no thoughts. just dr jack abbot finally having enough of the teasing, and coming over. the wind is roaring, it’s a downpour outside. rain coming in from every direction leaving him drenched, his usual black tee clinging to the muscles brought from years of labor and stress.
his knuckles rattle the doorframe. he’s coming inside whether you like it or not.
you open the door and see those big puppy dog eyes, his chest heaving up and down. he’s clearly worked up to this…
leading to you bent up like a fucking pretzel—
he backed you up against the now shut door, hands instantly reaching for your face, and quieting any response you had to his intrusion— his mouth finding yours— a battle of teeth and tongue.
“can’t sleep. can’t think. you’re too fucking distracting…”
he picks you up, hands wrapped under your thighs, your legs closing around him on instinct as he takes you to your couch… undressing you, making quick work of it all. needing you now.
his hands and mouth warm against your sensitive skin, prickling up from his touch. his hand now cupping over where you need him most— a wicked smile across his face.
“let jackie take care of this pretty fucking pussy”
after months of tension, after every case you were side by side in the trauma bay, after all the times his hand lingered a little too long on the small of your back— deliberately.
he decided enough was enough. he couldn’t wait anymore, couldn’t find an excuse good enough to hold back—the age gap not meaning shit to him.
he threw caution to the wind as he threw your legs on his shoulders and plowed into you, leaving you breathless and whining underneath him.
you clawed at his arms, laced with veins bulging as he snapped his hips mercilessly into yours.
“jack please— i-im sorry pl—“
“shut the fuck up and take it. you’ve been wanting this, teasing me for months— you have it now. just take it like the good girl you are for me—“
you whine as he thrusts deeper, making your back arch against the couch, tears streaming from your eyes
“just let me in baby, gonna make you feel so good. just let me in…”
and you do. you let him take everything, all the words left unspoken, the nights he held you as you cried from losing another patient. he was there, and he’s here now— giving you everything you need.
you can’t find it in yourself to fight it off anymore, he’d naturally been a constant in your life, a current pulling you in you never fought— but intimacy and romance were the only thing that made you hesitate. no longer the duo everyone chatted about on breaks—no longer a best friend who grabbed a beer with you. he was here. he was yours
he’ll always be yours from now on.
yeah that’s all i got for now because again i can’t “write” right now. kill me. FUCKING KILL MEEEE i have all these ideas and i can’t even write them out fully. just shoot me man. fuck.
i miss writing so so so goddamn much.
mostly for jack abbot ofc. fuck i miss writing fanfiction fawkkkkkkkkk
Age gap reader (20's?? Idk I'm 23 and want that man) and Jack where he's constantly offhandedly mentioning things about their age like "you know, I saw this band in 90's you were what? Five? Alive?" or "I was learning to suture first year of med school while you were learning to ride a bike." And he doesn't understand why every time she just blushes and squeaks out something about him being an old man,,,, ~🦢🤍
Yeeesss! I think about this all the time🐑
Older Bf! Jack x 2000's Baby! Reader blurbs <3
Tags: Age gap (duh), mentions of a j-o-b (very triggering for my unemployed folks I know😞/j), hints of a threesome with Robby, mostly just fluff! Only a little suggestive at the end
✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ:
Older bf! Jack who never really realized how much the world has changed until he started dating you.
"There's this new cafe opening down town, I was thinking maybe we should go sometime. They have those bacon bites you like"
Your voice a quiet mumble in the passenger seat of his burly truck, your hand holding his bicep as he focuses on driving you both to a nice restaurant for dinner.
"Yeah? Which spot downtown?"
After about 5 or 10 minutes of trying to explain the specific nook and cranny of where the cafe was, he was completely convinced that you two were talking about two different cities.
"Y'know the street with the big chicken statue?" "The one with the big tree?"
Finally as he's pulling into a parking space his face suddenly lifts with realization.
"Oh! You mean the spot where Ronnie's used to be? Man I miss that place, always went straight over there once I got home from deployments. You ever had their pizzas baby? So fucking delicious"
A small smile on his face as he recalls the memories and leans over to unbuckle your seatbelt for you before hopping out of the truck. Grabbing your smaller hand gently as the streetlights glimmer against the salt strands of his curls.
"Um no I haven't" your voice noticeably more hush that before. His eyebrows raise slightly in realization, his steps slowing against the gravel.
"Shit- wait sweetheart we're you even born yet? 1,4..." He murmurs, counting the numbers of years to himself.
"They closed like 20 years ago- you were probably just barely learning your abc's huh?"
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2000's Baby reader! who rarely requests Olderbf!Jack to buy her things- always afraid of accidentally coming off as a gold digger so she just waits patiently until he offers to give her a little something. Until today-
"Jackie! Jackkkk" he can hear your soft gasp before calling his name, setting down his book in his lap as he hears your feet pad across the hard wood floors.
"Yes, lovebug?"
He lifts his arm up for you to crawl into his side. Taken your phone with one hand as you curl up next to him and show him the screen.
"Can you buy this for me plleaaseee? They don't make them anymore and I don't want anyone else to get it first"
You pout a little, really trying to sell it so he'll give in. It was just a little camera, one of those aesthetic portable ones that everyone used in the 90s-2000s. It was absolutely perfect since you wanted to start taking more pictures on your dates and adventures with him.
His thick finger scrolling down to read the details and zoom in on the grainy picture. His arm tightening around you as he kisses the top of your head, not taking his eyes off the screen. The skin between his brows furrow
"Sweetheart I have one of these, I think it's in my college box you want it baby?"
He looks down at you and turns off your phone. He kept a lot of things throughout the years and he always questioned whether or not he was weird for doing so, but now he knew it was worth it if It makes you happy.
"Seriously?? Yes, please!" You pull his face down towards you, peppering his cheeks in kisses. It may have been a slight over reaction but at least you didn't have to spend 300 something dollars for something 30 years old.
"Course doll, I think I have a few shirts of that band you like too if ya' want em'. I loved those guys when I was your age"
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Olderbf!Jack convinced that the modern flat screen your trying to persuade him to buy is a scam. His larger hand holding onto two of your small fingers as you tug him towards the electronics section. "Can we get this one?? Look the remote has a mic thing and it comes with color cases!"
All he does is just glare at the prices as he reads the labels.
"I dont know hun, are you sure these are like- real tv's? Working and everything with no weird fees?"
You tilt your head at his questions about to answer to the best of your abilities but he's already waving over one of the employees, asking them the same questions and more before letting them walk away. He sways your hand back and forth as he ponders for a few seconds before he tilts his head towards you
"Y'know when I bought my first television it cost like $6,000? Used my entire first residency paycheck to pay it off"
he grumbled before squeeze your fingers and letting them go so he can lift up the giant box and carry it to the register. Despite his protests you help him carry the other half, not wanting him to strain his leg or anything. The whole time you listen to him yap about prices from 'back in his day' and how he remembers having to hold his brick phone with two hands while your pretty ass is over here texting while doing chores with your other hand. The cashier smiles "Have a good day! Your daughter is really lucky, my dad was so annoyed when I asked him to buy me a new tv" she chuckles as she hands jack the receipt and your cheeks flush a deep red as you squeak out a tiny "you too-!"
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Older Bf! Jack who's leaning over your shoulder, both palms heavy on the desk, caging you between his biceps as he tilts his chin up so his readers don't fall off his nose, "Let's see here... you sure you submitted them?" After over a month of hearing you whine about how nobody will hire you, he's genuinely baffled. Absolutely convinced you're not doing something right because why wouldn't someone wanna hire a pretty girl like you?
"Yes, Jackie. I literally submitted resumes to 15 different places!"
His lips purse as he scrolls slowly through the job website.
"Baby is something wrong with your resume, maybe? Did you double-check before you submitted?"
Your shoulders dropping with an annoyed huff "My resume is fine, Jack. People just don't wanna hire me. I'm not as lucky as you- I wasn't forced to work the mines by 5 years old before even knowing how to spell resume"
Suggestive
2000's Baby Reader! Who stays up a littllleee too late, getting stuck in an endless void of scrolling. The late hour making her brain fuzzy, and she sends Older Bf!Jack one of those reels that says some stupid shit like "backshots?" with a random picture in the background without even thinking about it.
Then when he gets home a few hours later, by the time you finally passed out in the comfort of his bed, he's bombarding you with wake-up kisses on the cheek. His salt-and-pepper stubble scratching lightly at your soft skin as his lips murmur against your cheek
"Sweetheart, what was that thing you sent me? I didn't have time to look up what it meant cause a trauma came in"
Older Bf! Jack staring down at his phone, squinting and fumbling with the keyboard on his screen because hes confused why you reacted to a selfie of him and Robby with an eiffel tower emoji.
OlderBf!Jack who calls the new residents "goons" unironically when he tells you stories about how they messed something up or pulled a stupid prank. Both you and all the other kiddos don't have the heart to tell him it has a different meaning now so he doesn't understand why everyone keeps giggling at him.
so scared for their characters in season 3… more abbot then robby bc it’ll be placed on the day after veterans day…
guys… please i need him to be okay. seriously idk i can’t handle anymore dying/ ending up miserable shawn hatosy characters. makes me cry.
and something abt jack abbot really takes the cake for me. that man deserves every good thing in life and he doesn’t even believe he deserves air. toys with his life all the time— suicide missions and putting himself in harms way to feel something.
fuckkkkkkk
robby and abbot should just kiss or something idk give them something to look forward to🙄🙄
Husband!Andrew Cody who sets it in stone in your house that Sundays are for cleaning.
MDNI 18+
He's pounding on your kids doors, waking them up while holding a dirty laundry basket. "Hey get up! Help your momma clean this house." He's shouting at the closed doors.
You're smiling, wiping down a counter as a fall breeze floats through an open window. Soft halloween beats playing from your TV in the living room. Andrew's kissing your cheek in passing on his way to the laundry room.
Your kids emerge sleepily from their rooms, groaning and sitting at the island where you put plates of breakfast in front of them. Andrew comes back and you pop a strawberry into his mouth before he kisses you.
Your kids groan and whine with a couple "gross"s and that only makes you kiss him harder and they groan again, making you pull away giggling. It smells like pumpkin candle you have burning in your living room all through the house.
He smiles and stands behind you as you watch them eat and talk about their Saturday nights. Your husband cages you in from behind hands setting against the marble of the island as he leans his chin on your shoulder, listening in too.
"You" he points to your son, "are gonna vacuum the living room after you eat, and you", he points to your twin daughter, "are gonna mop this kitchen after you eat, hm?" He rounds the island, grabbing the sides of both their heads and kissing them before nodding towards your shared bedroom.
You pour them some orange juice and then follow him. He pulls you in, closes the door and presses you against it, kissing your neck. "Andrew" you giggle, hands landing on his shoulders, he grunts into your neck.
"Love you s' much." He says lowly, nipping at your earlobe. "Love the life we've built." You swallow thickly pulling back and cupping his face in your hands. "I love you too" you frown in adoration, pecking him on the lips.
He growls and picks you up by the bottom of your thighs, and laying you back against the bed as you giggle kissing him. He crawls over you just as you hear the vacuum start in the living room.
hi everyone! i have to take a break from writing for a good while… i can’t get into details but let’s just say it’s really not doing good in my personal life right now…
i am going to just post everything i have in my drafts for right now
i don’t know when i’ll return —
but i do want to say i have loved writing. truly, the idea of not working on my pieces daily has made me cry way more than id like to admit these last several days…
to quote one of my favorite people of all time— “ and when letting go of some of that stuff, i am going to leave claw marks on it—because i love some of that stuff— but those people and those things may not always be so good for me.”
i am sobbing writing this up right now. trust me— this is not something i’m doing willingly but it is something i must do for now. i love you all so much for letting me have this silly safe space to write stupid silly stuff. i’m posting all my drafts now
there’s 300+ people following this blog. i’ve amassed a decent following in such a short period and it’s really made me cry (happy tears) and feel so loved. i haven’t felt this way in a long time— appreciated and told my work/ something i did was good… not like this. not being told by hundreds of people that i’m great.
i’ve missed that. and i’ll miss you all. i’ll still repost, interact with my mutuals and post small silly things.
minors, do not interact-- please! -- explicit content !
a lil drabble about titus danforth. i need that man so bad pleaseeee
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the coffee is still steaming when you push open the heavy oak door to his study, the silver tray balanced carefully in your hands. you've done this a hundred times—brought mr. danforth his morning coffee, black with one sugar, in the fine china cup he prefers. it's part of your routine as wait staff at the estate.
but lately, something's changed.
you can feel his eyes on you more often. lingering and watching a little too close for comfort. you told yourself it was nothing— that men like titus danforth had passing fancies. his attention would shift to another maid, another hunt, another distraction.
but it hasn't.
he's sitting behind his desk when you enter, dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. his dark hair is perfectly styled, his jaw sharp and clean-shaven. he looks every bit the wealthy, powerful man he is, and every bit as dangerous.
"your coffee, sir," you say softly, setting the tray down on his desk with practiced precision. you turn to leave.
"stop."
the command freezes you in place. your heart jumps into your throat, your hands trembling slightly at your sides. you don't turn around immediately. you can't. the weight of that single word pins you where you stand.
"come here."
you turn slowly, meeting his gaze. those dark eyes are fixed on you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. there's something predatory in the way he's looking at you. something that has you wanting to run, causing your skin to crawl.
"sir, i should—"
"i said come here."
your feet move before your brain catches up, carrying you around the desk until you're standing in front of him. he's leaning back in his chair, one arm draped casually over the armrest, the other resting on his thigh. he looks relaxed, in control. he always looks in control.
"sit," he says, patting his lap.
your eyes widen. "sir, i don't think—"
"that wasn't a request."
your face burns hot as you lower yourself onto his lap, perching awkwardly on his knee. his arm comes around your waist immediately, pulling you closer and more secure against him. the heat of his body seeps through the thin fabric of your uniform.
"there," he murmurs, his voice low and satisfied. "that's better."
you can barely breathe, your heart now pounding so hard you're sure he can feel it. his hand rests on your hip, firm grip that is keeping you exactly where he wants you.
"i'm not that scary, am i?" he asks, his tone almost conversational, feigning innocence.
you swallow hard. "n-no sir."
his other hand comes up, fingers trailing along your jaw before sliding down to your throat. your breath hitches, panic flaring in your chest—he's going to choke me—but his touch is only gentle. exploratory as his fingers press lightly against your pulse, feeling the frantic rhythm beneath your skin.
his lips curve into that sick smile, making your stomach flip and your thighs clench.
"...something tells me you're lying, little one..."
your face flushes hot. you hate how your body betrays you— the warmth pooling low in your belly, the slick growing between your thighs. you hate how much you want this, how much you've been thinking about him late at night when you're alone in your quarters.
his hand moves slowly, tracing up the column of your throat to your shoulder. his fingers brush over your collarbone, then back down, mapping the delicate skin with attention.
"so soft," he murmurs almost to himself. his eyes follow the path of his hand, hunger toying in his eye. "i've been watching you, you know. for months now."
your breath comes in short, shallow gasps. "sir—"
"every morning you bring me my coffee. every evening you serve dinner. always so proper. so obedient." his hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. "but i see the way you look at me when you think i'm not paying attention."
"i don't—"
"don't lie to me." his grip tightens slightly, just enough to make you gasp. "i know what you want. what you need."
and then his mouth is on your neck.
the first bite is sharp, right where your pulse hammers beneath your skin. you cry out, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders as his teeth sink into the tender flesh. it hurts—but god, it feels good too. he doesn't let up, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, his tongue soothing over the sting before he moves to another spot.
"everyone's going to see these," he growls against your skin, his voice rough with need. "everyone's going to know you're mine."
he bites again, lower this time, just above your collarbone. then again on the other side of your neck. each mark calculated, placed exactly where your uniform won't hide them. where the other staff will see... anyone who looks at you will know.
"titus-" his name falls from your lips without permission, breathless and desperate.
"that's right," he murmurs, his hand sliding down to grip your waist, holding you steady as he continues his assault on your throat. "say my name. let me hear you."
his mouth moves to your shoulder, teeth scraping over the curve before biting down hard enough to make you whimper. but then his lips are there, soft and tender, kissing the mark he just made. the contrast makes your head spin—rough and gentle all at once.
"you have no idea how long i've wanted this," he says, his voice dropping, now vulnerable. "how many nights i've laid awake thinking about marking you. claiming you. making sure everyone knows you belong to me..."
"why me?" you whisper, your hands holding his shoulders firm.
he pulls back just enough to look at you, his hand coming up to cup your face. his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, his eyes intense, forcing you to meet his.
"because you're mine," he says simply, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "you've always been mine. i just needed to make it official."
then he's kissing you. deep and demanding, swallowing your gasp as his tongue slides against yours. his hand tangles in your hair, holding you exactly where he wants you as he takes what he needs. when he finally pulls back, you're both breathing hard.
"more," he murmurs against your lips. "i need more."
his mouth returns to your neck, biting and sucking his way across your throat. he's relentless, covering every inch of exposed skin with marks. your collarbones, your shoulders, the curve where your neck meets your jaw. each bite is a claim and a promise.
you're trembling in his arms, overwhelmed by the sensation, by the possessiveness in every touch. your uniform is askew now, the collar pulled down to grant him better access. you should stop this—pull away. but you can't. you don't want to.
"perfect," he breathes, finally pulling back to admire his work. his fingers trace over the marks he's left, a satisfied smile playing at his lips. "absolutely perfect."
you catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the window. your neck and shoulders are covered in dark red marks, already beginning to bruise. there's no hiding these. no chance at covering them up— not like he'd let you anyway—everyone will know.
"titus, i can't— the other staff will—"
"let them see." his hand grips your chin, forcing you to look at him. "let them all see that you're mine... that you belong to me. anyone who has a problem with it can take it up with me directly."
there's a fierce protectiveness in his voice now, mixed with that edge of violence you've come to know in the danforth househould. he means it. he'll protect you from any consequences, any judgment.
"do you understand?" he asks, his thumb stroking your jaw.
you nod slowly, your heart still racing. "yes, sir."
"good girl." he presses one more kiss to your lips softly, almost tender. "now go—let everyone see what i've done. let them know."
you stand on shakey legs, your uniform wrinkled and your skin marked beyond any hope of concealment. as you reach the door, you glance back at him.
he's watching you with that same intense gaze, possessive and satisfied. his. you're his now, marked and claimed for everyone to see.
and despite everything, the danger, the power imbalance, the impossibility of it all—you wouldn't have it any other way. 🖤
minors, do not interact-- please! -- explicit content !
a lil drabble about andrew pope cody comin' home needy and desperate for his girl. period cramps? he don't care... he just needs you. also if you think period sex is gross— get a job. it’s some of the best sex i’ve ever had. that’s all— auggie
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you're curled up on the couch when you hear the front door open, some nature documentary playing softly in the background—something about penguins, you think, but you're not really paying attention. your heating pad is pressed against your lower belly, the cramps hitting hard today, making everything feel sharper, more tender.
"baby?"
his voice cuts through the fog of discomfort, and you manage a weak smile as andrew appears in the doorway. he looks exhausted. hair messy, eyes a little wild, like he's been running on fumes all day. but the second he sees you on the couch, something shifts in his expression.
"baby i missed you so much," he breathes, and before you can even respond, he's crossing the room in three long strides.
no response— he just crawls on top of you, careful not to crush you but still pressing close, his weight settling over you like a warm blanket. his face buries into the crook of your neck, and he inhales—deep, desperate, as if he's been starving for the scent of you.
"pope..." you laugh softly, your hand coming up to thread through his hair. "you okay?"
quiet again. instead, his lips find your neck, pressing gentle kisses along the curve of your throat. soft at first, a tender touch. but then something shifts—his mouth opens, sucking at the sensitive skin, and you gasp.
"pope—"
he groans against you, his hands sliding up your sides, pushing your shirt higher. "missed you," he mumbles between kisses, his voice rough and needy. "missed you so fucking much."
his mouth moves lower, trailing down to your collarbone, then to the swell of your breasts. he shoves his face between them, inhaling again, he can't get enough, and you can't help but laugh—a breathless, surprised sound leaving you that turns into a soft moan when he starts kissing the skin there.
then he's shoving his head under your shirt, burying himself in your tits like it's the only place he wants to be. you feel his breath hot against your skin, his lips pressing kisses to the soft flesh between your breasts before moving over to your nipple.
when his mouth closes around it, sucking gently at first and then harder, you whimper. everything feels so much more intense right now—your body is hypersensitive, every nerve ending on fire. the cramps are still there, dull and aching as always, but his mouth on you is making everything else fade into the background.
"pope—" your voice breaks, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from how overwhelming it all feels. "i'm—fuck—"
he pulls back just enough to look up at you, his pupils blown wide, lips wet and swollen. "you okay?" he asks, but his hands are still on you, still grabbing at your tits— cant help but touch you.
you nod, breathless. "yeah, just—sensitive."
he groans at that, his hips grinding down into the couch beneath him, and you realize he's hard—so hard—and desperate. "can i touch you?" he asks, his voice rough and pleading. "please, baby. need you."
your stomach twists. "i'm on my period..."
his hands don't stop. if anything, they tighten on your breasts, kneading the soft flesh as his eyes lock on yours. "i don't mind a little blood," he says, dead serious.
you hesitate. your first instinct is to say no—to tell him it's messy, that you're cramping, and it's not a good idea. but the way he's looking at you, with his body trembling with need, voice cracking when he says need you—
"a little blood never hurt nobody..." he whispers against your skin, and that's all it takes. you nod and he’s on you immediately.
he moves fast, his hands sliding down to your hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear. he doesn't pull them off, just tugs them to the side, and then his fingers are sliding inside you, slick and warm and—
"pope!" you gasp, your back arching off the couch.
a low groan escapes him, his mouth finding your breast again as his fingers pumps into you. "fuck, baby," he mutters against your skin. "you're so warm and wet."
you can't respond—can't do anything but whimper and writhe beneath him as he works you open, his fingers curling inside you just right, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur. his mouth is relentless on your tits, sucking and biting and licking, and you're so sensitive that every touch feels like too much and not enough all at once.
"pope—i'm—fuck, i'm gonna—"
and then he stops.
his fingers slides out of you, causing you to cry out in frustration, your hips bucking up toward him for comfort— but he's already moving, fumbling with his belt, his jeans, pulling his cock out with shaking hands.
"baby need you now. now," he says, his voice wrecked, then he's pushing inside you—thick and hard and filling you so completely that you can't breathe.
"oh god—"
he doesn't give you time to adjust. he just starts moving, his hips snapping against yours, and you can feel the slickness between your legs—blood and arousal mixing together, messy and raw and so fucking intimate it makes your chest ache.
then his hand comes up, his fingers—still wet with your blood—pressing against your lips.
"open," he commands, his voice rough.
you do. you open your mouth and let him slide his fingers inside, tasting the metallic tang of your own blood mixed with your arousal. it should be gross— should be too much. but the way he's looking at you, how his cock is driving into you over and over, the groans and whimpers when you start sucking his digits—
"little more at the base baby—be good," he murmurs, his eyes dark and hungry. he’s never liked a mess before…
you moan around his fingers, your tongue swirling around them, and he shudders.
"thereee she is," he breathes, his hips stuttering. "you like that taste huh? fuck, baby, you're so good for me. so fucking good."
you can feel yourself getting close again, that tight coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter. his cock is hitting you just right, his fingers still in your mouth, him looking at you like you're the only thing in the world that matters—
"gonna cum," you try to mumble around his fingers, your voice muffled.
"yeah?" he groans, his pace picking up. "cum for me baby. need to feel you."
and you do. you fall apart around him, your body clenching tight, and he follows right after—burying himself deep inside you with a broken moan, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he spills into you.
with his weight heavy on top of you, you're both just breathing hard, tangled together on the couch, the nature documentary still playing softly in the background.
then he lifts his head, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "love you," he murmurs, his voice gentle now. "missed you so much."
you smile, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. "love you too, pope."
he grins— that boyish, lopsided grin that makes your heart flutter— and kisses you softly.
"a little blood never hurt nobody, huh?" you laugh softly in the kiss.
he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes soft and full of something so tender, making you fall in love all over again. "not when it's you, baby," he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. "never with you."
you settle back into his arms, letting you body finally go limp, the cramps fading into the background as he holds you close—
minors, do not interact-- please! -- explicit content !
lil drabble abt titus danforth's jealousy at the yearly ball. possessive, scary, but still so in love <3 a little dark too... just warning yall. (it's titus, what do you expect) smut shall ensue
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the yearly danforth ball is in full swing, the ballroom glittering with chandeliers and champagne and the cream of high society all about. you're wearing something stunning tonight—a dress titus picked out himself, deep emerald silk that clings to every curve. his taste is impeccable, as always.
you've been making the rounds, playing the perfect wife, smiling at the right people, laughing at the right jokes. titus has been across the room for the last twenty minutes, deep in conversation with some business associates. you can feel his eyes on you occasionally, that possessive gaze that never quite leaves you even when he's occupied.
that's when the man approaches.
he's young, maybe mid-thirties, with confidence that comes from old money and zero consequences. his smile is too wide and way too familiar as he slides up next to you at the bar.
"well, aren't you a vision," he says, his eyes dragging over you in a way that makes your skin crawl. "i don't think we've been introduced. i'm—"
"not interested," you cut him off smoothly, taking a sip of your champagne.
he laughs like you've told a joke. "come on now, don't be like that. a beautiful woman like you shouldn't be standing here all alone."
"i'm not alone," you say, your voice dropping lower. "—and you're gonna regret it..."
but he doesn't listen. of course he doesn't. men like him never do.
"regret what? talking to a gorgeous woman?" he leans in closer, his cologne overwhelming. "listen sweetheart, i don't know who you think you are, but women like you should be grateful for the attention. especially at your age."
he reaches over, now resting his hand on top of your arm, his sweaty, grubby hand marking you now.
your blood runs cold with the absolute certainty of what's about to happen. your body goes rigid with fear.
before you can respond, you feel it. the familiar warmth of titus's presence behind you, the subtle shift in the air that always announces his arrival. his hand slides around your waist, claiming, and he presses a tender kiss to your cheek.
"hi darling," he murmurs against your skin, his voice soft and loving. then he turns those dark eyes on the man beside you. "who's this?"
the man's face drains of color as recognition dawns. his eyes go wide, that confident smirk crumbling into something close to terror. he recoiled instantly, snatching his hand back as if your arm had burned him.
"well, i'm mr. windsor—" he stammers, taking a step back. "i didn't— i wasn't—"
"windsor?" titus tilts his head, his smile deceivingly wide. "funny, i don't recall inviting you... but since you're here..." his grip on your waist tightens slightly, a silent reassurance. "say, wanna check out the study? i've heard the windsor's own a gallery in new york... i have a great piece in there since you're such an art critic."
it's not a question—he knew it the moment his eyes fell on titus.
the man's eyes dart between you and titus, panic setting in. "i really should—"
"i insist," titus says, his voice dropping, the words cold and final. "it'll only take a moment."
the man swallows hard and nods, because what else can he do? you watch as titus releases you, pressing one more kiss to your temple before he guides the man away through the crowd. he doesn't look back.
you know better than to follow.
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
an hour later, you finally make your way to his study. the party is still going strong downstairs, but you can't shake the knot of tension in your stomach. you know what titus is capable of—you've always known.
you push open the heavy oak door without knocking.
the study is dimly lit, the fireplace crackling softly in the corner. and there he is— titus, sitting in his leather chair behind the massive desk, a cigar between his lips as the smoke curls lazily around him
even in the low light, you can see it clearly—blood.
it's splattered across his white dress shirt, dark stains on his hands, a few drops on his jaw. he looks utterly relaxed, as if he's just finished reading the evening paper instead of... whatever he just did.
"titus," you breathe, closing the door behind you. "what the fuck happened."
he takes a slow drag from his cigar, exhaling the smoke before he answers. his dark eyes meet yours, an unrepentant smile growing.
"don't ask questions you already know the answers to, my love."
your jaw clenches. "titus—"
"what?" he says innocently, spreading his hands. "something wrong?"
you glare at him, but he just watches you with that infuriating calm, like he hasn't just committed murder in his own home during a party with two hundred plus guests downstairs.
then his expression shifts. his eyes drag over you slowly, taking in every inch of the dress he bought you, how it hugs your body, the flush in your cheeks from champagne and anger.
"my oh my," he murmurs, his voice dropping, full of awe and reverence. "my wife is fabulous." he sets the cigar down in the ashtray and leans back in his chair.
"come here." it's not a request.
you cross the room slowly, your heels clicking against the hardwood. when you reach the desk, he reaches out and pulls you around it, guiding you to stand between his spread legs.
"he touched what's mine," titus says quietly, his hands sliding up your thighs, bunching the silk of your dress. "spoke to you like you were nothing... like you weren't the most important person in this entire fucking house."
"titus—"
"no." his grip tightens, holding you still. "you're mine. my wife. my everything." his eyes are blazing now, that dangerous obsession you've come to crave spilling out. "and i will burn this entire estate to the ground before i let anyone disrespect you."
your breath catches as he pulls you down onto his lap, your legs straddling him. you can feel the blood on his shirt, still warm, the smell of copper mixed with his cologne and cigar smoke.
"you're insane," you whisper.
"for you?" he cups your face with both hands, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. "absolutely."
then he's kissing you—deep and desperate. his hands are everywhere, sliding up your back, tangling in your hair, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. he tastes like cigar smoke and iron. you don't pull away.
when he pulls back, you're both breathing hard.
"say it," he demands, his forehead pressed against yours. "say you're mine."
"i'm yours," you breathe, and you mean it. god help you, you mean it.
"that's my girl." his hand slides to your throat, not squeezing. just holding, claiming. "my perfect, beautiful wife."
he stands suddenly, lifting you with him, and sets you on the edge of the desk. papers scatter to the floor but he doesn't care. his hands are already pushing your dress up, his mouth hot against your neck.
"gonna make sure you remember," he murmurs against your skin, his teeth grazing your pulse point. "gonna mark you so thoroughly that everyone at this party knows exactly who you belong to."
and he does. his mouth moves across your throat, your shoulders, leaving dark marks in his wake. possessive brands that will bloom purple by morning. his hands are rough and demanding, touching you like he's trying to memorize every inch, like he's trying to prove something.
"titus-" you gasp as his fingers find you beneath your dress, already wet and wanting.
"that's it," he groans, his voice rough with need. "say my name. let everyone downstairs hear who makes you feel like this."
he works you with practiced precision, his fingers curling inside you while his thumb circles your clit. the desk hard beneath you, the smell of blood and smoke overwhelming. it's all so wrong but so perfectly him.
"you're mine," he says again, almost reverent now. "mine to protect. mine to claim. mine to love."
"yours," you whimper, your head falling back. "always yours."
when you come apart on his fingers, he swallows your cries with another bruising kiss. and when he finally takes you there on that blood-stained desk, with the party still raging downstairs and evidence of his violence surrounding you both, it feels like a promise.
hi bb i love ur account!!! ik u got a lot going on rn but when you have the time please consider continuing the “i’ve been watching” pope fic — especially with the. “He just... wants you. Wants to own you, the same way he owns everything else in his life” where reader kinda tries to back out and distance herself since she thinks he’s doesn’t actually want her but pope won’t let her since she already agreed that she’s his. do with that as you will, ik ur brain works fab but PLSSSSS consider
hi my love🥰🩵
i will work my silly brain and see what i can come up with !
just like “taste me too/2”— it might take me a while to crank it out because i never imagined doing a part 2 to i’ve been watching …
but i am someone who’s here to mf please
i shall work it out— see what i can think up and what dark shit to do because it’ll have to be dark duhhh hehehe
love you anon— gimme some time !
i have small drabbles i write randomly, the these hands heal series im continuing on— and ofc this part 2 will be a well-written part 2— not just one of my 1-3k drabbles heheh so a little time consuming.
tiktok fyp filled with robby and abbot suicide ass edits like please guys they’re my friends
please stawppp i need them to stick around. not even in a horny way. those old men are such a comfort pleaseeee— push through and stop standing at the edge of the rooftop
