Meeting Jack On Some Dating App And Being Completely Taken By His Profile. It’s A Confident Swipe Right,

Normal People

sweet mother, i cannot weave.

playlist pairing: kassandra the eagle bearer x fem!reader word count: 5.2k description: kassandra was the eagle bearer. a misthios feared by all, nearly by the gods themselves. an unstoppable force, a deadly creature on the battlefield, and considered supernatural by many. and yet, you had her wrapped around your finger. tags: smut (18+), definite historical innacuracy, inaccurate ancient greek terms of endearment, period typical misogyny (not from kassandra), takes place in the midst of the peloponnesian war, risk of being caught, kassandra is a munch, reader is a bit of a pillow princess. a/n: i know most of ya'll know my blog for house of the dragon (aka my one jacaerys fic), but kassandra was my first love so she needs appreciation. this is my first time writing for wlw pairing so... please bear with me :)))).

Summertime in Athens was a lazy thing, hazy with a simmering heat and the smell of ripened fruit.

It seemed as if Apollo himself kissed your skin as you basked within the late afternoon glow. His rays brushed over your cheeks, illuminating you in gold. Your eyes were shut, your pliant body laid out against a cushioned kline. You were a beauty not even sculptors could mold out of marble. Everything about you spoke of your careless luxury; silk chiton ruffled from your relaxation, gold earrings glinting in your ears, and the scent of myrrh perfume that filled the room. 

A pitcher of wine sits with a full cup on a nearby table. You’d already downed your first cup, you could feel the slight buzz of it in your veins; a gift from Dionysus. Everything felt lazy and quiet. The afternoons often stretched on endlessly, with little entertainment.

You had no other responsibilities to fill your day than to bask like a napping cat. 

The bustle of your home city can be faintly heard from the balcony connecting to your rooms. The bartering of merchants in the marketplace, the boisterous laughter of a group of men who had overindulged, the din of many people moving along streets. Despite the temperature, the city still breathes.

Athens seemed to overflow with life, in spite of the Spartan siege resting just outside her walls.

Your father made sure you’d stayed far from that danger, shut safely inside your home. Where a woman should be, he tells you. He feels the brunt of this war and he does everything in his power to keep you from it. Your relationship with him was an odd one, for you were no son. However, since your mother’s life had faded during her labors, a daughter is what he must settle for. But no matter how chilled the bond between you grows, your wellbeing is paramount. 

A dead girl cannot be married off for dowry.

He keeps you sheltered away behind the carefully constructed walls of wealth.

Well, until you’d met Kassandra.

The misthios had appeared one day at your villa’s doorstep, imposing and lithe as a lioness. She’d had business with your father, a contract that needed his attention. Standing before your father, who himself was stout and muscular, she outshone him like the sun does the moon. She’d seemed to be crafted specially by the gods themselves. For no other hands could’ve sculpted those lips and shoulders with such care. 

You’d watched her approach, sneakily observing from above upon a terrace.

Kassandra was unlike any other woman you’d seen before. Her demeanor was relaxed and held something akin to arrogance. Armed to the teeth, toned, and protected by gold and leather… she knew nothing would dare to touch her. The mercenary could almost be considered a demigod, blessed with Zeus’ eagle to circle above her head. She was everything opposite of what you’ve been instructed to be. 

She donned armor that you’d previously only thought belonged to men. It glinted as the sun struck it, illuminating her as if she was Athena coming to walk amongst mortals. The metal she wore for protection also served to accentuate her musculature, fit and lean. You’d never seen such athleticism on one woman, only ever exposed to the soft curves of yourself and your maids. 

She was striking in every sense of the word, well-loved by Aphrodite herself. She had the sharp eyes of a hawk, umber and gleaming when the light hit them just right. They did not miss you, either.

Amidst a hushed conversation with your father, her gaze had found yours. It was fleeting, merely a glance. But she’d known you were there, even from your hiding spot. Even from your distance, you could see the pull of a smirk on her lips.

And there was a strange stirring in your stomach... It was something you’d only felt a few times before. 

It was never in the presence of any of your father’s soldiers. The men often smelled of sweat and wine, the sight of them left a sour taste in your mouth. But around your maids, you’d noticed that recently your eyes have started to linger. Whether it be on the curve of their sternums, the beauty of their eyes, and the plushness of their lips. You’d often wonder what they might feel like upon your own. It was a secret you kept close and never dared to act upon. 

But Kassandra was bringing a tidal wave of attraction upon you, even from first glance. She looked strong like a man but she was still… most definitely a woman. She was beautiful.

You should’ve known from that moment that you were doomed.

She was around often, having an objective that required constant movement around Athens. It often involved your father, the influential general that he was. You were not able to speak with her often, your father feared she might instill a sense of womanly rebellion in you. Though, you stole a few moments of furtive eye contact and quiet, imploring words.

It was upon her fifth visit that her head became buried between your thighs for the first time. 

The mercenary had the unfortunate (fortunate) chance of visiting when your father had not been home. The man had been called away on some urgent business you hadn’t cared to pay attention to. What use would it be? You wouldn’t be allowed to help anyhow.

You’d welcomed her in, under the facade of the demanding rule of hospitality.

Her fingers brush against yours when you hand her a cup of sweet wine. A few words are exchanged; she asks after your father, you ask about her eagle, she compliments the wine.

One thing leads to another and your back is against a wall covered in mosaic tiles, breathy moans leaving your mouth. She has one of your thighs over her large shoulder, your silk chiton rucked up to your hips. She made a temple of your body, an altar in between your legs, and a sacrifice with her tongue.

It was your first time lying with a woman, lying with anyone. She made you feel like you were in Elysium.

She visited more often after that, no longer just to see your father.

You often awaited her at night, when she would climb up through your balcony to find your embrace. The woman could scale just about anything, it seemed. 

She was something holy; borne from the gods, no doubt. You believed that even more when she played your body like a finely tuned lyre.

Every visit has you feeling like Penelope, welcoming Odysseus back to Ithaca.

Though, lately, you’ve gotten the feeling that she will soon be moving on to other places.

There was a far away look in her eyes when she gazed at you now, hidden beneath amorous hues. Her touches began to stray with a softness that had not been there before. She’s begun to linger after your satiation, lips reverently brushing over your temple when she has to depart. It made you uneasy… the affection was welcome, but it was tinged with a bittersweet omen. You did not wish for her to go.

This arrangement was not one borne of longstanding love and commitment; it was all-consuming, passionate, and free of false promises. However… you cannot deny the blossoms of affection that have been planted from all your shared intimacies with the mercenary. She would sometimes bring you fresh figs she picked along her travels, and then you would insist on sharing. Or there were times when she could not stay for long… so she’d tuck an anemone she’d saved behind your ear with a press of plush lips to the corner of your mouth.

Kassandra rarely allowed herself to have such tenderness. There were those out there who would do anything to tear away anything she cared about. It was all too easy to fall into the role of careless mercenary, only in it for the drachmae. Perhaps, if it was just her and Ikaros against the world, things would be easier.

But, there was you… saccharine and delicate, with a heart purer that King Midas’ gold. You felt like the closest thing to home she’s had in a long time.

Everyone had their vices.

There were times that she did not crave you for lust at all. Sometimes she would crawl into bed beside you with a sigh… wounded or bruised. The look in her eyes, then, tugged at your heart. They were so tired… almost sad. You could see, she needed the comfort of your sweet words and to fall asleep in a safe place. The way you rubbed the muscles of her back, pressed chaste kisses to her bruised cheekbones, and undid her braid made Kassandra believe that maybe… she could afford to have this one shred of kindness.

It was a secret, just for the two of you. Something forbidden by the laws of men, two women partaking in such carnality, but what laws had Kassandra ever abided by?

Muted footsteps catch your wandering attention, sandals across smooth stone, bringing you back from your thoughts.

You're pleased to see the familiar outline of your lover in the doorway. 

Kassandra was imposing even in the simplest of times. The sun catches half of her face, causing one eye to look molten, the other dark umber in the shadows. 

She utters your name in a low familiar greeting, her tongue curling over the syllables. The left corner of her lips tug up in a slow smile.

You cannot help but rake your eyes over the way her body looked in her usual armor. Her chestplate accentuated the strong slope of her arms. You admired her well-built shoulders and biceps, one marred by the scars left by an animal she’d conquered in her past. You often liked to brush your lips over it to make her shudder. Her leather pteruges rustled with each movement; accentuating the long lines of her legs. Every detail of her did not escape your notice; a vein along one of her hands, the cut of her calves, the small strands of hair that always escaped her braid.

You also do not miss how her heated eyes take you in. Like you were a nymph or nereid, basking in the sun.

To her, you were otherworldly. 

The shoulder of your silk wrappings had slid down one of your shoulders, revealing a tantalizing slip of skin. The sun illuminated you like a beacon. You lounged like a big cat, easy and wanton. As you gazed at her through lazy, half-lidded eyes; she felt a familiar heat simmering between you both.

The two of you were like a conflagration, coming together to burn.

“Kassandra.” You drawl in greeting, eyes tracking her as she steps into the room. 

“I thought I might find you here.” The sellsword muses, sharp eyes flicking around your rooms. She takes in the open balcony, the goblet of wine by your side, before her gaze traces you again. 

“Did you?” You cannot hide the quiet tease of your voice, something salacious hidden beneath your lilting words. She hums in agreement. You shift where you lie, a strategic move that lets your dressings slip even further down your chest, revealing almost too much of your sternum. You let one of your legs fall to the side of the kline, creating an inviting cradle between your thighs.

Kassandra notices. You can see the way she tracks the movement with a heated gaze. When she meets your eyes again, she raises an amused brow.

“You’re done speaking with my father, then?” You inquire. There is a hope in your tone you cannot hide, and haven’t been able to for a while now. You cannot deny you greatly look forward to Kassandra’s visits… and you yearn for her when she is not around. She is an excitement in your dull life, a taste of the outside world you haven’t seen. 

There comes that look upon her face that you are so used to seeing now. Something more somber and serious than her usual teasing facade.

“Yes… I have just completed my final task for him.”

You feel a sinking in your stomach. Your earlier flirtations now feel… silly.

“You’ve been paid then..?” You venture to ask, brows drawing together. The clenching in your chest and the downturn of your lips strangely feel like disappointment.

“I have.” Kassandra states simply. She sighs, eyes glancing out towards the balcony for a moment. She seems to be thinking something over. She takes a step closer, knees almost bumping into your shins where you recline.

“I will be leaving Athens soon… my-” She hesitates. Does she tell you everything now? Her whole purpose in coming to the city? Her quest? The cult? Her family? “... contracts now lie in other places across the Aegean. I will leave with my ship tomorrow morning.”

“What?” You ask, almost startled. She was leaving? So soon? “Leaving-?” Your voice is, embarrassingly, tinged with panic. You begin to push yourself up on your elbows, chiton sliding across your skin to become entirely improper. You could care less.

Then, Kassandra does something you don’t expect. 

She kneels before your kline, body half hovering over yours. The proximity is enough to have your words catching in your throat. A pretty flush settles over your cheeks as you're forced to meet her eyes. The smell of leather, olive oil, and sandalwood fills your nose.

Her strong arms cage you in at either side, your noses are almost brushing against one another. The heat of her body is palpable, even through her armor. You can feel her leather pteruges brushing your calves, the leather softly rasping over your skin. Her chestplate digs slightly into your thighs.

“Come with me.” She murmurs, tone low. The words are meant just for you.

Surprise overcomes any other emotion you’re feeling.

“What-?” Your whispered exclamation is cut off quickly.

“Come with me. Travel with me, on the Adrestia.” She implores once again, ducking her head. Her lips brush across your jaw. You make a soft noise, it sounds like a surrender. You tilt her head and you feel her brushing chaste kisses down your throat. Her touch makes you shudder, your heart kicking up its pace as your body begins to perk up.

“See the world with me. Feel the ocean breeze across your skin for the first time, leave these city walls, let me show you freedom.” Each word is murmured against you. Her warm breath fans across your skin, mingling with the clime of the day. 

A gasp is torn from your lips as she nips at the junction between your neck and shoulder, trailing her lips to your exposed shoulder. You melt back into the cushions beneath you. She follows you down. It feels like molten heat is settling in your stomach. You do not know how she pulls this lust from you so easily, but you’re not complaining. 

Your hands slide to her arms, feeling the well-built muscles under your palms. Your head tilts back against your pillows, lips parted with quickened breath. Her callused hands brush up to your hips, causing your chiton to bunch. She kneads into your pliant flesh.

“I could teach you to sail, have you stand with me at the helm. You would be free to do as you wished…” Kassandra breathes out over your skin, trailing lower and lower. She’s still trying to convince you, even when you haven’t given her your answer. 

You knew what you wanted, wholeheartedly. Of course you would go with her. The truth is, you’d fallen deeply in love with the mercenary… You could hardly let her go. She completed you, made you whole. She was the sunlight streaming through your bedroom doorway, the honeyed taste of figs on your tongue, and she was the freedom of the eagle soaring outside. She was hard and callous, but held a gentleness reserved just for you. It was as if you’d cracked past the exterior of a pomegranate, finding the sweetened seeds within.

Besides, if you stayed, all that awaited you was a loveless marriage and a possible death on your birthing bed. 

However, Kassandra isn’t leaving you in a state to speak these poetic thoughts to her.

One of her hands finds the slipping hem covering your chest. With a simple tug, she bares your chest to her.

You give a small squeak of surprise, a flush spreading to your ears. She shushes you, heated eyes meeting yours as her lips tug into a small smirk. Then, she descends upon you.

Kassandra brushes her lips over your collarbone, nipping playfully at the skin. It’s clear she intends to leave a mark… then she trails lower and lower… before she’s kissing around the mound of your breast.  

You shudder, a sigh of pleasure leaving your lips. One of your hands finds her nape while the other tangles into her brunette tresses. It messes up her carefully woven braid, but neither of you really notice. You pull her closer like you can’t get enough of her, like you can meld your bodies together. Her touch is as warm and filling as the sun. It sets you ablaze, threatening to burn.

When she laves her tongue over your peak, you give a weak cry. To her, it sounds better than any song the muses could ever sing. You moan so prettily for her. She could get drunk off of that alone. No flask of even the finest bacchanal wine could make her feel as you do. She begins to lap at you in earnest, tugging whines from your lips..

“Kassandra.” You mewl, an encouragement. You do not care if anyone in the household hears.

“You always taste so sweet.” The words are murmured against your skin, skilled tongue curling around the syllables. Her voice causes a fluttering in your stomach. She trails her mouth to your other breast, kneading the previous in her hand. Her eyes are half-lidded through her long lashes as she drinks in your every reaction. Your eyes shutter, arching into her brazen touches. The want radiating through your body pools, thick and cloying, between your thighs.

She has hardly even begun, and yet you’re melting in her hands. 

“I could teach you to hunt, to live for yourself. You would be beautiful with a bow. You could put the daughters of Artemis to shame.” The warrior speaks against your skin. The words are murmured between swipes of her tongue, her lashes fluttering with the ecstasy of tasting your skin. 

Once she has you squirming for her, just from her mouth on your chest, you feel her body begin to slide down against yours. Her hands brush down over your thighs as her lips travel over your covered stomach… then abdomen.

“And every night… I could take you to shore. Every night would be just like this. Wouldn’t you like that?” Her words are husky and heated, leaving you more breathless by the moment. 

“Y… Yes… Gods…” You nod shakily, struggling to be coherent. You shift where you lie, twitching your hips towards her.

“There are no gods here. It’s just you and me, erasmia.” The term of endearment rolls easily from Kassandra’s mouth.

Her calloused palms brush over your ankles as she gently parts them. 

You blink open your hazy hues to gaze down at her… and the sight would’ve made you weak in the knees had you been standing. She’s gorgeous, the paragon of your desire. Her broad shoulders gently nudge your thighs open, she guides them to rest over her arms. She’s smiling, you realize, her head turned against the inside of your knee. You wish to see its radiance but you wouldn’t dare move her from where she is. The movement causes the silk of your skirts to bunch, dangerously close to exposing you. 

Your paramour hums in satisfaction at the reveal of your bare skin. Her dark eyes are trained on your expression; eyes doe-like with soft parted lips. You feel her dangerous mouth skim across your knee, up to your thigh. They’re gentle, butterfly kisses. The way she touches you is reverential in nature.

She has never believed in the gods, for they had never done anything for her. But… having you like this… maybe there were supernatural beings in this world. Perhaps there were gods, perhaps Aphrodite had borne you from a rose. You were anointed with beauty that could rival any goddess… though she would not curse you by speaking the words aloud.

You suck in a breath as her lips skim to your inner thigh, holding it in anticipation for what you know comes next. A warm breeze blows through the open terrace. It caresses your bare chest, making you shudder. Every fibre of your being was wound with need. 

But Kassandra was nothing if not a tease. You can feel her grin against your skin as she nips at your thigh. Her sharp canines travel across your plush flesh, leaving blooming red marks in their wake. It causes your muscles to twitch, shifting over her shoulders.

“I would keep you safe, of course. Nothing would touch you, nothing would even come close. Not while I’m around.” She speaks against your skin, the words almost muffled. Her nose nudges into your thigh as her face presses even closer.

You whine in frustration as the woman between your thighs travels her lips higher. She’s distinctly avoiding where you want her most, wet and weeping. Instead, her hands push you chiton around your waist. You're open, exposed for the taking. But she doesn’t seem to care. She sucks a mark into the jut of your hip bone, warm palms skimming over your thighs. She makes sure you stay open for her. 

The mercenary is a terrible (beautiful) combination of passionate and possessive, often leaving marks that you struggle to hide from your father. Your body is a canvas for her marks of lust. 

It is when she starts kissing across your stomach that you begin to beg. You feel close to trembling, losing yourself to the need she has (all too quickly) built you up to. There is not a sweeter torture.

“Kassandra… please.” You breathe, lips forming into a slight pout as she showers kisses on the flesh of your tummy. “I need you. Don’t be cruel.” Your voice is pathetic, tinged with desperation. You’re too entranced by her to be embarrassed by it.

She laughs softly against you. But… she can never resist you for long. You were a test of her self-control, one she often failed. You were her Achilles heel. She would do anything for you, that is what makes you so dangerous. If the knowledge of her only weakness got into the wrong hands… she could lose everything.

But Kassandra can’t help but need you anyways. She has lost so much in her life… she should at least have this luxury.

“I’ll give you what you need, o khara… I always will.” It sounds almost like a promise.

And it is. One she intends to keep.

She rips a quiet gasp from your throat as she skims her lips down your navel… and, this time, she does not stop her descent. 

Kassandra, first, presses a kiss against your core. The touch surprises you and it is not nearly enough. You open your mouth to tell her such, but you’re quickly silenced.

Your lover wastes no time, perhaps just remembering that your father was still in the house or the fact that your maids could walk in at any moment. She flattens her tongue against you, tasting your essence. She groans into you, your ambrosia like honey on her tongue. You can feel the vibrations of it travelling through your body.

Your choke on your breath for a moment, hands scrambling to hold onto something. One hand tangles into her hair as the other grips the couch beneath you. She grunts at the pressure but does not protest. In fact, she follows your guidance, pressing closer. 

Her tongue slides against your entrance, eagerly tasting all of you where you leak for her. You can feel her nose nudging into your pearl, sending jolts of pleasure up your spine. You moan, biting your lip to try and keep quiet. 

She tsks, pulling away much to your dismay. Already, her lips are wet with your arousal.

“None of that, I want to hear you.” She rasps. You could argue, bring up the fact that anyone could very much be here. But gods, you don’t want her to stop.

You nod dumbly, tugging her face back to the apex of your thighs. She goes, chuckling at your easy compliance. You sigh in relief as her tongue swipes through your folds once more.

Your hips arch into her ministrations. You crave more… so much more. You think, in times like these, that you understand how Icarus must have felt. A strong forearm slings across your hips, pressing you flat against the cushions for her taking. Her other slides to your haunch, gripping the pliant flesh. She keeps you spread for her.

Kassandra drinks from you like she is dying of thirst. She is messy, trying to taste every bit of you. The woman was skilled with her tongue. You can feel as she dips her tongue teasingly at your entrance before lapping over your clit, suckling until she repeats the pattern again. It has you melting for her… helpless to do anything but take the gift she gives you.

She is godlike, radiant from the late sun. She could be Eros incarnate, beautiful and salacious between your thighs.

You writhe, even under her strong hold. You tug, not too hard, at her hair. You need more. You mewl with every pass of her tongue over you…

“Ah…” Your lips are parted with exerted breaths, breasts heaving with the force of them. Kassandra is enraptured by the sight, fiery eyes locked on you from where she feasts. “Kassandra.. Mm.. don’t you dare stop.” It sounds like an order from your mouth.

Soon, she zeroes in on your pearl. You think she might suffocate from how she presses her face into your cunt. If she was a lioness, she’d be mauling you. She suckles at your clit, causing your body to twitch from the overwhelming feelings of pleasure. Your eyes flutter closed, mellisonant sighs and cries of ecstasy pouring from your pretty lips.

“So beautiful…” Kassandra murmurs against you. Her hand slides from your thigh to prod at your entrance, testing. “Taste so good, can never get enough of you. And you’re always so wet…” You don’t have the awareness to feel embarrassed by her teasing.

She slides two long fingers inside you, huffing as she feels your cunt flutter around the digits. You shudder, body not knowing how to handle the twin sensations. She continues to lap at your nub. But her fingers begin a slow slide, curling within you just right.

The wet sounds between your thighs are obscene. You can feel your own slickness and her saliva on the inside of your thighs, combined with the sting of where Kassandra had marked you earlier. Her attention is never ending.

Every thrust of her fingers inside of you wrenches a moan from you. They filled you so deeply, much better than your own. She has ruined you for anyone else. Embarrassingly, you can feel your peak approaching already. Desire pools in your stomach, a coil tightening.

Kassandra can evidently feel it too, the way you flutter around her. Gods… you got so tight when you were close. It was maddening. She doubles her efforts, moaning into your cunt as she flattens her tongue over your pearl. 

Her free hand moves to your hips, encouraging you to grind against her face and fingers. You do, settling into a shaky rhythm. She was giving you everything. Your breathing is labored, hardly able to moan through your panting. It’s desperate and so dirty…

Every pass of your hips as her fingers pressing closer, digits finding the spongy spot inside of you. It only takes a couple more grinds of your hips before you’re falling over the edge.

“That’s it… look at you.” Kassandra praises, voice low and heady as she guides you through your peak. She continues to murmur dirty praises into your skin as you lose yourself to hedonistic ecstasy. Her fingers slow into gentle pushes, letting your release pool between them. Waves of pleasure roll through you, and you take them gladly. There is a faint perspiration upon your brow and your cheeks are flushed prettily.

Your partner presses kisses against you, digits sheathed till you whimper in overstimulation. You nudge her head away with your palm and she takes the signal. You shudder as she pulls her fingers from you, watching with half-lidded eyes as she licks them clean. Her chin glistens with evidence of your carnal sin.

You tug her up into a kiss, pliant lips against her own. She follows your direction easily. Your arms slide around her shoulders, feeling her warmth. Her hands are planted on either side of your head, firm body balanced above you. You can taste yourself on her tongue. Your body is still buzzing from satiation, lazy and full.

Kassandra hums into the kiss. Slowly, you pull away for breath. Both of your breathing is still labored. Gently, you brush your fingers along her tan cheek. She leans into the touch, nose brushing your own. The look in her eyes can only be described as loving devotion.

“Of course I will go with you.” You utter against her, voice shot from all your keening. “There is nowhere else I would rather be than at your side, Kassandra.”

Her grin is more radiant than the stars..

-

That very night, she climbs your terrace once again.

But this time, you’ll be leaving with her.

She coaxes you out of bed with a multitude of kisses across your cheeks. There are quiet shushes and giggles as you get out of bed to dress. 

Kassandra drapes a shroud around your shoulders, making sure it obscures your face. She gently guides you from your bedroom, her hands at your waist help you climb down the ivy that clings to the rough clay walls. You travel like silent mice, the guards none the wiser to your midnight escape.

Her loyal steed, Phobos, awaits you a distance away from the villa walls. She hoists you up easily, settling you onto the knit pad on the horse's back. Phobos stands still for you, quiet and patient.

She joins you, clicking her tongue and nudging her heels into the animal's side. The beast’s stride is smooth and sure, and soon enough your villa is fading into the starry sky behind you. 

Kassandra’s body is warm at your back, arms strong and heavy as she holds you. She guides your head back to rest on her shoulder, murmuring words of affection into your hair.

You ride together under the protection of Selene, off to a new life you would build. Together. 

late night visits

michael robinavitch x female reader

summary: somehow your neighbor is always finding himself at your front door hoping to find relief through casual hookups, but you both can’t deny your feelings any longer

content: nsfw, 18+ mdni, mutual pining, oral f!receiving, mention of an age gap because i can’t help myself, just dr robby having a realization of feelings while going down on you

author’s note: told y’all i was gonna write some dr robby smut!! like usual, it didn’t feel right to jump right in with nasty jaw dropping smut so here’s a little fluffy— but still saucy, hookup drabble with the hunkiest emergency doctor i know

Michael Robinavitch was your neighbor. 

Your apartment doors faced each other which lead to many casual exchanges and brief interactions.

They started off innocent; shy waves and polite smiles.

Then, they turned into conversations about what each of you did for a living and how long you’d lived in the city— just a culmination of small talk and harmless banter that took place in the little hallway of your apartment building.

But then, after weeks of coy chitchatting outside of your front doors, your exchanges escalated.

Your conversations with Robby had turned into hushed moans and deep throaty groans as his hands gripped furiously at your hips while he thrusted into you after an exhausting day at work. 

The first time you tested the waters of shared desire was a little over a month ago. You spontaneously invited him over to join you for dinner as he was getting home from work. Neither of you thought much about it. It felt like a simple invitation to get to know a new-ish neighbor. Just a friendly meeting over a quick meal, but it turned out to be something entirely different. 

That evening ended with his calloused hands greedily sliding up your body with your back pressed against a wall.

Both of you were stewing with pent-up frustration and using the other for an easy thoughtless release. 

The next time you found yourself underneath his body was just as unexpected but far more impassioned.

He had knocked on your door, his expression unsure yet somehow laced with anticipation when you answered. 

He started trying to make up some excuse as to why he was interrupting your nighttime routine until you pulled him into your apartment, meeting his lips with your own in a hurried and desperate kiss. 

It continued like that for weeks, late night visits full of eager touches and sinful craving.

The exact nature of your relationship was unclear. You just found one another for physical connection, never getting in too deep or finding meaning in your dubiously satisfying meetings. 

But, of course you had feelings for the guy, he had his dick buried in you on a nightly basis. You just weren’t sure if he felt the same way. 

You couldn’t help but assume he saw you as a quick fuck— an easy way to detach from his day in a bout of vulgar connection.

But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Sure, the first time had been because Robby needed a distraction. You were just stood there, cooking a meal for him and listening intently as he told you about his profession. You were completely enthralled with him, your lips turning up into a cute little smile, and he couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at him like that; let alone a beautiful woman nearly half his age. It was almost criminal how fast he gave into temptation, letting himself get a taste of you through hungry kisses and tainted intentions.

After that he became addicted to you.

He even found himself thinking about you at work— a place that didn’t allow more than a sliver of space in his mind to think about anything other than the task at hand, yet you occupied nearly every corner of it. 

So he kept showing up— kept seeking you out in hopes that he could stay high on your presence long enough to stay satisfied before getting the next inevitable taste.

You seemed to enjoy the unspoken arrangement. He didn’t want to ruin anything with the complication feelings and exclusivity. Plus, he was a busy man, relationships never seemed to work well for him, so maybe this situation was for the best. 

But now, his face was buried between your legs, and he peered up to find your head thrown back and your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen something so picturesque. So undeniably perfect. 

“God, You’re beautiful.” His voice was a hum against your skin as he stopped to place a sloppy kiss on the inside of your thigh along with his words. 

Your fingers tightened into his hair as his mouth hungrily worked at your core. 

You opened your eyes to glance down at him, unsure of how to take his compliment while he was busy doing such lewd things to you. 

He caught the silly grin on your lips at his words— so pure and gentle. The innocent curve of your mouth only made him want more. He gently grabbed at your thighs, spreading them even further.

The soft moan of approval slipping from your tongue had an involuntary groan breaking from his chest. 

With every sweet sound off your lips he dived deeper into you. His mouth was expertly working you toward your release, and just as you felt the pressure getting ready to snap, he pulled away.

He rested between your legs, his torso propped up just enough to get a good look at you.

“Let’s grab a bite to eat after this.” His statement came out in a breathless whisper. It seemed more like a question with the way his eyes were looking up, watching intently. 

You tried to hide the giggle that at your lips as a small smile took over your expression.

What on earth prompted him to bring this up while he had you on the verge of coming undone on his tongue?

But also, why was it so sweet? The way his words held such sincerity felt extremely intimate.

“Just- I want to take you out somewhere.” His grin was wide as he watched you react to his ill-timed inquiry.  

He knew it was late and maybe you wouldn’t be interested, but he couldn’t help but ask. 

Watching your back arch under his touch and hearing your sweet whimpers fill his ears had him losing his patience.

He needed more of you.

Needed it so badly that he was stopping himself from tasting your sweet release just to ask for more of your time. The two of you were only ever together in a dimly lit apartments under bed sheets, he wanted to go out with you; somewhere different, somewhere new. He wanted to take you to grab a coffee down the street at that place that stays open until 2am. He wanted to ask you questions about yourself and watch you smile while you talked— to see the sweet curve of your lips that he'd grown so attached to. 

Maybe he wasn’t much of a relationship guy, but he couldn’t deny the feelings he harbored for you. 

“Like a date?” You were leaning back on your elbows with your eyebrows raised subtly at his suggestion. 

“Yeah, a date.” 

“Ok Robby. I’ll go on a date with you.” Your smirk met his idiotic grin as he dove back down, satisfied by your answer.

He resumed his previous actions with a fervor of victory.

“Perfect.” The word was messy as it left his lips and landed directly on your core. 

It wasn’t long before your body was tensing, and mumbled profanities filled the room at your release. Even though you had just finished on his tongue, you weren’t done. You wanted to let him fuck you into the sheets, to repay him for getting you off, but he refused. No— he was determined to follow through on his promise.

The two of you walked side by side to grab a coffee at nearly midnight; you laughing and him watching, as he got to know you outside of the walls of your apartment.

Jenna Ortega | Met Gala Celebrating "Superfine: Tailoring Black Style" | May 05, 2025

It's the same picture

CW: MDNI/18+. NSFW. Talks of Jack Abbot & reader having a breeding kink.

Can’t stop thinking about seeing Jack Abbot carrying a little baby in the ER who came in late during night shift, sick and running a fever and they just won’t stop crying no matter what’s given to them and they’re so fussy. So Jack does what he thinks is best, holds them in his arms, and the baby calms down instantly, they just plop their head right against his shoulder and grips onto his stethoscope and he rocks them gently to soothe them as the medicine takes effect, all while comforting the distraught mother and reassuring her she did nothing wrong and did the right thing in getting some help.

Your reaction was instantaneous, a rush of warmth blooming through your chest and flowing into your gut at the sight of him cooing at the little human, his large hand running lines up and down their tiny back like it was second nature. It was at that moment you started imagining him with a little baby of your own, one you carried and nurtured in your own body, laying on the couch with them against his chest in the same manner.

The daydream haunts you for weeks after that night. You two spoke about having kids a little while back, way before he got down on one knee and slipped a ring over your finger. He promised once you were settled in your career and things have calmed down a bit that you could both take the next steps in your relationship and potentially build a family of your own. You bring it up to him, a little nervously at first, but Jack just gives you a kiss on the tip of your nose and your forehead, an understanding but mischievous glint flickering in his hazel eyes.

So when a four day weekend rolls around, and you’re set to be ovulating after your body adjusts to getting your iud taken out, Jack gets right to work. He takes advantage of the free time you both have, having you every which way for the duration of three whole days. You don’t think you’ve ever had such a lengthy sex marathon with your husband, hell you didn’t even know he had it in him to have such vigor when it came to family planning. But you didn’t complain, not when he ate your pussy until you cried, not when he fucked you so good words failed you and you drooled onto the mattress, not when he filled you to the brim, making sure he marks you as deep as he could go, as deep as you’d let him.

And yet it was never enough, he could never get enough of you. Jack had tunnel vision every time he’d drive into you. Whether it be from above, underneath, behind, or on the side, he kept picturing you glowing with a round belly and full breasts, waddling around the house in a stretched out T-shirt, probably one of his, as you looked for something to snack on. He wasn’t going to stop until he gave you what you wanted, until you both got the family unit you’ve been wanting for so long.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll make sure it takes. You’re not leaving this room till it happens. Understood?”

You can only give him a playful salute and a tired smile.

Sir Lewis Hamilton x Wales Bonner (2025)

Companionship | pt. 8

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: An ER visit and a long awaited conversation.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: a variation of the hospital scene has been in my head since the beginning, and the one that convinced me to start this in the first place. Obviously it changed a bit after I figured out where it took place in their relationship. Thankful to be finally sharing it with y’all! The scene after that? Uhhhh👀😭

Special shoutout to @cherriready for being so extraordinarily amazing and helping me with the end bits!!! Thank you for letting me vent about the show and this series💜

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: age gap, ANGST, feelings, still avoiding those feelings, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, foul language, little to no comfort

not beta read

Michael was thankful this shift was nearly over, just under two hours to go and he could go home to crash. He really needed it, spending sleepless night after restless night, thoughts turning over and over in his head. He should not have cared so much, or felt so deeply about not talking to you. You should not have mattered nearly as much as you did.

But he had laid in his bed night after night, thinking only of you. Feeling stupid. Feeling perverted. Feeling like he wasn’t good enough. You had walked out, after all. You were the one who had stood and chose to leave.

So why did it feel like it was all his fault?

He remembered the warmth of your lips, how your eyes had held him so tenderly, how soft your hands had been. The rush he had felt when you finally connected. Like something had finally clicked into place.

With a long breath, Michael tried to get back to work. Maybe check out triage, or chairs and just grab anyone to take you away from his thoughts. He stopped by Central to check on a few patients, turning around to make his way back towards chairs.

And like the universe had finally taken pity on him, there you were. Hair pulled from your face, one hand held upward. Still in your work clothes: a pair of chinos, a light blue sweater and a jacket slung over your other arm. Any thoughts he had been having about anything crash landed. He had to be seeing things. He had to be seeing things; if you were here, then something had happened and you were hurt. That thought moved his heart into his throat — couldn’t he have just gotten more nurses if the universe had taken pity on him?

Then you looked up, your unmistakable eyes met his and his heart stopped.

—

Michael was on you in only a few long strides, next to you in only a blink. Taking your hand — gently, but firmly — into his, he looked over your wound with careful eyes. You held your breath, watching him, assessing him. His eyes, focused and unreadable, lips in just a hint of a frown, his hands warm and rough against your own skin.

It had been nearly a week since you had seen each other, and worry sank low into your gut. How had you ended up at the hospital he worked at? You were never supposed to be anywhere near his professional life. That was the deal.

…was there even still a deal?

“Dr. Robby?” Dr. McKay asked tentatively, glancing between you.

Robby? Who the hell is Robby? Is Michael a fake fucking name—

“Sorry, this is Doc—”

“I got it.” Michael—Robby—muttered, releasing your hand.

Dr. McKay’s eyebrows furrowed, “Boss, I think—”

“VIP, I got it.” He said again, harder this time, looking at Dr. McKay and not allowing any room for argument.

Dr. McKay’s eyebrows raised, glancing back at you, you were still staring at Michael dumbly. Giving a curt nod, Dr. McKay handed over the tablet and walked back towards the waiting room. You only spared her a glance before you moved into the room, Michael on your heels.

“What happened?”

Mild anger flared in your chest, “Was Michael a fake name, was nothing real?”

His eyebrows came together and his frown settled deeper onto his face, “What?”

“Robby.” You stressed, annoyed.

Realization flashed over his face, “No, no. It’s short for Robinavitch. Michael’s my first name.”

“Oh.”

Michael Robinavitch.

Well, at least it felt like you were on a more level playing field; all of your information was on that tablet now in his hand. At least now you knew his full name and where he worked. But did it matter?

Michael moved to close the door, before turning around and just looking at you. He was wearing a blue hoodie over his scrubs, a stethoscope around his neck. You hated how your mind went to how good he looked. You squirmed under his gaze, glancing over your shoulder at the exam table.

“What happened?” Michael tried again, stepping closer.

You looked at him, and let out an embarrassed sigh. “I was chopping vegetables for dinner. Knife fell, tried to catch it. Clearly caught the wrong end.” Your lips pulled up momentarily, finding it so stupid.

He nodded. You got onto the exam table, minding your injured palm, and looked back at him. The air between you felt tense enough to cut with a knife, both of you resorting to awkward movements that had once been behind you.

Michael sat on the wheely stool, scooting closer to you, reaching for your palm again. “Let me see.”

You held your palm out to him and he held it delicately in his hands. He turned to pull the tray toward him, a few things scattered across it, but you kept her focus solely on him. You hoped any of his expressions might give something away to what he was thinking, but he was painfully neutral.

“You’ll need a few stitches and then I’ll get you outta here.” He said, not looking up from your palm, grabbing some blue latex gloves.

You frowned, not thrilled this was how your night was turning out. But whatever divine deity was out there had decided to hand him to you on a silver platter. You swallowed thickly, anxious mind running rampant on all the things you could say to him.

“Pin prick and some burning.”

You noted the needle and glanced to the other side of the room until it was done. Your heart was racing and you feared he might have heard it. The last thing you needed was for him to know the effect he had on you. The air was heavy with all the things unsaid and you had the urge to run again, but his hold on your hand never wavered.

“How have you been?” You finally got out, cheeks hot.

His eyes flicked up to meet yours before looking back down to his work. “I’ve been okay.”

It stung, it had no right to, but it hurt somewhere deep in your chest.

“Good, I’m glad.” You bit out, rougher than normal.

He paused for a long moment, needle hovering over your open palm before resuming the stitches, his movements calculated and precise. You looked away from his face and swallowed your feelings. They were bitter as they went down.

“I’m sorry about the other night.” Michael told you quietly, still not looking at you.

“I’m sorry for leaving. I should’ve stayed.” You whispered back to him, hoping maybe he’d catch the hint this time.

Michael’s eyes quickly snapped to yours, holding you steady in his gaze. You did your best to hold it, captured by how soft his brown eyes were — pulling you deeper. It could have been hours that you held like that, his hand on yours making a heat crawl up your spine.

“Dr. Robby—”

Both of your eyes snapped to the opened door, the bubble bursting. The man who had interrupted was leaning into the room, hands on either side of the doorway, one leg slightly bent and the toe of his shoe tapping against the tile. His brown hair was swept up in a nice style, blue eyes flickering between you and Robby.

You released a breath the same moment Michael opened his mouth to speak.

“What?”

The man blinked, “MVA inbound, three minutes out. Do you want me to finish this?”

Michael frowned, “No, I got it, Langdon. I’ll be there in a minute.”

The man—Langdon—studied you carefully for another moment before turning and walking back down the hall. You watched him go, your breath stuck in your throat. You inhaled shallowly, trying to keep your feelings at bay, but you picked up the scent of him. Sandalwood and vanilla, and the burn of antiseptic.

“Don’t let me keep you,” you said, looking away from him, “I’m sure anyone could finish up.”

“Let me take care of you.” Then he coughed awkwardly, “I’m almost done, anyways.”

You nodded, trying to savor the feel of him just a little longer and hating yourself for it.

Michael hummed, “I’d like to…talk tonight, if you’re available?”

You looked at him and blinked, “We can do that, yeah.”

A small smile cracked at the corners of his mouth. “Good, I can come to yours so you don’t have to travel with your hand. But you can still come to mine, if that makes you more comfortable.”

Your face burned at his consideration, “Oh, thank you. Yeah, I’ll text you my address.”

He finished, placing the needle back onto the tray table and removing his gloves, “I’ll have a nurse come in and go over wound care, but then you can be discharged. Take Tylenol as needed, but don’t exceed 1500 milligrams in a twelve hour period.”

You nodded, “Thank you, Michael.”

Michael stayed a few moments more before lingering in the doorway, looking like he wanted to say something. He only spared you a last glance before rushing back the way he had come, likely to assist with the MVA.

The nurse who had come in to go over a few details on your wound care was an older woman, with blonde hair tied up and a smile that made you feel at ease. She introduced herself as Dana.

You visibly relaxed after Michael had walked out, but your mind was still reeling from your interaction. Dana made a few notes in her chart, eyeing you occasionally from the corner of her eye in an expression you couldn’t quite read. It made you tense up, like your secrets were spilling all over the floor.

Dana sent you on your way shortly after Michael had left, with specific instructions and a timeframe to come back to get your stitches removed. You felt awkward, knowing you might have to come back. Add in the way Dana was looking at you like she could read all your secrets like they were written on your forehead, you were happy to head home.

You pulled out your phone and sent your address to Michael, anxiety churning in your gut.

—

Since getting back to your apartment, you had only snacked on a few things after cleaning up the mess you had left. You were grateful no blood had gotten on the kitchen rug. You attempted to tidy the best you could with one working hand, not knowing when he would arrive.

You pulled out the Visa card and stared at it for a while. You went to a kitchen drawer, pulled out a pair of scissors and cut it in half, deciding you were done with it, no matter what Michael had to say tonight. You struggled with using your non-dominant hand, but it halved easily enough. Placing it back in your wallet to put into the shredder at work, you let out a long breath of air, putting it in your pocket.

Michael texted around 7 to ask if you wanted him to bring food.

Only if you haven’t eaten.

He showed up with Thai food, having remembered your order from their time previously. It warmed your heart, and your stomach was thankful for him, grumbling impatiently.

Michael looked around your apartment, taking it in. It was considerably smaller than his, with a rushed paint job and lackluster appeal. But hey, it was cheap.

You sat across from him at your dining table, the kiss lingering in your mind and making your hand ache more, even after taking two Tylenol. Your heart was pounding and your mouth felt dry, worried any comment would be a complete misstep.

Did he want you in the way you were thinking? Was this going to be his way of letting you down easy, over your favorite Thai food? Did he want to scold you for forgetting the agreement? Did he want to apologize for doing the same? Did he want to say fuck it and throw caution to the wind?

Your stomach churned uneasily, flickering your eyes to his face and back to your to-go container. The quiet was eating you alive.

Michael opened his mouth to speak, but each time thought better of it and closed it, attention going back to his food.

“How’s your hand?” He finally settled on.

Your eyes moved up to meet his, “It’s…fine. A nice doctor patched me up real good.”

A smile flickered on his lips, “Just nice?”

“He seemed to know what he was doing.” You said, eyes not wavering, a smile of your own hinting at the corners of your mouth, suddenly feeling bold. “He was handsome, too.”

You immediately noticed the blush blooming on his cheeks.

He cleared his throat, “Yeah?”

The smile grew on your face, “Yeah.”

His big brown eyes glanced away from you and back to his food, “Let me see your hand.”

You raised a careful eyebrow, but gave your hand to him, palm facing up. It was still well bandaged from when Dana had wrapped it up for you.

“Dana tell you everything—”

“She did. I wrote it all down.”

He nodded, placing your hand back on the table and letting go.

“So…you wanted to talk?” You ventured, hoping he would speak his mind first so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself.

“Well…the agreement. I think some wires got crossed—”

“You do?” Hurt bloomed.

Michael met your eyes, a long pause extending between you. He looked so unsure, eyebrows pinched together, lips pursed.

“I’d like to think this is more than just the agreement now.” You said softly, not looking at him.

“Oh, please, you wouldn’t even be here if I wasn’t paying you.”

You recoiled like you had been slapped, getting to your feet, your eyes snapping to his, “You really think that?”

“You mean to tell me you would’ve seen me somewhere and come up to me? A man almost twenty years older and what? Flirted with me?” He stood from the table, his tone harsh.

“Would you have?” You rounded back at him, knowing he never would have even considered it.

“I don’t want to pretend this could ever be more than it is. It’s unfair to both of us.” He said, frowning, shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pockets.

“Pretend?” Your voice was shrill, a laugh escaping your throat. “We’re way past pretending.”

“Do you want me to still pay you, then? Still pay for your companionship? Maybe some nice clothes—”

“Fuck you.” You snarled, grabbing your wallet from your pocket. You threw the two pieces of the Visa card at him, watching as they landed beside his shoe.

They landed with the weight of a brick rather than a flimsy piece of plastic.

Michael looked dumbly down at it.

“If that’s what you really think of me, take the stupid fucking card and get out.”

Surprise bloomed across his face, and something strikingly similar to regret, or insecurity, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t care. It took all your strength not to shove him out the door.

You had been so stupid thinking tonight might have gone differently, like your stupid, far-fetched fantasy might’ve come true. Your heart began to ache, taking away all the pain in your hand.

Michael leaned down quietly and picked up the pieces of the Visa card, eyes glossed over and unreadable. You watched him silently, breathing heavily and trying to calm your racing heart. Trying not to scream. Trying not to cry in front of him, but it burned your eyes.

He walked past you without a word and stepped out of your apartment, closing the door behind him — he didn’t slam it, but it rattled through your apartment like he had.

You crashed to the ground and sobbed.

[ Next ]

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I’m so sorry😭

but hey, the worst is over (mostly)