ŕ˝´đ¸ŕžŕ˝˛Ěŕžŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕžŕ˝˛ŕžŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ spoiled deathbat missing from cemetery: ADMIR â âlast seen dead but lively ŕžâ¤ď¸ appears to be 23ys ago â beware, sheâs a consumer of flesh, blood n bones â đ Ἱ wears black lace bows in her teal hair n on her bra â horror film stalker n perverted raspberry scented áིâᥠâ đ when found please return to frank castle !
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đľ â younger girlfriend squirting with jack abbot . 18+
you tell jack whoâs been knuckles deep inside your pussy for the past hour that something feels weirder than usual, as youâre sitting in between his legs â your back pressed against his chest with your thighs parted giving him the perfect amount of access needed to pleasure you.
âwhatâs wrong, baby?â he murmurs against your temple with a gentle kiss as his calloused digits are rhythmically plunging in and out of your hole. curling his fingers sweet into that spongey spot inside of you, itâs almost cruel the way he knows exactly how to make you lose it. âit feels weird.â you testify, eyes fixated on the recurring disappearance of your boyfriendâs fingers inside of you.
âyeah? tell me what feels weird, hm.â he hums, feeling you shift and squirm against him as he holds one of your legs open by the backside of your knee. and you can barely utter the words from your mouth, âyour fingers keep pressing against my bladder, its making me feel like i have to goâ go to the bathroom.â you bite down on your bottom lip.
every time jackâs fingers plunge back inside you, it feels as if youâre peeing yourself already. as if the motion of his fingers are forcing that specific release from you. âthat so?â you feel his chest rumble against you as he lets out a gruff chuckle, âthatâs good then. thatâs the feeling you want when it starts feeling good, sweetheart.â he reassures, as your walls pulse around his fingers.
you whine, throwing you head back against his shoulder. each drag of his digits bringing you closer, and closer towards the edge as you let out soft moans.
jack letâs out an impressed whistle once he starts to feel your hips rock into hand. âfuckâ it feels good.â you moan warm against the side of his neck, âso good i might actually pee.â which earns a low, amused groan from jack.
âmhmm, you gonna make a mess on my hand?â he lifts his thumb up, before pressing mean against your swollen clit making you jolt. âwâwait!â you stammer, throwing your hands towards jackâs forearm in attempt to halt his movements as he shakes his head in disapproval. âuh-uh, canât have you telling me to stop now.â he rasps, pressing circles around your nub as it twitches under the pad of this thumb.
âcâmon and show me how messy you can get.â his breath fans warm against your cheek, before your bodyâs involuntarily letting loose. your body is shaking, and your walls are caving in around jackâs digits as youâre whimpering. âthaatâs it, babyâ give it to me.â he groans, targeting that sweet spot inside of you, before youâre making a wet mess all over yourself.
âmmgh, jackâ jack.â youâre whimpering as slight humiliation fills your chest, though the pleasure is far too euphoric as he coaxes every last drop out of you. âatta girl.â he nudges his mouth against the side of your head to whisper in your ear. âi love nasty girls.â he groans.
feeling so needy when jack is working his shift and you call him while playing with yourself so you can cum to his voice :((
18+ mdni cw: daddy kink
âbaby? everything okay?â jack calls you back, unable to pick up on the first ring because of incoming trauma, but he always finds a second to step outsideâaway from the chaosâto call you back.
youâve got your hand in your panties, rubbing your clit slowly, been edging yourself now for a while, needing to wait to cum by the sound of his voice. âyeahââ you say breathlessly, âeverythingâs okay!â
he notices the hitch in your voice, can hear the way youâre moving around on the other line, and his body heats up, cock immediately stirring as heâs on his shift. âbaby⌠what are you doing?â
you whimper, âiâm sorryâjust had to wait to hear your voice, jackie. i know itâs bad, youâre at workâŚâ he hums lowly, âyou been waitinâ for me to answer so that you could cum, baby? that it?â
you sigh, âyesâplease, jack. i need you.â he turns around, gripping himself through his pants a bit as he lets out a low, âfuck.â moving your fingers faster at the sound of his voice and breathing, you feel yourself getting closer. he knows youâre almost there by the sounds of your whining, he can almost see youâback arched, legs bent and open, eyes closed and mouth slight agape⌠fuck.
âgo ahead, baby, come for daddyâcome on. gotta go back to work.â
you cry out, strings of moans coming out of his phone as he smiles, âthere you go, what a good girl. callinâ her daddy for permission to cum.â you come down from your high, giving him a shy, âthank you,â as he clicks his tongue, âiâll be home to take care of you soon, doll.â <333
jack holding ur achy little cunt in his hand while you both sleep ?? so so cute :33 Occasionally groping you then shushing ur whines when he starts rubbing lazy circles on ur clit through those cotton panties he loves so much
18+ cw: daddy kink !!
oh my god heâs such a gross old manâhand never leaves your pants you just get used to it when youâre falling asleep. when he starts lazily rubbing your clit you squirm, moaning out to him, âmhmmm, jackieââ
he shushes you, âshhh, babyâlet daddy feel you, yeahhh thatâs it, go back to bed.â you arch your back, falling back onto the pillows you cuddle into him, spreading your legs a bit so he has better access, hand moving in your cute little cotton panties. <33 he canât get enough of you, needs to feel how wet you are for him all the time. <333
popey love clit!!!!!!!! :( :( popey loves ur clit soo much...
it's his fav stim toy. he crawls down the bed and tugs softly at your panties until he can finally get his lips around it, and then he stays there for hours, just gently sucking and licking at it while his mind goes blank!! your fingers tangle into his dark curls, scratching softly at his scalp. sweet pope is in heaven
his hands grip your thighs, tugging them close around his head because he loves the pressure. it barely even registers as sexual for him because it just makes him feel safe and sleepy :( he loves the feeling of ur clit in his mouth, it's so soft and fun to flick with his tongue. it's just an added bonus that it makes you come
when the two of you are at home, he always has a hand down your panties so he can toy with your sweet little bud. he'll come up to you while you're doing the dishes and just silently shove his hand in ur pants, rubbing your clit while he nuzzles into your hair and nips at your earlobe đľâđŤ and then when your back starts to arch against him and you get distracted, he murmurs "baby, gettin' soap everywhere..." but he's not really mad <3
sometimes when you're in public and he gets stressed u catch pope looking longingly at your pussy, his fingers twitching towards you before he gives a heavy sigh and pulls them back, turning away from you to avoid the temptation :( pls give him a kiss and promise him he can have clit time when you get back home!!!
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ŕ˝´đ¸ŕžŕ˝˛Ěŕžŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ŕžŕ˝˛ŕžŕ˝˛ŕ˝˛ spoiled deathbat missing from cemetery: ADMIR â âlast seen dead but lively ŕžâ¤ď¸ appears to be 23ys ago â beware, sheâs a consumer of flesh, blood n bones â đ Ἱ wears black lace bows in her teal hair n on her bra â horror film stalker n perverted raspberry scented áིâᥠâ đ when found please return to frank castle !
the mask hit your nerves before his cock even did. that heart-shaped thing, cracked and splattered, staring blankly at you while his weight pressed you down. you whined, tugging at his shirt, voice small and pleading.
âshin, pleaseâtake it off. just for me.â
his hand gripped your chin tight, tilting your face up until your reflection stared back at you in that warped grin of his mask. his voice came muffled and deep. âno time, doll. iâm heading out soon. youâll take me like this.â
something about not seeing his mouth, not watching the smirk you knew was curling beneath, made your pulse pound harder. you clutched at his tie, your thighs trembling as he shoved them apart.
your panties tore in his fistâripped like tissue, tossed aside. the head of his cock pushed against you, hot, blunt, insistent. you begged again, whispery, desperate: âpleaseâi hate the maskâi want youââ
he drove into you before you could finish, one brutal thrust that punched the air from your lungs. the bedframe squealed, your body jolted, and you cried out loud enough to echo off the walls. he stayed deep, buried to the hilt, his masked face hovering over yours, expression unreadable.
âshh,â he murmured through the ceramic, grinding into you so your pussy stretched around him, obscene and aching. âyouâll take me like this. youâll remember me like this while iâm gone.â
your hands flew to the mask, desperate to peel it off, but he caught your wrists easily, pinning them above your head with one hand. his hips began to slam forward, merciless, cock splitting you open again and again until slick squelches filled the room.
the mask stared. blank, smiling, uncaring.
it terrified you, not seeing the man, just that grotesque heart looming while your body bounced beneath him. your nipples dragged against his shirt with every thrust, and your breath came out broken, whimpering, crying his name like prayer.
âtoo muchâshin, pleaseâi canâtââ
âyou can,â he growled, hips snapping harder, balls smacking against your ass. âyou will. my doll can take it.â
your pussy clamped down, wet heat clenching him as you came hard, tears streaking down your face. he never slowed, the mask inches from your nose, forcing you to watch that painted smile instead of his real one. it felt almost wrong, like a stranger owning you, but his voiceâhis voice anchored you.
âlook at me,â he ordered, pulling out halfway then slamming back in so deep your back arched. âeven if it scares you. even if you hate it. youâll look at me while i wreck you.â
you sobbed, obeying, eyes locked on the mask even as your cunt gushed around him, slick dripping down your thighs. he grunted, movements growing frantic, and you knew he was close.
âwhere do you want it, doll?â the muffled voice asked, merciless thrusts rattling the bed.
âinsideââ you gasped, barely able to breathe. âpleaseâinside meââ
he slammed in deep one last time, holding you pinned beneath his weight, mask pressed to your cheek while his cock pulsed and spilled hot, thick cum into you. his groan echoed strangely behind the mask, guttural, primal.
he stayed there, buried and twitching, until his gloved fingers stroked your hair, deceptively tender. âgood girl. my doll looks so perfect under me, even when sheâs scared.â
the mask tilted, pressing a hard kiss where his lips should have been. you whimpered, wishing for his real mouth, but all you had was that cold porcelain grin and his seed dripping out of you while he fixed his tie, already preparing to leave.
by the way, immigrants deserve to live safely and not be separated from their families. free palestine. viva latin america. trans rights are human rights. black lives matter. đ§ OUT.
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Submissive, but in the way a guard dog is submissive. If you could sum up your relationship with Dex, that might as well be it.
It's not that he means to come off like a muzzled pitbull while the two of you shop together. Or that he means to scare the poor teenage cashier when he miscounts some of your change.
When you ask him about the terrified cashier, he feigns ignorance, "Sometimes people just get scared...Look at the city we live in." He doesn't verbalize the last part, but it's clear. And if anyone did anything to scare you, he'd put a bullet through the middle of their skull. Even if it was him. Especially if it was him.
All it takes is a naive grin from you to reel him back in. As soon as you're back home, and there's no dishes in the sink, and no mess to clean up. He's only settled when a controlled environment is established, with you at its center.
He'll tentatively relax in your arms with a hesitant raise of his hands to cradle you back. Breathe you in. He always closes his eyes when he has you like this. All to himself. Where no one can hurt either of you. The way it should be. You quiet the noise until all he can hear is the soft sound of your heartbeat.
But the noise you quiet in his mind is never fully silenced. Not when he knows someone out there could take you from him. Not when there's someone out there that could hurt you. Scare you. Even just...annoy you. Strip his peace away with you.
He fantasizes about what he would do to that poor, excuse of a person. How he could take that annoying cashier that inconvenienced you out back and watch his blood paint the brick wall.
He finally reopens his eyes with a small, twitchy smile on his lips. He might as well keep watch. You can rest, he's got this. It's his job.
You'll start to realize...lately, every time you sit down with Dex at a diner, mindlessly reciting menu options, he's staring at the waiter just a little too hard. And counting the number of knives on the table. Just incase.
summary : dex canât let you go after you broke up with him. spiraling into obsessive stalking, one night he breaks into your apartment while still youâre asleep.
cw : [reader is hinted as black] (mention of brown nipples / POC friendly) somnophilia/ dubcon / stalking / mild-choking / masked sex / fully clothed penetration / emotional vulnerability / self-worth issues / possessive dirty talk / creampie / messy feelings (typical delulu dex) not proofread mb yall
he canât stop replaying your last words, your coldness cutting deeper than any punch. the way you said you needed space, freedom from him. freedom from the chaos he carries like a second skin. but the truth is, heâs not ready to let go. not yet.
tonight, something inside him snaps. a decision he knows is reckless, dangerous, but inevitable. he canât stand another night without touching you, without reminding you, and himself, that youâre still his.
heâs dressed for the night like a shadow of himself. black tactical pants, worn but functional. a fitted black hoodie with the hood pulled low, the fabric soft but concealing. on his feet, silent black military boots that grip the metal of the fire escape like a second skin. his mask the old black one with the angular lines covers his face, hiding the desperation in his eyes but not the raw need twisting in his gut.
he moves with practiced precision, scaling the fire escape like a ghost, every metal step cold beneath his fingertips. the city hums quietly around him, the distant sirens and buzz of late night cars fading behind the wall of silence he wraps himself in.
the window to your apartment looms ahead, half open, just like you always left it when you went to sleep. he slides the glass up with barely a sound, muscles coiled and tense as he slips inside.
dex stands just inside your apartment, the faint glow of the city bleeding through the cracked window you left open, a tiny flicker of hope that maybe this is some sign. that youâre still waiting for him in your own way, even if the silence says otherwise.
his heart pounds, heavy and erratic, like itâs fighting against the weight of what heâs about to do. every instinct screams at him to stop, to turn back and respect the space youâre trying to carve out for yourself without him, but some desperate part of him clings to the fact that the window was open, maybe you wanted him here. maybe.
inside, the air smells like you, your shampoo mixing with the faint hint of the lotion you always keep on your nightstand. his pulse pounds as he takes in the quiet sanctity of your bedroom, the soft rise and fall of your sleeping form beneath the blankets.
this is his moment. the place heâs been craving, stalking, aching for. and now, finally, heâs here.
youâre lying in your bed, skin warm beneath the thin cotton sheets, the soft curve of your tummy just visible, the swell of your breasts rising and falling with your breath. your brown nipples, dark against the smoothness of your skin, catch the faint moonlight slipping through the blinds. your thighs spread lightly beneath the covers, familiar and soft, everything dex always loved.
you donât hear the door open, donât feel the weight cross your threshold â but dex is here. masked and fully clothed, the smell of his cologne and sweat lingering around him, he moves carefully, reverent almost, like youâre some fragile treasure heâs terrified to break.
he kneels beside the bed, watching you sleep, voice low, a rasping whisper. âyouâre so fucking beautiful.â
he then climbs on the bed, over you. his hands twitch, uncertain, hovering just inches from your skin before he finally lets his fingertips ghost over your bare shoulder, trembling like a prayer. heâs terrified that the smallest wrong move will shatter this fragile moment, your breath, your sleep, the thread of trust left between you. the warmth of your skin under his touch pulls him in, raw and tender and achingly familiar, and he leans closer, letting his face bury in the crook of your neck, drinking you in. your scent is everything heâs missed. honeyed, soft, the way it clings to the curve of your collarbone and wraps around him like a lifeline.
his hands move up, trembling but reverent, to cup your full breasts, his thumbs brushing over your clothed nipples, aching under his touch. he wants to worship you like a temple, slow and soft and careful, but the hunger beneath that tenderness claws at him, pulling him deeper into desperation. his lips find the skin below your ear, sucking lightly, murmuring your name like a prayer, a plea.
his hands reach out first, trembling as they brush your thick thighs, tracing the soft curve of your tummy, the part he always loved. his fingers curl around your waist, pulling you closer to him in the dark.
he pulls back, sliding his hands beneath your shirt.
then his lips find your chest, full tits rising and falling with your steady breath, brown nipples hardening beneath his mouth. he sucks one gently, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, reverent and needy.
his voice cracks when he whispers, âi missed you,â barely loud enough for you to hear, but itâs everything he feels, an ache thatâs been gnawing at his ribs for too long. heâs torn between worship and want, between fear of breaking you and the primal need to claim you again. he hesitates, his hands trembling on your skin, caught in the storm of his own conflicted desire, draw a quiet moan even from your sleep.
they wander, worshiping your curves, the way your body fits like a goddamn prayer beneath his fingertips. his voice starts to ramble, desperate and tender, a broken confession whispered against your skin.
âyou were waiting for me,â he murmurs, lips barely grazing your skin. âi know you were waiting, baby. iâm here now.â
he knows this isnât like before. youâre not waiting, not really, not now. but heâs desperate to believe that maybe this touch, this breath, this moment is still yours. and slowly, trembling, he moves lower, trailing kisses and soft sucks along your neck, your collarbone, until heâs pressing his forehead against your skin, silent except for the frantic beating of his own heart.
you shift slightly but donât wake, his worship continued â his mouth finding your other nipple, sucking harder, rougher now, his desperation bleeding through every touch.
his cock presses hard against your thigh, strained in his belt.
dexâs hands slide lower, over your belly, soft, just a little round where he always loved to rest his palm, before slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts, fingers tracing the slick heat between your thighs.
he pushes your shorts down slowly, loving the way your skin reacts even without waking. thick thighs spread, exposed and soft, waiting. breathing shallow, fingers trembling where they ghost the curve of your hip beneath the blanket.
slowly, reverently, dex slips his fingers beneath the edge of your panties and shifts them aside, his breath catching when he sees the warmth glistening between your dusky thighs.
he slides a hand beneath your body, lifting your hips gently and after unbuckling his pants, he presses the tip of his cock through your slick folds. youâre still asleep, he lines himself up, hand stroking gently down your thigh, grounding himself. and then, with a low, shaky sound, he pushes in, slow and deep, his whole body trembling as your warmth welcomes him like home.
his voice breaks in a low, trembling whisper. âi love you. please ever donât leave me again.â
he fucks you slow at first, savoring the feel of you so warm and tight, the way your body yields beneath his. then faster, desperate, nearly choking on his own need.
his hands cup your cheeks, thumb stroking tenderly as he buries himself deeper, moaning your name like a prayer.
you stir, eyes fluttering open.
âdex? what the⌠what are you doing?â you ask, voice raw, half-dreaming.
dexâs mask hides his face, but his voice is soft, trembling, pleading. âyou were waiting for me⌠you always used to. you said i could always find you in your sleep. remember?â
he rocks into you again, deeper, harder this time, like the rhythm itself is an anchor.
âi know you still wanted me. i know you were waiting.â his voice is rough, torn at the edges. âi watched you fall asleep. no one else is here. itâs still me. itâs always me.â
his hand moves up to your throat, not squeezing, not yet, just holding, thumb stroking along your jaw like heâs trying to memorize you all over again.
youâre wet, so fucking wet for him, even half-asleep, and he takes it like proof. like permission. like you were aching for this too.
his hips grind in deeper, a soft whimper catching in his throat when he feels your walls tighten.
âgod, i missed this pussy,â he groans. âso fucking soft, always take me like you were made for it.â
your breath catches again, half from his words, half from the way his cock keeps hitting that spot that makes your toes curl. heâs still fully clothed, the texture of his hoodie rubbing against your exposed stomach, the weight of him holding you down in the way you used to love.
âwhy did you leave me?â his voice cracks as he thrusts into you, slow and deep, his mask damp against your skin. âwhy the fuck did you walk away?â
you blink up at him, breath hitching, the stretch of him inside you grounding and unbearable all at once. you donât answer right away, not because you donât know but because saying it out loud might shatter something permanent.
âdonât⌠donât do that.â you plead.
âdonât shut me out. you said i could come to you. you said i could have you like this.â he begs, almost choking on it.
your hands come up, fingers brushing his jaw beneath the mask, the heat of his skin trembling under your touch. âi didnât leave because i stopped loving you,â you whisper. âi left because you looked at me like i was⌠pure. like i was something holyâŚi couldnât take it anymore.â
his rhythm falters.
âand iâm not, dex,â you breathe, lips parting around the truth. âiâm not that. iâm fucked up. selfish. angry. iâve done things, thought things i didnât want you to see.â
he lets out a ragged sound, like a sob and a moan tangled together. âdonât say that. youâre mine. youâre everything.â
you shake your head against the pillow, tears catching in your lashes. âi couldnât keep letting you love me like i was some perfect thing. it felt like lying.â
he thrusts deeper, desperate, his gloved hand coming up to wrap around your throat with a gentleness that shouldnât make sense. âthen donât be perfect,â he growls, forehead pressing to yours. âbe broken. be angry. be fucking cruel. just donât leave me again.â
your eyes lock and thereâs nothing left to hide.
you reach up without thinking, fingers brushing the side of his mask. âtake it offâŚâ
he stills, just for a second. then he presses deeper, choking on a breath. âyou sure?â
you nod, eyes meeting the black fabric. âi want to see you. all of you.â
his hand lets go of your throat just long enough to pull the mask up and off. his face is flushed, eyes glassy with emotion, jaw clenched like heâs holding back something dangerous.
you cup his cheek, and he leans into it like a starving man.
âyou came back,â you whisper, and thereâs no anger in your voice. just heat. just heartbreak and admiration.
âi never left,â he says, voice shaking. âyou tried to lock me out, but youâre still mine. i know you are.â
his hand returns to your throat, squeezing just enough now to make your breath hitch, his other palm sliding down to your stomach, pressing gently where heâs filling you so deep.
you whimper, thighs tensing as he starts fucking you harder now, no less loving, just desperate, rougher, his control slipping.
âsay it,â he pants. âtell me youâre still mine.â
you can barely breathe, barely think with how full you are, how heâs choking you and touching you and claiming you like youâre his goddamn oxygen.
âbaby,â you whimper, softly, like itâs sacred. âiâm yours. iâm so fucking yours.â
âiâm not going anywhere benâŚnot now. not ever again.â you promise, body clenching around him.
a strangled moan tears from his throat.
and you donât say anything, not with words. just a gasp, a moan, the way your legs wrap tighter around him. the way your body arches into his like your skin still knows the shape of him even after all that distance.
you squeeze around him again, and thatâs all it takes for him to break.
his body convulses as he spills into you, hard, messy, overwhelmed. his head drops to your shoulder, mouth open against your skin, clinging to you, his breath hitching like he canât get enough air.
and even after, he doesnât pull away. just breathes you in, one hand fisted in the sheets, the other around your waist like heâs never letting go again.
a few moments pass. after catching his breath, he tears away from the crook of your neck, for a moment, he just staresâlike heâs trying to memorize every inch of your face, to convince himself this is real.
you smile â tired, aching, you still look at him like he hung the stars. your palm presses to his cheek.
âhi,â you whisper, like itâs the first time. like youâre seeing him all over again.
he pulls back just enough to catch your gaze, a slow, shaky smile curling at the edge of his lips. âhi.â
you lean up, kissing him so slow and sweet it makes his chest cave. no lust. no desperation. just the kind of softness that says stay. he kisses you again, slow, lazy, like heâs got all the time in the world now. and when he finally pulls back, you whisper against his mouth :
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⥠synopsis: the moment he sets his eyes on you, dr. brendon park is sickened by how soft and weak you seem. as such, he makes it a personal mission to get under your skin every time he crosses your path as revenge for you invading his every thought. intoxicating little thing that you are, however, he can hardly get enough... despite his efforts to the contrary.
⥠content: enemies to lovers, jack & robby both pine after you, reader is a spoiled crybaby brat but also a sweetheart, reader slaps dr. park & almost does so again later, kissing, fingering, p in v sex, dom!brendon, sub-coded!reader, dubcon (brendon decides to go in raw w/o asking reader if she's ok with it (she is)), sub drop, teasing (sexual & otherwise), reader has hair long enough to make a braid, medical inaccuracies, dacryphilia, slut-shaming, misogyny, reader eats meat in 1 scene, brendon gets a little physically rough with her in 1 smutty portion [idk. if i missed anything, just tell me]
"It won't need surgery," Park remarks while shaking his head.
Mr. Quinn breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank God." Turning his head to the right, he looks at Dr. Park. "How do we fix it so I can get the hell out of here?"
Standing half-hidden behind Robby, and close enough that your breasts brush against the back of his arm, you glance curiously toward the clock on the wall, worried that this ortho surgeon can smell fear like a shark does blood in water. As long as you don't make eye contact, he'll never know that you're here.
It's not that you've heard an extraordinary amount of stories about this Dr. Park fellowâhardly any, truth be told, since the ED isn't exactly his domainâbut the ones you have make you want to run and hide beneath the nurses station until he's gone back to his designated floor of practice.
Glancing around the room in search of an aid, Park quickly takes stock of youâone he's never seen before, and, who, instead of focusing on the teaching opportunity presented to her, would rather stare adoringly at the back of Dr. Robby's head, apparently.
Seeing the older man's hand slyly brush against your thigh when he thinks no one is looking is when Brendon decides to make an example out of you.
Sleeping your way to the top? Taking the easy route? He'll get some satisfaction out of seeing you squirm when he holds you to the fire before a live audience.
"You," he barks while zeroing in.
Jerking your head in his direction, you nearly stumble into Robby. Staring with wide eyes, you think to begin backing up before making a run for it. "M-Me?" You say while pointing to your chest uncertainly.
"Did I stutter?" He spits. "Come over here and help me pop this joint back into place. Now."
You swallow thickly and the back of your neck warms.
You half hope that Robby will save you, but that wouldn't be very professional if he stepped between you and his colleague, now, would it?
Not that he's always been when it comes to favoring and babying you, but... No one else needs to know that. Except half the ED, who he's stopped hiding it from, anyway.
Stepping forward, your arm brushes against Robby'sâwhat if you latched onto it and refused to let go until Mr. Ortho picked somebody else to torture?âand you walk on unsteady legs toward him.
Standing at full height with a puffed-out chest, he nods at the man's affected leg. "Get yourself into position."
You blink stupidly, followed by a nervous laugh. "I... What?"
"Jesus Christ," he mumbles under his breath.
Leaning down, he positions his lips next to your ear. "Put your right leg on the edge of the bed."
At least he had the forethought to lower it beforehand, you think.
"Or do you not want to learn?" He growls.
Doing as instructed, you plop your Skecher next to the man's injured leg.
Dr. Park pinches his nose while exhaling sharply.
Looking back to Robby, he gestures to you. "Is this what you're teaching down here now? Incompetence?"
You can't see it, but you just know Robby's temper is being summoned for duty.
"Give her a break, Park, she's just nervous. First time she's ever popped a joint."
Park snorts. "I bet," he mumbles doubtfully.
"Should Iâ"
You promptly shut your mouth when he puts his hands on you. Grabbing the back of your right thigh with one hand and your shin with the other, he repositions your leg between the patient's.
"Don't move," he commands.
You're afraid that if you do, Mr. Quinn won't be the only injured party in the room by the end of things.
Stepping to the side with crossed arms, he stares you down. "Now, grip the back of his thigh and calf in both your hands."
You bend over and do just that and proceed to grab handfuls of squishy flesh smattered with dark hair.
Park circles around behind you to see things from your exact angle. "Rotate the leg outward. You'll feel a click. When you do, shove it back into the socket.
You hesitate. "What if... What if I make it worse, orâ"
Mr. Quinn lifts his head and grants you a worried look. "Maybe you should take over, doc. Don't think I like the sound of that."
He levels him with a stern gaze. "I'm right behind her. This is a teaching hospital. Without trying, those at the bottom can't move up." Park leans in close. "Unless you find a workaround, it seems."
You open your mouth to ask just what he means by that, until he startles you with a yell.
"Now turn it," he bellows.
Slowly, you swivel his leg outward and the gentleman sucks in a sharp inhalation of breath.
"Fuck, I don't thinkâ" He begins.
When you hear a click, you hesitate.
Mr. Quinn's protestations are cut short when Park commands you like he's a drill sergeant and you're one of his subordinates. "Now, put your hand on his foot and push!"
Doing as you're told, you bear down, and like magic, things slide right into place where they belong.
Mr. Quinn looses a ragged breath and sighs with relief. "Ah, that feels better," he says contentedly.
"For now," Park replies. "You'll be sore for a few weeks, but we'll send you home with crutches and meds to help with the swelling and pain. As well as a follow-up with me put on the books."
"Long as it ain't surgery," he replies with a shrug while folding his hands together atop his stomach.
Taking a step back, you're startled by the sound of a single set of hands clapping.
You look at Whitaker, who's smiling happily for your job well done, but it quickly melts off his face when Park burns a hole right through him with a venomous glare.
What is this guy's problem?
Taking a step forward, Park sneers at you. "Go on," he says with a jerk of his head. "Back to your teacher."
He leans in close enough that you can smell his cologne. And then he lowers his lips until only you can hear what leaves them when he whispers in your ear. "Pet."
You gulp, then scurry away and back to your previous position. Only this time, you hide almost entirely behind Robby's towering form. Safe, safe, safe is all you can think once you've reached him.
You'd very much like to never do that again. Popping joints you can maybe handle. The asshole teacher, not so much.
You prefer gentle instruction when available. Patient, even.
"Class dismissed," he announces, much to your relief.
Seeing how the patient was handed off to him, Park is required to do a few pages of paperwork before he can go, which he reluctantly accepts the task of completing, as if he has another choice.
He's a man who's not easily distractedâhe's always precise, straight to the point, and efficient. But he'll be damned if your annoying little self hasn't stepped on his every last nerve without even trying.
Studying you as you chart at the nurse's stationâoblivious to his staring daggers at youâhe watches as Abbot enters through the ambulance bay doors, only to make a beeline straight to where you sit. Leaning over the counter in front of you, he reaches forward and says something Brendon can't discern before giving you a gentle tap under your chin and walking away to begin his shift.
A moment later, Robby exits Trauma 2 and rubs sanitizer over each of his hands before picking up a blue nitrile glove and shooting it between your shoulder blades. Just as quickly, he turns around and pretends to be looking over a stack of paperwork as you ignorantly swivel this way and that, searching for your attacker.
After a moment, he walks by, you look up, he smilesâgiving himself away on purposeâand plants a kiss on the crown of your head before going in search of Abbot.
Makes him fucking sick to watch this goddamn rom-com. This place has gone from pulling out bullets to now being a pathetic romance novel.
He'd like to believe that when he's not down here, the two of them push you to your limits to see what you're capable ofâif much of anything, soft thing that you look to beâinstead of succumbing to your pretty eyes or sweet smile because they're that fucking pussy-whipped. And by a resident of all things.
Shaking his head, he returns his attentions to something more worthwhileâwhich isn't saying muchâpaperwork.
"Not the only fish circlin' that pond, Park," remarks Dana, who's come to stand beside him.
He rolls his eyes without looking up. "Not interested."
She chuckles. "I remember a couple attendings tellin' me the same thing not all that long ago. Now look at 'emâwrapped around her little finger."
"It's a problem that you can say that," he spits. "It's unprofessional. Grossly so." He looks at her. "And you know it."
She shrugs while draping her forearm atop the counter they stand at. "Brought the light to Rob's life that he needed. Can't complain about that. As for Jack... Never thought he'd smile at a woman ever again after losin' his wife. But there she sits: sunshine in human fuckin' form."
He returns to scrawling his signature across printer paper. "You're making me nauseous."
She laughs, then pats him on the back. "Don't gotta be so tough all the time. Let your hair down every once in awhile. Never know what could happen, kid."
He deigns that she's lucky she left when she did because Park was nearly at his boiling point. If she'd kept talking, he would've blown his fucking top like a barrel of dynamite blasting through a hillside.
A sheet of paper is slammed down beside of you, causing you to yelp in surprise.
"Sign it," snaps Park.
With now trembling hands, you drag the document closer.
"Even highlighted it for you," he says while pointing to the designated line. "Sorry it wasn't in pink," he sneers.
"What is it?" You ask innocently while looking at him.
"A fucking marriage license. What do you think it is? It's about the procedure I had you perform today."
Turing away, your eyes begin to sting. Why is he always so mean?
You pick up a pen, click the ballpoint down, and write your dainty signature upon the line provided.
Snatching the document away, he stands at full height again.
"You ready?" Calls Robby from across the way, looking at none other than yourself.
You nod while grabbing your bag and sliding it over your shoulder. "Yes."
Park shakes his head in disapproval, but Robby hardly pays him any mind before wrapping an arm around your shoulders to lead the pair of you to the parking lot.
You're barely out the sliding doors before you feel your braid coming undone. Reaching up, you slide your fingers along the end of your strands, only to come up empty-handed. "Did youâ" Pulling away, you begin turning this way and that, searching the asphalt for your missing hair band.
"You drop something?" He asks.
"My hair band," you mutter while retracing your steps.
He sighs, wanting nothing more than to get home so he can jump in the shower. "You don't have another?"
You frown, then straighten, and return to his side. "I'll get one out once we're in the truck."
When Park reaches the elevators, the indicator overhead dings and the doors slide open, welcoming him inside the steel and aluminum box. Stepping over the threshold, he presses the button for the 7th floorâappreciating the pretty little cream-colored hairband that's wrapped tightly around his wrist when he does so.
Things are busy as ever today. You began your morning by running through half a dozen patients, and every time one walked out the door, two more popped up on the board.
No wonder why Robby seems to deflate every time he looks at it anymore.
It's nearing 5 before you bother to take a second bathroom break, and just as you've exited the restroom, you bump into Mel, who seems to be in an overstimulated tizzy.
You know the feeling quite well.
"Hey," you say quietly while grabbing her by the shoulders. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"
"Oh, sorry," she starts while nervously pushing her glasses back into place.
Good thing they didn't shatter on the floor, you think.
"I have an ultrasound that needs to go up to the NICU. I tried sending it over email, but an office assistant said it was too darkâwhich I don't really see how, unless it's a problem with the monitor, which they should probably get look at by ITâso, I was going to bring a printed copy up, and maybe they'dâ"
"Slow down," you say while laughing quietly. "If you're busyâand you look like you areâI could deliver it for you."
"Really?" She says excitedly while bending at the knees, then springing up. "That would just beâso great! I have so much to get to. And there's thisâ"
You hate to interrupt her, truly, but it's probably best that the requested image is delivered sooner rather than later. Slipping it from Mel's hands, you grant her a reassuring nod. "No problem. I love going up there. Consider it done."
You're practically glowing by the time you make it back to the elevator.
Holding and kissing babies, as well as talking neonatal medicine and pregnancy with the fine doctors upstairs always puts you in a chipper mood. Plus, there'd been chocolate chip cookies in their break room, which you'd helped yourself to a couple of before reluctantly heading back the way you came.
It's not that you don't love the Pittâawful name for it, really, if not also terribly fittingâbut little ones and expectant mothers are where your heart truly lies, you're quickly coming to learn. Everything is just so...pink and squishy up there, and smells like baby powder. Such a pleasant place.
You certainly prefer that over pools of blood and erratic drunkards running half-naked through the common area downstairs.
Bouncing happily on the balls of your feet, you wait for the elevator to reach the floor you're currently on, and just as you make to sweep inside after the doors have shoved open, you pause.
With the heels of his palms planted atop the railing behind him, Dr. Park slowly lifts his head, trailing his eyes along you all the while.
"Going down?" He questions.
You chew your lip for a moment and consider turning back around and claiming you forgot something, but you're sure Robby is already looking for you. He won't be pleased if you're gone any longer than is necessary.
Which you've already been...
With a sigh, you come inside. "Yes," you chirp before pressing the A button.
"Not surprised," he retorts.
Your brows furrow in question, but you ultimately choose not to say anything.
He sure does seem to love his private jokes.
When the doors close, you remain at attention, watching as the floors pass by.
6
5
4
3
Park steps forward and flips the emergency stop switch, bringing the machine to a sudden halt.
Swinging around, you mean to ask him if something is wrong, until he shoves you back against a wall.
Your heart now hammering away between your breastsâterrified that you're about to be assaultedâyou open your mouth to scream, until he speaks.
"What the fuck is it about you, huh?"
Your eyes flit between his. "W-What?"
"First, you get Robby and Abbot wrapped around your goddamn finger, and now I can't get you out of my fucking head. You wanna try explaining that to me? I meet you onceâone fucking timeâand now it's all I can do to not think about bending you over the desk in my office. I'm doing paperwork, in surgeryâhell, driving myself homeâand am I concentrating on what I should be?" He slips the tip of his tongue between pursed lips before shaking his head with raised brows for emphasis. "No," he says while slamming his hand against the metal wall beside your head, causing you to squeak in fear. "All I can focus on is the thought of you."
Half of you thinks to begin blubbering like a babyâwailing for him to let you go so you can return to the EDâwhile the other half is fighting against a hysterical laugh climbing its way up your throat. Nervous response in the face of absolute fear, apparently.
Before you can do eitherâbefore you can so much as get the wiring in your brain to work properly so you can actually formulate a plan, or even string together a coherent sentence like pearls on a stringâhe leans in impossibly close while gripping your jawline firmly in his hand.
"Just one taste," he rasps. "Just one, and I can finally get you out of my system."
He doesn't ask. Instead, he merely takes when he crushes his lips painfully to yours.
Ravenously does he devour you. Forcing your lips apart with his own, his tongue plunges inside and deftly explores the cavernous space within. He runs its tip along your teeth, the fleshy walls of your cheeks, and even the solid roof of your mouth before flicking it against your own, tempting it to stir to life.
You make to slip away from him, but his other hand flies to your hip and slams it back against the wall to hold you firmly in place. "I told you before: don't fucking move," he rumbles, repeating his command from the day you treated... What was the man's name again? Quigey? Quill?
Feeling suddenly dizzy, you can no longer remember.
Working his way lower, he nips at your neck with his canines while submerging his fingers in your hair and tugging painfully against the strands.
You whimper, and it only spurs him on all the more.
Sucking at your pulse point, he wedges a knee between your thighs and plants a hand against your belly. And then he slides it lower. And lower. Andâ
Shoving him away, he stumbles back. Looking down at your pants, you're horrified to see that he untied the neat little bow you had done in the front.
He advances on you again, until you yell for him to stop.
And to his creditâas well as your surpriseâhe obeys.
With violently trembling hands, you attempt at tying a knot, only to fail miserably at the task.
"What...What were you trying toâ" You begin, but fall short when an amused look crosses his sharp features.
He chuckles darkly. "Most of us learned about sex ed well before medical school, sweetheart. Unless you're still waiting on lessons from Robby and Abbot for that, too?"
You glare at him. "I'm not the kind of girl whoâ"
"What?" He spits, interrupting. "Gets felt up in an elevator?"
He steps forward. "No, you just prefer to climb the corporate ladder by climbing on top of something else at night, I imagine. Just to indulge my curiosity: have you given it up for both your attendings yet, or are you holding out on them like your pussy is some prize to be won, so long as they give you what you want in terms of a career?"
Slap.
You reel back in horror and tense up in preparation for the gesture to be returned tenfold when he knocks you on your ass.
Instead, however, Park merely fumes while staring you down with fists clenched tightly at his sides.
You startle when he stomps forward and sends the elevator slightly reverberating from the movement. Grabbing either of your arms, he pins them above your head while lowering his lips dangerously close to your ear. Close enough that the tip of his nose swipes against your cheek. "Do not ever do that again," he growls.
You swallow thickly when you feel his erection pressing against your belly, but keep your mouth shut about it, lest he take things further. One way or another...
Finally, you nod fervently, and he releases you. Planting your hands on your knees, you double over and struggle to catch your breath. Your face is burning hot, as is another part of you, but you choose to ignore it as best you can.
After adjusting himself, he steps forward and flips the switch back into place. With a jolt, the elevator is off again.
Standing straight once moreâby God do your legs feel like jelly beneath youâyou swiftly tie two loops together to remake a bow at the front of your pants before throwing your head forward and gathering your hair into a ponytail. Messy will do just fine.
Just as the doors spread apart, you race to get as far from him as possible.
Difficult feat, since he's clearly sticking around on your floor for a bit.
You can't get past the feeling of mortification which has covered you like a veil.
Not when a shark swims but a handful of feet from where you sit, talking to Robby about God knows what.
You did nothing wrong. He came onto you. You couldn't have fought back if you wanted to! Did you want to? Yes, of course!
He's insufferable and egotistical and pretentious and mean. He's just so mean!
The steady pulse which is still going strong between your thighs clearly has different ideas about him, though. Stupid, useless thing.
Studying Robby from beneath your lashesâbecause you refuse to look at the other oneâyou trail your eyes along his handsome, weathered face and soft belly. Yes, most assuredly more your type. Stern and strict when he needs to be, and sweet on you when you deserve it.
You do so adore him.
When Park folds his arms, however, you bolt out of your chair when you catch sight of what he has.
Coming to stand beside the two of them, you stare up at him until he ackowledges you.
He hardly glances in your direction before returning to conversing with Robby, though.
"Ahem," you sayâfeigning clearing your throat.
They both grow silent.
Looking at you with a raised brow, Park doesn't say a word.
"You have something of mine," you state with an outstretched palm.
Looking at you like you're a bothersome fly who won't leave him be, he shrugs ignorantly. "Mind telling me what that might be?"
Your eyes drop to his wrist before flitting upward again. "My hair tie. You stole it the day we met a couple weeks ago, didn't you?"
He snorts incredulously while unwinding his beefy arms. "Are you accusing me of theft?"
Robby holds up his palms before half placing himself in front of you. "Alright, just calm down." He looks at Park's wrist, then turns back to you. "Sweetheart, what would Dr. Park want with one of your hair ties?"
You shrug, then gesture to him. "I have no idea, why don't you ask him?"
Robby runs a palm down his face in exasperation before turning fully toward you. "We are not making a scene out of something so miniscule," he states lowly.
You open your mouth to retort, but he cuts you off. "Honey, look at me."
You do, but while scowling.
"Let it go." He nods toward the computer station. "And finish up with your charting. We're going to be grabbing a new patient in a few once I'm done here."
You grit your teeth. Child that this bastard has turned you into, you have half a mind to throw a damn tantrumâstomping feet, screaming; the whole works.
Instead, you act the adult and get back to work.
But you've won either way, because now he's on Robby's radar.
"You wanna tell me what that was with Park earlier today?" Robby says between bites of his sub.
The two of you are currently parked in an empty lot, downing your dinner to-go, you're both that hungry after your grueling shifts. When you began whining that your stomach was hurting, Robby promptly swung into a drive-thru to order for you whatever you liked. Now, you feel quite content as you snack on toasted bread and grilled meats.
Stealing one of his fries from the cupholder between you, you munch on it momentarily before speaking. If you tell him about the elevator incident, his head may very well pop like a cherry tomato. Not that you enjoy lying to him by any means, but...it's also not like the two of you are together. You flirt while at work, and he's been driving you back and forth while your car is in the shop.
That's it.
"I told you: he stole my hair tie and I wanted it back. Yes, it seems small and stupid, but it's something I did technically purchase, which doesn't rightfully belong to him. Maybe if he was actually using it for his own hair I wouldn't have cared." You look at him. "But he isn't."
He leans his head back against the seat and takes another bite. "Why would he bother taking it in the first place? That's what I'm asking."
Truth be told, you have as much explanation as he. You don't get it either. So, he hates just the thought of you, but has presumedly been wearing something which belongs to you every day for the last couple of weeks?
Make it make sense.
You take a sip of your drink and shake your head. "Maybe he uses it as a fidget toy."
Things are soon back to smooth sailing for you. You stay attached to Robby's side during the day like usual, and bask in Jack's attention at night before you're due to go home.
There's no hide or hair of Park because he's clearly gone back to his ivory tower to stay.
Fine with you if you never set eyes on him again. But every time you pass the elevators, you can't help the stirring you feel within your loins at the sight of them.
When you try relieving the pent-up sexual frustration one night, you're just in the middle of thingsâhand firmly settled between your slick thighs while lying nakedly atop your bedâbut despite every effort to think of anyone else, such as Robby, Jack, hell even Langdon at one point, your mind keeps drifting off to him instead.
Eventually, you gave up and went to sleep, despite being so close.
You refused to give him the satisfaction, even if he'd never know it.
"Hey, Shark Bait," Santos calls from a handful of feet away.
Your head shoots up and you glare. "What?" You spit.
Sarcastically widening her eyes, she throws her hands up and turns back around. "Geeze, I'll ask somebody else, then. Try getting laid at some pointâmight be good for you."
Now being the evening, Jack mouths to Robby across the room Shark Bait?, to which he's granted a shaking head in return.
So help you God if she makes that your new nickname, you'llâ
"What seems to be the problem?" Jack inquires while straddling the seat next to you.
Boredly typing the same thing repeatedly into the computer because you're exhausted, you shrug. Your forearm rests atop the desk you sit at while your chin is positioned atop it. If your head gets any lower, Robby may very well have to carry you out of here.
Now there's an idea.
"Tired," you mumble.
He settles a palm atop your thigh, which awakens you even slightly.
"Robby says you've been in a mood all day."
"Been tired all day," you pout.
He squeezes your thigh and you whimper, wishing he'd do a great deal more than that.
"That whole Shark Bait comment have anything to do with Park?"
Groaning in irritation, you finally lay your forehead atop your arm. "He's an asshole."
He lets out a low whistle. "Never heard a foul word come from those pretty lips before. He must've really done a number on you."
"He stole my hair tie," you complain.
Jack snorts. "Please tell me that is not what this is all about."
No, you want to say. It's not. What it's about is that he has given me the female equivalent of blue balls. Something which you and Robby could easily take care of if I wasn't such a coward and finally bothered asking for as much.
"No."
Sliding his hand off your thigh, he rests it atop the back of the chair he occupies. "Honey, I can't read your mind."
Gently banging your head off your arm, you remain silent for a moment. "I'm just frustrated."
He raises a brow in interest. "This uh...frustration. Does what Santos said have something to do with it?"
You don't reply.
Wheeling closer, he speaks lowly to you. "Sweetheart, if you need a vibrator, I'd be all too happy to get you one."
Your head sprouts up so quickly that it makes you dizzy.
"Yeah, thought that'd get your attention," he says with satisfaction.
You narrow your eyes at him, which he finds to be all too adorable a look for you. Like a pissed off kitten.
Before you can think up a smart aleck reply, Robby comes over and slides a hand up your back before gently massaging your neck.
He keeps that up, and you'll curl up in his lap in one of the hospital beds before finally drifting off to sleep.
"C'mon, let me take you home."
You make to stand, but stumble slightly before falling into his side.
Jack picks up your bag and hands it to Robby, who slides onto his shoulder before holding you close and leading you outside.
When your car was first carted away on the back of a tow truck, your sense of stability went with it. How would you get around? Run errands? Get to and from work?
Your episode of spiraling was short-lived, however, when Robby caught sight of you exiting an Uber the following morning before starting your shift. He'd promptly questioned where your personal vehicle was, and when you awkwardly mumbled as to its current state and subsequent whereabouts, he told you he'd be your designate chauffer until it was made road-worthy again.
You'd thought to protest, simply because you didn't desire for him to go out of his way, waste extra gas, and be a burden on top of it all, but ultimately decided that you were selfish enough to accept his offer if it meant spending more time with him. Especially one-on-one.
So, imagine the great sense of disappointment which settles over you when you receive a call that your vehicle is ready to be retrieved and taken home.
Telling Robby is a rather interesting exchange.
"I could just rip the alternator out," he'd said with an earnest expression.
You'd giggled, assuming he was joking.
"I'm serious," he'd continued while sliding a hand down your arm. "I'm going to miss my passenger."
After assuring you at length that if you ever needed anythingânot limited strictly to a rideâyou could call him any time and he'd come running.
You were grateful to know that he cared that much.
"I mean it," Robby had reiterated in the parking lot before leaving work. Cupping your cheek in his hand, he stood oppressively close as his warm, chocolate-brown eyes gazed into yours. "Anything."
Maybe he'd hoped for more timeâa proper opportunity to ignite something more between the two of you. You had wanted him to, but if it was all mere flirtation, sided with a bit of adoring affection... You didn't want to make yourself seem like some lovestruck, dewy-eyed schoolgirl obsessed with being the teacher's pet.
So you had simply nodded while pawing gently at his soft middle.
When he leaned down, your eyes nearly fluttered closed in anticipation of a kiss. Your heart had quivered at the exciting prospect. And he did grant you one, but only on the forehead before stepping away to head home.
If one more man saw fit to tease the bundle of nerves between your legsâwhether intended or notâyou might very well end up attacking one of them in an on-call room to finally satiate your sexual needs.
Just as you've popped open the door to your car, you glance to the left and seeâthe phrase 'speak (or in your case, think) of the devil and he shall appear' comes to mindâthe very man who's kept you so riled up in the first place.
With a huff, you sink into the car and shut the door behind you. Ignoring the way your hands tremble just from the sight of Park, you click your seatbelt into place, turn the ignition over and... It makes an awful whirring sound, like it's struggling for life.
No.
Oh no.
You just got it back! Coupled with a bill you can't even bear to look at a second time...
Then again, when Jack saw you staring down at it with elbows propped up and fingers pressed into your temples as the cogs in your mind slowly rolled as you thought of the things you could sell and the ways in which you could start cutting back to cover the due costs, he'd snatched it away before settling his glasses upon the bridge of his nose and whistling quietly. "You know if you'd brought it to me or Robby instead, you wouldn't have had to pay a dime, right?"
He'd lowered his chin while looking at you from over the rim of his glasses.
"You're both already so busy. Thatâthat wasn't an option. Even if I did, I still would've had to pay for parts."
Walking over to the printer, he laid it face down before pressing the big blue button which in turn spat out another copy of it.
"I'll take care of it," he'd said while handing you the original for record-keeping.
You'd blinked before flying into a torrent of insistence that he not.
Jack had then leaned over while gripping the back of your chair. "And no, you wouldn't have paid for parts, either. Between the two of us, we make more than enough to ensure you're taken care of."
You'd chuckled nervously while leaning back. "Think of all the trouble I saved you, though."
Gripping your chin, he grew utterly serious. "Next time, it's our hands under the hood. Got it?"
You'd nodded in agreement, then watched as he tucked the bill away into his back pocket. "I find out you've paid a cent on it," he began while straightening. "And you and I will be having a talk."
You watched silently as he walked away, appreciating his unsteady gait all the while.
Throwing yourself back against the driver's seat with a groan, you squeeze your eyes shut while thinking he may just get his wish. And very soon.
After sliding your keys out of the ignition, a rapping of knuckles against the window beside you causes you to shriek. Peering out, you frown at the sight of Park waiting for you with folded arms.
Tossing your keys into the cupholder, you sigh before exiting. "Yes?" You ask while keeping the door open, lest you need to suddenly lock yourself within the safety of your vehicle's confines.
"What, Robby finally get tired of carting your ass around?"
You glower at him from beneath your lashes. "No. I just got my car back from the shop."
A smirk flits briefly across his lips. "Not a very good one, apparently." Coming around to the front, he looks at you. "Problem with women and thinking they know anything about anything with a motor."
You sneer, and he leans down and tucks his fingers under the car's grill. "Pop the hood."
You hesitate. "And how do I know you're not going to just make it worse?"
He snorts. "It is a tempting thought: the idea of you being stranded here and taking a morning shower in the sink in the women's restroom."
You shrug casually. "I'll just call Robby to come and get me. Maybe ask him to take me home with him." You grin. "Both the ER cowboys have a hard time telling me no."
He wrinkles his nose in disgust. "Course they call themselves that." Instead of telling you a second time, he chooses instead to stare you down.
With a huff, you finally oblige him. As long as it rids you of his annoying presence, you'll be happy.
"C'mere and shine a flashlight on it. Can't see shit with only the streetlight overhead."
Slipping your phone from your pocket, you come to stand next to him while illuminating the engine bay with your device.
Reaching forward, he fiddles with what on one end looks like a very odd screw before pulling it out. Marching over his vehicleâof course it's a muscle carâhe messes around in the trunk for a moment before bringing over a roll of shop rags. "Spark plugs are fuckin' filthy," he remarks before wiping it down.
Returning it to where it goes, he starts on the next one while looking at you. "Don't go back to that shop. This should've been a basic diagnostic step."
"Well, it ran fine this morning. So I'm sure they fixed the main problem," you say with a shrug.
"While leaving another one go," he spits. He shakes his head while turning away. "Sheer laziness."
You roll your eyes. Seems a simple enough fix, so you're not all that perturbed by it.
As he works, Park makes small talk with you. "Where were you coming from that day?"
You can feel your cheeks warm. He just couldn't resist the temptation of reliving it, could he?
"6th floor." You smile. "I love it there."
He huffs. "Figures. So you like kids, then?"
You nod vigorously. "I do."
"Got any of your own?" he asks while half glancing to you.
"Not yet," you reply. "But I will someday. When the right man comes along."
Finishing up, he stands back and wipes his hands with a clean towel. "Figures," he states while surveying you. "You seem the mothering type."
You narrow your eyes while crossing your arms. "I fail to see how that's a bad thing."
His eyes flit to the driver's side of the car. "Turn it over."
You shake your head, but ultimately do as you're told.
You may have a bit of a mouth on you, but he nevertheless appreciates just how obedient you are.
To your relief, the engine roars to life. Leaning back, you breathe a sigh of relief.
No restroom showers for you.
With a thunk, Park shuts the hood of your car and you switch it back off again momentarily so that you can reluctantly thank him for his assistance.
Returning to his own sedan, he tosses the shop rags back into the trunk before fetching a bottle of sanitizer and lathering his hands until they're clean and smelling of alcohol.
"Thank you," you murmur, watching him walk back over to you. "And for your peace of mind: yes, I will go somewhere else in the future for so much as an oil change."
He hums in acknowledgment to what you've said. Intent on crowding, he doesn't plant his feet until you're backed against the side of your car. "WhaâWhat're yâ"
With a neutral expression painted upon his finely carved face, he grips either of your hips in his hands before shoving them against the glass behind them. "I might've only said one taste," he drawls. "But I didn't say of what."
Leaning down, he runs the tip of his nose along your neck. "Since I'm sure there's so many other places for me to go."
Cupping you over your pants, he prods against your heat with his index and middle finger, causing you to jolt in response.
"How many times have you touched yourself thinking about me?" He rumbles.
You fight to keep your eyes open when all they seem to want to do is roll back in your head as he presses the heel of his palm to your clit.
"NâNone."
He scoffs. "Good girls know better than to lie to their betters."
You squirm beneath his hand. "Iâ"
Yanking against the bow at the front of your pants shuts you up entirely. "You want it?" He groans. "Because if you don't," he continues while slowly sinking his hand beneath the hem of your panties. "Then you're going to have to use your words and tell me as much."
Silence suddenly seems like such a preferable option to you.
Traveling lower, when his hand finally cups your bare, weeping cunt with no layers between the two of you to hinder the experience, your eyes fluttered closed while a gasp of satisfaction escapes your lips.
"God, you're fucking soaked," he growls.
Prodding against your clit with the pad of his thumb, you whine.
"Please."
He swiftly runs a single finger between your sopping folds before circling that perfect bundle of nerves with your own lubrication. "Needy little thing," he mocks before sliding the tip of his tongue up the length of your neck. "Bet it doesn't take much for you," he whispers right against your earâhis warm breath puffing against the shell of it. "Does it?" he asks before easing a single digit inside of you.
"OâOh God," you gasp.
"Just as desperate as I thought you'd be," he commentates before slipping another between your fluttering walls.
Curling the digits upwards, you practically jump onto your tiptoes.
With two fingers massaging the fleshy ledge inside of you while his thumb continues working at your swollen clit, it's all you can do not to beg him. For what, you're not sure.
To keep going? He already seems intent on that. To never stop? Tempting enough prospect. To bend you over the hood of either of your vehicles so he can have his way with you? God, what you wouldn't give just to finish around the throbbing length of his cock.
He pauses his ministrations and you begin to quietly cry in panicked frustration. "Please, please don't," you plead through teary eyes.
Having you right where he wants you at long last, he savors the moment. Brushing tears from your heated cheeks, he clicks his tongue mockingly. "Don't what?" he glances down to where half his hand is submerged in your body cavity. "Keep going?"
"No!" You cry. "Don't stop!"
He chuckles. "So pathetic," he mutters before kissing away your tears. "You'd give anything just to come on my hand in a parking lot of all places, wouldn't you?"
You've lost control of your senses. As much is confirmed when you nod so hard that something twinges in your neck.
When movement begins again, you nearly start bawling from a sense of gratitude. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," pours from your lips.
He grunts as his fingers keep beckoning forth your orgasm.
As you near your apex, you reach up and sink your nails into either of his shoulders and hold on for dear life as an overwhelming crash of white light soon explodes behind your eyelids. Your knees nearly buckle beneath you as you squeeze tightly around his slick fingers, trying to suck them inside.
Whatever it is which you say as you come undone is garbled and utterly nonsensical. But you somehow know that he understands whatever it is which you meant by it.
Removing his hand from between your legs is when you finally open your eyes. The world seems a bit hazyâblurry, evenâand your body drained of all energy.
You watch with fascination as he slips his fingers into his mouth and sucks. "Just as good as I thought," he breathes.
You try retying the front of your pants, but with your coordination now shot, you quickly give up.
Gently grabbing you by the neck, he pulls you in toward him and gives you an open-mouthed kiss, just the same as the one in the elevator.
"See you around," he says with a smirk before stalking off.
You're out of sorts for the next few daysâcrying at the drop of a hat, latching onto Robby for attention (proceeded by feeling guilty about it), berating yourself for every little mistake you make, and following Jack around like a lost puppy when he comes in early a couple days in a row for his shift...
Suffice to say that you're not yourself.
Not after what happened between you and Park.
Just like he did between your legs, he's also now burrowed into your head somehow. Like a parasite. Or a nasty insect you'd love to squash with the heel of your tennis shoe.
You don't understand what's the matter with you. Why all you want is to be held; pampered; cherished with reassuring words.
It had something to do with things afterward, you think.
One moment, you were on Cloud Nine while he fingered you to completion, and the next, you were bawling in your kitchen because your spoon fell out of your cereal bowl and onto the floor the following morning.
You decide you hate him. And that you made a mistake. Who does that in public? Anyone could've seen! Talk about a lack of self-respect...
You avoid traveling in the elevators at all costs now, instead opting for the stairs every time something needs ran here or there. Makes for good cardio. That's what you tell yourself when you're out of breath three floors up one day. You deem the sacrifice of getting a little sweaty worth it, though, if it removes almost any and all chances of you running into him.
Your dreams of never setting eyes on his stupid face ever again, which you'd like to punch like one of those inflatable clowns, doesn't last long when you run into himâliterallyâafter exiting the women's restroom one day. Bounding off his chest, you seethe while glaring up at him.
Noticing how your eyes are red-rimmed and glassyânot that he should be surprised, crybaby that you seem to beâhe folds his arms behind him. "Don't tell me the princess of the ER didn't get her afternoon nap today."
You are so past obnoxious banter with him. You go to step around him, until he gently grabs you by your wrist. "Heyâ"
Shoving his chest, he staggers back, then jeers. "Who the hell do you think you aâ"
"You left me!" You cry.
His brows furrow while his eyes flit between yours for understanding. "What?"
Your chin wobbles and you sniffle. "You got what you wanted and then you just left me there! I felt so used andâand disgusting. We didn't talk about it, or, orâ"
He snickers. "You really are a brat when you're not the constant center of attention, aren't you?"
Roaring in anger, you draw an open palm back, which he swiftly catches and pins against a wall. "What did I tell you about that?"
You pout. "I wouldn't have. Not really."
You're not so sure of that.
And then your eyes well with tears. "Why are you so mean to me?!" You wail.
"Jesus Christ," he curses lowly. "Get your fucking act together."
You only begin to cry harder.
Realization finally dawns on him then of what's come over you. And his stomach sinks.
Moron, he mentally chastises.
Drawing you into his chest, you attempt to battle against him with ineffectual fists before soon succumbing to the warmth you've been needing.
"You really are a sub, aren't you?"
You sinks your nails into his pectoral. "Why did you just call me a sandwich?" You cry.
He rolls his eyes. It's a fucking miracle you ever made it through medical school.
He sighs while settling his cheek atop your head and keeping both arms wrapped firmly around you. So help him God if so much as a janitor rounds the corner and finds him in such a compromising, and not to mention pitiful, position...
"It's called a drop. We were intimate, and instead of me sticking around like I apparently should've and giving you the attention you're clearly reeling from the loss of, this is the result: you being an emotional mess, which is becoming everybody else's problem to deal with."
"You're a mess," you mumble against his chest while snuggling against it.
"When it comes to you, apparently," he grumbles discontentedly.
You hum in satisfaction from the affection he's finally giving you. Not that you need it, of course. You still hate him and never want to see him again, but... It's rather nice to be embraced.
"I can't believe I'm saying this," he starts while running a large palm up your back.
You nuzzle against his neck. "Mm, what?"
"You are the very opposite of what I usually go after," he mumbles.
You interrupt before he can continue. "Well that's not very nice."
"Never said I had any intention of being that," Park snipes. He kisses the crown of your head. "Come to dinner with me."
You shrug in an attempt to play hard to get. "Maybe I already have plans."
He grits his teeth. He's liable to tighten his arms until he snaps you in two so you'll never be his problem again if you keep testing his patience. "I won't ask twice. Turn me down, and we're done. For good."
You frown at the ultimatum. Being given direction is nice so you're not left figuring things out on your own all the timeâit's why you're so fond of Robbyâbut taking orders? Boy, does it make your blood boil.
"Fine," you spit while clutching at his shirt.
"Fine."
Things have changed. At times, you think for the better, while others, the worst. Robby and Jack have both backed off since the entirety of the ED caught wind that Park has suddenly claimed you as his.
They're both still friendlyâkind and helpful, evenâbut no longer sweet on you like they once were. You understand why, even if you miss that aspect of your relationship with each of them.
Jack seems fond of Mohan now, and because she's so very kind, you hope something works out between them, even if you're sort of jealous... On both ends.
You might've daydreamed about kissing her once or twice...
Robby on the other hand seems a tad withdrawn. You think he's hurt, but don't know what to say or do to make it right. Loss of the affection there once was between you has been hard to take on both your ends. You're unaware of it, but he can't stop replaying the day of the joint reset. If he'd only left you with Mel tending to an abscess, this never would've happened.
He blames himself for his loss of you.
Robby had been concerned initiallyâwhether it was genuine, or because he was desperate to find a reason why you shouldn't be with Shark, is up for debateâbut because of how stoic Park is at all times, as well as the temper he's known to have, the worry was there that he would mistreat you. Not handle you like fine China as he and Jack both have.
Not that the orthopedic surgeon's disposition ever changes, but he's different with you. Softer, gentler, and more attentive. And you beam from the love he showers you with.
So Robby relinquishes what was clearly never his while throwing himself into work on his new bike, and planning an eventual trip that's been weighing on him.
Stepping over an unfamiliar threshold, Brendon's living space somehow is both exactly as you imagined it and not. You'd envisioned something industrial lookingâall high ceilings and black and grey and white coloring, made to look sterile like an OR.
Instead, there's ambient lighting, a soft couch (not made of leather, also to your shock), a collection of DVDs, which unsurprisingly includes Jaws, a kitchen with a tea kettle on the stove, and an assortment of healthy green plants littered around the space.
"Not what you had in mind?" he asks while tossing his keys into a bowl by the door.
A man with a decorative grab and go bowl? Now you are most certainly taken aback.
"No," you quip.
"What did you expect, then?" he asks while stalking toward you. "Dungeons and coffins and moats?"
You blink. "DidâDid you just quote Twilight?"
He grins before cupping your face between his hands and kissing you. "I'll give you a tour," he whispers against your lips.
He's very organized, which is to be expected, given how meticulous and detail-oriented he is. But the one thingâabove any otherâwhich you couldn't stop staring at, was a ratty old teddy bear sitting high on a shelf in his bedroom.
"My mom made it for me when I was a kid," he'd said while retrieving a t-shirt and checkered pajama pants from his dresser. "Found it in her house after she passed. I couldn't bear to part with it."
He'd shook his head without mirth. "No, I didn't intend for that to be a pun."
Padding over to him, you'd wound your arms around his waist while gazing up at the adorable children's toy. Would he like for you to sew an eye back onto it? No. That would've been for her and her alone to do. He's perfect just as he is, you deem.
"I think it's sweet. There's nothing wrong with holding onto mementos. Postcards, clothes, books, photos, toys." You shrugged. "They're important."
He cleared his throat while sinking a slightly trembling hand into your hair. "My only regret is her not getting to meet you," he said thickly.
Reaching up, you brushed a tear from his cheek. "I still can one day. If you'd like to take me to where she's buried, we'll get her her favorite flowers. Then have lunch with her and talk."
He buried his face in your shoulder then, and began to sob.
After preparing the both of you plates of fancy seafood pasta, coupled with glasses of red wine, Brendon rests his head in your lap as you each watch a movie from his couch together. Goodfellas is an excellent film, in your opinion, but all it really serves to do is make you hungry for more pasta.
Once the credits are rolling, he switches off the flatscreen before leading you into the bedroom and shutting the door behind the two of you.
You quietly pant as Brendon kisses your right inner thigh before switching to the other side and sucking against the supple skin found there.
He's been at it for the better part of an hourâletting his hands roam your naked body and his tongue your salivating mouth before sinking his head between your legs. Only, he refuses to show any amount of attention to your throbbing clit.
He's got you so wet that it's dripping on to his smooth, navy-blue sheets which smell of something dark and spicy, but every time you lift your hips and quietly whimper "please", he chuckles and blows against your sensitive bundle before mumbling "not yet" and licking at your pubic mound.
Clenching the tangled sheets beneath you, Brendon plants wet kisses from the bend of your knee all the way to the crook of your thigh. Spreading your slick labia apart with his index and middle finger, he gently blows against your swollen clit with a concentrated stream of air, which causes your back to arch and hips to buck in response.
"Always so needy," he rumbles from the foot of the bed.
You press the heels of your palms against damp lashes.
Swiping a finger through your folds just to tease you, you release a quiet sob. "Please. Please just put something inside of me."
He shakes his head, though you can barely make him out in the dark. "You're not calling the shots here, are you?"
You pout. "No."
"Didn't think so."
He lifts your left leg over his shoulder before peppering kisses down the length of it.
You curl your toes as he gets closer to your cunt, then deflate when he drops your limb back onto the mattress.
Planting two fingers between your folds, his eyes flit to you. "This what you want? Hm?"
You nod excitedly. "Yes! Yes, please."
He hums thoughtfully. "Well, if you insist," he says mockingly.
You just know he's about to piss you off even more with whatever he's about to do.
Sinking his middle finger inside of you, Brendon appreciates how your pulsating walls squeeze repeatedly around itâbut he knows it's something else which they're frantic for.
You wiggle your hips. "Can you finger me?"
He doesn't move the digitâjust leaves it lodged inside of you. "If I wanted to, I'm sure I would." He glances up to you. "But I don't," he spits.
Tangling your fingers in your hair, you throw your head back and begin to sob. "I can't take much more."
He sinks a second digit inside. "You'll take whatever I tell you to until I've had my fill."
Feeling your walls clench, your own body gives away just how much you enjoy the filthy things he says to you.
Completely hopeless that you'll get to orgasm tonight, you break into a full on weeping fit.
He sighs in relief at the sound. "There she is. That's my good girl," he drawls heatedly.
With painstaking slowness, he begins to pump his fingers in and out, in and out. "God you're making such a mess," he murmurs. "Getting it all over the sheets."
"Sorry," you whimper.
And then he smacks your pussy. "Quiet."
You bite your lower lip to obey.
This isn't the first time you two have been intimate, but it is the first time it's been in his houseâhis bed, specifically. As such, he feels wholly in control here. A safe word was decided long ago, however: hammerhead. Completely ridiculous, but better than nothing at all.
As he eases his fingers in and out of your wet heat, the sounds it makes fill the silence which surrounds you. It's humiliating, really.
You spread your legs impossibly wider.
Pulling his fingers out, you start crying again. "Oh, Godâ"
"What did I just say?" he barks.
You shut your mouth again.
You hear the shifting of clothesâthank God, he's finally undressing and ready to give you what you've been after the whole timeâand then the bed dips on either side of you. Resting back on his haunches and straddling your thighs, Brendon works at his cock with a closed fist, breathing heavily as he circles the tip with his thumb.
"This what you wanted?" he questions.
"Yes, please," you sigh.
Manuevering himself to the side, he grips both of your knees and plants your feet before spreading your legs apart. "You don't move unless you're told to."
"Yes, sir," you whisper.
Climbing atop you, he swipes the head of his weeping cock against your slick entrance, which he's made more than ready to take him.
"Wait," you say while half sitting up. Leaning back on your elbows, you study him. "You didn't put on a condom."
"I don't do condoms," he replies matter-of-factly.
Your eyes widen in horror. "WhaâHow many women have you had unprotected sex with, then? We...we used them at my place."
"None."
Your brows furrow.
You're so very perplexed.
Squeezing one of your breasts with his free hand, he explains. "I told myself that if I ever brought a woman home, I wouldn't allow anything to stand between us. Including a cheap fucking piece of rubber."
You lay back again. "How many have you brought here?" you inquire quietly.
Easing between your walls without warning, he groans. "This would be a first."
Knocking your legs apart with his knee, he circles his hips before bottoming out against your cunt.
Prodding gently against your belly, you can feel the tip of his cock.
Oh, dear God, this is heavenly...
"But, what..." You swallow thickly. "Um..."
You can't formulate a thought with him now rocking his hips rhythmically against your own.
"Will you pull out?" you ask.
"No."
Your eyes flutter closed. "Birth control doesn't alwaysâ"
He licks your lips. "Guess there's a conversation we'll need to have in the morning, then."
You slide your fingers into his hair. "Oh, yeah?"
His cock twitches at the breathless way you say that. "You wanna be a mother, don't you?"
You cup his cheek. "Someday."
"Might as well start trying now," he grunts before gripping your hips to begin pounding away.
How it feels to genuinely enjoy the Pitt and not get caught up on every little bad thing a character has done because theyâre all complex human beings and none of them are truly evil like everyone in this fandom seems to think