One of my favorite Pope edits (TikTok creator daylily.something)
Sade Olutola
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

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tannertan36
untitled

titsay
Claire Keane
Game of Thrones Daily
The Bowery Presents

pixel skylines

gracie abrams
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

@theartofmadeline
Cookie Run:Kingdom Official!
Misplaced Lens Cap
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
One Nice Bug Per Day
occasionally subtle
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seen from Brazil

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seen from Canada
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seen from T1

seen from United States
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seen from Türkiye
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@abbotslittleslut
One of my favorite Pope edits (TikTok creator daylily.something)
a recipe for unc peepaw people's princess oomf average everyday icon
ingredients include: ⋆˙⟡ cinnamon + sugar for those scrumptious curls ⋆˙⟡ shamrock ⋆˙⟡ hungarian crocus ⋆˙⟡ fiji water ⋆˙⟡ ginger for freckles ⋆˙⟡ no avocado! ⋆˙⟡ dark chocolate ⋆˙⟡ nutmeg ⋆˙⟡ cloves ⋆˙⟡ emmy award served well-done with an edge ⋆˙⟡ age for 50 years in white oak barrel until mystified ⋆˙⟡
⋮⟢ drabble: jack abbot’s controversially young gf is (very) clingy (and he loves it!)
⋮⟢ note: guys she is crazy this is basically how to lose a guy in 10 days but it’s Forever for her!!! forever promoting the chalant agenda
send requests for controversially young gf!reader!
jack had been alone for a very, very long time romantically before you came along. if he had to think back on it, you’d been a sweet little thing he’d courted properly – dinners, doors held, the whole nineteenth-century shebang – and you’d been perfectly amicable. he was pretty sure you’d told him at some point that you waited to text him back. you’d been two drinks deep when you told him, and he’d been confused and asked you, “who taught you that?”
you’d shrugged, so breezy, the picture of cool, which told him everything you’d learned about dating in your entire life.
he’d tipped his beer at you, very unimpressed. he didn’t like it one bit! there you were – the girl whose texts he’d been answering at red lights (sometimes even while driving) like a criminal, whose name coming up on his phone had him feeling like a silly teenager and twice his blood pressure – thinking that you had to make yourself scarce. some asshole had clearly gotten to you before jack did and taught you this stupid thing.
so he’d told you right then and there, on your second date, “well, that doesn’t work on me, and you don’t need it. you can just text me back, sweetheart. i’m gonna want you either way.”
looking back, that was probably what killed the girl who left his place at a reasonable hour, had plans that really, really couldn’t be shifted for a last minute date, and said things like “i’ll check my calendar!”
he would’ve been lying if he said he wasn’t glad that girl was long gone. he’d spent so long being a man whose comings and goings were nobody’s business, and now you noticed new things about him in under four seconds. he had no idea what he’d done to deserve being watched with such loving and he was careful never to ask, in case some higher deity somewhere would realize this wasn’t for him.
and sure, he knew that there was some deeply unhealthy codependency at play in this relationship. especially on nights like these where he had somewhere to be that wasn’t the precise square footage of the couch you’d zoned for him. the plan was at a bar, a send-off for a resident he actually did like. he’d said it out-loud at six-thirty and you’d gone so fucking quiet and went to the far end of the cushion.
FLESH IS THE LAW!
NSFW ⟡.· ft. jack abbot + fem. reader. he loves his babygirl. no doubt about it, but he’s always been strict about you not teasing him while he’s at work, you’ve always liked pushing his buttons though, and when you disobey, someone has to put you in your place. abbot mocks you through it, implied age gap, mean! jack abbot, brat taming, pussy spanking, daddy kink, dumbification, slight dacryphilia. 3.8k.
shawn hatosy hyperfixation is like an infection and i have been infected. first time writing for papa abbot, reblogs + comments are always appreciated. ^_^
abbot isn’t known for his patience. he wasn’t level-headed or calm; sure, he doesn’t crack easily under pressure—any feelings of unease or stress he keeps close to his chest. jack could offer advice; he could talk a resident through a complicated procedure because surgery was taking too long to respond to their page; he could talk about hard and complicated issues using his personal experience, but he wasn’t patient.
you’ve recently developed the frustrating habit of pushing jack’s buttons: you teased, you pushed, you wanted, and while he was more than willing to give, that sentiment only stood when you listened.
you knew better than to send him that. jack knows you do, but knowing doesn’t take away the want to do it.
jack had felt the vibration of his phone inside his pocket as he spoke to ellis, though he didn’t open it then. working night shift in the emergency room meant dealing with the shit you don’t see during the day. it was hard finding time to answer a message from his girlfriend mid-shift, but jack knew you well.
you got pouty if your message sat unanswered in his phone for too long. the last thing he wanted was to come home to see your doe eyes glittering with hurt.
once he finally had a moment to spare, he stepped away from the traffic of the floor, intending to check his phone quickly, expecting a sweet message from you. once his screen lit up, your notification sat on top of a mountain of unnecessary email notifications from newsletters, appointment reminders, and useless travel deals he wasn’t going to take. you had sent him a picture captioned with: ‘i miss you so much, daddy. i couldn’t help myself :(‘
Morning Checkup
Pairing: Jack Abbot x f! reader
W.C: 11.5k
Synopsis: With Jack on night shift and you on day shift, it was hard to not be jealous of Jacks patients.. All you wanted was for Jack to take care of you. So, after the end of a long work week, made even longer by Santos getting sick, you decided to do something about it.
18+ !!!
Warnings + Tags: Established relationship, fake power imbalance, age gap (undefined, but reader is late 20s Jack to be mid 40s),death of a patient, Jack gives you a check up, f!reader, X reader with no use of Y/N, minor competency kink, hair pulling, choking, inappropriate use of medical tools, unprotected p in v, oral f receiving, light bondage, spitting, fingering, breeding, mock sympathy, nipple play, light spanking, pierced nipples, dry humping, mention of possible future pregnancy, slight cock warming, fluff at the end.
A/N: Hello !! this is my first public fic in over 10 years and I'm scared shitless. I used to write on Quotev many moons ago, but now I'm out of retirement because of The Pitt. Please be gentle with me. This is very self indulgent and put almost all my favorite things in it. I hope you like it~
P.S: If I switched tenses… close your eyes… I may have a Bachelors in English, but I'm still an idiot sometimes LMAO.
The Idea, as you called it, hit you at 9am on a Friday.
It was the last day of an eight day work stretch, and you had to admit you were on the brink of crashing. You weren't even supposed to work that long, which was the hard part.
Santos had caught a nasty case of meningitis from a patient and needed a few days to recover. Lest she wanted to throw up on patients. You knew she would have done it for you if you needed it, so you took a few extra shifts. For your oh so charitable act, you received an extra day off.
Oh joy.
But that didn't mean you weren't exhausted as all hell. Those extra three shifts were the worst you'd seen in a long time. And if working in the ED for the past five years taught you anything, It's that every day was somehow the worst one you'd seen in a long time.
First, you dropped a pack of O negative onto Whitaker's shoes, to which you apologized ad nauseam.
Then, a patient came in, confused you for his girlfriend, and groped you mid shift. He was experiencing severe levels of psychosis from heavy metal toxins, to which you explained to the officers as a feeble attempt at defending him, but they took him in anyway. Still didn't explain why he wanted to grope his girlfriend's tits in an ED, but that was besides the point.
You had understood of course, it was most definitely assault, but you had way too much empathy for your own good. You just didn't want to go through the whole thing of police reports, questioning, and thinking about it more than you had to.
And to top it all off, you had lost a patient. Well no, it wasn't your fault. You had also learned not to take losing a patient personally. Obvious medical malpractice or general stupidity notwithstanding.
A 23 year old girl had arrived to the Pitt in an ambulance at the same time you did that morning. Her mother had arrived shortly after, in an obvious state of blind panic. You knew that look. You had seen it on every single patient that stepped into the hospital.
"23 year old girl, Rachel Martinez. She was hit by a drunk driver at the intersection by Liberty Ave. The driver was going 55 through a red light, hit Rachel's car on the passenger side, and her car launched several feet into a telephone pole. Driver died in the ambulance on the way here. Obvious concussion and she is not responsive. BP is 130/80. Heart rate is 90bpm."
You threw the stack of papers you were holding and joined the paramedics as they wheeled Rachel into Trauma 2. They filled you in on her case while more people filled into the room, like worker bees to the hive. The queen to be served was whoever was on that table.
Rachel's legs were crushed on impact when her car hit the pole, a concussion when her head hit the steering wheel, and had some serious internal bleeding. Later on, after the accident was investigated, the cops ruled that her airbags only inflated to half capacity and aided in the severity of her condition.
"She needs to be intubated, her lungs were crushed. We need to hurry or she's going to crash."
"Her heart rate is dropping, get the de-fib."
"Her blood isn't clotting, she's going to bleed out."
"Page surgery, her brain is swelling."
Everyone that was available was on that case, Jack included, who lingered after the end of his shift. Anyone who worked in emergency medicine, or just medicine in general, typically had two modes. The first mode was remembering every single detail on a case. What procedures were used, who was there, what time it was, etc. And then there was the second one, the one you were.
While you could recount it for charting, but after that information was purged, your mind blocked it out. It was like your brain knew better than to remember the gruesome events of a twenty three year old dying prematurely only twenty minutes after being rolled into the ED.
You didn't subscribe to the same notion Robby did. The "if it was their time to leave this mortal plane, then it was their time." It sounded like complete bullshit to you, but you'd never tell that to him that.
So yeah. You were feeling exhausted to say the least. Thusly, The Idea. Trademark pending.
The sounds of the ED seemed to blur as you worked on your charting. The last patient you had seen was a 14 year old boy named James who was pushed down a flight of stairs by his babysitter. The babysitter, who was a 22 year old guy named Henry, claimed he was "demon sent from hell."
The boy suffered a minor concussion, a broken arm, and a couple bruises from the fall. The babysitter, however, was taken into custody and could possibly face jail time for attempted murder. As it turned out, that wasn't his first assault on James, but they were finally able to get the evidence they needed to convict him.
James had told his parents that his babysitter was hurting him, but they assumed it was friendly wrestling between boys.
"Boys will be boys," The parents had said. Which, for the record, was a crock of shit.
After the third time, the parents decided to set up those in home camera systems. Sure as hell, they caught Henry pushing James down the stairs.
The "demon sent from hell" bit was because the James liked to play with Barbies on occasion. How those correlated, you had no idea. How James had parents that allowed him to play with Barbies while also not believing he was assaulted was mind boggling. Needless to say, James was going to therapy and Henry would probably be going to prison.
That's if the justice system wanted to work that day.
After you finished up, you wiped a hand down your face and let it linger over your eyes. A few more hours. You just had to get through a few more hours, then a break. Your head throbbed and eyes going dry from the constant staring at the screen.
Mel had given you some pointers to help calm down. While you didn't think listening to ocean sounds out help, she did have some decent advice. She had said it helped her to think about the good parts that were outside the hospital. Things that weren't tainted by death, loss, and blood.
Your friends.
Who you saw everyday here, but not really. Unless you count cleaning out puss filled wounds and getting pissed on as "bonding". Not like being here for 12-14 hours a day for sometimes eight days straight would allow you outside friends.
Your family.
Who lived across the country and you never got to see. It's not like they attempted to make it out to Pittsburgh to see you anyway.
Jack.
Who you also saw everyday, but also not really.
You were on day shift, and he was on night shift. He always worked better at night, and you've always worked better during the day. It wasn't the most practical, or the most emotionally fulfilling arrangement, but you had to do what was best for yourselves. You could never do nights, and he could never do days.
Jack, on occasion, still worked for SWAT. Though, once you two got married, he stopped getting shot at for fun.
While it was hard, Jack always made it up to you. Chores were always done by the time you got home, fresh flowers in each vase scattered in the house, home cooked dinners every day, love notes, and chocolate. If jack was off on weekends, he would plan elaborate dates and ravish you with his tongue after. You never felt unloved or unwanted. He was, by far, the most attentive man you had ever met.
But sometimes, when you slept alone, you couldn't help the jealousy that sat like a rock in your stomach.
Jealousy for what exactly?
Jealousy for his patients. Jealousy that they always had more time with him than you did. Jack was the best damn doctor you have ever seen in the field. And you've met plenty of extraordinary doctors. You'd seen him during the aftermath of Pitt fest when he donated blood while helping patients at the same time.Those strong hands applying pressure to bleeding gun shot wounds.
He was so patient with the interns and residents. Calmly, but firmly, guiding them to the proper diagnosis and treatments plans. Bouncing from room to room to make sure everything was running smoothly. Meeting up with the parents of the patients to deliver them heartbreaking news.
He was an astounding man. One who made you proud each and every single day. But god damn you missed him.
It wasn't lost on you that wishing to be treated like one of his patients was extremely privileged. The people that came into the ED and needed Jacks help were people that were going through one of the worst, if not the worst, day of their life.
However, there was a certain desperation, a certain primal hunger that ate away at your guilty conscious. The one that needed Jack more than you ever had to date. And that was saying something. So while you wouldn't win the moral Olympics, you were hoping to win a little more of Jack Abbot.
You slid your hand from your face to grip your stethoscope as the bright white light blinded you. Dana and the other nurses worked around you, grabbing papers and clipboards for patients. Those nurses were truly the backbone of the entire ED, watching them work was mind boggling.
You allowed yourself a few minutes to people watch, a guilty pleasure you allowed after charting. Each person in that room had a distinct purpose, and did it without a single thought. Well, perhaps, one thought. To be there for the patients on the worst day of their life, and give them everything you have. Blooded gowns, irritating beeping of monitors, the smell of cleaner and latex.
There it was.
As you gripped your stethoscope and watched the ED, The Idea unfolded in your mind.
Finally, for the first time in days, you smiled. A huge, face splitting smile.
"He's stable for now. Call for that CT. Mel you can handle this right?" Mel grinned and gave you a thumbs up. You shimmied out of the thin gown and gloves and headed towards the door. 7:05pm. Finally.
Thankfully, your charting was finished for the day, and Mel was more than capable of handling that patient. All that was left was to grab your shit and get the fuck out of dodge. Hopefully you could before another trauma was wheeled in.
Both the day and night shift were there for their brief interaction of trading off patients. You bumped elbows and muttered your good nights as you passed your friends on your way to the lockers. Whitaker wheeled a patient with a fishhook dangling from both his upper and lower lip towards central thirteen. You laughed silently as he wheeled passed you, looking every bit as exhausted as you were.
Poor Whitaker didn't get out fast enough, the Pitt waited for no one.
"And were we just going to leave without saying goodnight Doctor?"
"Oh Doctor Abbot, I wouldn't dream of it."
You turned around to Jack who had an amused expression and his arms folded across his chest. He was wearing his usual black scrubs and his backpack slung over his shoulder. His strong forearms flexed slightly as you stared at him from head to toe.
Jack pointed to the hallway behind you and you gave a small nod. He joined your pursuit to the lockers in silence. Your hands brushed as you two walked, his rough knuckles scraped against yours. He was always touchy with you, even here. You both had agreed to keep things professional given you work in the same space, but you both allowed a little touch here and there.
As much as he would love to loudly claim you, there was a time and place for it.
"Any plans tonight?" Jack typed in the code to his locker and you followed suit. His locker was next to yours, as he had so gently requested (forced) Santos to switch. She was pissed, but you took her to get drunk and do karaoke, and she forgave quickly.
You had plans, but not ones he was allowed to know about just yet. You shook your head and pilfered through your belongings in the locker. You tried not to bring so much into the hospital.
But you know, just incase.
Extra hairspray, hair ties, clothes, lip gloss, deodorant, your kindle. And that turned into carrying out three bags every night. Not including your lunchbox that was also stuffed to the brim. (Not like there was much time to eat, but the sentiment was still there)
"No plans. Maybe a nice glass of red and a movie. Starting my three day weekend off with a bang." The double meaning was lost on Jack, but not to you. Before you left the patient who needed the CT, you stole a few things.
A gown, gloves, tongue compressor, pulse ox, a clipboard, and a surgical mask. You'd bring back to pulse ox, it was a piece of tech, but the hospital would live without a pair of gloves and a gown. Not like it was the worst thing a doctor stole from the ED.
Your stolen goods were all stuffed in your pockets and into your pants. The scrub top hid the slight bulkiness of the gown, and everyone was too busy to notice anyway. You grabbed the clipboard from Dana when her back was turned to eat a sandwich around noon. Which, for some reason, upset you the most.
While Jack was looking in his backpack at his feet, you took the time to stuff the stolen goods into your bags. Good thing you brought too damn much to the hospital.
You and Jack got yourselves situated and closed your lockers. A moment of silence threaded between the two of you before you looked at each other. You hadn't looked at him in the eyes that whole time, and for good reason.
Jack was just as tired as you were, perhaps even more. He'd been working there far longer than you have, seen more than you have. His hazel eyes were dull today, the bags under his eyes somehow darker. He attempted a sheepish smile, more so for your own benefit than anything.
His exhaustion somehow went farther than bone deep. It killed you to see him like this, and it killed him to see you just as tired. Just two tired souls trying their best to weather the storm.
No one else was in the hallway, just you two. The regular ED noises were muffled, save for a teenage boy yelling for his lawyer down the hall. The sterile smell of the hospital almost made your nose water, or perhaps it was something else entirely.
Jack's smiled softened at your expression and raised his hand to your cheek, stroking your soft skin. His hands were rough as he soothed you, his wedding band cool against your cheek. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to get lost in his touch.
"I miss you, sweetheart."
"I miss you, Jack."
No frills. No sweet nothings. It was just that simple. Many things weren't simple, especially working as a doctor. Too many gray areas. Too many nuances. Missing Jack was as simple and effortless as breathing. No gray areas or nuances required for breathing.
You opened your eyes slowly as you adjusted to the sterile overhead lighting. Your lips landed on Jacks cheek for just a moment, his stubble scratching your lips. You lingered for a few self indulgent seconds as you savored the woodsy musk of his cologne.
"I'll see you at home, yeah? I'll make us breakfast too. Something sweet?" You removed yourself from Jack as he nodded to your breakfast suggestion. He loved your breakfast. Mainly because it ended with him eating whipped cream and berries off your body when you both had the time. But you were also an amazing cook, which he made sure you knew plenty.
Jack cracked his neck and shimmied his prosthetic, which already looked to have bothered him.
Back in the ED, all of day shift had filtered out and was replaced by the night shift. Which was your cue to get the hell out or risk getting stuck there again. Today was a rare way, you were able to slip away on time. You were counting your blessings as they came.
"Goodnight doctor, get home safe." He kissed your temple briskly before he was whisked away by a patient with chest pains who came in from the ambulance bay. You didn't get a chance to say goodnight back, but you smiled as you left the Pitt.
Jack had gotten home at 8:45 that following morning.
Usually, on your days off, you would meet him by the door the second you heard his car door close. He'd limp in, his prosthetic acting up after his 12 hour shift, and you'd hand him a steaming cup of coffee.
Jack would bend down and kiss your cheek, his stubble rubbing against your face. If he was feeling impatient, he'd take you up against the wall by the door. Hoisting you up on the cabinet used to store shoes and miscellaneous items. It was rare, but Christ it was amazing when it did.
After the fanfare, you'd usually both sit down on the couch and unwind. You typically were just waking up, and Jack was too tired, so you'd both sip your coffees and cuddle. This also happened after you two fucked in the hallway like impatient teenagers in a hotel room after prom. Good for balance, he'd say.
That morning would be different.
You tried desperately to sleep last night, but it was so hard knowing what you had planned. So, you decided to play the long game.
Around 2am, you brought out a pair of dark blue lingerie got your phone out. You were laying on your stomach, back arched as far as you could, and snapped a picture behind your head. Only your waist and ass were showing, a perfect tease.
You sent it to him with the caption, "thinking of you, Jackie" and then you shut your phone off.
Jack had expressed to you, at nauseam, how much he hated being ignored by you. So by sending him a risky picture at work, at 2am, and didn't reply? You knew he would be ready to blow by the time he got off work.
The sound of the front door slamming shut caught you out of your daze. Your heart rate picked up as you lied on the bed. The sound of a heavy thud followed by slow and measured footsteps made your stomach clench. Fuck he was pissed.
"Where is my darling girl?" Jack called, still downstairs if you had to guess. His voice didn't give away any particular emotion, which somehow made it scarier. Your room was on the second floor and the farthest away from the front door. But it wasn't hard to hear his deep sigh at your non answer. As stated, he hated being ignored.
You let a giggle slip as he continued to walk through the house. The boots he was wearing thumped against the hardwood underneath you, he was in the kitchen now. He wasn't rushed, no, he never rushed when he played games with you.
Jack must have realized you were toying with him, "Oh my girl wants to play? Fine." His measured footsteps were finally at the base of the staircase. He would find you in a few short minutes. Your heart rate was starting to take off, and your bare thighs started to shake from the adrenaline. After so many hours of planning and plotting, it was finally time.
He crested the top of the stairs and he paused, then chuckled. The door to the room was slightly ajar, light streamed out into the hallway. You left the overhead light on for medical accuracy, of course.
The deep thuds of his footsteps increased and you gripped the bed sheets. Fuck, you were getting wet just by hearing his heavy footsteps.
He paused again once he got to the entrance, and rapped his knuckles gently on the door. "Darling, are you awake?" He knew you were, but he wanted to hear you. You could finally tell by his tone that he was pissed. Maybe sending the photo was too much.
"Doctor?" You called out, voice gentle and cautious. Your game, had finally started.
Jack pushed the door open, face slightly puzzled. You never called him doctor outside of the ED. It was an attempt at keeping your mind off the hospital and not dragging it home. You saw his brows nit in confusion as he took in the bedroom. Your shared bedroom was turned into a makeshift hospital room.
Your bed was made, but had one of those thin paper coverings they have on the chairs during checkups. (Which you absolutely hated, but wanted it for accuracy sake). Your laptop was set up on the nightstand and was playing a fake heart monitor, complete with a pulse ox on your finger. A metal tray was beside you on the bed with gloves, masks, a stethoscope, tongue compressors, and a clipboard.
Jack's hazel eyes assessed the room, perhaps frightened he had somehow hallucinated and was back in the hospital. He remained in the door, his body half in half out, maybe even getting ready to run. Then, his eyes finally landed on your laying form.
"Baby what-"
"Doctor, finally," You said as you leaned up on your elbows to stare at him. You snagged a clean gown from a cart before you left today, and you slipped it on right before he came. You valued medical accuracy in your pretend checkup, so you had to resort to unsavory deeds to accomplish it. You were sure the hospital would understand.
As his eyes roamed over your body, the anger and confusion he was holding onto seemed to dissipate. The hospital gowns were long, and that simply wouldn't do. So, you decided to cut the bottom so that when you lied down, it would barely cover your pussy. Not very medically appropriate, but that wasn't the game you were playing.
Finally, after a few moments, you could see he finally understood. His eyes met yours, and there you saw it. His pupils blew out and swallowed his hazel eyes, his smile wicked.
Jack cracked his neck as he stepped into the room fully, and kicked the door closed. Your heart pounded as he stalked his way to you, his boots thudded in silent command. The pulse ox on your finger showed your heart was at 100 bpm and climbing.
Starting then, you were at his mercy and you couldn't fucking wait for it.
"Oh sweet girl, you don't look so good," He cooed and slid the metal tray over to where he stood at the foot of the bed.
"Oh doctor Abbot, I'm in so much pain." You gripped your stomach in mock pain, and hissed quietly. Jack riffled through the tray and settled on the gloves. As he looked at you through his lashes, he slowly put the gloves on.
The blue latex stretched over his thick and veiny fingers. There was something about his hands being covered, so cold and impersonal, that turned you on so much. Once the second one was on, he snapped it back against his wrist. You jumped back in surprised as the sharp sound and Jack's eyes gleamed as your reaction. You squirmed under his gaze, the thin sheet crinkled with protest under you.
After the gloves, the mask was next.
Jack was still silent as he slipped the mask over both his ears and secured it in place on the bridge of his nose. Fuck he was so hot even with a mask covering his face.
You weren't used to his silence. In bed, and even when being bratty with him, he was vocal. He was egging you on, trying to fluster you up. Hell, even at his own job he was vocal. Now?
He was dead silent.
The only audible thing was the quiet beeping from the fake vitals on the laptop and the crunching of the paper whenever you shifted uncomfortably.
It only drove you wild.
He placed a gloved hand on your ankle, caressed the bone with his thumb like he would your clit. Slow and lazy circles around the protruding bone of your ankle. You groaned at such a simple tough, your needy sounds already leaving your throat.
Jack chuckled at your obvious arousal and decided he was finally done with the silent treatment. Meeting you at your side of the bed, he scanned you methodically.
"So, what seems to be the problem? Your stomach, hmm?"
"Yes doctor, my lower stomach has been hurting for a few hours." He nodded thoughtfully.
"Do you take any medications? Bloody urine? Nausea or vomiting?" Jack moved your hands from your stomach and pushed lightly. You faked out a moan of pain and he nodded again.
He pressed just below your breast bone, down your stomach, and stopped right before your uterus. He was just using the tips of his fingers, being clinical with his touches. There was something about the way he was touching you that turned you on. So impersonal. Like he didn't even know you.
You glanced down at the pulse ox, bpm was at 110 now.
"I take birth control, but nothing else. No bloody urine, no nausea, and no vomiting." He hummed again at your response.
"Okay, I think im going to do a full body check up. I know exactly what you need." Jack removed his hands from your stomach and reached for the stethoscope on the tray.
"A full body check up? But its only my stomach," You replied, confusion leaked from your voice. Your nipples hardened at his gaze on your body, clinical and cold.
"I know exactly what you need, sweetheart. But you must do exactly," He paused for a moment and leaned closer, "as I say." You nodded and it took everything in you to not seem enthusiastic.
"Good girl," Jack said while he gave you a smile. "Now, I'm going to begin at your head and make my way down." With the stethoscope secured around his neck, he reached for the clipboard next. You even put a few sheets of paper and a pen in it too.
As he looked down at you, with his black scrubs, stethoscope, and clipboard, you melted for him. There was nothing sexier than a man who was competent and knew how to care for you. Jack was, thankfully, a man of many talents.
"You know, I don't usually do check ups like this. You must be a very special girl." Jack took the pen off the clipboard and wrote something down quickly. The tendons in his forearm flexed as he wrote. His eyes landed on you again and raised an eyebrow at your silence. He seemed annoyed with you for some reason. It took you a second to realize he had asked you a question.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I'm an attending at an emergency trauma hospital. I don't give check ups, sweetheart. So, tell me, are you a special girl?"
You faltered. Fuck he was good. When you planned this, you weren't one hundred percent sure he would play along. Thankfully, you were so wrong. You scrambled to respond and he just chuckled, low and deep.
"Say it."
You flushed, but replied. "I'm a special girl, doctor." He groaned and closed his eyes for a moment. He seemed to like it when you called him doctor, you filed that away for later.
Jack opened his eyes and regained himself quickly, ever the professional. "Lay down for me please?" You obliged, and allowed your upper body to settle flatly on top the sheet, head against the stack of pillows and arms out to your sides. After you settled, he hummed in approval.
With one hand still closed around the clipboard, he dragged the pen tip from your left collar bone, to the right one. The ink left marks on your perfectly white hospital gown. He drifted down your chest to your peaked nipples, and he moved the pen around each one.
The pen nip against your sensitive nipples made you whine slightly. Jack noticed your reaction and pressed down harder with the pen, and grinned when you thrashed slightly. There was something about the dull press of the inky pen that made you even wetter. He continued his ministrations with both of your peeked nipples, until your gown was marred with ink.
Jack looked down at your body with his clinical gaze, but you could he wasn't totally unaffected. His face was tinged with the faintest pink color, and his eyes while assessing, were clouded with lust.
He cleared his throat and continued his path down your stomach. He circled your belly button, once then twice, until he moved down to your lower stomach. He tapped the pen against the top part of your uterus.
"Here sweetheart?" Jack's voice sounded like he swallowed gravel, like it was painful for him to continue. You were hoping he would play along, and so far it was going even better than you could have hoped. His full, undivided attention on you like he gave everyone else.
You held in a smile as you gave him a small nod. "Yes doctor. Right there."
He gave a shallow nod, and used the pen to write more things down on his clipboard. You lifted your finger that the pulse ox was connected to, 114 bpm. Your heart beat so hard you could see it rattle the gown.
After Jack was satisfied with his charting, you assumed it was a chart, he set it down on the floor along with the pen.
"Now sweetheart, I'm going to begin your exam." He reached up to caress your head, his gloves fingers massaged your scalp.
"I'm going to talk you through it okay? Tell me if there's something wrong."
You nodded enthusiastically, hoping now he would finally touch you. You could feel your slick coating your thighs and pooling at the sheet below your ass. He had barely touched you and you were already so eager for him. Maybe if he looked down and saw how wet and eager you were for him, he would take pity. Sure, the game would end, but fuck you wanted him inside you.
With his one hand on your scalp, his other joined your head and cradled it. He inspected your head with care as he checked for any lumps or unusual marks. The sounds of the latex right by your ear was driving you insane with pleasure.
"Everything looks great, sweetheart." Before Jack pulled away, he ran his hand to the back of your head, gathered some hair in his fist, and tugged it up harshly. You let out a surprised gasp and he pulled tighter at your sound. Your scalp throbbed at the sudden sharp pain, but you welcomed the sting. Fuck you were so wet just from him looking at you and getting your hair pulled.
Jack pulled your head up so your torso was off the bed, his arm bent almost 90 degrees. You shivered in his hold as he examined your head in his hand.
As much as you loved soft Jack, rough Jack was your favorite. Jack had to be control all day, everyday. He worked with peoples lives, there was very little room for error. At least with being here, with you, he can break his composure.
Plus, you were hoping that he was still a little angry with you after your stunt this morning, and it seemed he was. You grinned up at him as he fisted your hair.
"Something the matter Doctor Abbot?"
" 'Was just making sure you had a healthy scalp. I couldn't see it from down there. My eyes aren't that they used to be." He played the old man card often, and you loved to play into it. Often calling him a cradle robber, or daddy just to piss him off. You were only thirteen years younger than him, but you liked to make a show of it.
"Oh thank you, Doctor. You don't need to be so gentle." It was a gamble. You wanted to see if you could push him just a little more. He yanked your hair even harder, which lifted you even further off the bed. His mouth was only a foot away now, he leaned down to meet your ear.
"You better not test me today, angel. You are at my mercy. You wanted my attention so badly? Now you got it. Behave." Jack put extra emphasis on the last word, behave, and you knew it was him breaking character. The cloth of the mask shielded his breath, but you could still feel his hot breath against your hear.
You groaned quietly, you couldn't help it even if you tried. He hummed, pleased in the sounds you were making for him. He released you and massaged the sore spot he created.
Jack bent down to get a good look at your face, his hands coming up to cradle your face. His intense eyes locked on to yours, "Your eyes seem to be dilated sweetheart, are you okay? Any head injuries?" You shook your head.
"Use your words."
"I'm okay doctor. And no, no head injuries." The irony wasn't lost on you, he did just tug on your hair hard enough to lose some hair follicles.
Jack leaned down even farther, his face only a few inches above yours. Fuck you wanted to yank down his mask and kiss him even just for a second. To draw his lips into your mouth and suck and bite and lick. To end the game now would throw away all that you prepped for. Plus, patience was a virtue.
That didn't stop you from pleading with your eyes, begged him to do something for you. Anything. He seemed to understand your signals and he chuckled.
"Don't worry baby, I'll take care of you." Jack let go of you and circled one hand around your throat, not squeezing just yet. The weight and the heat of his palm warmed your skin. A gentle reminder of who is in charge.
"Any difficulty breathing? Swollen lymph nodes? Difficulty swallowing?" While they were genuine questions doctors asked, you knew they were far from innocent.
You looked up at him, again silently begging for something. Anything. His eyes roamed over your face, the wrinkles by his eyes deepening as he grinned beneath the mask.
With his other hand, he slid the mask down to rest below his chin, and licked his lips. He closed the distance, not to kiss you, but to run the tip of his nose against your jawline. The gentle pressure on your throat increased, the stubble of his face scratched your jaw.
"You're so needy I can almost taste it." You let out a whimper, and Jack squeezed tighter. The oxygen now sufficiently being cut off to your head. He groaned at your whimper, and decided to finally make a move.
With his hand still pressed into your throat, he pressed open mouthed kisses from your jawline down to where his hand was circled around your throat. Jack moaned as he marked up your neck, spit coated your neck and his own fingers. He sucked on the spot he could see your heartbeat.
"Jack please-"
"Doctor to you, sweetheart." He bit down roughly, and licked the spot to help with the sting. You were completely ruined for him, that much was certain. It was confirmed when Jack reached over to the tray and grabbed the wooden tongue compressor.
"Open your mouth." You obeyed.
"Tongue out as far as you can go." Jack placed the wooden compressor against your wet tongue, forcing your mouth to almost unhinge itself. Your pussy clenched at the way your mouth was opened just for him.
Jack leaned in close as he inspected inside your mouth. You watched his face as he pursed his lips and spit directly into your mouth. You moaned at his crude gesture.
The warm saliva sat in your mouth, along with the tongue compressor. You couldn't swallow it yet with the tongue compressor in your way, his saliva mingled with yours. There was something so hot about his spit being in your mouth, and Jack watched as it mixed with yours. He seemed pleased and removed the tongue compressor. You swallowed his warm saliva and gave him a bright smile.
"I bet if I touched your pussy right now, you'd be soaking through your gown." Once the compressor was discarded, his hand roamed down your body, past your stomach, but stopped right before your pubic bone.
You whined and Jack smiled before he pulled his mask back up, his faced hidden from you again. Now he was playing games too. You may have set this up, but he was the one getting a reward. You, at his mercy, doing the two things he loved the most. You and medicine.
"Do you like your doctor touching you this way?" You nodded hopefully and hoped his hand would continue its descent, but to no avail. His other hand latched around your throat again while the other stayed where you needed him the most.
"You're such a dirty girl, you know that? Letting your doctor suck on this neck." Jack started leaving wet kisses along your neck again, he groaned as you started shifting around. Searching for anything to give you a reprieve.
"I'm going to take such good care of you sweetheart." The bed started to shift, but it wasn't from you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jack slowly ground his cock into the bed. While he was in charge, he wasn't unaffected by the intense foreplay. You whimpered at seeing the outline of his cock, which looked so hard it had to be painful.
"Oh doctor, does this turn you on?" You reached up and gripped the hand that circled your throat, urging him for more pressure. "Doctor Abbot, I need you to make me feel better."
"Pretty girl I'm going to make you feel so good." You dropped your hand from your own throat and made the split second decision to do something bold. You slid your hand from Jack's stomach down to his cock, and grabbed it as he thrusted into the bed.
He groaned and leaned into your touch before he stopped himself and released you. "Naughty girl, do I need to remind you to only do exactly as I say?" You looked up at him, eyes innocent and lips pouty. You shook your head, but Jack wasn't convinced of your little show.
"Arms over your head." Jack commanded, in a voice that boded no argument. Normally, you were a brat. You liked to give him a little fight just to rile him up. But now, you were so turned on you weren't sure if you had the fight in you anymore. (Not like you had much of one earlier, but you pleaded the fifth) The faster you obeyed, the faster you could get his cock inside you. So, the decision was easy.
You put your wrists together and put them on the pillows behind your head. You glanced at the pulse ox one last time, 133 bpm. Jesus, perhaps you would need him to give you a real checkup after this. Your head throbbed, your neck was marked from his teeth, and you were loving it. Jack would heal everything, for real that time, after you were finished.
Jack hummed with satisfaction as you obeyed him. He reached up and grabbed the stethoscope from around his neck, and used them to bind your wrists together.
"Oh look at you." Jack looked over your body with open appreciation and love. "You look so perfect sweetheart. So perfect for me."
Your favorite thing about Jack was how vocal he was. He loved to talk you through it, and give you commands in and out of the bedroom. With being an attending, he needed to give commands and walking the residents through procedures. Which, thankfully, translated very well into your sex lives.
Jack moved on from your neck, to your chest and stomach. His eyes locked onto your inky nipples from where he drew on the gown with the pen. He smoothed a hand over your left nipple, just drawing light circles around the peeked bud.
"It's so good I'm here, sweetheart. It's important to check for lumps in your breasts." Jack gripped both breasts in a firm hold, then massaged them tenderly. He looked down at your clothed tits like a holy man looked at the bible. With never ending devotion. You bet if you asked, he would pray to them too.
"Are my tits okay doctor?" You asked with a fake inquisitiveness. He swallowed thickly as he squeezed them again. He seemed to get lost in the task for a moment, not that you'd complain. "Are they good enough for you?"
He nodded. "Yes, but I think I'd like to, you know, get a good look at them." He turned away from you and went to the bedside table. You were confused as to what he could need from in there, everything was already lied out in the tray on the bed.
Jack returned and flicked open a pocket knife. Your eyes widened in panic as he descended the blade towards your nipples. While you were okay with biting and choking, you two never discussed adding in weapons. Alarmed, you went to stop Jack.
"Ja- Doctor what are you?" You were cut off with the sound of the gown being torn apart by the sharp blade. Pieces of the fabric were torn away to reveal cutouts for your tits. After a few moments, he set the blade onto the metal tray, and admired his work.
Jack pulled the mask down again and licked his lips before bending to take one of your nipples in his mouth. His hot tongue lapped at your hard nipples, and he tugged at the bar running through it.
The first day you two had sex, he came in his pants just by seeing them. So, you made sure you had the nicest jewelry for him. Today, you had on a custom pair that had his his initials "J" on the left set, and "A" on the right.
As Jacks mouth roved over the bar, he paused. With much reluctance, he released your nipple to stare at the jewelry. His mind now processing what jewelry you had on, and what it had said.
Jack whipped his head to look at you, the mask still on his chin and lips glistened with his own saliva. His eyes burned with heat you've never seen before and you blushed under his gaze.
You opened your mouth to tease him, but you couldn't get a word in before his lips slammed into yours. Jack's mouth swallowed your moans as he plundered you, almost eating you alive. Your tied hands wrapped around his neck, and attempted to pull him closer. He allowed it, but just while he sucked on your bottom lip.
"Fuck baby you're so good to me. Fuck I want to slide my cock between those tits and paint them with my cum." Even with your hands bound, you could grab a few tendrils of his hair and yank. Jack grunted as he started grinding into the bed again.
"Doctor please hurry I'm hurting."
"Shh," He cooed as he ducked under your hands. "I'm getting there angel. You're just so distracting. Now let me get back to work yeah?" You nodded tearfully. Your pussy was aching now, begging for some friction.
Jack grabbed the mask from his chin and pulled it back up over his mouth and nose. Your eyes caught on the blue latex gloves around his lands and let out a shaky breath. His hands fell onto your stomach, roaming from your ribs, to your belly button, and stayed right on your uterus.
"Any history of pregnancy?"
"No sir." His warm palm rubbed light circles as you answered his questions.
"Any desire to become pregnant?" Jack looked over at you, his eyes back to being cold and assessing. You smiled sweetly before you responded.
"Well, you see." You paused for a moment before you continued and added in a pout for dramatics. "I would like to, but I'm not sure my husband does. I've been thinking about asking him to finish inside me and try for a baby." Jack tensed at your words, his spine visibly rigid.
You hadn't told him you'd been thinking about getting pregnant, but its been in your mind for a few months now. You were hoping he'd switch to day, selfishly, so he'd be around while you were pregnant. You'd feel much better working through the pregnancy knowing he was on the same shift as you. But you didn't want to take that away from him, so you never asked.
"Sweetheart, your husband would be an idiot to not fill your sweet cunt with his cum." Your eyes widened at his admission. You weren't sure if he was being serious, or just being dirty.
"Maybe I could write something up for you? You know, doctors orders." Jack continued with the light presses to your uterus, but slowly moved down to finally cup your pussy in his hand.
You groaned and pushed against his hand. His filthy words about filling you up with his cum were pooling in your mind, almost making you dizzy at the prospect.
"Oh darling, you'd like that huh?" You whimpered in delight and continued to thrust into his palm. You could feel yourself soaking his fingers as he cupped you. Just one finger, that's all you needed. Just one. But Jack wasn't done yet.
"How about your doctor? Would you let me fill you up, pretty girl?"
"Doctor I-"
"I'm almost finished with the exam. Would you let me finish?" The back and worth was giving you whiplash, but you nodded.
You opened your eyes, not realizing you had closed them, to Jack standing at the foot of the bed away from you. The sight of him was nothing short of awe inducing. His gloved hands, the black scrubs fitted around his body, and the mask shielding his face from you, you were sure you would forget this moment. And fuck, his god damn biceps. You were pretty sure it was illegal to carry those around.
"Alright sweet girl, stay with me." He tapped your ankle like he did when he first started. This time, his fingers were wet against your skin. It was probably from when he cupped your pussy and your heart spiked again at the knowledge.
"Yes sir, I'm here." He smiled again beneath the mask.
"Put your legs up, feet staying on the bed. Then, let your knees fall open slightly. Let me see that pretty cunt."
You did as Jack had ordered without a fight and he groaned as your gown pooled around your hips. You were finally bared to him, your pussy open to his eyes and the cool air. You screwed your eyes tight, trying to gain a sense of composure. The damn paper you lied on the bed for "medical accuracy" started to tear from both of your bodies and fluids.
You opened your eyes as you felt the bed dip. Jack lied on his stomach, upper body being held up on by elbows, and his head was mere inches from your pussy. His eyes scanned your pussy, not touching or making any move to. He nodded thoughtfully and smiled up at you.
"Does your pussy seem swollen? Any tenderness? Any odd discharge?"
"I'm not sure doctor. Maybe you'd be able to help me find out?" Jack let out a breathy laugh.
"Okay, sweetheart. Tell me if I hurt you."
You nodded quickly as one of his gloved hands comes up and runs along the outside of your pussy, not dipping in just yet. You hissed and squirmed in response, and it wasn't forced that time.
"Oh sweetheart, I've barely even touched you and you're already squirming for me. Is your pussy tender?"
"Yes doctor!" You cried out as he finally dipped into your pussy, stroked your clit a few times before pulling away.
"Dripping all over my gloves baby." He brought his head closer and rubbed himself against your inner thigh. There was something about his face being almost completely covered, mere inches away from the most vulnerable part of you that made you even more wet. His rough stubble caressed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and you shivered at the sensation.
You could feel him holding himself back, the leash he has on himself was stronger than yours. You bucked slightly, urged him to do more to you. More. More More.
He let you have some more, and rubbed around your clit once more. "Any irregular periods? Any soreness?" He dipped half an inch inside you and you groaned.
"Yes sore!" Was all you could get out and he chuckled.
"Soreness on the outside?" Jack moved from inside you back up to your clit and gave a few hard rubs. "Or inside?" Without warning, he shoved his thick finger inside of you. Your mouth opened on a broken sob as he pumped into you once, before he pulled out again.
The back and forth was killing you. Too much to nothing at all. It was driving you fucking insane. You were a drooling mess and you weren't sure how long you could take the teasing. The gloves were aiding in your torture, it was too smooth.
"Both. Both. Please doctor that's it. My pussy hurts so much and I need you-" He pinched your clit and you jerked away. "I need you to fill it." Your eyes filled with frustrated tears, begging becoming incomprehensible. Your chest rose and fell on sharp breathes as you babbled to Jack.
Finally, Jack reached up and ripped the mask from his face. The rubber bands holding the mask snapped at his hasty movement, and he threw what was left of it onto the floor. His face was sweaty and pink from being under it for so long.
He brought the gloved fingers to his mouth and sucked your juices from the latex. He closed his eyes and moaned at your taste. After he licked them clean, he slowly removed the gloves from his hands, and threw them on the floor.
"God you taste so sweet. Like fucking candy." He grabbed your hips and tugged you towards the end of the bed, your ass only an inch from the edge. He knelt in front of the bed, put all of his weight on his good leg, and dove in to your pussy.
He lapped at your cunt with the intensity of a starved man and you were his first meal in days. Your tied up hands reach down and force his head deeper into your leaking pussy. It was next to impossible to keep your body still, your legs almost kicked him in your attempt at restraint.
"Fuck, look at this pussy sweetheart. All for me yeah? All for your fucking doctor." Jack massaged your swollen clit with deep and rhythmic circles. You bucked and thrashed in his hold. Too sensitive. Too much. His words combined with the foreplay and his precious fingers,it was too much for you.
Jack's mouth latched onto your swollen clit and inserted two fingers inside you, and instantly found the spot that drove you wild. You thrashed in his hold and cried out to jack. Tears started to form in the corners of your eyes, obstructing the vision of Jack on his knees for you.
"You can take it sweet girl. That's it. You'll feel so much better once you come on my face." Jack sucked even harder, his tongue lapped at your folds. He knew exactly what you needed from him without saying. The fingers in his hair tightened as you pushed his head down even harder.
After a few more thrusts of his fingers and harsh licks of his tongue, you came on an exasperated cry. Jack guided you through your orgasm, gave soft licks and tender pumps of his fingers. The tears that leaked from you dried on your face as Jack whispered to you.
"That's it, my angel. That's it," Jack cooed, before he removed his fingers and mouth from your cunt. Your head spun from the orgasm, and you just realized the pulse ox on your finger was buzzing incessantly. It alerted you to your extremely high heart rate, and you giggled as you read the number, 162 bpm.
"Do you feel better sweetheart?" Jack asked as he came up from his knees and folded his arms across his chest. While his words were gentle, the face he was making was far from it. He wasn't making the face of a cold professional giving chaste touches for diagnosis. No. That was something else.
You gathered he was still peeved about your stunt earlier. The one of you bent over and your ass on display. Then turned off your phone. You were hoping this whole thing would smooth it over. Oh were you wrong.
You sat up quickly, removed the pulse ox, and untangled your hands from the stethoscope. He didn't tie it tight, just enough to get the message of keeping you bound. Your gown was still on you, but was covered in cum and had sloppy holes cut where your pierced nipples poked through. You felt, and looked, sufficiently wrecked.
How the "checkup" became this unhinged, you weren't certain. But who was complaining?
You smiled at him, full of sweetness and satiated giddiness. Jack, however, was un-phased. He still stood there, arms still over his chest. Jack was always one to brood, but you wouldn't have that.
You bent in front you, legs swept behind you, arms braced ahead. Slowly and dramatically, you crawled to him at the end of the bed. You made a show of arching your back slightly, and gave him your best smile.
Jack licked his lips as the gown rode higher on your hips, ass on full display for him. While this whole charade was put on by you in an attempt to get him to "give you a checkup", you knew he also needed this. Needed you just as badly as you needed him.
"Oh Jackie, please don't be upset with me." When you reached the end of the bed, you stayed in your position, but looked up at him with adoration. Jack, however, stared down at you like you were a fussy patient who didn't listen to him over a procedure that would save their life. Perhaps you were a little fussy.
The air in the room seemed to heat as you locked eyes with Jack's erection through his black scrubs. The heartbeat in his cock jostled his pants, and you drooled a little at the idea of wrapping your mouth around him.
You peeked up at him through your lashes as you leaned over and kissed his cock through his pants. Jack groaned as you lingered there, face against his hard cock. You kissed up and down his length, and made your way up his stomach. All the while, you kept your eyes trained on his.
The higher up his body you worshiped, the easier it was to spot the look in Jack's eyes. It wasn't anger, it was pure unbridled lust. But he was holding something at bay. And that simply wouldn't do.
Once you got to his folded arms, you sat up onto your haunches. You kissed the hands that were white knuckling his arms. You kissed each freckle, sunspot, and beauty mark. The tension eased as you continued your ministrations. You loved every single inch of Jack, especially his arms and hands.
Those were the tools that allowed him to work every day. To save countless lives. You unfolded one of his arms and placed one hand on the back of your neck, his fingers curled once you placed it. He was confused, but he let you keep going.
Next, with his other hand, you opened your mouth and placed his pointer and middle finger inside your mouth. The same ones that were inside of you just moments ago.
You looked at him as you pumped his fingers into your mouth, sucking, licking, and nipping at his fingers. You allowed the drool to spill out from your mouth and down his hand. You made dramatic sucking and gagging sounds as you worked his fingers in your mouth.
"Fuck sweetheart," Jack said quietly, and he gripped the back of your neck harder, forcing his fingers deeper into his mouth. "How could I ever be mad at you." He referenced your earlier comment about him being upset at you.
It seemed the doctor patient role play was over, it was just you two now.
"I need you, sweetheart." You knew what he needed.
You removed his fingers from your mouth and grabbed at his scubs. "Off," You muttered and he allowed you to remove all of this clothing. He stepped out of his pants and you pointed at his prosthetic he still had on.
"Not yet, angel." You were confused as to why he wouldn't take it off. Usually he would take it off the second he got home, but perhaps since you distracted him earlier, he was too focused on you. Now, you weren't sure why he hesitated.
"Flip around on your stomach, love" Fuck yes. He knew this was your favorite position. The way his cock filled you and the pain as he slammed relentlessly into your cervix. It was the closest thing you'd ever get to heaven. You leaned forward and kissed his chest softly, before you turned around.
"Ass up sweetheart, you know what I need from you. Don't play shy," He chided as he smoothed a hand from your ass to your waist, and pressed down. You gasped at the sudden harshness of his actions, but you loved it when he was like this with you.
Jacks hand roamed from the middle of your back, up to your head and grabbed a fist full. Your back fully bent then, stomach flush to the bed, ass up for him. He hummed in approval and closed the small distance between your ass and his cock.
Jack was painfully hard, and he leaked pre cum all over your ass as he moved against you. "Now, what was this about?" You were confused at his question, what was what about? Your face was buried into the bed, and you couldn't see that he was holding the clipboard in his other hand.
"It says here, that your doctor proscribed you something? Hm?" Unfortunately, you were still confused by his statement. You couldn't tell if you were missing something, or too dizzy from the prospect of Jacks cock slowly parting you open. The head slowly made it's way down, and through your folds. His cock glided smoothly through your slick folds, and you made a very small attempt at rocking into him.
"It says here that you wish to be bred. Is that correct? That you wish for your husband to cum inside you?" You gasped as the head of Jacks cock hit your sensitive clit and jerked back on instinct. He made a disapproving sound and smacked your ass lightly with the back of the clipboard.
"Tell me sweet girl, is that true?"
"Yes!" Jack continued to rub himself through your folds, but every other thrust, he'd prod his tip at your entrance. You'd thought that he would be over teasing you, but some things would never change. With you, Jack had all the time in the world to get you worked up.
To claim you so slowly, yet so thoroughly.
"Doctors orders, sweet girl. I think your doctor-" He paused his sentence to slide himself all the way in one brutal thrust of his hips. You cried out, your bed captured most of your screams before jack captured your hair again and lifted you up.
Your ass bounced against Jacks body as he ruthlessly pounded into you from behind. The only thing you heard were the wet sounds of slapping flesh and the cacophony of both of your grunts.
"Is an incredibly smart man. I think I'm going to fill you up and watch it drip out of you. Does that sounds good baby?" The only thing you could give him was a scream, but that wouldn't do. Jack lifted your head even more, and guided you up to meet him.
Your body's were flushed together, the combined sweat made you two almost sticky. Jack wrapped his free hand around your throat as he continued his brutal thrusts inside you.
"Your words, baby. Use them or I stop."
"Yes Jack please fill me up. Please." You gargled on your own spit, Jacks pace bordered on ruthless. His cock slammed up against your cervix relentlessly, and the only thing you could do was melt into him.
"Such a dirty girl, you know that? Sending me pictures while I'm at work then shutting off your phone?" Jack reached down and rubbed languorous circles around your clit.
"Then, once I'm home, you plan all this? You just wanted to be take care of, huh?" You were dangerously close to coming again, and Jack removed his hand from your clit.
"I want to see you when I come baby, can I?" Jack pleaded in your ear as he slowed his thrusts. Jack liked any position, but he always wanted to finish it with you on top. He liked seeing you come undone, liked seeing the faces you made as you came.
The shitty hospital covering was still on the bed, and once you removed yourself from Jack, you swiped it off the bed. Jack went around to the head of the bed and lied down on his back, you followed suit.
Jack tapped his thighs. "Come here, sweetheart." You didn't need to be told twice. You slide on his lap, and sank down on him with no preamble. Being on top made his cock go even deeper somehow and you welcomed the stretch.
"Fuck Jack," You whined and arched your back, arms braced on his thighs behind you.
"You can take it."
You ground yourself against his cock. Jack reached up and played around with the bars in your nipples. You knew he would like the piercings you got just for him.
"I fucking love these," Jack muttered as he rubbed your nipples between his fingers. You moaned and picked up the pace, you needed to come again. And you needed Jack's come inside of you.
Jacks hands landed on your hips and pressed you down even harder against his cock. His lips parted as he stared at you with his hazel eyes, now almost a dark brown in the lust filled haze. The love pooled in his eyes and made you smile.
After a few more rolls of your hips, Jacks thighs began to shake underneath yours. That was his tell tale sign he was about to cum. Jack pinched your nipples and clit, determined to get you to come with him.
"Fuck baby I'm so close." You weren't far behind either, and he knew it. He grinned up at you and rubbed harder circles into your clit. You finally came with a cry as you felt Jacks hot release shot inside of you. That wasn't the first time he'd done it, and every single time before it had been just as mind numbingly good.
You slumped in his arms, completely and totally spent. Jack chuckled and wrapped his arms around you, and kissed your head. "You are," Jack started, and cleared his throat. "So perfect, sweetheart." He sounded a little emotional, his voice wobbled as he gripped you tight.
Jack's ability to be a hard ass one moment then sweet and sappy the next was something that made you fall in love with him. He was everything you could have possibly wanted in a husband. You sighed and rubbed your cheek into his chest, trying to get even closer into his body.
"I know we were in a moment, but would you really." Jack got quiet, and turned his head away. "Want to, you know, have a baby? With me?" He sounded so shy, and it made your heart twist. Sweet Jack was back.
You had been serious about wanting a baby with him. You two had been together for a few years, and worked in the same hospital for longer. You had seen all sides of him and there was nothing he was capable of doing that you couldn't work through together. You two had taken countless trips together, from across the state to across the world.
You had always wanted kids, and you had always wanted one with Jack.
Keeping still, you pressed a long kiss to Jacks chest. Jacks cock was still buried inside you, his cum slowly leaked down the sides. Your eyes started to water as you tried to get the words out.
"Jack, there is nothing more I could want." You sniffed as more tears leaked from your eyes onto Jacks chest. He must have felt the wetness and turned back to you. "Oh baby, don't cry."
"I just," You started, trying to find the words. "I don't know if I could do it alone you know? With you-." Jack cut you off with a shake of his head.
"Sweetheart, if you are giving me the honor of carrying our child, the least I could do is be on the same shift as you." He lifted a hand and rubbed soft circles on your back. The roughness of his finger tips soothed you, as did his words.
You'd never wanted to make him sacrifice his night shifts and SWAT during the day, it was simply who he was. And he never made any comment about wanting to switch before, so you never pressed the issue. Now that he offered, and his voice had no room for argument.
"Jackie are you sure? I don't ever want to-"
"Baby look at me." You picked your head off his chest to look at him, and the sight of Jack made you tear up again. The warmth his eyes as he looked at you baked you alive. He was the most gorgeous man you've ever seen, and he made you feel so complete.
"You're not making me do anything." He swiped the tears from your cheek and held his palm there. "I should have switched a long time ago, but I was stupid and dragged my feet on changing. I meant what I said, if you are going to do me the honor of carrying our child, I want to be there. I know you'll still want to work, so I won't stop you, but the least I could do is be there physically. Plus, selfishly, I want to be the one who takes care of you if you need it." Jack stroked your cheek as he collected the tears that fell from your eyes.
"I love you, Jack."
"I love you too, sweetheart."
A/N pt 2:
Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know in the comments what you liked, loved, loathed, hated (jk please don't, or do, I can't stop you). There will be more from me in the future !! (that's a threat) Love ya!
And to my friend Gabby, who I think will read this, hello sire. See you at work tomorrow! LMAO
virgin!reader asking neighbor!jack abbott to show her how to touch herself. i mean he is a doctor right? shy but oh so into him. setting up ‘dates’ and sitting in his lap. he teaches you how to kiss, really kiss.
your back against his chest. his lips on your neck. big thick fingers pressing against your clit. the other hand pinching and grabbing your nipple. legs shaking as he pulls you over the edge. dragging your hand to your core, guiding you where to touch and just how much pressure to use…
<3
i got a bad case of lovin' you
Jack Abbot x Reader
summary: an innocent joke about how sexy jack is when he's in doctor mode leads to a very interesting role play scenario.
tags/warnings: SMUT 18+, porn no plot, doctor/patient roleplay, unprotected piv sex, fingering, nipple play, orgasm denial
wc: 5.3k
a/n: sorry, y’all the brain worms got to me. had a vision of trying to be playful about the whole doctor role play thing and jack being like. no no you started this, and I’m finishing it. i hope you enjoy it!
credits: gif credits to @/frankslangdons and divider by @robinavitchslut <3
Jack makes it rain
Content warning; MDNI public sex, squirting, degradation, fucking at work, breeding kink, praise
A/n: I don’t support or use Ai, don’t copy my work and feed it into that bs please🙏
"Such a good girl, you like getting fucked in public?," he mocked you, his cock deep inside of you and making your stomach bulge. He was pressing you face first into the wall of the on call room, one leg held up by his hand, making him fuck you so so much deeper. To say that Jack was fucking you stupid in the storage closet was an understatement, the man was fucking your soul at the same time.
His hips were slapping against your ass, his belly pressed against your back in a perfect angle. "Jaa- oh fuck," you shrieked as he kept fucking into your spongy and sensitive g spot, your eyes rolling back hard, your lips parted in a silent scream. "Shh, come on, baby, you don’t wanna get us caught, yeah? Or do you want the whole ER to know what a desperate slut you are for me? Wanna let everybody know how much she loves my cock?," he taunts, his hand cupping your pussy while he fucks into you hard, the wet slaps of his hips against yours echoing in the small room. The more he talked, the more he could feel your desperate and achy cunt squeeze him, choking his heavy cock.
"Oh-ho, she definitely loves this, don’t you?,“ he coos and bites down hard on your shoulder as you start nearing your orgasm. You could feel your pussy strangling him and the desperate urge to pee as he kept hitting that oh so sensitive spot inside of you, opening you up for his own pleasure.
"Jack please, you‘re gonna- please," you sob and cry into the wall, before your orgasm consumes you, squirting out of you and wetting his thighs and stomach. "Fuck, such a good fucking girl, squirting on my cock like a slut," he groans, his own orgasm taking over and filling your begging cunt up.
He kept fucking you and himself into overstimulation, before finally pulling out and quickly pulling your panties and scrubs back up. "Keep it all inside of you, want you full of my cum," he whispers in your ear, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you. You try to catch your breath and lean into him, happy and satisfied. You were his little brat after all.
Jack making this face when you've had a bad day and gone nonverbal and he's all soft and sweet on you, running a big hand up and down your thigh comfortingly as he says "tell me whats wrong, baby," pressing soft kisses to the curve of your jaw and the plush of your cheeks, "c'mon, tell daddy whats wrong so he can help you." And when he finally gets you to make a little noise its when he's between your plush thighs, licking flat warm stripes up the sopping folds of your pussy, mumbling into your heat "there she is," when you give a little cry and weave your fingers through his silver curls.
Confessional with Father Abbot
Short scene of Priest! Jack Abbot and f! reader ♱
W.C: 880 ♱
18 + !!! ♱
Content Warning + Tags: Religion, priest kink, age gap, rosary used as rope, unprotected p in v, degradation, dirty talk, neck sucking, spit, handkerchief used as a gag, spanking, whoops all smut. ♱
A/N: Working on so many fics at once, but I'm indulging in this one. Morning Checkup pt 2. soon. I always write too much, so here's my attempt at short. Barely proof read... lmao ♱
But enjoy some dirty fucking Father Abbot on the house. ♱
Father Abbot, a devout catholic priest, was never a sinner. A profoundly holy man, a man of the cloth.
Until you showed up to one of his confessionals.
In a teeny tiny little skirt.
And you confessed to Father Abbot that you'd been having sexual urges after you divorced your husband...That simply wouldn't do, no.
Father Abbot was hell bent on teaching you a lesson in the name of the Lord. Or hell bent on fucking you so good you forgot you even had a husband.
"Father please!" You yelled on top of Jack, who was torturing you with his cock between your sopping wet folds.
Jack was beneath you, fully clothed, just his cock jutting out of his unbuttoned black slacks. It was dark in the confessional booth, you could only see his hazel eyes and the stark white priest collar.
He gripped your hips with bruising force as he moved you along his rock hard cock. Pre cum leaked from his swollen tip and onto your pussy as you worked yourself over him.
You panted in his ear as he used your cunt to wet his cock, the tip nudged at your clit with every pass. The sounds of your wetness filled your ears and urged you faster.
Your hands were behind your back, bound together with his own personal rosary. The sharp beads were cutting into your wrists and cut off some blood flow. With every slide, the crucifix slapped the top part of your ass.
"You're being too loud, naughty girl. Do I need to gag you too?" Jack turned his head to suck on your soft neck, which would be a nice deep shade of purple after he was finished. You replied with a moan to his question, knowing you had a hard time being quiet for him.
With one hand still bruising your hip, he slide his other into his pocket and relieved a black handkerchief. He stuffed it into your mouth without preamble and smiled at you. His hazel eyes were fixed on your writhing naked body as you worked yourself on his cock. He knew you were going to be a handful when you walked into his booth the first time with that fucking skirt. Such a fucking tease.
He just couldn't help himself when you were around.
"There you go, baby. Yes that's it, work yourself on my cock. Such a good girl for your priest." You scooted yourself higher onto his cock, you needed him buried inside you.
"Father please put your cock inside me," You moaned in his ear and nibbled at his ear lobe. He chuckled and both hands rejoined your hips. He didn't reply directory, just lifted your ass and seated you fully into his cock with one swift motion.
"Christ, you look gorgeous taking my cock." You ground against him, his tip hitting something so deep inside you your breath caught. Jack's eyes were wild with wicked, sinful delight. You could make out his curly gray hair in the darkness, begging to be messed up with your fingers.
When you joined the church a few weeks ago, people gushed about Father Abbot. A devoted, holy man who walked alongside the Lord.
You knew the second you saw him at mass you had to have him.
You bounced on his lap, your tits bounced with your hard and fast motions. Jacks hand slide down and thumbed your clit, making you whimper against the handkerchief he stuffed in your mouth. Tears began to roll down your cheeks, your climax nearing as Jack stuffed you full.
Jack thrusted up into you as he created a brutal and unrelenting rhythm. You could see his cock pounding into you under the skin of your stomach, and Jack saw it too. He snapped his hips up even harder and hit your cervix brutally.
Coupled alongside tight circles around your swollen clit, you were an absolute mess. Spit pooled out the corners of your mouth and onto your breast.
"Fuck you're such a slut for me huh?" His other hand left your hip to slap your ass. The rosary that bound your hands jostled at the slap.
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and his dirty nickname for you. You seduced the priest, and made him break his celibacy. He fucked the divorced woman who just joined the congregation. But you both couldn't care less.
"I should bend you over the pews out there and fuck you in front of everyone." He slapped your ass again.
"Fuck you in front of the congregation and in front of god." Another slap.
Jack's cock spurted hot cum at the same time you came all over his cock. Jack slapped your ass one last time as he groaned through his release. You slowed your hips as your rode out the high of the orgasm, your tears still poured from your eyes. Both your chest heaved, and your nostrils flared as you tried to catch your breath.
Jack pulled you down to his chest and kissed your tears away reverently. You giggled at the absurdity of Father Jack kissing your tears away that he just fucked out of you in a confessional booth. Once he kissed away your tears, he licked his lips, the salty liquid mixed with his own saliva.
After you both caught your breath, he unbound your hands and took the handkerchief from your mouth. A string of saliva connected the handkerchief and your mouth,Jack licked that away too.
"Five hail Mary's for me, baby."
I love a good priest kink LMAO- ♱
𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐰 '𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐞' 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬:
playing with yourself while he have to watch
touch starved
size difference
obsessed with marking you
bondage with pope
you love pope's hyperspermia
𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬:
pope gets horny when he buys you things
pope has hyperspermia
𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬:
getting a tattoo with andrew's initial
SUMMARY: Reader is an author who has recently begun writing a book with sexual content. She's experiencing a bit of a roadblock because, well... she's a twenty-five-year-old virgin. She doesn't know what to do until hot and sweet Jack Abbot comes up to her in her beloved coffee shop-slash-office and changes her entire life.
WARNINGS: This series is very spicy. Their relationship begins sexually, and emotions, vulnerability and story telling comes after. There are mentions of starting a family, as well as toxic relationships (previous partners; not current). The speed of their relationship is also quite fast in comparison to real life relationships. This is fiction.
PAIRING: Jack Abbot x afab reader
A/N: This is an age gap fic. Jack is 45 and reader is 25, turning 26. Reader in this series does not have a chosen race or ethnicity, but usually reader is envisioned as a bit chubbier (that is how reader is in most of my fics).
STATUS: Ongoing
PINTEREST BOARD
CHAPTERS
Chapter One: Roadblock (6.5k)
Chapter Two: A Date and a List (5.5k)
Chapter Three: Falling for Jack Abbot (Literally) (6.2k)
Chapter Four: Tied Up. Come By Later. (10k)
Chapter Five: 2 Conversations. 1 Night. 1 Feeling. (7.3k)
Chapter Six: The Ask (6.7k)
ROADBLOCK
summary … reader is an author who has recently begun writing a book with sexual content. she's experiencing a bit of a roadblock because, well... she's a twenty-five-year-old virgin. she doesn't know what to do, until hot and sweet jack abbot comes up to her in her beloved coffee shop-slash-office.
warnings … ooc jack. a lot of sex. hair pulling. choking/throat stuff (?). double penetration. nipple play. finger sucking. cockwarming. age gap (reader is mid twenties, jack is mid forties). not edited
wc: 6.5k
a/n: sorry to the agent on my phone. i had to do so much freaky research to figure stuff out and i was ashamed.
next | masterlist | pinterest board
Writing about sex with little experience feels foolish. It doesn’t matter how many erotic books you’ve read, or how many romance films you’ve diligently watched to figure out how sex is supposed to happen. You still find yourself riddled by the process because all you’ve done in your twenty-five years of life is have foul make-out sessions and clitoral stimulation.
Your readers have yet to call you out on the sex scenes in your books. No one thinks they’re strange, but that might be thanks to your best friends and editor. If something sounds off, they’ll let you know.
You’re currently writing a young adult romance between a college student and her TA, and have hit a roadblock as you write them having sex for the first time. The character, Lara, is both shy and a virgin. You decided she’d enter sex slowly, opting for grinding, humping, and sloppy make-out sessions before ripping her TA Adrian’s shirt off.
You’ve gotten past the making out, but you’re unsure of where to go next. How much do you feel when you’re grinding on someone? Should she be wearing the dress you initially put her in, or jeans?
Your head is starting to throb, so you decide to call the day quits. Right as you go to slam your laptop, a man appears in front of your table, blocking the sunlight from shining onto you.
“I can feel your headache from the counter,” he says.
The voice is sexy. It feels tired, but extremely hot. When you look up at him, he’s just as sexy, if not more. Heat climbs up your chest and takes over your face. Men who look like him don’t usually come up to you.
“I’m writing a novel, and I’ve hit a plateau,” you tell him as you scratch off the sweat forming on your forehead.
“What’re you writing about?”
You chuckle and start rubbing your neck. “It’s embarrassing to share.”
He shrugs. “Can’t be,” he says and then points at the chair pressed into his crotch. “Can I sit while you tell me?”
You nod. “Go ahead,” you say, then he slides in and motions for you to keep speaking. “It’s a young adult novel about a senior in college who falls in love with her TA.”
“That sounds fun,” he says with a smile creeping onto his lips. “How did you come up with that?”
It’s your turn to shrug. “I used to have a crush on my TA.”
He laughs. “Do you use a lot of experienced scenarios for your books?”
“Sometimes,” you tell him. He nods. You don’t share any words for a moment, only a stare so intense your sweat starts coating your upper lip. You have to wipe your mouth and jaw with the back of your cardigan and force yourself to speak to try to cool yourself down. “Can I tell you what’s making everyone feel my headache from afar? You just have to promise not to be creeped out.”
“Sure.”
“This is weird to confess to a stranger, but you’re a stranger… so it won’t matter. Maybe,” you ramble. “I’m at the first sex scene, and I can’t figure out how to write it.”
It’s fascinating how surprise doesn’t coat the man's face. He just nods and relaxes his previously tense shoulders. “Does that usually happen?”
You scoff. “Is it ridiculous to say yes?”
“Why would that be ridiculous?”
“Regular people don’t struggle doing it.”
“What’s ‘it’ here?” the man asks with a smirk audible in his words.
You choke on your saliva and have to cover your red, hot face. “‘It’ as in writing sex scenes. But maybe doing the act, too.”
You don’t know why you’re telling him this. You don’t usually talk about sex with people – outside of writing, it feels taboo. You don’t engage in conversation with random people, even if they are attractive. Hell, especially if they’re attractive.
He laughs and scoots his chair closer to the table. Closer to you, it feels like.
“I’m Jack, by the way,” he says and slides his hand over the table.
You shake his hand and tell him your name. It comes out loud. Or maybe you said it in a normal volume, but your brain is scrambled, and you’re unable to hear yourself.
“Sorry for telling you all of this. I know it’s strange, but I needed to get it off my chest. It’s also been a long day, and the countless coffees I’ve had haven’t done anything.”
“I’m not bothered,” he says. “It’s cool to see the writing process in real time.”
“It can be exciting. If I were in my zone, I’m sure you’d be able to hear my keyboard clacking from the counter, too.”
“I’d like to see that.”
You’re sure your heart does a back flip. You’re also certain your thighs just clenched together.
“Well, when I get over this bump in the road, you will. I’m here every other weekday from ten to two. I hate my office, and this shop is quiet enough most of the day to let me write. You’re more than welcome to sit and chat with me… or stare.”
He bites down on his lip and nibbles on it before placing all of his upper body weight on the table. He leans forward, thick arms slightly draping over your laptop, and whispers, “Why are you struggling so much? Is it because you’re not …” He scrunches his nose, like whatever he’s going to say might shove a knife into your chest. “Are you not good in bed?”
Your eyes go wide, and you stifle an awkward laugh. It borders on a fit of laughter, and you have to reel yourself in. “Well! I wouldn’t know,” you tell him as you cut yourself off. “I’m a virgin.”
“Oh,” he pops. “Okay. That makes sense.”
“It does.”
“Sorry for asking.”
You shake your head and place a hand over his arm. You want to squeeze, but decide to rub over his black Henley.
“It’s a valid question,” you say, trying to soothe the mind you can already sense is going insane.
“I can help,” he shoots out.
“What?” you respond almost immediately.
“I can help you with your… roadblock.”
“Is it weird that I want to say yes?”
“God no,” he scoffs out. “This entire interaction has been a bit weird. The weirdest thing you could do is say no.”
“Then yes.”
You tell your friends you’re going on a date even if it isn’t exactly one. It’s easier than telling them you’re going to lose your virginity to a man you’ve only met at a coffee shop.
To be fair, your conversation dragged on for hours after you exchanged numbers and settled on an evening. It was fun, and it didn’t feel forced. You could joke back and forth and spill your unnecessary stress regarding your projects without feeling nauseous about it. So if you think about it, that was your first date.
Even if your conversation was sweet and your text messages haven’t lost rhythm, your hands tremble as you knock on his door.
You immediately hide your hands behind your back and roll on the balls of your feet. You feel like a kid, strangely, and the mere thought of it has you reevaluating your stance.
You don’t have any time to fix yourself up, though, because Jack is immediately opening the door. It’s almost like he was waiting beside it.
When he fully opens the heavy black door, it’s like someone has punched the air out of your lungs. He looks better than he did when you met him, if that’s possible. His hair looks grayer, somehow, and shiny, like he mixed a dollop of gel with water and hovered his fingers over the tips of his curls. He has another Henley on, but it’s white this time, and dark-wash jeans that look incredibly loved.
You nod to get the rest of your body working. “Hi,” you say — or squeak.
He nods back with a crooked smile before looking you over. “Hi. You look great.”
You shrug. You’re wearing a black camisole with your special lacy maroon bra peeking out of the hem. Then just a pair of jeans. Nothing special, but you take the compliment anyway. “Thank you, Jack.” You point at his shirt — the one he probably has loads of. “How many of these do you own?”
“A whole closet full.”
You chuckle. “I figured. They look good, though. Hopefully, next time it’s a forest green?”
“There’s already a next time? What if the sex is bad?”
“According to all the blogs I’ve read, you can work on sex if it is.”
He nods with a mischievous smile, then jolts out of the haze he’s in. He steps aside and motions for you to walk in. “I’m sorry, I’ve kept you out here long enough. Come in, make yourself at home.”
You slither past him and take a look at his overly large bachelor pad. Calling this an apartment feels wrong because it’s far bigger than whatever you call a house. Your house is small, old, and has low ceilings. It also has a faint smell that verifies its age.
“Do you ever get lonely here? Sorry if that’s invasive, but it’s so big. And…” You step into the living room, a place with no photos or artifacts on the dark wood table. “Bare.”
“Sometimes,” he says, his voice louder. “I’m always at work, so I don’t really care. Does your place look like this?”
You shake your head. “It looks like an antique store. I’ve filled it with so much since I moved in two years ago.”
“How do you plan on moving it all out in the future?”
“I haven’t thought about it,” you tell him as you step into the kitchen off to the side of the living room. It’s bare, minus a few appliances on the stove and clean dishes sitting on a rack. “I live in the house I grew up in and don’t plan on moving out anytime soon. My parents moved away to the middle of nowhere when they turned 65. They’re the landlords, but I’m planning on buying the house from them in the future.”
“How's the rent?”
“Good. Thankfully.”
Jack fills a glass with water and scoots it across the island. “Do you want something stronger?”
You hoped he would ask that. You can’t fathom getting any further without a drink in you. “Please,” you begged. You take a sip of the water to ease the dryness in your throat and watch him step back towards the bar cart he has in the corner of his living room. “What do old guys usually have on bar carts?”
He scoffs and shakes his head. “Ouch. I’m not that old,” he hisses. “And bourbon, whiskey. There’s a bottle of tequila a younger resident gave me during a Christmas party a couple of months ago.”
“I’ll take the tequila,” you reply. He sends you a thumbs up and swivels around back to the kitchen island. You watch him grab a glass from the cabinet and set it a few inches away from you. There’s silence that fills the room, but you cut it short before it gets nauseating. “Sorry, I called you old. You’re not that old.”
“Hm. How old do you think I am?”
“Forty.”
“Five,” he corrects. “Forty-five.”
“I like my men older,” you say with a smile.
He laughs at this and raises a brow. “How much older?”
“You’re twenty years older than me. Is that an answer?”
“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath in disbelief. “How have we spoken about everything under the moon but haven’t brought up age?”
You shrug. “Is that a problem? Me being much younger than you?”
Jack shakes his head. “I knew you were younger,” he tells you as he now opens his fridge and scrummages around for a liquid that doesn’t look green or orange. He takes out a bottle of orange juice and a can of coconut water. “Sorry if this sucks… I’m not much of a juice guy.”
“It’s okay. I used to mix alcohol with anything in college. Just pour me up.”
Jack pours enough tequila into the glass to ease the tension in your shoulders. Then he mixes up equal parts orange juice and coconut water. He mixes it with a metal straw, then pushes the glass over with his pointer and middle fingers.
You take a sip. Strong and good. You should have been drinking stuff like this instead of an artificial fruit cocktail and half a bottle of tequila at twenty-one.
You decide to revert to the conversation you were having before. “I know there’s a big age difference, but I don’t mind. Unless it’s strange for you, then we won’t do anything but enjoy one another’s company.”
“I don’t care,” he replies immediately. “It just amazes me how put together you are at that age. I was nothing like you then.”
“I had a lot of mental health issues when I was younger. That, and my parents went through a rough patch at the same time; they were trauma dumping on me any chance they had, but never thought of listening to me. I guess it might have… changed me,” you say. “I don’t know. Then I started writing and publishing a bunch of deep shit, and people loved it. I earned good money from it and was able to leave my house without relying on anyone.”
“You matured before you had to, it sounds like,” Jack answers.
You nod. “Not too mad about it, though. It’s led me here, in an older man’s house who doesn’t have any decorations up.”
“Shut it,” he playfully scolds. “I’ll put something up just because of you.”
You look at him and bat your eyelashes. Half intentionally, half not. “Good,” you say with a smile that bleeds into your tone.
He grips the counter, and his obnoxiously large biceps strain against his long-sleeved shirt. He lets his body lean against the edge of the counter, using all his might to catch a closer glimpse of the smile pulling at the corners of your eyes. “Good,” he whispers, tone gravelly.
You stare deep into his eyes – it almost feels like you’re in a romance film, consumed by your love interest. You’re trying to find something he isn’t saying through the color of his eyes, a tint you can’t make out. All that you find is his pupils getting wider and wider until you choose to drop the challenge of figuring out their color.
You need him in a way that’s alarming to anyone. You want to forget about your drink, crawl over the marble island, and rip that sexy Henley off him. Well, not before you kiss him in a way you’ve never kissed anyone before.
“I think I want to make out with you right now.”
“Oh-ho,” he laughs. “Yeah?”
You take a big sip of the drink Jack made you and push yourself off the edge. You round the corners of the island to where he stands. You turn your head to the side and study his face: the stubble growing across his chin and jaw with patches clinging onto its melanin; the lips his teeth keep toying with, and how they’re getting redder by the second; and how his Adam's apple keeps bobbing up and down in either desire, nervousness, or a secret third option.
“I’m not usually this bold,” you whisper.
“Why is tonight any different?” You can smell the toothpaste – or peppermint gum – on his breath. It draws you closer to him.
You shrug and shuffle closer to his bicep. “You’re not creepy.”
“I’m not, you’re right,” he replies. The more he drops his voice, the more gravelly it becomes.
Jack turns his body with his left hand still gripping the counter like his life depends on it. You walk into his chest and, unlike before, when you had just met him and found gripping his arms too creepy, you bring your fingers up and hug the muscle of his bicep. Your other hand is at your side, sweaty and empty.
“Can we move this to your bedroom?”
He nods like a teenage boy experiencing attention for the first time. He lets go of the counter and places his hands on your hips. He pushes you backwards, in the direction of the bedroom, you’re assuming.
You try to push your face into his, but the position makes it hard to.
Your struggle ends quickly, though, as he pushes you into his chest while he twists the doorknob and opens the bedroom door. You cling to him and grab his face, pulling it down for your lips to meet. It’s sloppy at first. Your lips are confused about where to sit – the top lip, the bottom lip. You’re not sure if you should slide your tongue into his mouth yet, or if it’s too soon.
You do whatever your mind wants to anyway.
Making out is fun, especially when it’s messy but eager. You can taste the peppermint on his tongue as he tries to grapple with yours, which tastes like the alcoholic mixture he made for you a couple of minutes ago.
“You taste so good,” you gasp as you pull your lips away. A trail of saliva ties you both together, and you lick your lips to savor it.
“I want to tell you something,” Jack breathes out.
You nod. “What?”
“Sit down first.”
You quickly walk to his bed and sit on the edge. It’s almost uncomfortable because you’re already wet. “Okay. Now what?”
He pulls up his right pant leg to his knee to reveal a partially amputated leg. “I don’t have half a leg.”
“Okay,” you answer. “Does that stop you from having sex?”
“No…”
“Was that supposed to turn me off?”
“It usually does.”
“I’m not turned off.”
Jack crosses the few feet from the door to where you sit at the edge of his bed. He just stands there for a moment, looming over you without saying a word. Then he says, “How do you want to start?”
You open your mouth, but nothing comes out, because you really don’t know where to start. What you do know, though, is how good his thighs look in his pants.
Without thinking, you place your hands on his thighs and run them up to where his hardening cock is. His body twitches, and he releases a low grunt. “I can’t stand up while you’re doing this to me.”
“Do you want to sit down?” you ask him as your fingers start toying with his zipper.
Jack grabs your hands and carries them in his palms as he decides to sit next to you. You paw at his thighs like an excited puppy as he takes off his prosthetic and sets it against his dresser, eager to play with him – or chew him up as if he were a toy.
Your fascination with thighs was never explicit, just a thought in the back of your head that would crawl up to the forefront of your mind when thinking about sex. It was something you read in an erotic book when you were younger. It was never the missionary or multitude of sex positions that every couple would abuse in these novels. It was the grinding on strong, fatty thighs that would bounce if you asked kindly enough.
You’re thinking about it now. The demon in your brain is desperate to crawl out and sit on your shoulder, shouting “Ride it, ride it,” into your ear.
You place your chin on Jack’s shoulder and hover your lips over his ear. “I want to ride your thigh first, if that’s okay?” you whisper, then kiss his earlobe.
“Please,” he whines.
You stand from the bed and toy with the hem of your camisole. It’s now occurred to you that you have all your clothes on, and they're entirely too constricting. So, you pull off your camisole and drop it onto the floor beside his prosthetic. Then you fiddle with the button on your pants and slide them down your legs. They sit there for a minute, pooling around your feet without any plans to be stepped out of.
“I like your panties,” Jack says.
You fight a smile. They’re a pair of matching maroon underwear, with a black bow sewn onto the front. They’re simple, but there’s a bit of lace above the cotton material. “I got them on sale,” you reply, even though you should’ve just said ‘thank you.’
Jack eyes you down. It’s an astonished look he gives you. His pupils are blown out like you’re a drug he’s filled his body with, and his lips won’t stop quirking up as he takes in the white stretch marks littering your hips and stomach.
“Come here,” he tells you.
You step out of your jeans, kick them towards your shirt, then shuffle towards Jack's open legs.
His hands grope your ass and the back of your thighs as you step between him. He sinks his nose into your stomach and smells you, hard. You hope he can smell the body oil you coated yourself with after your long shower.
Jack leaves wet kisses on your stomach that trail up to the hem of your bra. “Take it off,” he orders.
“You take it off,” you tell him.
He playfully rolls his eyes and pulls you closer to his chest. He maneuvers his hands behind you and quickly undoes the bra clasps, hauling the straps down your arms. The quick movements burn your skin, yet his breath and the sudden gust of AC that fills the room hardens your nipples.
“Pretty,” he mutters to himself. He takes a nipple into his fingers and your breath hitches in your throat. You drop your head to your chest and shut your eyes, trying your hardest not to sound overly aroused at the soft touches. “I need your tit in my mouth. Is that alright?”
“God, yes,” you plead.
Well, there goes your attempt at not sounding overly aroused.
Jack wraps his mouth around your tit and sucks on it. His cheeks hollow out as he sucks you up, then deflate when he chooses to circle your nipple with his tongue.
You’ve had your boobs and nipples touched and licked before, but it’s never elicited such a reaction from you. Maybe it’s because it’s always been after the foul attempts of fingering you. It felt like compensation for how shit it was, but it ended up leaving you bored and exasperated. This time, though, you could probably get off on it.
“I need to sit,” you breathe out when he pinches and twists your left nipple.
“Need me to take anything off?”
You don’t really care; you just need some friction. But the way his biceps are straining against his Henley has you itching to feel them under your hot fingers.
“Take the shirt off, keep the pants on,” you tell him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies.
He goes to follow your orders, but you beat him to it. You grab his shirt from his grasp and pull it up and over his body. You throw it off to the side where the rest of your clothes are, and run a hand through his tousled hair. Then you slot one leg between his and one outside of his right leg.
“You’re hot,” you tell him as your fingers ghost over his freckled arms and chest.
“Well, thank you,” he replies.
“I mean, the shirt made you extremely warm,” you chuckle. “But yes, you are incredibly sexy.”
Your fingers start roaming his neck, touching the grooves his wrinkles leave beneath his ears. You lower your head down and kiss each one.
Jack is intoxicating. It’s scaring you just a bit. You knew you’d have sex at one point — maybe it’d take longer, but it would happen — but it didn't cross your mind that it would be lost to someone you'd known for less than a week. That thought would have terrified you a couple of days ago, or the young teenage girl who imagined losing it to a long-term boyfriend.
Yet, here you are, enjoying it with Jack, who is not a boyfriend, or a friend, but not a stranger, either.
You’re not sure if this is supposed to be a one-and-done situation. As you’re slowly grinding into his thigh — that has your insides going absolutely insane — you can’t stop thinking about how long this will last. After you’ve orgasmed, which you already feel creeping up on you, will you have to throw your clothes on and leave? Act like this never happened? Send a ‘thank you’ text and finish your book; treating this as a sex education class for inexperienced adults?
You’re thinking about this too much, and you can feel it between your eyebrows. The little crease that Jack seems to notice, because his thumb is pressed against it, rubbing back and forth gently.
“I can feel your headache again,” he says.
“Sorry,” you mumble and relax your face as best you can.
“What’s going on? You want to stop?”
You drop your hand to his bulge and give it a soft squeeze. He hisses, and the fingers that carefully slid over your eyes are now squeezing your chin.
“Don’t ignore the question. Are you okay?”
You nod. “Kinda wondering what happens after this.”
“I make you some dinner, maybe?”
You squint, watching him in case he bursts into laughter. “That it?”
“No dinner… more sex?”
“I mean, like, will I be kicked out? Will we keep texting once this is done?”
“Do you want us to keep talking once this is over?” Jack asks, his thumb rubbing your bottom lip.
Even if his dick isn’t inside of you yet, or his mouth hasn’t been coating in your slick, you know you want to keep seeing him. You have a good feeling about him, and you rarely have those with romantic interests.
“Yeah,” you say.
“Then we have dinner, you talk about your work while I try not to fill you in on all the open wounds I see daily. Sounds good to you?”
You kiss the pad of his thumb. “Yeah,” you say again.
Jack notices the kiss you leave on his finger, and how your tongue is pressed against the front of your mouth at the sight of it. He prods further in, and you wrap your mouth around it. He groans at the tightness. If his dick wasn’t already hard, it most certainly is now.
He thrusts up, and you have to grab his shoulders to keep yourself upright.
“This just comes naturally to you, huh?” he stutters.
You pull his thumb out of your mouth and drag his hand to your throat. “Can I be honest with you?” you ask as you continue driving your clothed pussy against his thigh. You’re picking up speed, and honestly, it’s working as a truth serum.
Jack nods. “Of course,” he pants.
You squeeze Jack’s hand, silently begging him to tighten his grasp on your throat. “I think about this often. How I’d be fucked. I’m not always in control, but I come faster when I am,” you tell him. “I think about someone choking me or pulling my hair as I fuck myself with my fingers or toys or… when I hump my pillow. I think about what I would look like from the back: face squished into the mattress, gasping for air as someone fucks me fast and hard. I think about grinding on someone’s thigh and leaving a big mess. I think about it all, constantly.”
You stop talking because Jack has tightened his hold on your throat. He’s bouncing his leg just a little, but he also won’t stop squirming beneath you as you dig your nails into his shoulders. You can feel how wet you are as you move against him, and it keeps you going until you orgasm.
You tilt your head back as the sensation shoots through your bones. You feel weak, but you could keep going. Maybe not with Jack’s clothes on, though.
“You are something,” Jack tells you, his hands letting go of your neck and exchanging it with your tits. He massages them, and you’re quick to let out a quiet moan. He chuckles. “You want to keep going, or are you too tired?”
“I’m not done.”
“What position?”
“You choose.”
“Ass up, face down,” he tells you, and pinches your ass for you to get up.
You stand up and peel your soaking wet panties off, then crawl onto the mattress. “Do you want me to already … be in position?” you ask him. “Or wait. I don’t know how sexy it’ll be if I just stay in that position.”
“Just sit,” he tells you.
You sit in the middle of the bed, your body propped up by your elbows as you watch Jack take off his jeans, then his boxers. He’s holding onto his dresser for balance as he does this. You see a pair of crutches to the side, but he isn’t using them.
You don’t know what you were expecting, but maybe it wasn’t this. You’ve seen dicks before, but his is nicer than the ones you’ve seen. It’s thick, not too small but not overly big that it becomes worrisome.
“Can I suck you off?” you spit out before you can truly process it.
“Maybe,” he replies as he digs into his dresser for a condom. You observe him as he rips the packaging and slides the condom over his red, swollen cock. “Not right now, though.”
“After dinner?”
“Did you create a sex checklist before you got here? It sounds like it.”
“I thought all guys wanted their dicks sucked?” you said, firing back at what sounds like rejection. “All the ones I’ve casually dated have.”
Jack strokes himself as he makes his way to the bed, holding onto the furniture to get back to you. You watch as he grabs a pillow and places it at the edge of the bed, a few inches away from your feet.
You knew nothing about having sex with someone who has a below-the-knee amputated leg before. You still don’t know anything. Jack might be saying yes to whatever you want to do, but is it comfortable for him?
“You know, we don’t have to do this position if it’s uncomfortable for you,” you tell him.
He grunts and shakes his head. He rests his clothed stub on the pillow and pulls you toward him by your feet. “I requested this. I just need a bit of cushion for comfort, that’s all.”
“If you feel uncomfortable at one point, let me know, okay?”
He nods. “Now ass up, face down,” he tells you.
You turn around, lift your ass into the air, and press your face into his mattress. He pulls you closer as he positions himself correctly on the bed.
“You’re so wet,” he chuckles. Jack’s thumb presses against your hole, wet and fucking needy for his cock. He spreads open your folds and pushes his thumb deeper into your cunt, collecting whatever slick he can.
As he gets closer to your clit, you can feel more fingers gather along your pussy. He scoops up your juices, and less than a second later, you hear him groaning like he’s just eaten dessert.
You push your face deeper into the mattress. “Are you fucking tasting me?”
“What about it?” he asks. “You taste good, don’t worry.”
“I’m really wet, and I’m starting to get embarrassed.”
Jack's hand – the one he had in your cunt – runs down your spine and collects a handful of hair. He pulls you up just a bit as he presses the red tip of his cock against your hole.
“It’s good that you’re wet,” he says. “I’m flattered. And it’ll be easy to fuck you.”
You make a terrible attempt at nodding. “So then fuck me, Jack.”
He slowly pushes into you, and you struggle to moan through the position your neck is in. Even then, it’s loud and whiny.
Jack lets go of your hair as his cock is fully inside of you. There’s pressure, but it’s nothing bad. He doesn’t thrust at first, just slow in-and-outs as you get used to him.
“Don’t treat me like I’m porcelain,” you mumble into the sheets. “Fuck me like the old man you are.”
Jack slaps your ass and grips the blossoming red mark on your skin at this. He jerks back, then thrusts his cock deep into you. He thinks it might have been too much, but you can already feel your orgasm.
Jack doesn’t have to fuck you at all for you to come. You could have him inside of you, and you’d probably come in less than ten minutes. All he would have to do is play with your nipples, grunt into your ear, and you’d unravel.
You sure hope the sex continues after tonight, because now you really do have a checklist in your head of things you want to do with him, starting with a blowjob.
Jack picks up his speed and grabs your hips for stability and enough power to ram into you. His grunts are loud – echoing off the walls and puncturing your eardrums. It’s the best sound you’ve heard in a long time.
“Fuck me,” you moan into the mattress. “You’re so good. So fucking good.”
Jack loves the positive affirmations you cry out as he leans further over the curve of your ass. He grabs a handful of hair again and pulls you up. With this, you feel him much more.
The way he has you right now – hair pulled, tits out and still hard from when his tongue danced across them – is making you come.
“I’m close,” you whine.
“Yeah?” he grunts. “You’re gonna come from me fucking you from the back like this? Pulling your hair and drilling into your tight, wet ass pussy?”
You feel like crying. Not that his words are humiliating, but because you are right at the edge of your orgasm, and moaning isn’t enough.
“You’re such a good fuck,” he keeps going. “So good, you hear me?”
You nod. “Keep fucking me like this, and I’ll come.”
Jack does for a second, but then grunts in discomfort. You stop yourself for a moment and look over your sweaty shoulder. “You okay?” you pant.
He scrunches his nose and purses his lips. “Leg is kinda hurting.”
“Do you want me to ride you?”
“For your first time having sex?” He makes a ‘tsk’ noise with his tongue and shakes his head. “Let me just adjust.” He gets onto his bed and kneels near the edge. His stump is in front of him but in a more manageable position. “Come here. Position yourself in front of me, on your hands and knees.”
It’s awkward following his directions, but he carefully guides you.
“What’s this one called?”
“The kneeling fox.”
“Knowledgable on sex terms? Should I be jealous of someone?” you joke.
He laughs into your neck as he pulls you against him using your tits. “No, this was a long time ago,” he laughs. He palms your tit before adjusting himself a bit more behind you, grabbing his still hardened cock. “Lift your hips up a bit, alright?”
You do as he says, and when he aligns himself with your entrance, you sink down. “Mhm. Fuck me, I could come just sitting on your cock.”
“Oh yeah?”
You bounce your ass on his cock and place your hand over Jack’s, which is still holding onto your boob. “Fuck yes. Let me just sit on it. So thick and warm…”
“Keep talking,” he ushers you. “You’re so good with your words I might come just by them.”
“Is me not telling you to fuck me good enough? You want me to tell you how bad I need your thick cock and fingers in my pussy?”
He grunts. His other hand loops over your thighs and immediately finds your clit. He rubs over the wet bud, iliciting a whine from you. “This good?”
“Would be better in me,” you say in a low tone.
“You into double penetration?” he asks, amazed.
“Mhm… I think I’ll add that to my list.”
“Keep talking.”
“I’m gonna keep bouncing on your cock but I’m going to need you to thrust into me as hard as you can, too. I need to hear it off the walls. How wet I am. How big of a mess I’m leaving on your bed, on your cock.”
“I’m gonna come soon,” he cries out.
The squelching noises are loud.
You drop your head as Jack keeps circling your clit. You add onto the loud moans filling Jack’s room.
“Keep going. Fuck me harder,” you beg. He follows. You stop bouncing and let him jerk his hips faster into your aching cunt. The slapping noises your ass makes against his skin is like music to your ears. “Harder. Fuck me harder until I come all over you.”
Jack is breathing and crying hard against your neck. You turn your head so your ear is right beside his mouth. He takes your earlobe into his mouth and gently sucks on it.
His fingers go further down your pussy and dangerously close to your entrance. You want him to just sink his fingers into your already full cunt… You can just ask…
Jack does it. He sinks a finger into your hole and that does it for you. He doesn’t pump his meaty fingers into you, just leaves one there and you unravel completely.
Your orgasm takes over every inch of your body. You don’t exactly know what you say – whether it’s Jack’s name you mumble over and over through a series of moans, or if it’s just nonsense of ‘yes’ – you can’t make it out.
When you come down, Jack is still hugging you, and still fucking you, but slowly. “So good,” you hear him whisper. “Your pussy is so good, and tight, and fucking delicous. Just sit here for a second.”
“How long before I get a UTI?”
He lets out a tired laugh. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen, just sit, okay?”
You spend the next three minutes cockwarming. Jack spends those three minutes kissing your shoulders and baby hairs that stick to the back of your neck.
When you decide to get up and use the bathroom, Jack picks up his crutches and follows you in. He tells you you’re free to pee. Really, he urges you because you’re incredibly shy at first.
When you do, he watches your naked body at the sink like he’s never witnessed such a beautiful person on earth before.
“What?” you ask. “Should I put a shirt on?”
He shakes his head. “This can’t be just sex,” he tells you with a straight face. “I need to take you on a proper date; because I’m starting to like you.”
“Good,” you tell him. “Now I don’t have to keep adding weird desires to my list just so I can keep seeing you.”
⋆˙⟡ JACK ABBOT witnesses a new side to his girlfriend after her bra breaks
WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI big boobed!reader, curvy/plus-sized!reader implied, "i'll pay for it", teasing, dirty talk, breast & nipple play, dry humping, mentions of previous smutty time, kinda brat!reader ? she's annoyed, pet names (doll, honey, baby, pretty girl), swearing, no other physical descriptions of reader, no use of y/n, dual pov, (1.9k wc)
layout inspired by my angel @mariasont
MASTERLIST
── ⋆˙⟡
Jack wasn't prepared for his front door slamming just before eight pm on his night off. And he definitely wasn't expecting the annoyed groan reverberating off the walls as you stomped your way to the lounge. It was a stark contrast to the soft humming he was usually graced with the second you walked through his door.
He sat up straighter, muting the TV to give you his undivided attention. You barely glanced his way as you walked through the threshold, and he couldn't stop his eyebrows from raising at the sight of you.
Your grey scrub top was slightly twisted and riding up, exposing a sliver of your stomach that he itched to trace. A cute pout had taken your face hostage—your lower lip jutting out and brows furrowed, making it difficult for him to suppress a smile. All humour vanished as his eyes fell to your chest; your full breasts hanging without support, pebbled nipples calling for his mouth. The tightening of his pants was immediate, along with the jealous fire that heated him from the inside out—who else had seen you in this state?
It was a losing battle for him as he tried to keep his eyes off the way your boobs bounced as you walked towards him. Honestly, he didn't know why he even bothered.
Cross My Heart
Pairing: Andrew Cody x sweetheart!f!Reader
Summary: Andrew's girlfriend volunteers to be Lena's camp counselor. During a secret, late night meet up at the edge of the woods, she confesses a dark fantasy to him. Andrew fulfills it.
Content: +18 MDNI, established relationship, codependent tendencies from both pope and reader, size difference, slasher summer vibes, unprotected piv, dry humping, semi-public sex, fingering, oral f! and m!receiving, choking, facefucking, finger sucking, masked sex, knife play, predator/prey primal play, dacryphilia, pussy slapping, fem edging, bondage with zipties, rough sex, creampie, aftercare
Note: this is part two of of my fic sweetheart but can be read as a stand alone!! just written with the same shy freaky reader in mind! i hope you enjoy this new edition to the sweetheartverse <3
WC: 9.5k
[masterlist][AO3]
You are, single-handedly, the best thing to ever happen to Andrew Cody.
And he's painfully aware of it that day you pick up the phone to selflessly put an end to his anxiety. You don't hesitate or think twice. You see a solution even at the expense of yourself and you don't consider anything else.
The first week that school is out, Lena mentions summer camp no less than twenty times. So, Smurf finds one just out of town and signs her up.
She doesn't think about all the problems Lena's had with other kids this year. She doesn't think about the fact that they'd be dropping her off in the middle of nowhere with kids she's never met in her life.
is it weird if i say i genuinely wish there was more positivity aimed at people w large chests
"having a large chest is the beauty standard" no having a large chest is the Sexual standard theres a difference. i can only even be Hot and everything i ever wear will be deemed too sexual for every single situation. tank top shows too much cleavege or side boob a button up is always too busty and a crop top will always show too much skin. having a large chest leads to so much back pain and sexualization and complaining about it makes people go "ahh grass is alwahs greener/you are the beauty standard, why complain?" like genuinely i urge yall to watch anything with a larger chested woman and notice, REALLY notice, that her chest is her entire personality. notice that people critiqing misogynist charavter designs alwayd tend to rally in the statement that large chest=misogny, casting aside the Many Many Many women and people who look like Me and just . have a large chest? and exist? and deserve respect and not to be seen as nothing more than a sex symbol by both sides? idk ikdayy
⋮⟢ drabble: how can pope rob a bank when you’re the teller?
⋮⟢ warnings: meet-ugly lolllll, me having No Idea how to rob a bank but let’s pretend this can hypothetically work, pope’s got love at first sight, reader has no sense of self-preservation but it’s ok because This is the face she’s looking at!!!! this is lowkey a crackfic because once again im not able to write anything. you get pretty privilege because obviously!! pope shows u his gun and threatens u with it. do not take any advice from her - this is inspired by me trying to recount a night where i think i handed my phone over to be stolen after a few too many when someone tried to pickpocket me that i Do not remember!
Pope had almost reconsidered this last bank. The first six went unnervingly smooth, and it briefly made him annoyed. The lack of challenge, the lack of safety, ironically, made Pope want to rob just one more. Everyone was so fucking giving apparently, and Lena could use as much as he can get and more. He could – with just one more – set her up until she’s his age, if not for life. She wasn’t very demanding. Maybe the influx in her account would make her so. Pope sure hoped it did – the girl had spent her entire childhood scraping for her father’s attention; she’d forgotten the material joys of life.
This one was a smaller branch. He knew he was cutting it wildly close. People here were more on-guard simply for that reason. Tellers here actually knew each other’s names, knew the regulars, noticed when a face seemed wrong. There was nowhere to hide or a plethora of bodies to go blank against. Pope kept his hood low, hands where hands were actually meant to go, and his breathing married to the count he’d had to practice. This was professional. One more, and Pope could give himself even more peace of mind that Lena never learns how to go without.
And Jesus, he should have just gone back and transferred all the money into Lena's fund. He immediately realized that the second he stopped at your desk when he was directed to it because there you were. It was unfair. He was sure that you’ve been placed here specifically to fuck up his entire plan. It was like you’d been clayed out of every single weakness in him even he never knew he had. Maybe he was just having a bad day, and you were a fluke from the universe pulled out, the one face that’d stop him cold in his tracks.