you’re afraid someone will actually start dying and you’ll get called away before you can take a single bite. The door opens and you hold back an annoyed groan as sound fills the room again before muffling once more. Robby stands in front of the door, staring at you with his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets.

You can smell him. The first thing you realized after stopping on suppressants is that your own nose improved. Sharper. Maybe a little more biased toward certain scents. The second thing was that no one else wears the medical-grade patches that you had. They use light ones that dampen their scents enough to be decent, but release enough to tell people who they are. For the past few years, you’ve been negative space. Scentless and invisible. 

“Dr. Robby.” Your voice is carefully neutral as you bring your sleeve closer to your face, pretending to scratch at your cheek. Dana’s scent is stronger from this close and it drowns out Robby’s deep forest. He still hasn’t moved from the door. You tilt your head, unaware of how the action exposes the top of your scent patch. 

“You smell like Dana.” Is all he says, finally moving toward the coffee pot on the counter. He curses at the empty pot and pulls out a filter. You watch, brow furrowed at his statement. Because it sure as hell hadn’t been a question. You decide that an explanation is probably in order anyway.

“She caught me in the parking lot. There’s still some chemical-y stuff left in my scent from the suppressants, so she was helping cover it up.” Your eyes catch on the way Robby squeezes a mug in his hands. His knuckles aren’t quite white, but they’re pale enough for you to worry that he’s about to shatter the ceramic in his hands. “Is that against hospital policy? I can ask her to stop.”

“No, I just…” Robby’s voice trails off as the coffee machine gurgles. You wait for a few minutes in silence as he stares at the machine. Finally, the mug hits the counter with a clack and Robby turns toward you. “If you wanted, I could…uh, help.”

Your face must be on fire from how hot your cheeks are. The idea of being covered in Robby’s scent all day, claimed, makes you glad you’re sitting. Had you been on your feet, you’re sure your knees would have given out. You clear your throat, hoping the flush that’s quickly spreading down your neck isn’t too visible. You can’t. You’re sure that focusing on work would be impossible. And you cannot let yourself entertain the idea of Robby. In any way. Dana is safe. She’s married, mated, has two kids of her own. You enjoy her scent because it feels like a warm hug after a long day. Relaxing on the front porch with a smoke. You quickly shake your head.

“Thank you, but I think I’ll be okay.” You hope your voice sounds even. Robby doesn’t want you. He wants to help you. As your boss. As your friend? But not as a mate. This isn’t courting. You push out of your chair, stomach suddenly feeling like a revolt again. Robby watches as you practically run out of the break room, leaving behind your half-finished lunch.

Robby assumes it’s just an instinctual thing, the way his chest tightens when you reject his scent. It must be one of those things deep down that Robby is always trying so hard to ignore. He’s not sure why it’s so hard to do that this time. Maybe it’s because he had caught your scent on the way out, underneath Dana’s. Still sharp, but less chemical. Something sweet buried under it all. A scent he wanted to follow out the door. He thinks he might have—if you hadn’t smelled like another alpha.

(It’s Dana’s scent, Robby has to remind himself. Dana, who was just trying to help. Dana, who is mated, who treats you like a pup. Like she does with all the residents and interns. The reminder doesn’t help as much as Robby had hoped it would.)

He’s snapped out of his thoughts as the break room door swings open. Samira’s scent catches on his nose as she moves toward the coffee pot. Spice and sweet bread. Not quite as sharp as yours seems like it would be. Fuck. Robby leaves, pushes past her back out into the chaos of the ED.

Robby spends the rest of his long shift moving from one patient to another. Even if he’s not their physician, Robby doesn’t leave a bedside for more than a moment. Doesn’t stand in front of the screen deciding which patient he wants to check in on. He just moves from intern to resident to patient and back to a new intern. He pointedly skips over you on the imaginary roster in his mind. Maybe it’s on accident, the way you always seem to be with another patient or checking on chairs when he stops by your patients’ rooms. 

It’s not until he’s walking home that his brain finally quiets down enough for the thought to break through. It was a rejection. Maybe not a conscious one, but a rejection nonetheless. Robby had offered you his scent and you denied him. Even if Robby hadn’t meant it like that (did he?), even if you hadn’t taken it that way (did you?). Somewhere, deep down, you had decided you didn’t want his scent on you. The thought makes Robby’s chest burn hot and sharp. Why does he even care? You’re just his resident. Nothing more. Right?

He may not be the most expressive person around others, but Robby knows his own feelings. He spends a lot of time alone with them. The one clawing at his chest from the inside out isn’t one Robby thinks he’s felt before. He imagines this must be how patients feel during open heart surgery. He tries to ignore the sensation as he shoves open the door to his apartment. 

“Jesus, brother. What happened to you?” Robby spins around to see Jack sitting on his couch, nose scrunched. The other alpha’s prosthetic leans against the coffee table and he holds the remote in loose fingers. Robby rubs at his forehead, letting out a long sigh. 

“Jack, what are you doing here? You’re gonna give me a fucking heart attack.” Robby grits out, forcing himself to breath slowly. God, he’s getting old. Maybe that’s why you don’t want him. You’re a young woman, a young doctor. You have a whole life and career ahead of you. Why would you want some old man like Robby?

“Seriously, man. I know it’s your place, but you stink.” Jack’s voice is teasing, but Robby can catch a hint of concern under it all. Robby tries to rein in his scent, wet and smoky like a forest fire. He can tell from the look on Jack’s face that it’s not working. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Maybe after a beer. Or four.” Robby sighs as he moves toward the kitchen. He pulls two beers out of the fridge and tosses one to Jack. He catches it and Robby grins, applauding mockingly. Jack flips him off. “Remind me why you’re in my apartment again?”

“Dana called. Said you were acting weird.” The can hisses in Jack’s hand as he pops it open. “She tried to talk to you at the ED, but apparently you’re avoiding her. She could smell you from across the room, man. I didn’t believe her at first but that was before you came in and filled the place with your stank.”

“It is my place, you know. Pretty sure I’m allowed to stink it up all I want. Especially when my company is uninvited.” Robby cracks open his own beer, taking a long sip. Shit. He had known he was avoiding you, but Dana? He hadn’t meant to. It’s not her fault you don’t want Robby. Damn it, now he has to apologize. “You really came all the way here just ‘cause Dana called you?”

“You know she’s not one to worry unless it’s called for, Robby.” Jack levels him with an unimpressed glare. 

Robby downs the rest of his beer in three gulps and crushes the can in his fist. “I need a shower. I assume you’re not leaving until we…talk?” Robby shivers exaggeratedly as he says the word. It gets a chuckle and an easy nod from Jack as he raises his can in a mock salute. It’s Robby’s turn to flip off Jack now. 

It takes a few hours and three more beers for Robby to finally start talking. Jack stuck around because he knows Robby. Knows he needs some lubrication before talking about anything remotely important. 

“I was rejected.”

Jack pauses, his drink halfway to his mouth. He glances over at Robby, brow scrunched. “Okay…”

“No, not—I mean…” Robby sighs, putting his can down on the low coffee table and turning his body to face Jack. He wrings his hands nervously, cheeks heating. Maybe Robby is too old to get this worked up over a rejection. When he finally speaks again, his voice is quiet. Small. “I offered to scent an omega. She said no.”

“Oh.” Jack’s can slips in his hand, wet with condensation. He catches it before it can fall, but Robby barely even notices. 

“Yeah.”

“Do I know her, or…?” Jack sets his can down on a coaster on the table, turning his body to face Robby as well. Robby hesitates for a moment before whispering your name. Jack nods slowly, recognition in his gaze. His hand reaches out, warm against Robby’s shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay, brother. I promise.”

Robby lets Jack tug him close. Lets his friend wrap warm arms around him. Lets himself breathe shakily. Jack doesn’t tell him he’s overreacting. He doesn’t tell Robby that he’s weird for being so invested in a resident. Doesn’t really say anything. Just holds Robby close. It helps. 

Your next heat isn’t supposed to happen for at least a month. That was what Dr. Yamazaki had told you. But when you swing by her office to ask about the pre-heat symptoms you’ve been feeling, she just smiles gently and tells you that being on suppressants for so long can mess with your heat cycle. It will regulate itself again soon. You wish soon could happen sooner. Especially with how Robby has been avoiding you lately. You wonder if he can smell your pre-heat. If he hates the scent so much he can’t bear to be around you. 

The day before your second heat leave within a single month (how embarrassing), you shove your things into a bag at your locker. Robby stands stiffly a few feet away and you almost want to reach out. Want to ask what you did so wrong. But you can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, much less speak to him. So you hide behind your locker door and pretend to busy yourself until he leaves. 

“Robby, I got a question about the guy in North 7.” You turn down the hall to see Abbot standing there in his scrubs, glaring down at the screen in his hands like it personally wronged him. Robby sighs, moving past you as he pulls on his glasses. The way his eyes look behind those lenses, the way the frames compliment his face, it really shouldn’t affect you this much. You tell yourself it’s just your pre-heat and shove your locker shut. 

You don’t know why you glance down at Robby’s bag. Don’t know why you lean over to look into his locker. The small space smells like him. Not super strong, but enough for you to take a deep breath in before you realize what you’re doing. Despite the heat rising in your cheeks, you can’t pull away. You glance both ways down the hall before your hand shoots out, grabbing at a piece of fabric in the locker. A jacket. You sniff at it. God, it smells like him. Your eyes catch on the logo fading on the fabric. The jacket Robby wears almost every day. The one he keeps in his locker in case he gets cold. The one he will most definitely notice if it goes missing. You shove it into your bag without another thought, wondering if you’ve finally gone crazy. That’s it. You need to get out of here.

Dana calls out a goodbye as you rush out the door and you can barely send a distracted wave over your shoulder. You can only hope that no one caught Robby’s scent around you. Maybe it’s not as strong as you think. Maybe you’re just locked into it. Or maybe you’re just panicking. 

But, god, he’s all you can smell. You practically slam your car door shut as you collapse into the seat. Breaths come fast and rough as you hug your bag tight. Robby’s scent seems to fill the car and you feel dizzy. You toss the bag into the footwell of the passenger seat and shove your keys into the ignition. A sigh escapes from your mouth as the window rolls down with a buzz. Fuck, you really should have taken today off. 

Robby’s day hasn’t been great. Nothing serious. No lost patients. Just you walking around in fucking pre-heat. You, with your scent that’s been clearing up so nicely. Still sharp, but just enough to catch your attention. And you’ve been catching Robby’s attention. The whole shift had consisted of Robby trying to stay as far away from you as possible. He can’t get his brain to form words, let alone diagnose patients, when you glide across the open doorway of an exam room. His distraction meant more annoyed patients, which did not help his speedily declining mood.

And now his jacket is missing. He stepped away from his locker for five seconds and now his jacket is missing. The ambulance doors slide open and a cool breeze blows past Robby and he can feel the goosebumps over his arms.

“What’s wrong with you?” Robby turns to see Dana leaning against the wall outside the ambulance bay. She has a thick jacket zipped up to her chin as she takes a drag from her cigarette. Robby steps toward her, letting his back hit the wall with a soft thud. When Dana holds out her cigarette, he barely hesitates. The drag he takes is probably too long.

“Been a long fucking day already and now my jacket’s gone and I’m walking home.” 

Dana snorts. When Robby looks up to shoot her a glare, she levels him with a look so unimpressed, Robby is almost embarrassed that he tried. “Wasn’t your girl by the lockers with you?”

“She’s not my—” Robby cuts himself off, warmth burning in the apples of his cheeks. Dana laughs, taking her cigarette back. He barely notices, leaning more heavily against the wall. The jacket had been there before Jack called him away. By the time Robby returned, both you and the jacket were gone. “She rejected me. Why would she take it?”

Robby doesn’t look to see the face Dana makes at his admission. He can see her drop the cigarette as he looks at his feet, watching as she smashes it under her shoe. “I’d tell you to ask her yourself, but she’s on heat leave.”

“I know.” He mutters. Robby lets out a long sigh, leaning his head back against the concrete. “She told me a few days ago.” The hand gripped his arm before Robby could even realize what was happening. Dana was looking at him with an expression that said are you a goddamn idiot?? 

“An unmated omega told you their heat was starting? And you think she’s rejected you?” There was something deeper than disbelief on Dana’s face. Maybe bewilderment. Definitely some disappointment. “Jesus. Your mind, Robinavitch.”

“Well, I asked her to—“

“Michael, that’s harassment! You can’t just ask your subordinate to tell you when their heat is.” Dana’s voice is a low hiss, but Robby can see a gleam of smug satisfaction in her gaze. “That’s more direct than asking to scent them, you idiot. Christ, I can’t believe you!”

He looks down at her with wide eyes. Her lips are pressed tightly together. Holding back laughter, he realizes after a moment. Robby tries for a glare, but he can feel his cheeks practically catching fire. His voice stutters just a bit as he speaks. “So you’re saying she might—”

“I’m saying that she didn’t report you to HR for asking which week she was going to be fucking herself silly. I’m saying you’re both idiots!” She pulls her hand away, smacking Robby’s arm as she does. He winces. Dana finally releases her laughter, grabbing Robby’s hand. She takes a pen out of her pocket and scribbles across his palm. Robby’s flush spreads to his cheeks as he reads the address written on his hand. Most likely your address. Dana doesn’t release his hand yet. “If you fuck this up, I’m throwing you into the incinerator in the basement.”

Robby nods, not hesitating for even a second. If he hurt you, he deserved that much at least. Dana looks him over once before releasing his hand. She shoves him gently, grinning. Robby can only make himself wave as he jogs in the direction of your street.

You’ve finally settled in front of your television, wrapped in that warm jacket, when you hear the knocks. Soft, almost tentative. Like whoever is here doesn’t know if they should be. You sigh, pushing off the couch and slowly making your way toward the door. You don’t even bother looking out the peephole. It’s probably just someone lost in the apartment complex. Wrong floor, most likely. Happens sometimes. 

You keep the chain locked on the door as you pull it open just enough to greet whoever is standing there. Words elude you as Robby’s familiar silhouette fills your field of vision. He’s in scrubs, just a tshirt under his scrub shirt. No jacket. Because you stole his jacket. You’re wearing his jacket. While the undiluted scent of your pre-heat rolls off of you in thick waves. Just the sight of him is enough to make you lean against the doorframe, knees weak.

“Dr. Robby, I—I can explain.” You murmur, gripping at the jacket. His eyes flick down and something shifts on his face as he sees the fabric hanging off of you. A noise escapes your throat as you watch him sniff the air. Your scents combined. Dark woods and sharp citrus. Morning dew and crushed berries. 

“Can I come in?” 

The words make you freeze. Robby is an alpha. He knows you’re slowly falling into your heat. Robby is an unmated alpha. He just asked to come inside. You’re still wearing his jacket. A thought flutters through your mind and the air immediately sours. Rotten fruits scent the hall. Robby immediately shifts, looking around for what could have possibly upset you. (Was it him? Is he moving too fast?)

“Is this just because of my scent?” You force out, voice steadier than you thought it would be. Robby opens his mouth to say something. “I’ve liked you for a while. I didn’t say anything because you’re…you. Chief Attending. One of the best ER doctors in the East. I’ve respected you since we first met, so if this is just because I smell like an actual omega now, I can’t…”

“No! I mean, yes, your scent probably made me realize it, but you are one of the best residents I’ve ever had.” He reaches his hand out, pausing inches away from the door. The physical barrier between you two. “You’re a quick study and I’ve always liked the way you smile when you do a difficult procedure. I think—I have probably liked you since that first day. I promise you.”

You stare at him for a few seconds. Your heart is beating at about a million miles an hour and you push the door shut. The chain rattles as you pull it away and reopen the door. Wide enough for Robby to step inside as you hold the door handle with sweaty palms. He slides past you, brushing his shoulder against yours. Fuck, he’s scenting you. Another noise escapes you, something like a chirp. Robby doesn’t turn to look at you, but the corners of his lips twitch up. You can see the warmth on his cheeks as he does that adorable shrug. You want to climb him like a tree. You take a deep breath in, exhaling sharply as his scent fills your lungs. 

“Do you want tea?” You turn toward the kitchen, nervously playing with the long sleeves of Robby’s jacket.

“You’re making it real hard to want anything but you, sweetheart.” You feel his hands on your hips, not grabbing, just resting. He’s not hold you against him, you could easily step out of his grip if you wanted. You think that might be the last thing you would ever want. “Fuck. You look so good. Smell so fucking good.”

His nose presses against your neck carefully, just barely brushing the skin. A shiver slips down your spine and you shift to face Robby. His face is warm between your hands and you can see the red tips of his ears. How can he be so adorable? You force your eyes to stay on him as you cradle his jaw in your hands. He practically melts into the contact.

“Robby—”

“The name’s Michael, sweetheart.” Robby murmurs, pressing his lips against your palm. His beard scratches against your palm and you’re glad you finally get to feel this. You never could have imagined this sensation. Even if you tried, it wouldn’t do this justice. You grin.

“Dr. Robinavitch,” You say instead, leaning up toward him. He meets you in the middle, your foreheads pressing together. His laughter puffs against your lips and you can’t help grinning. The scent glands on his neck are so close. You finally give into that instinct, pressing your face against his neck to breathe in deep and fast. Laughter vibrates through his vocal chords and you force yourself to pull back (very difficult) and study Robby’s face (very easy). “What’s so funny?”

“I just think I really, really like you.” His voice is low and soft as his lips brush against yours. Finally. You can’t respond as he presses harder against you. But you do tell him, hours later, as you both lay next to each other, exhausted. 

“I think I really, really like you, too.”

who wants a smutty pt 2?

[buckysgirlll]

kneeling inbetween your husband!bucky’s legs prank

warnings: suggestive content, tiktok prank, fem!reader

a/n - saw this prank on tiktok and i imagined how bucky would react immediately ahaha

bucky barnes masterlist ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ navi

your poor husband has never known a day of peace since he married you. hell, since he asked you to be his girlfriend several years ago.

you let out a small smile seeing a tiktok where this woman decided to prank her husband by sitting in between his legs and signalling that she’s going to suck him off just to pretend to look for something under the couch.

you smirk, putting your phone down beside you, giving bucky a glance and seeing that his eyes are fixated on the TV. his legs are propped up on the coffee table and his arms are flung over the top of the couch with you pressed up against his side.

you slowly get up, moving so you’re directly in the view of his show. he looks up at you, his eyes slightly narrowing. it’s like he knows that you’re planning something. you scoot the table back, making his legs drop and slide yourself down inbetween them.

he stays silent watching you intently and spreading his legs wider so you can fit.

your rub his thighs slowly, over the fabric of his sweatpants and just as you get to the print of his cock you drop you hand, pretending to search for something under the couch.

“where did it go?” you mumble to yourself, looking under the small gap between the couch and the floor.

you hear your husband let out a sigh making you giggle.

“you’re fucking killin’ me here doll.” he grunts.

“what?” you try and hide your smirk, looking up and giving him an innocent look.

you pretend to look under the couch one more time before standing up and plopping yourself onto the couch next to him.

“i guess i couldn’t find it.” you shrug, picking up your phone and ignoring the quizzical look that bucky is giving you.

“y’know exactly what you’re doing.” you let out a squeal when you’re suddenly pulled onto his lap.

“i didn’t do anything.” you smile, resting your hands on his shoulders.

you feel his hands dig into your hips and pull you down on him harder so you can feel exactly what you’ve done.

you love playing these games on him because even though you could’ve just done it, sometimes it’s better to just toy with him a little.