ᥫ᭡. fandoms that i'm in: the pitt, marvel, dc, stranger things, star wars
╰› pretty much any fandom I am currently in will probably get a fic or at least something! there's too many to keep up with!
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⋆☀︎｡ all of my works are my own. do not take, translate, or claim my stories as your own. reblogs are acceptable since they tag me as the original writer.
Mayhaps some high sex with high reader and pope Cody. I just know he’d take care of his girl so well while she’s all high and needy for him
this one fits him so well, and I just know he'd do anything for his girl
here's the first of 14 little blurbs to say thank you for 1,000 followers (although as of posting this, ive actually got 1,300 followers and thats insane. idk where 300 of you came from in the last WEEK but thank you omg)
18+
Everything felt light and fuzzy. Your thoughts were slow, each one evaporating the moment it crossed your mind, leaving you giggling as you tried to remember what you’d been planning to say.
Oh well. It didn’t matter that you could barely think. Not when you were so cozy, sitting on Andrew’s lap, passing a blunt back and forth with Deran.
There was a movie playing. You’d long since forgotten the name of it, but every so often something silly would happen on screen and you’d giggle. Andrew didn’t seem to find it funny, though. You hadn’t heard him laugh once since the movie began and you and Deran had sparked up. In fact, he seemed pretty tense. His hands were tight where they cradled your hips, fingers digging in through the tiny jean shorts you were wearing. He’d declined a hit every time you offered, although, in your defense, you kept forgetting that you’d already asked if he wanted some.
You shifted slightly as you leaned forward to pass what was left of the blunt back to Deran. Andrew’s hands gripped you even tighter as you moved. You didn’t realize why he had a death grip on you, until you moved to lean back against him. Beneath your ass, you could feel just how hard he was.
The wiggling of your hips was involuntary. You just couldn’t help yourself. For a moment, all you could think about was how easy it would be to shimmy your shorts down and take Andrew all the way to the hilt. And you were about to do it, until Deran coughed and you remembered he was there. You probably shouldn’t get naked and initiate sex around your boyfriend’s brother. That might be frowned upon.
“Andy,” you whined, laying your head back on his shoulder and arching your spine. You ground down against him again, one hand coming up to tangle in his curls.
“What?” Andrew sounded gruff and frustrated. His hands pulled you into him, making your back flush to his front and stopping you from moving.
“I want you, pretty boy,” your head tilted and your teeth caught the lobe of his ear. Andrew’s breath hitched as you wiggled against him as much as his hold on you would allow.
“Turn around,” he was already twisting you in his lap as he spoke, helping you swing your leg over his hip and settling you face to face. You giggled, the living room spinning around you. Your arms hooked around his neck, fingers back to playing with his hair.
Andrew didn’t say anything else. He stood, making sure to keep your legs tight around his waist as he carried you away.
“Where’re you goin’?” Deran called after you.
“Bye-bye,” giggling again, you waved at him over Andrew’s shoulder as he carried you away and deeper into the house. Once Deran was out of your line of sight, your attention shifted to Andrew. How his hard body shifted against yours with every step he took and just how pretty his eyes looked in the low light. Every nerve ending in your body felt like it was standing at attention, hyperaware of just how good he felt pressed against you.
Andrew kicked open a door, carrying you through and dropping you onto bed. You had no idea where you were, all you knew was that you needed his body back on yours immediately.
So you reached for him, your uncoordinated hands missing the hem of his shirt on the first try. You dissolved into laughter, finding your little mistake hilarious. Andrew sighed before stripping it off himself. The planes of his hard stomach came into view, extinguishing your fit and focusing your mind back on the task at hand: getting the two of you naked and feeling every inch of him.
He didn’t wait for you to try disrobing him again, hands yanking your shorts and underwear down your legs and pushing your shirt up high enough to expose your breasts. Those same hands immediately came to cup them, squeezing softly. You moaned much louder than was called for, arching up into the sensation. You just felt so damn sensitive that the feeling of his skin on yours already had you gasping for air.
“Need you,” your voice was high and whiny, your hands pawing at his jeans. He pulled them down his thighs, just enough to free his hard length from their confines. “Please, Andy. Now!”
He shushed you, pulling you down the bed until your ass was hanging off the edge. Your legs tried to wind around his waist and drag him closer, but you nearly kicked him in the stomach in your intoxicated state.
“Stop,” he grumbled. His fingers swiped between your legs, finding you more than wet enough to take him straight away. Your whole body jerked and spasmed at the lightest touch. “Hold these f’me.”
Andrew pushed your legs up and back, pressing your knees to your chest. You were slow to process what he wanted, though, so he sighed. He grabbed each of your hands, guiding them until they were wrapped around the backs of your thighs. Your lips parted in an ‘O’ when it finally clicked what he was asking for.
“Sorry Andy,” you pulled your legs closer to your chest, trying not to wiggle too much in anticipation.
“S’okay,” his hand stroked once over his length before he was lining the tip up with your entrance. “Ready?”
“Please please please don’t make me wait any longer,” in your contorted position, you couldn’t really push back against him, but boy did you try.
Andrew shushed you again, finally pushing in. Your head fell back against the sheets and a long, loud moan erupted from your mouth. You could have sworn you head a muffled “for fucks sake” from deeper in the house, but you didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was Andrew’s thick cock, sliding into your soaking depths. He met no resistance on the way, bottoming out and taking a moment to breathe.
You didn’t like that. You need him to fuck you right now, so your whining grew louder and your body writhed beneath his.
“So fucking desperate,” Andrew growled through gritted teeth.
But you got what you wished for, and his hips reared back, slamming home hard and fast, over and over. Every thrust felt like it was knocking more and more of the scattered, half formed thoughts from your mind, until all you could think was Andrew Andrew Andrew.
He was leaning down over you, so you let go of your legs, letting them rest against his chest and over his shoulders. That left your hands free to rake your nails down his forearms braced on the bed beside your waist.
“Fuck,” one of his hands shot up, snatching both of your wrists and holding them down over your stomach. “Hurts.”
“So-sorry,” you really weren’t. His pain tolerance was high, and you liked seeing the marks you left on his beautiful freckled skin. Your hands pulled against his hold, but he was stronger, holding you in place as he kept pounding away at you.
You were getting close, much faster than normal, your sensitivity turned up to 11.
Your eyes slipped shut, completely lost in the sensation of Andrew filling you over and over. Everything felt hazy, like your brain was full of cotton and your ears had been turned off. Nothing mattered except him deep inside you.
When you came, you froze for a moment, body locking up tightly before you were screaming his name. You hadn’t exactly been quiet before, but this was something else.
Your walls spasmed around him, clenching tight over and over, drawing him in. It rolled over you and smashed through the last remaining vestiges of clarity in your mind. You were a mess, shaking and jerking in his hold, helpless to do anything but take it as he kept fucking you through your orgasm.
And the whole time all you could say was “more more more.” And Andrew never was good at saying no to you.
summary: tired of reading fanfics based on your newest obsession, you give in to peer pressure and use a seemingly harmless gimmick from a metaphysical shop. you quickly find out that you should have been careful what you wished for.
tags: dark!jack abbot x irl!reader, fiction breaks the fourth wall, based on the movie obsession, USE OF Y/N CAUSE NO ONE CAN STOP ME, vivid descriptions of violence, mentally unstable!jack, blood, murder, self!harm/mutilation, dd:dne, smut (non-con, oral-fem!receiving, piv-unprotected sex), afab reader, no happy ending, 18+ NSFW and ABSOLUTELY MDNI
notes: this fic is based on this TikTok by @m1yuk1washere, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE know that this is a very dark fic and please be aware of the tags before reading below the cut. I am in NO WAY romanticizing this movie at all. this is not a reflection of Jack Abbot's actual character, but he needed to be ooc for this to work. again, there is no happy ending and nothing is romanticized about this fic or the movie. I highly suggest watching the film once it releases on streaming services.
author's note: 82 of you asked to be tagged, but due to tumblr's 50 limit and me not wanting to get nerfed, half will be tagged in this post, and the other half will be tagged in my co-author's reblog!
word count: 11.5k
And Jack couldn’t stop staring at you like he’d found the love of his life. His hazel eyes trailed along your body, and a deep blush painted across your face. You’d caught him staring across the ER, but instead of looking away, he kept eye contact while his hands moved across a tablet. In one blink, he was moving toward you like a man on a mission. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe under the weight of his gaze.
In fewer than five steps, Jack closed in on you, and his hands lifted just to grip your hips and pull you into his orbit. Your breath hitched high in your throat at his closeness. Around you, the Pitt melted away, and all you could feel was Jack, Jack, Jack—
“Earth to Y/n!”
A snap near your face had you leaning back away from your phone. Your eyes widened as you stared at your small friend group. Suddenly, the entire world around you came crashing down in overlapping voices and the distinct smell of mall food, an odd combination of Japanese, Pizza, and sub sandwiches. Your phone stayed open to the latest chapter of your favorite Jack Abbot fanfic, and now looking at your friends, you knew you’d been caught. You quickly shut off your phone and placed it face down on the sticky table.
“Sorry,” you muttered. “What were you saying?”
Your best friend, Sarah, rolled her eyes. “You’d know what we were saying if you weren’t nose first in your phone. What was it this time? One of those smutty fanfics you’re so into these days?”
“It’s definitely one about that silver-haired doctor,” your other friend, Haley, chimed in. “What’s his name again? Jake?”
“Jack,” you shot out before realizing your mistake. You’d come off too strong, and your friends ate it up like vultures. “I-I mean—”
“You really need to get laid,” Sarah told you, voice dipping into a border-line condescending tone. “Your daddy issues are showing, babes.”
“I don’t have daddy issues.” You rolled your eyes before taking a bite of your now-cooling food, slimy noodles sliding down your throat in one swallow. “And I don’t want to get laid. I’m perfectly content where I’m at; thank you very little.”
Haley hummed. “You’re telling me that you’re happy reading hours and hours of fictional worlds while you could be out and about meeting new people. What if your future husband looks like this Jett?”
“Jack,” you corrected—again. “And I don’t want a future husband unless he looks like Shawn Hatosy dressed in a SWAT uniform.”
“You are so down bad for a fictional man. When was the last time you had an interest in someone who was actually . . . real?”
You pursed your lips when no names came to mind. To get them off your back you could have mentioned the two-second crush you had on Luke Davis way back in ninth grade. But he had been eliminated from the list the moment you got back home and pulled out a Bucky Barnes fanfic where you found out you wouldn’t mind an older man calling you doll. And plus, ninth grade was almost fifteen years ago. Confessing that while currently being in grad school at the ripe age of 24 would have been more embarrassing than saying nothing at all.
“A while,” you spat after settling on a response. “But the modern online dating field is not for me. Every time I try one of the apps, I either get insulted or an unsolicited 3-inch-dick pic like it’s supposed to impress me. Unless you two have a magical solution to find me the picture-perfect man, I’m perfectly okay spending my time reading fanfiction.”
You went to spoon in another bite, but you noticed the way they glanced at each other. The corner of your lips tugged downward. “What? Why are you two looking at each other like that?”
Sarah sucked in a breath. “We weren’t going to say anything but—”
“But you look like you need it,” Haley finished the sentence before turning, hands already deep in her purse on the chair next to her.
You tried to not be offended by her words, but an ugly feeling bloomed in your chest. You hated the way they judged you. Fanfiction had quickly become a paradise away from the ugly world you lived in. If a few chapters and one shots here and there helped your mental health stay regulated, you saw no harm in divulging into the world of fiction. It also helped that most of the fics you read were tagged with “x-reader;” the idea of getting to put your name mixed in with iconic characters kept you feeling alive. Authors let you live lives you could never do in the real world. How could you give up that kind of mental freedom?
“Here,” Haley finally said as she pushed something towards you.
You eyed the red and white packaging with the words One Wish Willow written in fun lettering along with two cartoon drawn people. Hesitantly, you grabbed it and brought it closer to read.
“The guy at the store said they actually work,” Sarah explained. “You state a wish and break it, then tadaaaa your wish comes true.”
Looking at it while spinning it in your hands, your nose crinkled. What Sarah just said sounded way too good to be true.
“There’s no way,” you said, a bit awestruck. Your thumb ran across the words on the back of the package: Spark the middle and break in half. “I think you both got scammed.” You placed it back down on the table, but one look at the two of them gave you a sinking feeling in your stomach. “You two actually believe this shit?”
“Look, Y/n, we just want to look out for you,” Sarah said slowly as if she were talking to a child. “And if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work, but there’s no harm in trying. But we can’t sit here and let you go on like this. Before you know it, you’re going to be fifty, living alone, and still reading stories about fictional characters. I mean, look at yourself.”
To your surprise, Haley nodded along. “Grad school is killing you. And you can’t say that you’ll find a man once you graduate. Because by then, you’re going to find another excuse.”
You eyed the thing as their words sank thorns into your soul, and for some odd reason, you felt compelled to pick it back up again. You don’t know if it was the idea that any wish you made would come true or the desire to prove them both wrong, but instead of leaving it there for them to take back, you grabbed it and pushed it deep in your purse.
“Whatever. But when it doesn’t work, I’m totally rubbing it in both your faces,” you said.
Finally, you shoved the last bite of your food into your mouth, but your mind was racing with the possibilities of what you could use the one wish willow for. Sure, Sarah and Haley wanted you to use it to get a boyfriend, but honestly, that seemed boring. The world, hypothetically, could be at your fingertips. What was stopping you from using it to become a millionaire, change everything you hated about yourself, stop world hunger.
The possibilities seemed to endlessly swim around your brain while you drove back home from the mall, the sky already dimming the closer you got to your destination. You sighed in relief once you pulled into your driveway and leaned your head against the steering wheel, eyes flitting towards your bag. Your fingers itched to pull the One Wish Willow out, and you, against everything, obeyed them. You picked at the heavy paper packaging, and the branch slid out right into your palm.
It was dark and hole-filled, and it barely weighed anything. You guessed that was necessary for easy breakage when you used it. You read over the instructions one more time before taking each end, holding it a few inches from your face.
Outside, the night was quiet. There were no joggers, no late-night walkers, no one to witness what you were about to do. You inhaled sharply and lowered the branch.
“This is stupid,” you mumbled to yourself.
You almost put the branch back in the packaging, but your phone screen lighting up stopped you. You glanced over and caught the notification. A quick read told you that another author had updated a Jack Abbot series. Your heart panged.
Were you truly going to be alone forever, stuck reading fanfiction well into your fifties while pretending you lived in a different universe?
Before you could second guess yourself again, you took a hold of the branch.
“I wish Jack Abbot was real and would love me and do anything for me like he does in fanfiction.”
The branch snapped in two.
You squeezed your eyes shut, and your body tensed as you waited for something like a huge explosion to happen and for Jack to appear like some mythical genie. But when everything stayed quiet, you slowly opened your eyes. Frustrated tears welled in your lash line, and you threw the two pieces of the branch somewhere deep in your car. You jerked the door open and all but slammed it closed. Each step you took to your house reverberated into the concrete walkway. The automatic lights turned on while you unlocked the door with shaking hands, and the key missed twice before finally going in. With a harsh shove, the front door gave way into a dark home. By the looks of it, your mom probably wasn’t home, or every light inside would have been on.
An eeriness crept over you, but through your glossy eyes and overwhelming feelings of loneliness, you brushed it off. The One Wish Willow was an absolute joke, and you knew you should have texted Sarah and Haley that it hadn’t worked. Your chest tightened once you realized exactly why you didn’t want to rub it in their faces right away. In the car, you’d given yourself the smallest morsel of hope that it would actually work. The idea of having your own Jack Abbot had taken over quicker than you would have liked. Even with all your constant reassurances to Sarah and Haley that you didn’t want a man, that you were happy with being alone, you were beginning to feel the crux of being the last single person in your friend group.
Even the promise of a new chapter once you shuffled into bed wasn’t enough to lift your mood. But as you tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep, you reached for your phone in need of familiar comfort. Your thumb pressed on the white T icon, and you scrolled until one caught your eye. The tags used xreader, but as you scrolled, you couldn’t help but notice something peculiar.
Instead of the normal “Y/n” whenever Jack would “say” the reader’s name, your actual name stared back at you in every paragraph.
You blinked a few times, wondering if you’d gotten to the point where “Y/n” automatically became your given name. But when the words didn’t change, your brows pinched. You didn’t have any added mods, and the author stated that they hadn’t given the reader a special nickname or anything of the sorts. You scrolled up until the page refreshed.
Surely there was a glitch you thought.
However, after the loading symbol went away, your name continued to be written in the fic. On one hand, you knew you should have put the phone down; obviously you were tired and sad and currently hallucinating. Yet, you continued reading on, already sucked deep into the story.
Jack didn’t know what to do; you’d disappeared on him after an argument. His calls went unanswered, his messages left unread. His heart raced below his sternum in a panicked rhythm. He couldn’t lose you, not after he already lost his wife. He refused to lose you. With a sharp inhale, he turned and faced an empty space to his right, hazel eyes boring into the reader’s—wait.
You pulled your phone away from your face as you sat up. Had you read that correctly?
—hazel eyes boring into the reader’s. He stood still, seemingly knowing that there was a presence he couldn’t see but could always feel.
“I’ll be there soon, sweetheart,” Jack spoke to no one. “And when I find you, I’m going to make you so, so, so, so happy. I’m exactly what you need and want. I—”
Your phone screen went black after you pushed in the power button. The eerie feeling from earlier grew at the base of your skull, and your skin pricked with the sensation that someone was watching you. Your face whipped to the far corner of your room, the one that was always half-cast with a shadow after the sun went down. Logically, you knew no one was standing there, but you turned your flashlight on anyway. A quick scan around the room settled you some but not entirely.
You slowly lowered back down into your bed and pulled the covers up to your chin. Thankfully, sleep was already licking at the edges of your mind. But as you lolled into its grasp, you couldn’t rid yourself of what the author made Jack say at the end.
—I won’t hesitate to do anything to make you mine.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Two loud knocks at the front door followed by your mom screaming Y/n! Get your ass down here and answer the fucking door! had you shooting up from your bed.
Without even looking at yourself, you scampered down the stairs in just a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. You had no time to even think about what the person on the other side could even want before you wrenched the door open, and all reminders to look through the peep hole first failed entirely. Sun spots swirled in your vision, but once they settled enough for you to see who had been knocking, you froze entirely.
“There you are, sweetheart.”
You knew that voice. You’d heard that voice clearly through your TV speakers.
Your eyes widened, and a breath hitched high in your throat. You gripped the sides of the threshold with white knuckles. For a split-second, you wondered if you were still dreaming before wondering if you’d died in your sleep, because there was absolutely no fucking way the man standing on your doorstep was actually who you thought it would be.
Your body jolted under a firm hand, and you whirled around to see your mother’s figure standing behind you. She eyed you carefully before putting on a smile that only you knew to be very fake.
“Hi there,” she said loudly, voice too chipper for 8:15 am. “How can we help you?”
The salt-and-pepper-curly-haired man smiled warmly, and his hazel eyes never left yours. “Baby, you didn’t tell your mom about me?” he chuckled like this was all some inside joke.
Your mom glared at you from the side of her eye. “Baby?”
“I really should have called beforehand that I was on my way over,” he explained before thrusting out his large hand. “Jack Abbot. It’s nice to meet my girl’s mom.”
The way he said my girl had your heart racing for more than one reason. The main one being you’d never met this man in your entire life, unless you counted the multitude of fics you consumed to the point you felt like you did know him—Jack. But that was all fiction uploaded to multiple websites, yet the man standing less than a foot away from you looked real and not a figment of your wild imagination. Hell, even your mom saw him, so to some degree you knew you were hallucinating or weren’t dead upstairs.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Jack. I’m sorry you’ve seemed to slip my daughter’s mind,” she hissed the last bit out. “Come inside please.” She yanked you away from the door and whispered harshly in your ear, “You could have told me about this.”
Your jaw dropped before snapping back shut when your mind refused to catch up to the situation. Jack—if you could even think of him as your beloved fictional character—stepped forward and placed a hand to the small of your back. His touch felt like electricity, white hot and zipping up your spine. He softly pushed you along until he fully got inside your hours.
“Jack, let’s get you into the kitchen! I’m sure I can make a quick breakfast for us while Y/n changes upstairs,” your mom stated, but the suggestiveness in her gaze wasn’t as subtle as she thought it was.
Jack clicked his tongue against his cheek. “That sounds lovely, but I’m afraid I already made plans with Y/n to go out for breakfast.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in like a rag doll. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart,” he cooed.
As if a spell had been cast over you, you nodded numbly. “Yeah,” you managed to croak. “We’re going out for breakfast.”
“Let’s get you changed, baby, and then we’ll get heading out,” he said. “It was nice meeting you.” With not another glance toward you mom, he walked you over to the staircase and motioned for you to go first.
Once the two of you made it into your room, you closed the door before pushing your back against the grain to put some space between you and supposedly Jack Abbot.
“Okay, what the fuck man,” you sneered. “Is this some stupid cosplay? Did Sarah and Haley put you up to this? Because coming to my house and pretending we know each other let alone dating is downright creepy and stalker behavior.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said while cocking his head to the side. “Did you hit your head? Should I look at it for you?” He stepped forward and raised his hands, but you were quick to shake your head.
“No; I’m fine,” you said. “I’m just . . .” You closed your eyes. “I don’t know why you’re here. You don’t exist here.”
Jack paused for a minute before laughing loudly. “Baby, are you taking the piss? Of course I exist here; you know I exist only for you.” This time, he walked until your fronts were almost pressing. The warm, spicy scent of his cologne hit your nose. His hands did not touch you, but the twitches in his fingers told you he wanted to. “I told you last night that I’d come find you, baby.”
“Huh?”
Jack’s eyebrows furrowed. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head? You asked for me last night after the mall. I know I’m old, but how could you forget so soon, baby?”
His words hit you like an 18-wheeler to the stomach.
The broken-in-two One Wish Willow that remained in your car filled your thoughts. You swore it hadn’t worked, because last night nothing had happened. And then you remembered one of the fine print warnings.
*Wait up to 24 hours for your wish to come true.
It was as if it all made sense now. The fucking gimmick worked; you couldn’t rub it’s failure in Sarah and Haley’s faces anymore. Jack fucking Abbot was in your bedroom acting like the two of you were romantically together.
Your wish—against all odds—had come true.
Happiness washed over you like a tidal wave, and you stepped right into Jack’s orbit, arms coming up to wrap around his middle. You couldn’t believe the way you fit right into his chest, and you were elated to hear his heart beat so fast at your closeness.
“There you go, pretty girl,” Jack whispered against your temple. His hand gently rested against the back of your head. “I’ve missed you so, so, so, so much. I’m yours forever; I’ll do anything for you.”
In the throes of his whispered promises, you forgot about the smallest warning buried within the fine print of the One Wish Willow Packaging.
*Side effects of a wish may include violent tendencies, self-mutilation, and unexpected behavior. Please wish responsibly.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Life with Jack was infinite bliss, and you’d be a fool to look a gift horse in the mouth.
He was the perfect man and exactly the type of person you’d been secretly wishing for the entire time. If you were truly honest with yourself, all the times you said you were happy were lies upon lies upon lies. You hated how Sarah and Haley went on double dates with their boyfriends all the time while leaving you behind. Their happiness just showed that if you didn’t have them, you had no one.
No one to laugh with; no one to be around; no one to love. Jack filled in those spaces like glue holding your life together. Suddenly, you didn’t have to wonder who you’d take to the movies to see the latest film. You didn’t have to sit alone in your bed while hoping for someone to come along and sweep you off your feet like men did in stories. You didn’t even have to worry about feeling scared when you slept. Jack apparently had an affinity for watching you rest.
When Jack was around—which was pretty much all the time—you were never alone.
A few weeks after he showed up on your doorstep, you made plans to introduce him to Sarah and Haley at the local bar the three of you frequented. You’d been excited for them to see what had happened, to see how Jack made you happy. Jack seemed to be passive about it, but one smile his way had him melting to your every whim.
“What makes you happy makes me happy,” he had told you before pressing his lips deeply against yours. “Do I make you happy, sweetheart?”
“So much,” you had whispered back against his lips.
However, now that you were seated next to Jack and their eyes were filled with skepticism and doubt, an ugly feeling settled inside your chest. You tried to focus on the game of Jenga, but the weight of their gaze pressed heavy on your mood that continued to sour the longer the night progressed.
As you tried your best to shuffle another block out, Sarah leaned forward.
“So . . . Jack . . . where do you work?” she asked.
Jack rubbed at his jaw while he thought, and your focus shifted to the way his bicep bulged in the short-sleeved shirt he wore out.
“I’m a senior attending at an ER up in Pittsburgh,” he stated.
Haley raised an eyebrow. “Then why are you here? Surely your hospital keeps your leash a bit tight.”
You pulled the block out successfully and held it up for Jack to see. He mouthed a good girl and winked, sending you into a blushy mess before answering.
“I’m on a well-needed sabbatical right now. My girl needed me here, and I couldn’t think of being anywhere else.” His hand came to rest at your nape, and his fingers squeezed.
“What happens when your sabbatical is up? Y/n’s in grad school right now, and I doubt she can do the long distance,” Sarah explained, and that ugly feeling roared inside your chest.
Jack pursed his lips and sat back against the couch. “I’m sure that we’ll work something out when we cross that bridge. I’m not opposed to long distance, but I’m also not opposed to her moving close to me either.”
Haley let out a soft scoff to which you looked at her strangely.
“Do you have something to say, Haley?” you questioned.
She looked like a deer caught in headlights. “I-I just think that moving in with someone you’ve been with for a few weeks is a bit fast.”
“I’m not getting any younger,” you tried to joke, but the tone of your voice said that you were anything but joking. “And it wouldn’t be too terrible. After this semester I’m changing to online classes anyway.”
Sarah’s face pinched tightly. “What happened to moving onto campus with us next semester?”
You shrugged lazily. “The thought about moving was getting to be too stressful.” You linked your arm into Jack’s. “Jack suggested online classes, and it was like a weight lifted off my chest.”
Your friends stared widely with their jaws unhinged.
Sarah waved a hand around. “Hold on. Just because he told you to do something, you just did it without discussing it with anyone else? Y/n, we won’t be able to afford the deposit for the apartment if you pull out.”
“Plus, what if he dumps you halfway through the year?” Haley suddenly asked in a stage whisper, not caring if Jack heard the question.
Next to you, Jack’s entire body tensed. “I’m sorry—what?”
She at least had some decency to understand that her question was invasive. “Ya know . . . what if y’all have, like, a really bad argument or something? Some relationships don’t end up lasting long enough for a couple to live together. Plus, with your age gap it’s inevitable that—”
Jack suddenly stood from the couch, and his towering body cast a shadow across the Jenga tower. He frowned deeply, and his darkening eyes narrowed down at your friends. His fists curled at his sides while his head tilted very slowly.
“You don’t know anything about our relationship,” he hissed. “So I wouldn’t be so presumptuous if I were you.”
Sarah leaned back enough to look him in the eye at an angle. “Dude, we’re just looking out for our friend.”
“Yeah,” Haley said lightly. “No need to get so upset about it.”
He ran his tongue along his teeth. “I’m upset because you had the gall to even think I’d break up with her.” He bent in slightly at the waist. “I’m in love with her; she is my everything. Whatever she asks me to do, I will do it without hesitation.”
His voice rose with anger on every word, and soon, the entire bar was looking towards your small group. You nervously shifted on the couch, but the annoyance of their questions kept you seated and stopped you from pulling Jack back.
Jack turned his head and spotted an empty beer bottle. He turned back to look at your friends, and without breaking eye contact, he grabbed the bottle. In one fluid motion, he swung it down, and the glass shattered against the side of the table. At the sound, you, Sarah, and Haley stood up. They backed away slightly while you stepped forward to be at Jack’s side. Yet, he paid no attention to you.
“No one on this earth will ever comprehend what it feels like to love someone as much as I love her,” he said, timber dark and serious. It sent shockwaves through your soul. “I’d rather kill myself than ever hurt her or be without her. Every ounce of my blood that keeps my beating heart alive belongs to her and her alone.”
Before you could do or say anything, Jack dragged the jagged edge of the broken bottle from his wrist and towards the inside of his elbow, and dark blood welled and dripped from the long gash. Sharp, surprised and horrified gasps rang through the air.
When your eyes caught the red thick smear, you reached forward and yanked the bottle out of his hand. “Jack!”
At the sound of your voice, Jack’s eyes softened instantly, and all tension in his body melted away. Any glimpse of the Jack moments ago was gone, but the damage had already been done. Everyone, including Sarah and Haley, watched on with scared eyes as you gently set the bottle down. You said nothing and grabbed your (Jack’s) jacket and purse. Your hand found Jack’s quickly, and without saying anything to your friends, you tugged him out of the bar and towards his car. Thankfully, he didn’t fight for the keys, and you took off, leaving the bar to turn into a speck in your rearview mirror.
The ride back to your house was oddly quiet. Jack stared out the window the entire time, never once looking over at you. When you parked the car in the driveway, you shifted in your seat and turned to face him.
“Jack,” you said softly. “Why’d you do that?”
Not being on to deprive himself of your face, Jack turned too with hunched shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
You rested a hand on his cheek. “I know you’re sorry, but you scared everyone. And you hurt yourself.”
“I know. I don’t know why I did that, but I couldn’t let them keep talking about us—about you like that. I love you so much; that’s why I did it.”
“Jack, I don’t need you to cut yourself because you love me, I—”
“Do you love me?” he interrupted.
You paused. “I do.”
Jack leaned back into his seat. “You never say it like I do.” He sat up straight again in a jerky motion, and he placed his hands on your cheeks and held your face there. You watched his hazel hues melt into something darker. “Do you love me? Say you love me. I need to hear you say you love me, sweetheart.”
Your throat bobbed in a thick swallow. “I love you, Jack.”
Like at the bar, he all but melted back into his seat before leaning forward to kiss you. You let his lips languidly move against yours in sloppy motions. His hands tightened around your face, and with a small gasp, your mouth opened just enough for him to shove his hot tongue between your teeth. You moaned at the taste of him.
Before you could go any farther, he pulled back and licked his lips. “Are you going to listen to them?”
Your head reeled at the sudden change of events. “Who?”
“Your friends,” he spat bitterly. “They won’t change your mind about moving with me once I need to go back to work?”
You hummed and tried to lean back in for another kiss, but Jack stopped your motion. His eyes bore into yours deeply in almost a pleading manner.
“Tell me you want to move with me. I can’t be without you, baby. I wasn’t lying when I said I’d rather kill myself than not be with you. Do you want me to kill myself? I’ll tell you how I’d do it. Instead of my wrists, I’d take one of my scalpels and drag it along my throat.”
Your heart beat wildly at his words, and concern corroded any love you felt for Jack in that moment.
He looked at you through lidded eyes. “Is that what you want? You want me to die? Want me to commit suicide just to show you how much I’m obsessed with you?”
You shook your head between his hands.
He grinned stretched impossibly wide, but his eyes stayed dead and unmoving. “Then say what I want to hear, sweetheart. It’ll all be so, so, so much better when you say it.”
“I want to move with you Jack. I want to follow you to Pittsburgh or wherever you go after this.”
You were rewarded with another deep, invasive kiss that left you gasping for air. Instead of fully pulling back, Jack breathed heavily while his nose nuzzled into your face.
“Maybe it’ll be good when I don’t have to listen to Sarah and Haley anymore,” you softly mentioned.
Jack froze near your hairline but didn’t say anything.
“They were kind of rude at the bar. To think they were the ones who wanted to push me to get a boyfriend in the first place. Like, imagine if you hadn’t shown up.”
“You’re no one else’s but mine,” he growled, chest beginning to heave at the thought of you with someone who wasn’t him, kissing someone who wasn’t him, fucking someone who wasn’t him. “I’m never going to leave you.” His eyes fluttered closed. “I’m going to make sure your friends have no impact on your life again. I promise.”
You giggled, not fully knowing the meaning of his words. “We’ll be in Pittsburgh. I’m sure they won’t want to make the drive. Don’t worry about them putting any more unsolicited input into our relationship.”
Soon after Jack gave you one more kiss, you slipped into your house knowing Jack would be back in the morning to pick you up for another breakfast date. You paid no mind to the sound of Jack pulling away from your house or the way his car suddenly passed by in the opposite direction moments later.
Because if you had, you would have realized he wasn’t driving to his house, oh no, he was driving back in the direction of the bar to make sure he kept his promise.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Waking up during the night wasn’t uncommon.
Most times, you never fully managed to sleep deep enough to stay asleep for more than four hours, always having to get up for a drink of water or a bathroom break. But tonight, you woke up for a completely different reason. From the corner of your room, a noise reached you through a deep dream in a wet, continual plat, plat, plat, plat.
With bleary eyes, you looked around the room through barely slotted eyelids. Nothing seemed to jump out at you until you glanced at the shadowed corner. There, someone stood, their outline barely visible against the black background. You blinked rapidly in a desperate attempt to get your eyes focused.
A sigh of relief wheezed through your chest when you realized that the person was just Jack; although you were confused as to why he picked the corner when you had already set up a chair near your bed the first time you found him watching you sleep. You knew he liked to take his prosthesis off after dark to give his limb a break. The least you could do was make sure he was comfortable.
“Jack?” you called out, voice scratchy and slurry with sleep. “What’re you doin’ in the corner?”
When he failed to answer, you pushed yourself up halfway with your arm. You reached for the lamp on your bedside table, but the floor creaking beneath his weight made you stop.
Plat, plat, plat, plat, plat.
“Don’t turn on the light,” he whispered.
You slung your legs over the side of the bed and reached out a hand. “Could you at least come and sit down? Your leg must be killing you.” By now, your eyes had adjusted to the dark atmosphere, and you peered over at him when you noticed something splashed on his face. “Did you get mud on you?”
Jack took a step forward, and his shoes squished against your hardwood floors. He stopped a few feet away from you, and that’s when a thick, metallic waft hit your senses. You urgently rubbed at the skin between your lip and the bottom of your nose in an attempt to disrupt the onslaught of iron. Your brows pinched as you looked up at him with utter confusion.
Plat, plat, plat, plat, plat.
“What are you covered in, baby?” You reached out to touch a large stain on the hem of his shirt. Your fingers game back slick. “What the fuck,” you whispered. Jack’s words be damned; you reached over and turned on the lamp.
As the light drenched the room, horror seized your chest with large hands at the sight in front of you. The noise that had awakened you from your sleep was the steady drip of blood that trickled from Jack’s pant leg. The stain you’d touched was larger under the light, and the lower half of his shirt was drenched in the bodily fluid. His arms that were normally tanned and freckled were covered in blood like cleaning gloves, a harsh line of red cutting around his bicep.
Bile rose from deep in your stomach, and the acrid taste coated your tongue.
“Jack,” you whispered in terror. Sleep’s effect had been ripped from you the moment you realized what he was covered in. “W-why are you . . . covered in blood?”
Jack’s mouth twisted in an elated smile as he looked down at his lower half. “Do you not like it, sweetheart?” Despite his leg, he kneeled between your legs, and his dripping hands rested against your thighs. He looked up at your face with a pinched expression, similar to one you’d see on a sad puppy. “Do you not like it?”
“It’s blood, Jack. Why are you covered in blood?”
“Not like I don’t deal with blood on the daily.” He licked his lips. “You should be asking whose blood it is I’m covered in, baby.” He leaned in closer to your face, and your eyes burned with the smell. “C’mon; ask me.”
You swallowed a frustrated groan before whispering, “Whose blood are you covered in?”
His head lolled to the side. “Remember when I promised you that no one would ever speak out against us again?” Jack moved in closer and pressed his cheek against yours so that his lips were right near your ear. “Let’s just say I made sure that wouldn’t ever happen again . . . permanently.”
It felt like all the blood drained from your face in an icy instant; a complete contrast from the way Jack licked a hot strip up from your pressure point to your ear. Your mouth dried up completely.
“Don’t worry, baby. Those girls are never going to bother us ever again.”
“Jack,” you whimpered, suddenly scared of the man between your legs.
He hushed you softly. “And I made sure that your mother was also removed from the picture. I couldn’t have her waking up to find me like this.”
Your shoulders caved in, and the smallest whimper pressed through your lips. At the sound, Jack lurched back to look at your face. Within three breaths, all emotions washed from his face as he realized that you were scared—scared of him.
Now, he couldn’t have that, could he?
His hand rushed up to your face, and his fingers crushed your cheeks together. He stood to his feet, but his face stayed close to yours, his warm breath fanning across your nose and lips.
“There’s nothing for you to be afraid of,” he said calmly as if he hadn’t just implied that he’d killed your best friends and your mother. “Besides, isn’t this what you wished for?”
Even with his strength, you managed a small shake of your head.
He pouted. “No? But I could have sworn you said I wish Jack Abbot would love me and do anything for me.”
“I d-didn’t ask for you to kill my friends and mom,” you cried through smushed lips.
Jack nodded along like he agreed with you before barking out a laugh. “But you said it’d be good when you wouldn’t have to listen to them anymore. That’s what you said!” his voice thundered in your face. “I did exactly what you told me to, so why don’t you FUCKING LOVE ME?”
You tried to jerk your face out his hand, but his hold tightened, fingers digging into your teeth through your cheeks. Your eyes shut closed, but that did little to appease Jack’s anger. This wasn’t what you wanted; you never wanted your wish to turn into him harming people for you.
“I-I do-do love you, Jack,” you cried while tears traced down your cheeks.
He frowned intensely, lips forming an upside-down u. “I don’t believe you.” His unoccupied left hand gripped onto the pudge at your hipbone. “I can feel you shaking like a leaf. It’s okay, baby. I would never hurt you.”
Somehow, you knew he was telling the truth, though it didn’t help you feel less scared. Your thighs rubbed against each other in a nervous manner, and Jack’s eyes tracked the movement. However, he thought it was for a different reason.
“Oh,” he breathed, eyes widening at the idea formulating in his sick, twisted head. “You want to show me that you love me? Is that it, sweetness?”
His left hand released your hip and trailed lower and toward the right, and you inhaled sharply when he pressed his fingers to your core. You reached out and gripped his wrist, halting any other movement from his appendage.
“No,” you stated. “Jack, this isn’t-this isn’t normal.”
He pressed his hard chest forward, and the cooled blood began soaking through your sleep shirt. You cringed and shuddered when the wet fabric clung to your skin.
“Your heart is racing,” he whispered in awe. “For me? Is your heart racing for me, sweetheart?” He dropped to his knees this time and pressed his ear right to your heart. He exhaled breathily at the sound. “Yeah; that’s for me.” His next inhale was sharp. “I can smell you. You’re utterly dripping.”
“I’m not,” you argued. “I’m—” A wince turned whine cut you off after Jack squeezed your sides painfully.
“You know better than to lie to me.” His matted curls pushed against his forehead as he twisted his face to look downward. “Remember,” he muttered, “you wished for this.”
His hand planted itself in the middle of your chest and pushed you down to your bed, your spine hitting your mattress so hard it pushed out a small oomph.
“Wait- stop-”
Jack shushed you, his hands, still covered in blood, yanked the sleep shorts you’d been wearing down your legs. Your legs kicked and twisted, trying in vain to stop him, but he had them down and hanging off one ankle despite your efforts.
“You just need to remember why you love me,” those big, calloused hands pushed your thighs apart, keeping them pinned open despite your efforts to close them. His hot breath against your core shocked you, your wiggling and writhing halting for a moment. He licked a stripe through your folds, humming in satisfaction. “No one can make you feel as good as I can. No one.”
“Jack please!” Your hands were pushing at his head, trying to get him away from you, but he barely budged, not even acknowledging your efforts.
“Already begging for me and I’ve barely touched you,” his chuckle vibrated through your traitorous body as he laid kisses over your mound. “I told you, you love me.”
“You have to stop! I don’t want this!”
“Yes you do,” Jack wrapped both of your wrists in one of his hands, holding them down against your stomach to keep you pinned. “You want this. I don’t know why you’re trying to lie to me when your cunt is being so honest, sweetheart.”
Humiliatingly, he was right. You could feel how wet you were, practically dripping down onto the bedsheets below you, your hole clenching and begging for something deep inside it. But you didn’t want this. Right? No, of course you didn’t. This was the man who had just admitted to killing your mother and best friends. Their blood was still on the hands that held you open and in place as his mouth descended on you.
But it was hard to stop the whine you let out when his tongue began tracing around your clit. The pressure was firm and insistent, sending bursts of pleasure coursing through you against your will.
You fought through the sensations, trying to focus on wiggling out of his grip, but inevitably your focus was drawn back between your legs. Jack was unrelenting, repeating the motions and keeping a steady pace, like he knew exactly how to push your buttons. You supposed he did, having been created by some sick force of nature just for you.
Belatedly, you realised exactly what his tongue was spelling out against you:
J-A-C-K A-B-B-O-T
His own name, again and again, all at the same speed and intensity.
Gradually, your desperate attempts to flee were being tempered by the pleasure rocketing up your spine. Your twisting and writhing to get away had turned into rocking and grinding against his face, using his bruising grip on your wrists as leverage. But while your body betrayed you, your mind didn’t.
Through the gasps and whines and moans he was yanking out of you, you tried your best to keep up the protests. Your increasingly weak protests of “No!” and “Please stop!” fell on deaf ears, until, right as you neared your peak and, fearing what the impending orgasm might do to your psyche, you got through to him. But not in the way that you’d hoped.
“Stop! Stop, Jack, or I’ll never love you!”
He froze, pulling his face away from your folds but keeping his hold on you firm. You were gasping for air, eyes firmly shut. You were afraid to look at him, afraid he’d see just how close he was to breaking you.
“You want me to kill myself?” His grip around your wrists tightened even more and his fingers holding your thigh open tensed, nails digging into your skin. He didn’t let up, despite the yelp that left your lips. “Is that what you want? You want to watch me slit my fucking wrists right now? Wanna watch me bleed out all over you? Because I will. I love you more than anything - more than life itself - and you are breaking my heart.”
“Jack, I-”
“Do you want that?” His voice raised, eyes wide and manic. “I’m all you need, baby. If I die, you have nothing. You made me kill your mom, your friends, and if I’m gone, what do you have left? You need me just like I need you.”
“No, no I didn’t make you-”
“You said you didn’t want to have to listen to them anymore,” Jack stood from the floor, his blood stained figure looming over you as you cowered back against the mattress. “I did exactly what you asked for, and now you don’t have to listen to them anymore.”
You were shaking, trying to look away, trying not to think about how everyone you loved had died because of a poor choice of words and Jack’s instability.
Jack’s hand grabbed your chin, forcing your eyes on his. His expression had softened, the lines on his face deepening as he stared down at you.
“Don’t make me kill myself because I did what you wanted,” he was begging, the whiplash from his rapid change in demeanor taking a moment to register in your mind. “Don’t make me, please.”
“I-I won’t,” you swallowed around the lump forming in your throat. “I won’t make you kill yourself, Jack. Please don’t do that.”
“Then tell me you love me,” his eyes darkened again and the frown fell from his face.
“Jack-”
“Tell me,” the tone of his voice dropped, practically growling at you as his fingers tightened against your jaw. “You love me.”
“I…”
The words stuck in your throat. The love you’d felt for him from before was still there, but your terror and grief was overshadowing it, making it impossible to verbalize.
Jack sighed, his expression once again changing, this time to disappointment. He tutted at you, like you were a small child failing to follow directions.
“I guess I just have to remind you how much you love me.”
There was no time for you to question what that meant, but you found out quickly. Jack’s hands wrapped around your waist. Before you could even gasp at the rapid change, his thighs were straddling yours, his palm planted between your shoulder blades to hold you down.
“I’m going to make you tell me you love me,” you could hear clinking and shuffling behind you, but it took a moment for it to connect that he was undoing his belt.
“Wait, Jack!” Bucking your hips and trying to push yourself up was futile, his weight and the strength of the muscles cording his arm simply too much for you to fight back against. This wasn’t what you wanted for your first time. You’d been hoping for a romantic dinner with him, followed by sweet, slow sex, not him covered in your loved ones blood as he took you by force. “Jack please, I’m a virgin!”
“Oh, sweetheart,” the heat of his chest, pressing against your back as he leaned down, was scalding. His fingers gently tucked your hair behind your ear, his lips pressing a kiss against your cheek. You didn’t realize you’d been crying until his tongue darted out to lick up the droplet. “Don’t worry. I’m all you need. I’ll be the only man to ever have you like this. I’ll take such good care of you.”
And then he was sliding in, stretching your traitorously wet walls around his length. Fuck, he was thick. You felt every ridge and vein as he sunk into you as deep as he could, until the tip was pressing against your cervix. It was impossible to stop the moan you let out, the noise mixing with his grunt as he ground against your ass.
“Jack, please…”
“You feel so good around me, baby,” He let more of his weight fall against you, pushing you even further into the crumpled sheets. One of his big arms slid around your neck, pressing your throat into the crook of his elbow.
“You need to sto-”
You choked on your words when Jack’s arm tightened, his bicep and forearm cutting off your air supply.
“The only thing I need,” his voice was low and gravely, his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “Is for you to stop pretending this doesn’t feel good, and let me make love to the love of my life.”
Your whole body tensed, walls trying to push him out, as he began to withdraw slowly.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he was panting against your ear now. His little groans and sighs rattled around in your head, clouding your already conflicted senses. “Squeeze me just like that.”
You felt yourself flutter involuntarily around him as his thick cock bullied its way back inside of you. Fighting against his hold to get air into your lungs, your own breathing picked up in pace, each exhale forcibly pushed out when he sunk in.
Jack’s pace was slow. Each thrust was long, pausing to grind against you when he bottomed out, his head pushing hard into the deepest parts of you. You’d never considered yourself a masochist before, but the little jolts of pain mingled with the pleasure, pushing you even higher. The confusing signals sent to your brain were sapping your willpower. You needed to fight him off, needed him to get away from you, but your body was tightening around him, pulling him in.
God, it felt good, but you had to hold out. You still needed to find a way to break free and to get rid of him.
But it was growing increasingly hard to focus on anything other than the sensations between your legs when your head grew fuzzy from the lack of air and your clit was dragging against the sheets as every move he made rocked your body. He’d gotten you close before with his mouth, but now the dizzying pleasure of his cock had your eyes crossing.
“You’re doing so good, my sweet girl,” his words were whispered into your hair as his pace gradually increased. He never fully withdrew, but his hips were bouncing against your ass as his slow, grinding rhythm transitioned into hard and fast thrusts. “Doing so good for me. I can feel how close you are, I want you to tell me you love me when you cum, ok?”
You tried to shake your head no, trying your hardest to beat back the ever rising pressure of your impending orgasm, but Jack’s hold around your neck stopped you from moving. The only noises you could squeeze out through his hold were little whines and whimpers.
“You’re going to say it,” he pulled you in tighter, leaning all of his weight onto you. His hand not around your neck slipped between you and the sheet. “Say it, say it, say it.”
The first brush of his fingers against your clit was all it took for you to shatter in his arms. You spasmed and clenched around him, your eyes rolling back into your head. Your trembling hands scrambled for a hold on the sheets when he pinched the little bundle of nerves between his fingers. It was overwhelming, the intensity of your orgasm squeezing you so tightly around him that you nearly pushed him out.
Jack responded by thrusting even harder inside of you, all the while mumbling, “say it, say it, say it.”
But you didn’t. You weren’t sure if it was your willpower that kept the words from falling from your lips, or the debilitating pleasure that was rendering your mind nearly blank, but you didn’t say it.
Jack roared in frustration as the last waves of your orgasm faded, leaving you shaking beneath him. You were unprepared for him to rip himself away from you, leaving you completely free of him for just a moment. Your brain cleared slightly without his skin on yours. There was only about a second for you to try to will your still trembling body to get up and run, but you ran out of time.
He flipped you over onto your back, spreading your legs wide and forcing himself between them before you could snap them shut. His eyes were wild, his chest heaving with every breath.
And, for the first time, you saw his cock, pointing up and out of where his jeans were just barely pulled down. He was big, even bigger than you’d pictured when he’d first slid inside you. Long and thick, flushed red and dripping with your juices. In any other situation, you’d be reaching for him, eager to get your hands on him. Even despite the position you found yourself in, against your will, you felt your mouth water and hands itching to reach out and touch him.
But you managed to hold back, trying to squirm away from him up the bed. He stopped you before you could put any meaningful distance between you, though, his hands found the back of your thighs, pushing them up and pressing them down, folding you in half.
“I gave you everything,” Jack looked close to tears, but you couldn’t tell if it was from anger or sadness. “I would do anything for you. Why don’t you love me?”
You didn’t have an answer for him. How do you answer when the man confessing his undying love to you killed your family and then took your virginity against your will? What do you say to the man taking off his shirt, revealing the bloody mess of his chest, slashes covering the skin on his left pec?
There were certainly no words to be found when it clicked that those lines were your initials, carved into the skin over his heart. They weren’t bleeding anymore, but the skin was red and angry, blood still smeared over his skin. The more you looked, the more you realized the incisions were much more precise than you’d realized. Jack specialized in trauma procedures, of course the self inflicted modification he’d given himself would be perfect.
Your first instinct was awe, quickly followed by disgust at yourself and fear at the sight of his dedication to you. But you couldn’t help tracing your eyes over the split skin, admiring the clean lines. It sparked something deep inside you, to see him declare your ownership over him so blatantly on his skin, despite the fact that you still told yourself that you didn’t want to hold his leash.
“All I want is to be yours, sweetheart,” Jack’s intensity hadn’t dimmed, but his anger seemed to be gone for the moment. He sounded miserable, literally begging on his knees before you “Please let me be yours.”
“Jack . . ..”
“Please,” he still had your knees pressed to your chest, his fingers flexing and digging into your flesh.
You didn’t know if it was the pathetic way he was begging for your love or the devotion in his eyes that broke you. You could tell yourself that you were playing along, trying to go along with it to get away from him, but you didn’t know if that was true.
“Ok.”
Jack lit up immediately, all traces of his despair disappearing in an instant. The wide and handsome smile that split his face was at odds with the blood still smeared across his body. The juxtaposition was jarring, adding to the warring feelings rising in you.
“Can you say it for me?”
“I love you,” your voice was barely above a whisper. You didn’t know if you meant it - you weren’t sure you wanted to know, either - but Jack took you at your word.
“I love you, too.”
And then he was sliding back in, pushing through your folds and sinking into you up to the hilt. With your legs still folded up and resting over your shoulders as he bent forward, he felt even bigger than he had before, filling you completely to the brim. You swore you could feel him in your throat.
When he pressed fully into you, he leant down, his lips connecting to yours. You didn’t bother to fight him, returning the kiss as he fell into a rhythm. His tongue pushed between your lips as his hips pulled back from yours.
Jack sheathed himself back inside you, thrusting hard and punching a broken sound out of your mouth. He swallowed the noise, continuing to devour you as he continued. Every slow withdrawal was followed by a brutal thrust in.
“I love you,” Jack broke the kiss. His lips traveled down over your cheek until they reached your neck. His teeth scraped over a spot just below your jaw that had you keening, arching up into him.
He continued to work the spot, kissing and sucking and biting until he was satisfied with the blooming bruise before he was moving onto another, unblemished section of skin. It hurt, your skin burning from the contact of his lips, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything besides cry and moan.
“Fuck!”
You couldn’t help the expletive when his hips shifted, his thrust pushing directly against a spot inside you that had your back arching into him. It shot sparks through you, the sensation tightening into a knot in your stomach. Jack adjusted his angle to hit that spot head on again and again. A strangled groan vibrated through Jack when you clenched around him as a result.
“Take me so well,” Jack disconnected from your neck. His forehead rested against your shoulder, looking down to where you were connected, but the bulk of his body blocked your view.
Jack pushed back, sitting up to kneel between your legs. His large hands kept your legs over his shoulders, holding you in place, even though you weren’t sure you’d be strong enough to get away from him, even if you wanted to. He felt too good buried deep inside you.
Your brain felt foggy, the combination of sensations washing away your self preservation and critical thinking. When Jack had you on your stomach, you were being taken, but here, you felt like you were being worshipped. There was still fear simmering under your skin, but it was taking a backseat to the orgasm rising in your gut.
“God, look at you,” Jack was panting, his pace increasing and his eyes focused down between your legs. You didn’t realize what he was looking at until one of his hands let go of your thigh to press down on your stomach against the visible outline of his cock. “Can see how much I'm stretching you out.”
Your body seized, the breath flying out of your lungs. That added pressure made him feel even bigger. It triggered your orgasm, pleasure crashing through you unexpectedly. It caught you off guard and unprepared. Your head lolled back, eyes fluttering as your mind went blank. Jack kept his hand there, pinning you down as he kept thrusting into you, his rhythm faltering slightly as he battled his way through the continued clenching of your walls. He wasn’t letting you come down, giving you no reprieve from the waves of pleasure wracking your shaking body beneath his.
“Oh, fuck,” Jack finally took his hand away from your lower stomach, but you still didn’t get a moment to breath. His fingers found your clit again, rapidly circling the small bud. “One more, baby, one more.”
“No, Jack, no,” you started to try to wiggle away. Through your addled brain, deja vu struck you. It made you almost want to laugh. You didn’t want to get away from him out of fear - although fear was certainly still there - no, instead you were trying to get away from the rapidly building overstimulation. “I can’t, not again!”
“Yes you can,” his rhythm picked up, hips moving even faster against you. The squelching and slapping sounds filling the room were obscene. “I know what’s best for you. Trust me.”
You were chanting; “No, no, no!” even as your core tightened, the rapid build up of your third orgasm contradicting with your words. You were sure Jack could feel it, too. The way your walls clenched and fluttered around him was telling.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” sweat was beading on his chest, mixing with the blood on his skin and dripping onto you, leaving small splatters on your stomach. “Cum for me and I’ll cum for you.”
“Jack!”
You broke. This orgasm hit you like a truck. You felt it physically snap inside of you, the tension releasing a flood of endorphins into your blood. Through the haze wiping your mind blank, you heard Jack cry out, hips stuttering and pushing into the hilt. You could feel the heat as he spilled deep inside of you. It felt like a brand, burning you from the inside out and soaking your depths in him.
The waves of pleasure mounted, consuming you until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your eyes rolled back into your head and everything went black.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Jack had fallen asleep, and you were far from turning over and snuggling into his side after you'd been ripped from the consuming darkness.
You ached in ways you didn’t know were possible. Every limb felt heavy like you’d been shacked to a ball and chain, and you knew every step would be agony. The bruises he’d left behind would mottle your skin for weeks as reminders of what he did to you, to your friends, to your mom. Staying next to him in bed would ease the pain, but you needed to get up. The thought of waking Jack sent your heart into a panicked rhythm, and you were sure the sound alone would wake him up. Soft snores and grunts sounded from his lips every few seconds.
Centimeter by centimeter, you pushed up from your lying position. You thanked anyone who was listening for the fact that he hadn’t slung an arm around your waist to hold you down further. Instead of your normal wake-up routine, ten minutes must have passed by the time you stood from your bed. You could not let Jack wake up under any circumstances. You took another glance back at Jack.
Still asleep.
Gingerly, you grabbed your phone off the side table and began to shuffle towards your bathroom. You held back the urge to throw up when your foot slid through a puddle of thickened, coagulated blood. With trembling hands, you closed the bathroom door, mentally cursing yourself when it gave off the tiniest click. You held your breath and listened and listened and listened for any sign that Jack had woken up. When you caught another puff of steady air, you pushed in the small lock carefully. Not daring to turn on the light, you powered on your phone and Googled “One Wish Willow Customer Service” and clicked the first number that showed up.
Your phone rang quietly three times before a bored voice filled your ear. “Hello.”
“I need to cancel a wish . . . please,” you pleaded in a whisper.
“I’m sorry, we don’t really do that.”
Your stomach dropped, and the room tilted. “Please; you have to do something. I need my wish to go away.” Your mouth pooled with bile-tasting saliva.
“If you had read the back of the box, you would see that wishes can’t be canceled or altered. It’s all in the fine print.”
A whimper slipped through your lips. “He killed people, don’t you understand? And I’m scared he’ll kill me eventually.”
Static crackled from the speaker before the guy on the other line sighed heavily. “The only way a wish can go away is if the wisher or the wished-upon passes. Sorry, but I can’t do anything else for you.”
The call ended, and all you were left to do was stare at your phone.
A flash of pills or your razor against your wrists crossed your mind briefly, but that meant Jack would still be in your world. And there was no telling what he’d do if you died. You could practically envision the city drenched in red and violence. But not doing something wasn’t an option. You couldn’t force yourself to go back into the room, get back into bed, and sleep like your world was perfect.
Your guilt wouldn’t silence enough for that.
With a tight chest, you called a second number and waited.
It wasn’t long before you heard the sirens wail down your street, and you pressed your back against the door. By now, you were certain Jack was either close to waking up or he was now fully awake. You didn’t know which terrified you more.
“Sweetheart?” Jack called out, and your lungs seized. “Where’d you go, baby?” His tone was soft and gentle for now.
You wondered if the blue and red flashing lights poured through your blinds and illuminated his enraged face. Besides the sirens, your bedroom and bathroom were silent. On the other side of the door, Jack made no movements that caused any sound. It was as if he had disappeared, giving you an opportunity to think about opening the door. The golden knob felt cool against your palm and–
BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!
You squealed loudly in terror and backed away immediately from the door only stopping when the backs of your legs hit the side of the tub.
“What did you do, sweetheart?” Jack’s loud voice carried through the door in a hollow manner. “Y/nnnnnn,” he drew out your name. “WHAT DID YOU FUCKING DO?”
Downstairs, another blam! sounded and was followed by many footsteps and cries of Police! and We’re coming up!
A glimmer of hope raced through your chest, however panic engulfed it when Jack began rattling the door so hard you feared he’d take it off its hinges.
“You think you’re so smart? You think the boys in blue will keep me away from you?” Jack screamed through a raw throat. “You’re so dead wrong, baby. I’ll never be apart from you. You’re mine for the rest of your life. I—”
His voice cut off from the slam of your bedroom door. Following, grunts, the Miranda rights, and the sound of struggle echoed into the bathroom. You attempted to block it out with both hands on your ears, but Jack was too loud, too impossible to suppress. All went quiet a few moments later until his empty laugh began to stutter out in broken barks.
You were going to be sick.
“We aren’t over, sweetheart!” he continued, though his voice was waning. “I’ll find you again soon enough! We’re going to be together until the end of time! We—”
“Ma’am, it’s safe to come out,” another male’s voice covered the rest of Jack’s taunts.
You ripped the door open and a sob of relief sputtered from your lips. You stepped back through the smeared blood–a result of Jack’s struggle–and sat back down on your bed. Your spine bent as you hunched forward in an attempt of self-comfort. You gripped your arms with white knuckles, and the bruises Jack left behind didn’t even compute through your twisted emotions.
One of the officers stepped close to your knees. “I know this has been very traumatic for you, but when you’re ready, we’ll need to take you down to the station to get your statement.”
You nodded wordlessly.
Two officers stood in the corner where Jack dripped the most blood while he stood watching you.
“What the fuck happened in here,” one of them whispered, but without much other conversation, you heard him clear as day.
“I wish I knew, man,” the other responded.
Your soul tensed at his wording and the way he tossed it out so casually. Because you’d wished for something you thought to be so trivial, and now look at where it got you.
Alone and traumatized where you’ll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life.
hi bb - so ya know how shawn had that earring way back when….i need reader to find out about jack having one too, buys him a hoop, and finds out he’s like super sensitive about his ears (why he got rid of it in the first place) i need him squirming under her as she bites and tugs on it while she rides him into tomorrow 🤤
someone needs to tell @fangirl-dot-com to shut the fuck up because tell me why I have so much work to do and the bitch sends me shit like this??????? god I wish she didn't have good ideas
(also if you look closely at the middle picture, I am 100% convinced you can see the hole)
18+
“Jack, please! It’s so hot!”
“Seriously?” He looked exasperated but amused by your pleading as you wiggled on his lap. “You want it that bad?”
“Yes,” you held up the small, silver hoop, turning it to let the low light of his living room catch it and throw sparks of light across his face. You’d chosen silver on purpose, wanting it to match his hair and stubble. “Just for a bit. Wanna see it on you.”
He sighed, his hands squeezing your hips. He really didn’t understand your fascination with this, but he really was a push over when it came to you.
“Fine,” you squealed with joy, but he caught your wrist before you could lunge for his ear. “But I’m taking it out after an hour. I’m not wearing it full time anymore. I’m 50, not 25, sweetheart.”
You were pretty confident you could get him to cave and wear it for you logner, but you didn’t argue.
“Can I put it in now?”
Jack smirked a little, resisting the urge to make a joke.
“Yeah, baby,” he turned his head, giving you the space to work. He dropped your wrist, both of his hands returning to your hips. “You can.”
You could see the small, nearly invisible hole where the earring would go. Keeping your touches light, you traced from the top of the cartilage down to the lobe with one finger. Beneath you, you could feel Jack shudder.
Interesting.
Unclasping the hoop, you took the lobe between two of your fingers, holding it steady. His breathing was picking up and his fingers were digging into your sides. You slowly slid the post of the hoop through his ear, leaning in close and letting your breath ghost over the shell of his ear.
You could feel him getting hard between your legs, and, subconsciously, his hands were starting to drag your hips over his. Leaning into it, you ground down on him as you closed the hinge, securing the little earring in place.
“So pretty,” you murmured as you sat back to admire him. Jack was flushed, eyes wide and pupils blown as he turned to look up at you. The shining glint of silver in his ear had your walls clenching and feeling much too empty.
“This what you wanted?” Jack pushed his hips up into yours, pulling you down against the his hard cock.
“No, this is,” your hands fell to the waistband of his sweats, pushing the fabric down just enough to free his length. You pumped him once, gathering the little drops of fluid already leaking from his head and spreading it down the rest of him. He sucked in a hard breath, his own hands shifting down to where your underwear barely kept you covered.
“You wanna ride me while I look like a pirate, pretty girl? S’that what you’re into?”
You laughed, lifting your hips to allow him to yank your underwear to the side. His fingers dipped through your slit, finding you more than wet enough to take him without any prep.
“Well, you’ve already got the peg leg. You should probably just lean into your new aesthetic.”
Jack didn’t seem to think you were all that funny. His hand came down against your ass, jolting you forward and into him as you gasped.
“You gonna keep talking or are you solve the little problem you created?” He moved you again, lifting you up until the tip of his cock was aligned with your entrance. You slid down slowly, gasping as he stretched you around him.
“I don’t think I’d call it little,” you bit back a moan as you took him fully, settling down into his lap. Your hips rocked back and forth in small, stuttering grinds as you got used to him. “I’d say it’s pretty sizable.”
“Oh yeah?” Jack looked smug, like he always did when he first entered you. No matter how many times the two of you fucked, you always needed a moment to get used to the way he stretched you, more than any partner had before.
“Mhm,” you started rolling your hips, rising an inch or two up off him before sinking down and grinding your clit against him. Your hand twisted in his hair, pulling his head to the side so you could stare at the little sliver hoop. “We gotta get you an eyepatch. Really complete the look.”
“Will you shut up?” Jack slapped your ass again before using his hold on your hips to start moving you harder against him.
Your teeth were itching for something to bite down on as Jack manipulated your body, driving deep into you.
With your craving and just how tantalizing that little piece of jewelry looked, it was inevitable that you leaned forwards and grasped the thin metal with your teeth.
“Oh fuck!”
Jack’s hips jumped up, slamming into yours and forcing a cry from your lips, but you held on. Gently, you worked the lobe of his ear between your teeth, letting your tongue swipe over the soft skin and cold metal.
He was working you harder, dragging you down against him and thrusting up into you with force you hadn’t seen from him before. Every collision of his hips against yours sent little moans flying from your mouth. They were muffled slightly by his flesh still trapped by your teeth, but every sound went straight from you and into his ear.
“Fuck,” Jack was panting, his head turned and ear presented to you like a prize. “Fuck you sound so good, feel so good. Keep doing that.”
You had no intention of stopping, but you did move. You released the lobe of his ear, letting your tongue swipe over the cartilage as you let your pants and whines out, not holding any back anymore.
When Jack’s fingers found your clit, circling the little bud faster than you were ready for, your whole body jerked. Your teeth bit down on the shell of his ear. A loud moan ripped out of you as Jack tugged you back down on him in response, bullying his cock fully inside you.
His whole body shook as the first warm spurts of his release filled you, seeping out around his cock and pooling in his lap. He didn’t stop his fingers, though, keeping up the pace and pushing you over the edge.
Your teeth let go as you came, not wanting to bite him too hard in your haze, but your head didn’t move. You kept it right there next to his ear, letting him hear every moan and whine and gasp as you came.
You clenched hard around him, rolling your hips and grinding between his fingers and his hard length, still filling you up. Your toes curled as the strongest waves passed through you, making your head pleasantly fuzzy.
When your orgasm had passed, you slumped against him, head buried in his shoulder and your hands weakly pushing his still circling fingers away from your core. He relented, moving his soaking fingers away and cradling you in his arms as the two of you panted and tried to recover.
“We should do that again,” your voice was almost completely muffled by his shirt.
“Do what again?”
“Dress you up like a pirate.”
Jack laughed, pulling your head away from him so he could look you in the eyes. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips.
“I didn’t know that was something you’d be into, baby.”
You pouted, reaching out to tug at the hoop still in his ear. To your delight, his breathing hitched and the softening length of his cock, still buried deep inside you, twitched.
“And I didn’t know you’d be so into having your ears played with,” you ground down against him, swiveling your hips and fiddling with the earring between your fingers. Jack gasped, gritting his teeth as his cock began to fill out once again. “Guess this means you’ll have to keep wearing this pretty little hoop.”
“Not a chance, you evil little minx,” he held your hips still.
“Really?” You tugged again, thoroughly enjoying the way his eyes slid shut and his hips gave an aborted little thrust.
You leaned forward again, until your lips were right next to the shell of his ear. Your tongue darted out, tracing over the ridges. He shuddered again and you could feel just how hard he was already.
refine your palate actually killed me and sent me to heaven. i hope you find €300-400 on the ground and your nose is never blocked again. have a wonderful day.
literally thank you so much! I really thought about changing grant to jack because he is such an unpopular Shawn character as far as in fan fiction, but you made my day with this!
tags: grant reilly x reader, implied age gap blow job, spitting, swallowing, 18+ NSFW MDNI
notes: another day, another smutty homework blurb from @oxalaia-quilombensis , I'm still riding that Yes, Chef high, so grant was definitely next on my list! taglist is below the cut, enjoy!
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Your knees dug into the carpeted flooring, and you knew if you stood, the red imprints of each thread would be clearly and visibly dug into your skin, long reminders of how long you’d been down there. With a throbbing ache, your jaw hung open with drips of saliva pooling at the stretched edges of your mouth. Each breath you sucked in felt like someone had wrapped ribbons around your chest, constricting and gasping. Normally free to move around your mouth, your tongue nestled snugly behind your bottom teeth with a throbbing, hot weight running back and forth along your tastebuds.
Above you, Grant curved downward around your head, large hands multi-tasking to keep your naked spine pressed against the living room walls. His right had already pushed your hair back, gathering the strands into a make-shift pony tail in his palm. If you tried to pull back, his fingers tightened. His left splayed high against the textured paint, giving something for him to rest his weight on. He had left on his shirt, but if you looked up through lidded eyes, you could catch the thatch of silvering hair on his navel each time his hips drew back, leaving a gap between the fabric and skin.
“Fucckkkk,” Grant hissed on his next inward thrust, cock pushing past your molars, tip hitting the very back of your tongue. He made sure to keep the tang of pre somewhere where you could still taste it. That was the very reason he had you in this exact position. “Just like that, honey. Feels so fuckin’ good to have you taste me like this.”
You couldn’t answer him even if you tried. Another lap of saliva dripped over the side of your chin. You wouldn’t be swallowing anything except for what Grant gave you after you’d made the mistake of asking him to change something in his most recent recipe. Picky wouldn’t have been the correct word for you, but asking for the smallest substitution from your Michelin-star-winning-chef-of-a-boyfriend meant betrayal at its finest.
Instead of continuing with dinner, he’d taken you straight into the living room and pushed you to your knees. He hadn’t wasted time in shucking off his belt to allow his pants to drop to his ankles, not even giving his boxers the same methodic motion and tucking the hem just below his balls. His already stiff cock tapped once against his stomach before he pushed it through your lips.
Your mouth tightened around him at the suddenness of sweat, skin, and salty mess that painted the top of your tongue. At the first taste, your nose scrunched, and you tried to jerk away, but that stupid large right hand of his kept you from moving.
“We need to refine your palate, honey,” Grant panted, eyes shut tightly, crows’ feet crinkling in full force. “I cooked you a delicious meal, and instead of thanking me, you asked me to change it—fuck!” His hips snapped, and your nose touched the wiry hairs at the base of his cock. “That won’t do in the grown-up world. Gotta make sure—shit—gotta make sure you can eat anything.”
A high-pitched warble sounded around his length, spit flying, the globs hitting the tops of his thighs. Grant hung his head to look down at the mess you’d become, and he smirked wildly at your flushed cheeks and smearing mascara and fucked out expression.
He hadn’t even touched you, and you looked as though he’d been pounding into your cunt for hours. His dick made you this whiny and needy, eyes wide and glossy with unshed tears. Just the thought nearly brought him to the edge.
His jaw opened, and his head tilted backward, face toward the ceiling as his hips began rocking with a hastened vigor.
“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he grunted through clenched teeth. “I’m gonna cum. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oohhh ffuuuu—”
The heated rubber band in his stomach snapped, his hips slowing to powerful thrusts before he pulled out just until his tip rested in the middle of your tongue. Being enveloped in the heat of your mouth had him throbbing and spilling in moments, thick blurts of milky cum puddling over your tastebuds.
“Don’t swallow,” Grant demanded, chest heaving in large gulps of air. “Keep it on your tongue.”
When his cock stopped pulsing, the hand on the wall dropped in order to grip your jaw, and his hips drew backwards, wet length slipping entirely from your mouth. His thumb pushed through your lips and held them open, his stomach rolling with another wave of pleasure at the sight of his spend and your spit sloshing in your mouth. The hand in your hair rounded your face and gently clamped around your throat.
Grant almost went to give you the go ahead, but a nastier thought to make you taste him even further filled his mind, and he acted on it, fully committing without thinking it over. He bent over at the waist, face leaning in towards your open mouth between his fingers. Through lidded eyes, you watched his tongue swirl around his mouth before he puckered slightly. In the next breath, his lips parted, and a thick stream of saliva dripped into your already filled mouth. He leaned back and observed the way his foamy spit mixed with his cum.
“Now you can swallow, honey. One big gulp,” he muttered, letting your jaw finally clamp back together. He watched intently as your throat bobbed under his palm. “Good girl.”
Your lips wetly smacked together, tongue retracting slightly from the overwhelming aftertaste of him. His lips quirked.
“I hope that didn’t fill you up too much,” he muttered, and your eyes cast down to his half-hard cock bobbing near his thighs. “Because we still have so many courses left to train the pickiness out of you.”
here are all 14 prompts, the characters requested for them, and the dates they'll be going up. each of them will be posted at 5:00pm PST if everything goes right but ive also never used tumblrs queuing function so don't crucify me if something is late
I want to thank all of you so much for following, engaging, and enjoying my work! I truly love that I get to do this and I know I've posted thank you messages before, but I don't think I can ever overstate just how grateful for all of you <3
summary: the three times jack abbot compared you to someone else vs. the one time you were exactly who he wanted but couldn't have anymore.
tags: jack abbot x reader, angst, deep insecurities, jack compares you to samira, robby, and his late-wife (I named her alice), a few scene changes but it's for the plot, trying out [name] but if I don't like it, it's back to y/n for all of you, jack is lowkey an asshole on accident (thinks he's meaning well by complimenting others, but tears you apart in the process), medical inaccuracies, hurt/no comfort (at least for jack), eventual breakup, special end scene guest star, age gape (28-32/50), heavily inspired by lacy by olivia rodrigo (which I suggest listening to while you read) and all the feels that come with that, 18+ MDNI
notes: this hurt to write, and this better hurt y'all in the best angsty way possible! just a reminder that my requests for the hatosyverse are open, and that I'm doing smutty blurbs to build my writing abilities, enjoy!
word count: 7.4k
You didn't understand how you'd been able to score Jack Abbot.
Somehow, the universe decided that you'd be his match, the one he chose to go home to at the end of a bad shift, the one who'd been able to give him the most comfort during his darkest days. You knew what you'd be getting into: the PTSD, the depression, shifts where he felt more like your boss than your partner. But you believed you could get through it; Jack was older, and you liked to think you were mature enough to handle anything thrown your way.
For almost a year, your relationship bloomed in stolen glances across the Pitt, hidden moments in supply closets, and late-night baths spent at his house trying to bury yourself next to his heart. Jack was it for you, and you let yourself dream about a future, ring on your finger, possible children running around the house you shared. The two of you rarely fought, often choosing to apologize for anything under the sun before arguments grew too large for your feelings.
Never once did Jack make you feel inadequate, even if you had voiced early on that you truly didn't understand why he picked you. Compared to his gorgeous salt-and-pepper curls and freckled skin and large stature, you felt plain. Your hair was always pulled into a slick ponytail, makeup caused acne breakouts after 12-hour shifts, and what little time you had to yourself, you spent it at home, reading a book, instead of going out with friends and colleagues. People looked at you without so much as a second glance. Jack, on the other hand, made heads turn and nurses blush if they somehow caught his attention long enough for him to send a look their way. You couldn't remember the last time you went through a shift where a female (or sometimes male) patient failed to make a comment about the sexy, silver fox doctor.
You never made it more than it was: harmless flirting from people Jack would never think about again once they got discharged.
After, you and he had gone through the HR meetings, the contract signings, and the swearing that your relationship wouldn't get in the way of saving lives or have Jack start playing favorites. To further this, around the 9-month mark of being Jack's, they plucked you from the safety of the nightshift and dropped you right into Robby's hands. But this was how it was going to be from now on; there was no point in arguing as long as you got to keep Jack.
For three months, you persevered. Finding a groove with an already well-oiled shift proved to be harder than it looked. People talked. Nurses gossiped. Doctors speculated. You, through it all, kept your chin high. Their words didn't get to dictate your relationship. During handoffs, Jack still swept you into his arms and kissed you like a man coming back from war. He still told you that dinner was in the fridge once you got home and napped. He still continued to send updates during his shift, text messages from the separate night-shift group chat made after your departure chiming loudly while you ate. And most important of all, he still loved you.
However, nothing could have prepared you for the three times you felt the most unloved.
I care, I care, I care, like perfume that you wear, I linger all the time, watchin', hidden in plain sight, ooh, I try, I try, I try, but it takes over my life, I see you everywhere, the sweetest torture one could bear
"Hey, Dana," you called out while swimming through the chaos only brought on by a 4th of July shift.
At her name, Dana looked up over the thin frames of her glasses, pausing momentarily to look your way before going back to her board. "Please don't tell me that the 36 hot dog guy is back."
You shook your head, hands coming to rest on top of the vinyl counter. "Not that I'm aware of."
"Thank heavens. What can I do for ya, hun?"
Leaning in, you did a quick glance around the department. "I heard Jack was here early?"
Her eyebrows almost rose to her hairline. "Yeah; he came in with one of his SWAT buddies. GSW to the man's neck, but it looks like he's going to be okay." She reached over and grabbed a tablet. "Actually, can you find Jack for me? He wanted an update ASAP."
Your fingers drummed against the counter anxiously before you took the tablet from her. "I was just about to ask if you'd seen him."
Dana glanced over your shoulder and stuck out her chin in the same direction. "Saw him duck into Room 15. Might be taking a breather; Lord knows he needs one after that raid." She gave you a knowing look, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Maybe you're exactly what he needs."
A rush of heat flooded your face, eyes darting away from hers. "I'll see if I can find him."
You turned away before she could say anything more, hands desperately holding the tablet to your chest. Your shoes squeaked against the tile floor, steps bringing you closer to the room Jack was supposedly in. Once at the door, you raised a hand to draw the curtain away, but the sound of voices—plural—had you stopping. Saliva pooled between your teeth as you listened closely.
"—is the hospital going to pay for it?"
There was a pause before Jack clearly grumbled, "I'll pay for it."
You slowly moved to the side next to the wall where the curtain didn't completely cut the room off. Through the slot, your eyes widened at the sight of a Jack, shirt off, pale chest, wound-care swab twirling in his fingers with Samira sitting in one of the chairs. In the next beat, she stood and walked right past the curtain slot, completely oblivious that you were right behind it. She stopped near the wall and grabbed a pair of gloves before snapping them on.
His brows furrowed. "What are you doing?"
She smiled before rounding to stand behind him. "What you clearly can't."
Begrudgingly, he handed over the swab.
"Did you make a chart?" she asked while dipping the cotton end into a wound cream.
Jack crossed his arms, and his shoulders rolled and dipped. "No. This can stay off the books. Don't need the paperwork from the hospital or police department."
Samira paused. "Would you rather me go get Dr. [Name]? I'm sure she could do this much better than I could."
"No," Jack responded, shaking his head. "She'd just panic about this. There's no need to throw her off her game."
Your stomach flipped. He thought you'd panic? Sure, you'd be worried, but it wasn't like you hadn't seem him hurt before. Whatever wound he had on his back wouldn't be the worst thing he'd come home with after a SWAT shift.
"Isn't she your girlfriend?" She began dabbing at his back, the swab coming back bloodied.
"Yeah, but it's different with you. I don't have to worry about you taking your time or being indifferent about this." He winced at a deeper brush into the graze. "She's not like you, Dr. Mohan. She wears everything on her sleeve. Really, she could learn how to be more level headed like you, Dr. Mohan. I've seen the way you handle traumas. We wouldn't be so in the low if we had about 10 more of you."
He ended with a chuckle like what he just said didn't feel like a knives to your stomach.
Is that what he really thought about you? That you should be more like Samira and her ability to stay cool through anything thrown at her? With a blink, your eyes glossed over.
Jack turned his head, neck twisting to he could meet Samira's eyes. "You won't tell her about this, right? Our little secret?"
You didn't stay to hear what she said, choosing to turn around before you could watch any longer. It was incredible that you were able to stay for so long, submitting yourself to a new kind of torture. Walking back to the nurses station, your steps slowed as if molasses coated the floor, its stickiness clinging to your shoes.
At your oncoming presence, Dana looked over. "Did you find him, hun?"
You forced yourself to not look back at the closed curtain. "Yeah, but he's in the middle of something right now. I'll just catch up with him later."
The tablet gave a small thud as you placed it back into the holder, and you desperately tried to find another patient to busy yourself with, specifically one furthest from Room 15. However, before you could grab one, a hand wrapped around your elbow and tugged.
"Hey, I need you for the incoming trauma," Langdon said as he dragged you with him. "Twenty-year-old female, unconscious for an unknown matter of time."
You nodded silently, allowing him to keep walking you like a dog on a leash until he stopped in front of the ambulance bay sliding doors. Your lungs expanded in a deep, wavering breath.
Now was not the time to panic. You could do this. You could be like Samira. You could show Jack that you could handle a trauma.
During your internal pep talk, the doors slid open, giving way for the gurney and two paramedics.
"BP is 140-over-92 and climbing. No relevant medical history. She woke up once on the way over and vomited before passing out again."
You quickly followed Langdon into the first trauma room and helped transfer her over onto the bed. Immediately, numbers started being shouted while you started your initial exam.
When nothing seemed to blare any red flags, Langdon started impatient as the woman kept deteriorating. Through it all, you willed your hands to stay steady, your mind calm while you mentally went through what could be the matter. You took a step forward, body positioning near her head so you could look at her pupils one more time, and that's when you smelled it: the acrid, fruity smell puffing out of her mouth as she struggled to breath.
You jerked back quickly. "Dr. Langdon, is there a history of diabetes or hyperglycemia? Her breath smells like rotting fruit."
Langdon looked over at you before leaning toward her face. He hissed a curse before barking for a blood sugar test. Your eyes widened when the screen flashed a 450 mg/dL.
"She's experiencing diabetic ketoacidosis," you breathed.
"Let's get her on an insulin drip, now," Langdon hissed, face pinched until he looked over at you with a softer expression. "Great job catching that and staying calm." He chuckled slightly. "Never seen you like this but keep it up."
You knew his words were meant to be encouraging, but all they did was send bile up your throat. Without saying anything more, you tore off the gloves and shoved them deep into a biohazard bin. You wanted to cry, wanted to find the nearest restroom and tug at your hair.
But that's not what Samira would do your mind provided; the thought ugly and green. She'd shrug it all off and keep working like nothing was the matter.
Your teeth ground together, shoulders squaring in tandem. If everyone would rather have you calm, you'd be calm. You'd tuck your heart away rather than show it to the patients who needed someone that wore it on their sleeve. You picked up another tablet at the nurses station and got back to work.
The rest of the fourth went by in a tornado. Systems went down after a cyberattack; fireworks boomed off in the distance; you stayed busy. Each of your patients were in and out at a lightning speed, and by the start of the night shift, you were ready to go home and cry your heart out into a pillow.
You'd seen Samira every so often in between patients and a small lunch break. Like always, she smiled at you and waved and chatted when she could, but her actions made you want to wither up like a dead flower. You couldn't help but stare at her, thinking that you should be more like the woman in front of you, mind comparing your features to hers at a rapid speed you couldn't stop. She somehow looked like an angel in the middle of a place jokingly nicknamed one of the seven layers of hell, skin clear and hair somehow perfectly put in a bun. You tried your best to match her enthusiasm, but the poison had already been drank.
On the contrary, the only time you really saw Jack was at the start of handoffs. He had helped with one trauma before going to the on-call room for a needed nap, and you hadn't wanted to talk to him then, scared of how he'd act around you.
"There you are, sweetheart," you heard him say as you finished up converting with Lena about the man in Room 5. "I've been looking for you. Thought you might have left without saying goodbye."
You winced slightly. "No; I've just been busy."
Jack hummed and smiled warmly at you, but the expression was tainted by his words earlier. "I heard. Langdon's been nothing but praising you for earlier. I'm proud of you."
"Sure you are," you muttered too lowly for him to catch. Your lips thinly stretched into a smile that didn't meet your tired eyes. "Thank you, Jack," you settled on instead.
His hazel eyes scanned over your face, and his smile slightly dropped. "Are you okay, though? You look a little down."
"I'm fine," you shot out. "Today's just been long, and I'm ready to get home."
Jack nodded. "I left food in the fridge for you, so make sure you eat it after you sleep for a bit."
"Got it."
He looked at you expectantly before rolling his eyes. "Come here."
Like it had been etched into your DNA, you listened and fell into his open arms, face tucking into his chest. He squeezed you tightly before placing a kiss to your temple.
"Proud of you," he said. "You do such a good job. We need so many doctors like you, my perfect girl."
Perfect felt like a twist of the knife, because if you were so perfect, why had he told Samira that he wished you were more like her?
I feel your compliments like bullets on skin. Dazzling starlet, Bardot reincarnate, well, aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist?
As the weeks went on, Jack's words never left your soul, the damage irreparable in everything that you did.
Second guessing yourself had been a struggle you'd dealt with since an earlier age. Normally, Jack would be able to quiet all those thoughts; he had chosen you; he loved you. But now, as you second guessed everything you did, you also second guessed everything Jack said. You picked apart every encouragement, every compliment, every sweet promise he whispered in your ear.
What he said now couldn't be taken at face value, and you wondered if that feeling would ever go away. You'd asked him about the bullet graze a few days after the 4th, acting completely oblivious to what you knew. Like you thought, Jack assured you that he got it handled and for you to not worry about it, like that did anything to settle the rolling feelings in your stomach.
You tried your best to move on, knowing you'd only bring yourself down more if you dwelled too long about really how much Jack's words had affected you while he never said anything directly to your face. The idea that he wanted you to be like someone else made your heart clench tightly to the point you often wanted to call off work, hoping that you could just wallow in self pity for hours and hours.
But the Pitt did not care for you like that; it demanded twelve hour shifts and grueling doubles. So every day, you rolled out of bed before Jack got home and pulled up your big girl pants.
You worked through it. You'd learned how to stay calm, how to not panic under duress, and it killed you to admit that you'd become a better doctor because of it. You hardly ever hiccuped during a trauma, gaining compliments from the surgeons and Robby for your techniques that were close to flawless. For the smallest second, you would preen under their words before the ugly, repulsive reminder that they might not be real swallowed you down in a nasty gulp.
"Dr. [Name] follow me please," Robby called as he brushed past the nurses station where you were currently typing away at a chart, hands clutching a chart out in front of him to read. "Quickly."
You pushed up from the desk, chair rolling far behind you from the force of your legs. Not wanting to lose him, you rounded the counter and jumped into his long stride.
"Yes, Dr. Robby?" you asked.
As far as you knew, there weren't any incoming traumas and it was too late in the day for him to have questions about your patients that were currently waiting for a room.
Robby paused in front of an empty trauma room. "Jack just let me know that he found a man in need of medical attention and is bringing him in before handoffs, and I thought you could help him out." He handed you the tablet, already ready to go with updated information.
You took a quick glance over this. "Um, Dr. Robby, it looks like he'll need a pericardiocentesis."
"It's good that you know exactly what he'll need. What's the issue?"
Your eyes looked from the screen to his brown eyes. "I've never done one before."
He simply smiled at you and patted your shoulder. "That's why Jack's going to lead you through it. I would stay, but since he's coming in early, I'm going to head out."
You tried to quirk a smile. "Got a hot date waiting for you?"
A low chuckle shook his shoulders. "You got jokes. My bike needs some repairs, and today's the only day I can get it into the shop. But I know you'll be just fine. Your improvement in traumas will only grow if you step out of your comfort zone."
The automatic sliding doors slid open, and Jack plus a nurse wheeled a man through on a gurney. Jack's eyes lit up at the sight of you, but his brows pinched when he noticed Robby's bag slung over the taller man's shoulder.
"You leaving early, brother?" Jack questioned as he stepped past the two of you.
Robby's hand gently rested on your shoulder. "Yeah, but you two will have this handled."
You inhaled deeply, the weight of his hand and words pushing down on your chest.
Robby was counting on you. Don't fuck this up. Don't panic.
With the tablet tucked under your arm, you walked into the trauma room before pulling on a pair of gloves. Jack had already cut through the man's shirt.
"I need two 18-gage needles, one 9cm and one 15cm, a guidewire, dilator, and 8Fr pigtail catheter." He looked up toward Jesse. "Let's give him 10ml lignocaine 1%."
You quickly gather what he needed and placed him on the dressing that covered the side tray.
"Okay, Dr. [Name]," Jack said, lips twitching upwards at using your official name, "I need you to place an ECG electrode on the pericardiocentesis needle with a crocodile clip and insert. Once the tip touches the myocardium, the trace should show immediate ST elevation. Once that comes up, insert the wire to aspirate the fluid."
His words tumbled through your mind much too fast to the point that you wondered if he didn't know you'd never done this before. You pursed your lips as you tried to remember everything. In the grand scheme of things, your training provided everything that needed to be done.
Yet, there was a big difference between studying and actually doing the procedure.
You kept your breath steady as you readied the needle, clamping on a clip before turning the pointed end toward the man's chest. The first part went smoothly, and the needle went right through. However, instead of the consistent beeping that should have followed if the needle was in properly, an onslaught of alarms sounded through your ears.
You had missed something.
Jack whipped his head toward you and sneered. "You went too deep. I told you that the needle needed to touch the myocardium not go all the way through. Give it here."
He didn't even wait for you to transfer the needle over, hands already grabbing at it. His head bent down so he could see what was happening. With a practiced ease, he maneuvered the needle exactly where it should have been.
"Fuck," he whispered, "Robby wouldn't have done that. I don't know why he handed this off to you if he knew the patient would need a pericardiocentesis for tamponade."
You thickly swallowed pooling saliva to clear your throat. "Sorry."
"Just—" He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. "I'll finish up here. You go home."
You jolted just a bit. Go home?
"Jack, I can still assist. You're going to need—"
"We have it covered. Catheter is in place, and you'd just be standing around. You're good."
Suddenly, a wave of anguish flowed through your body. It was happening again. Jack had just added fuel to the ever growing fire of jealousy and self-loathing. The feeling sized your chest, and you stepped back from the bed, shaky hands ripping off the nitrile gloves.
You couldn't help the stressed wheeze that pushed from your lungs.
Don't panic. Don't panic. He didn't mean it. He was just stressed. He didn't know that you'd never done that before.
Numbly, you walked back to the nurses station and sat back down in front of the computer, but your hands didn't raise to the keyboard. Your mind had already taken over, spewing rotten things about yourself that you could fix.
Be like Samira. Be like Robby. Jack won't keep wanting you if you aren't like them.
Your tongue ran across your dry lips in an attempt to wet them, but even your mouth had gone parched.
"Is charting really that bad?" you heard Dennis ask you as she sat down at a computer to your left. "You look like someone just told you they flushed your fish down the drain."
In a jerky motion, you turned towards him and did your best to compose yourself. "Oh no. I, uh, I didn't do well on a procedure with Dr. Abbot, and he asked me to leave."
Dennis at least had the decency to look sorry for you. "I bet you didn't do too bad. What was the procedure?"
"A pericardiocentesis," you said shyly.
He nodded slowly. " Shit, that's like one of the first things Robby let us do." He turned towards his own chart. "I could probably do them in my sleep by now."
Because he wasn't looking at you, Dennis missed the way your shoulders dropped and tears welled in your lash line. Jack's comment had been bad, but he just completely shattered any confidence you had left for the day.
"Right," you muttered. "Of course it'd be that easy if Robby taught you."
And you'd be right. On the night shift, patients like that rarely if not ever needed such a complex procedure. You could only think to one time that a woman came through almost needing one before they were able to use a different method to get her stable enough to be transferred to the OR.
With keys clacking loudly, you quickly finished up the chart before turning the whole thing off. You didn't even try to find Jack before you left, choosing to slip out before he even noticed you'd left without saying goodbye.
Once you were home, you stormed past the fridge and went straight to yours and Jack's shared room. Your scrubs hit the floor, and you didn't even bother to put on pajamas. The bed dipped under your weight as you pulled the duvet up over your body in a sad attempt at being comforted by its weight.
Sleep came quickly, only being interrupted by the door opening, a signal that Jack had gotten home. Blearily, you listened to him walk around the room before his edge of the bed sunk after he sat. The familiar hiss and pop of his prosthesis preceded him turning to lie down. You kept still as he scooted closer before wrapping an arm around your middle and molding your back to his chest.
"Sorry if I woke you up," he muttered sleepily. "Tried to find you before you left, but I guess I missed you. Wanted to say good job for that trauma. You helped so much."
You clamped your eyes shut, squeezing a fresh round of tears that dripped down your cheeks to puddle on your pillowcase.
After Samira, you had done your best to convince yourself it had been a slip of his tongue. But now after Robby, you weren't too sure that Jack would keep you around for much longer before finding someone better. Because there was no way you could ever amount to someone like Robby.
It was impossible.
I care, I care, I care, like ribbons in your hair, my stomach's all in knots, you got the one thing that I want. Ooh, I try, I try, I try, try to rationalize people are people, but it's like you're made of angel dust.
You were trying but failing to pretend Jack's words and comparisons hadn't left a giant, bleeding gap in your heart. Before everything happened, you never ever wondered if Jack loved you. Except now, you waited with bated breath for him to just drop the bucket and break up with you. You walked on eggshells around him.
Don't panic. Be put together. Keep your heart to yourself. Be calm like Samira. Don't fuck up. Know how to do your job. Be confident like Robby.
Those thought became your mantra and lifeline. No one seemed to think twice about your recent personality change. They loved the way they could count on you, the way you had an answer ready for everything. To the day and night shift, you were the epitome of composure. But behind closed doors, you were falling apart and into a pit you didn't think you'd be able to climb out of.
Jack didn't help with that either. You guessed he didn't even know what he had done to you, going on with his life like he hadn't given yours so many potholes that you couldn't continue on without falling behind. Everything you did was carefully thought out, every patient you talked to met a version of you that didn't reflect what you felt inside or outside.
You avoided mirrors the most, their reflections showing you exactly what you weren't. You weren't Samira with her lovely thick hair and clear skin. And you weren't Robby who carried years of trauma like it was apart of his body.
You were you, and you loathed it entirely.
You hated the glances you caught between Jack and Samira across the department. You hated the way they looked like they knew what the other was thinking before they spoke. You hated how you felt like on onlooker to a relationship that wasn't even happening.
You also hated the way Robby changed from a mentor to an idol. He had soon morphed into someone you wanted to so desperately be to the point you lost yourself in ambition.
And the worst part? You held nothing against them personally.
They didn't know what Jack had said. They didn't know that you were dying on the inside every time they raised you up during shifts. Bits of you crumbled away while they continued to glow.
Every morning you woke up, you wondered if the day would provide the straw that broke the camel's back with the way you felt like a stretched out rubber band waiting to fly.
A soft, savory aroma wafted through your kitchen. You absentmindedly stirred the spatula through the sauce, eyes glancing back and forth from the pan to the recipe. The instructions were written in beautiful, slanted cursive with curled letters that danced together. You'd found the card mixed in with a bunch of recipes Jack kept in his drawer. With a quick read told you that the owner of this one was his late wife, and the heart next to the title had you guessing if this was a favorite for the two of them.
Without thinking, you plucked it from the drawer and started working. After a week of back to back cases that ended in more loss than wins, a homemade meal was exactly what you and Jack needed after a day off. He was currently out getting his truck washed, and you wanted to be finished by the time he came home.
Quickly, the separate parts of the recipe—the chicken and veggies basting in the oven, the sauce on the stove top, and the wine chilling in the fridge—all came together right as Jack walked through the door.
"Hi, baby!" you called out as you pulled the pan from the oven. "Dinner's almost ready!"
You picked up on Jack's slightly clompy gate as he got farther into the house.
"Smells good," he said, walking over to stand behind you. "What did you make?"
Suddenly, you got nervous. What if it didn't taste correct? What if Jack didn't want you to make something so special between him and his wife. What if you ruined everything.
You didn't meet his eyes and poured the sauce over the top of the chicken. "Uh, a recipe from the drawer. It looked good, and we already had the ingredients."
He grabbed the card and held it up to his face, and you held your breath. When he didn't seem to get angry or sad, you counted it at a win.
"There's a bottle of white in the fridge if you want to get it out," you offered.
Jack stayed quiet. You didn't dare look even as the sound of a cork popping echoed in the room. While his immediate lack of response didn't cause concern to rise, your stomach still churned. To mirror him, you also didn't speak while you set the table.
He sat down, and so did you, your chairs facing the other like you'd done so many times in the past. Your heart pounded against your sternum as he took the first bite.
Loudly, he smacked his lips, setting his fork down at he chewed. The noise felt like nails on a chalkboard in the silence.
After a minute, he finally spoke. "Did you change anything in this?"
Your racing heart plummeted to your feet. "No. I kept it just like the card had it."
His brows furrowed. "Really? It tastes different than how I remembered it last."
You dug your nails into the fabric of the table running. "Does it not taste good?"
Jack looked up from his plate with wide, hazel eyes. "No, no, it's just different."
"But not good," you scoffed.
"I'm just trying to say that maybe you missed something. I know Alice's handwriting isn't the easiest to read."
"I know how to read cursive, Jack," you spat lowly. "I followed every single instruction on the card. It's the exact same recipe."
"It's not that big of a deal, sweetheart," he tried. "Maybe if you had a bit more practice like her, it might have come out the same. You're a good cook, don't get me wrong, but—"
Your hands slammed on the table in frustration, causing Jack's eyebrows to pinch as his words died in his mouth. He went to keep talking but stopped when he noticed the frustrated tears fall from your eyes.
"I'm done," you breathed, eyes darting around the room.
"Done?" Jack echoed. "What are you done with?"
"Everything," you hissed. "I'm done with this—" You gestured to the food with a wave of your hand. "I'm done with-with you. I'm done with it all."
You pushed up from the table and walked away, leaving Jack to scramble out of his chair and follow you.
"Sweetheart, what's going on?" he loudly asked, but you ignored him.
By the time he made it into the bedroom, you had already ripped out a suitcase from the closet and were pushing clothes into it without making them neat.
"Hey," Jack said gently. "Look, I'm sorry for saying that. I didn't think it'd upset you this much, but you don't have to leave."
You paused in a mid-throw of your shirts and spun to face him. A disbelieving laugh bubbled wetly through your throat. "That's the problem," you muttered, "you don't think."
He crossed his arms, biceps resting against his chest. A need to defend himself bloomed in his stomach. "What's that supposed to fucking mean."
You threw your arms up with an exasperated scoff. "Oh, so now you're concerned for what I'm saying. Maybe you should be concerned more with your words." You sucked in a deep breath. "Just go on and say it."
Jack took a step forward. "Say what?"
"That you'd rather me be someone else!" you screamed. "That-that I'm not enough by myself for you anymore." Pants heaved in your chest. "I'm sick and tired of standing here stuck listening to you compare me and wish that I'd be like or act like someone else."
Your words stole the breath from Jack's lungs as confusion and dread washed over him. "What?"
You closed your eyes and dropped your shoulders. "I heard you; I keep hearing you."
In another step forward, Jack was within two feet of you. He swallowed thickly, but you beat him to more words.
"On the fourth," you began to explain through tears, "I saw Samira patch you up, and I heard the way you told her that I could learn how to be more level headed like her."
A chill crept up Jack's spine. "Sweetheart—"
"Don't," you ordered. "Don't do that where you try to make it all better. I heard you loud and clear, Jack. And that's fine. I knew I could be more calm during traumas, so that's exactly what I did, but apparently—" You chocked out a laugh. "That wasn't enough for you."
He shook his head, hazel eyes swimming with guilt already.
"And I really thought that if I could be anything like Samira, your words wouldn't hurt as much. But then you had to go and tell me that you wished Robby had been there instead of me to do a pericardiocentesis." Your breath shuddered in the next exhale. "Did you even know that was the first time I'd ever been asked to do one? And instead of teaching at a teaching hospital, you threw me to the side saying Robby—the fucking chief attending—could have done the job. No fucking duh, Jack."
You threw a hand in the direction of the kitchen. "And now this? I thought that maybe I could be like Samira or study enough to be like Robby, but h-how am I supposed to compare to the woman who had your love first." You turned back toward the bed and haphazardly packed suitcase. "That's unfair to me. So, like I said, I'm done."
A pleading sound ripped from Jack's throat at the sound of your suitcase zipper closing.
"No, sweetheart, please. Let me fix this; tell me how to fix this," he begged.
"That's just it, Jack. I don't think this can be fixed. I've spent weeks with your words in my head wondering how I can be the perfect person for you. And I don't know if I can keep going on pretending."
Jack's body shook under a small sob as everything came crashing down. He absolutely had no clue what he had done to you, but thinking back, he understood that his careless words wracked irreparable damage to you and your personality.
"I'm sorry," he managed, voice breaking in a whisper.
"I know you are,' you responded, "and somehow that makes it hurt worse. Because while you were trying to compliment everyone else, you made me feel inadequate in every aspect of my life." Your fingers wrapped around the suitcase handle and tugged it off the bed. "I can't stay with someone who keeps hoping I'll be a conglomeration of all the best parts of others; that's not me. And I'll be honest, I don't even really know who me is anymore."
He inhaled sharply, eyes tearing from your face to look down at the floor. "So this is it? You're leaving?"
Another round of tears spilled down your cheeks as you choked on a sob of your own. "I don't want to, but I need to."
"But I love you," he croaked, eyes coming back up to meet yours.
"You love the best parts of me, Jack," you said, already moving to walk past him. "And that's never going to be enough to make me stay."
Your shoulder lightly brushed by his as you walked out of the room and all the way out the front door, leaving Jack behind in a house he realized he didn't want empty.
You poison every little thing that I do, Lacy, oh, Lacy, I just loathe you lately, and I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you, yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you
Jack didn't truly realize what he'd done until almost six months after you left him crying in his bedroom.
Your absence in his life gave him a lot to think about, and the only conclusion he could come up with was that you were absolutely right. It didn't matter if he'd compared you to others unconsciously; he made you feel like that: worthless, in need of self change, inadequate; the list went on.
He'd seen the small changes too late.
The next shift he worked with you, Jack tracked every minuscule thing you did, and it felt like one big punch to the gut. He saw the way you constantly checked your hair, ponytail pulled tight enough to give you a headache, skin, and scrubs and the way you straightened your stethoscope so it rested perfectly across your collarbones.
His stomach dropped when he watched you pause before a trauma and gulp down air before heading inside like someone who needed to take control before it could get out of hand. Before him, you weren't like that. Yes, you could be nervous to mess up, but you didn't act like you had to be the smartest person in the room.
He did that to you. He made you feel the need to change. And it killed him. It killed him once he learned you transferred over to a specialty in orthopedics, and his mind made him think you did it just to get away from him.
He was slightly correct, but not entirely.
You needed a fresh start, somewhere where you knew no on had any high expectation of you. And somehow, orthopedics gave you just that. And you thrived in the environment, only coming down to the Pitt when they needed a transfer or second opinion. Sure, you had to accompany Park the Shark more than you'd liked to, but through your time there, the old you was coming back, the one who worked through her panic instead of shutting it down, the one who only got frazzled when she cared about patients and their needs.
It was never weakness you showed, and you had to learn that all over again.
Someone helped you see that along the way as well.
"What do got here?" Park asked while snapping on a pair of gloves, eyes predatory as he walked into Trauma Room 1.
Jack looked up with pinched brows when he realized that you didn't walk in behind the larger man. "Where's Dr. [Name]?"
Park didn't even acknowledge his question. "For fucks sake man, you didn't even pack this right."
"You should know how to put a detached leg together even if I missed the pressure of the wrapping by an inch," Jack shot back.
"Abbot, you should know that I can't fucking put your patient back together after you decided to play Barbies. It's not as easy as popping a joint back in place."
"Dr. [Name] could do it."
Except for the monitors, everyone went quiet. Jack tore his eyes away from Park and looked back down at his blood soaked gloves. Reality crashed down on him as he realized he just did to Park what he'd done to you. Even if he knew he probably didn't hurt Park's feelings at all, it sucked to know that he was still so quit to throw out words like that.
Park's shoulders rose in a shrug. "She could, but she isn't here right now. She switched shifts and won't be in until 7." He smirked. "Think she said she had plans with someone."
An ugly roar of jealousy clawed at Jack's insides, nails sinking deep in his gut.
You were with someone?
He went through the motions of his shift, mind still on the fact that you weren't on call because someone had taken your time and attention away from the hospital. His knuckles turned white around the tablet he held while going through handoffs. He didn't know if his body was still trained to look for you, forever waiting for your soft lips against his, but Jack couldn't help but keep his head on a swivel and ears open to catch the sound of your voice.
Like a laugh in his face from the universe, your laugh fluttered through the ER, and his head whipped hard enough that his neck hurt in order to find you. When he finally saw you walking in, his heart dropped to his feet, because there you were, smiling brighter than he'd seen in a long while, hand enclasped with a man's.
Jack swallowed thickly. He instantly hated the way his blood boiled at the sight. He looked back down at the tablet after your voice seemed to draw closer to where he was standing.
"Andy," you sighed wistfully, "you didn't have to walk me all the way in here. I know you're weary of the germs."
"I know," the man—Andy (you gave him a fucking nickname?)—muttered back, wide, hazel eyes looking down at you like you hung the moon. "But I wanted to."
You pouted playfully. "You're so sweet. Am I going to see you tomorrow morning, or are you working again?"
He hummed. "My morning's yours if you want it."
"You know I always do."
Jack watched the corner of the man's mouth twitch into an almost-there smile, and he had to look away when his head started leaning in toward yours.
The small smack of your lips on his made bile gurgle in Jack's stomach.
"Okay, you gotta go save lives."
You giggled again. "I just put people back together, and technically, Park's the one doing all the procedures. You know my hands start shaking."
From the corner of his eye, Jack watched him lift your hands to his lips and kiss the tops of your knuckles.
"Just breathe and know that you alone can do this. You were the one to get into the program, so they want you, shaky hands and all."
Jack's heart clenched to the point of a physical reaction to the pain. He should have been the one saying that to you, standing in your corner and building you up one compliment at a time.
But now, he had to stand on the sideline and watch a man (someone who scarily looked a bit like him) give you all the praise and love you deserved. And while Jack could do everything in his power to let people know how good of a doctor you were, it wouldn't ever be the same, forever stuck loathing the moment he lost you without knowing.
tags: batman!jack abbot x fem!reader, concept teaser for a longer fic
notes: with a crazy amount of twitter posts and that one shawn hatosy batman edit on tiktok, I just had to write this. taglist below cut, and if you want more, please please please comment (I'm not going to write a full fic and have it get three likes)
· · ─ ☾ ─ · ·
Two things shook Pittsburg to its core.
One: Jack Abbot stepped down as the night shift attending of the Pitt, leaving them desperate to fill his position and the hole he left in their hearts.
Two: crime rose substantially, giving way for a new breed of evil and filth to roam the streets after the sun dipped below the horizon. Along with reason two, Pittsburgh also manage to produce something—no, someone to combat the growing criminal activity.
The whispers called him a masked vigilante that walked through rains of gunfire without flinching. The press, on the other hand, named him as though he were a stray in need of a name.
They called him The Batman.
Questions rose, and fingers pointed, but no one knew who he was or where he came from. Publicists needing profit claimed him a danger to the society, a menace. Fans on their Reddit accounts and feeds hailed him hero, their saving grace. If you were able to even catch a glimpse of his blackened suit, no matter what you called him, it meant you were either the luckiest man alive or the unluckiest criminal about to be imprisoned until death.
Another thing they all noted was that the Batman did not kill. Maim, bruise, break bones, castrate on a few occasions: he did it all, but he left them breathing and crying for help.
You'd seen his handiwork first hand a few times. The Pitt continued to be the only Level One Trauma Center even if it lacked one of its key members. Criminals came wheeled in on gurneys, shouting madly about a man in a black mask with fists that felt like tree trucks. Nothing a few sedatives couldn't quiet down, but their words almost always seemed to stick to you.
Oh yeah, there was another thing that no one seemed to notice about the two things that rocked Pittsburgh's very foundations.
Sure, an uprise in evil always seemed to need its opposite, someone willing to do right when everyone made doing wrong look good.
But what everyone missed through headlines and dark web searches was that Jack Abbot left the Pitt and the Batman rose one day later from the shadows. And you concluded that they could only be one and the same.
tags: andrew "pope" cody x reader, a/b/o universe, smut, female&male masterbation, scenting, heavy breathing, NSFW 18+ MDNI
notes: @oxalaia-quilombensis just had to send me the video of andrew and amy going at it and I was like, hmmm all this sniffing is giving alpha/omega vibes so why not, taglist is below the cut at the end, please enjoy!
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Your senses buzzed intensely, head tilting back slightly to display your unmarked neck as the air grew thick with want and something so distinctively Andrew Cody.
His tangy ocean and rain water scent held your tongue tightly as saliva pooled around it and your teeth. You didn't dare lick your dry lips in fear of letting the taste escape back into the air. Your toes gripped at the carpeted floor as you stood not even a foot away from him. The two of you were barely clothed, patches of naked skin hot enough you could feel the other without touching.
One of your bra straps dangled loosely against your right shoulder while your underwear pooled with slick that pumped out every time you inhaled deeply, wanting nothing more than for Andrew's scent to cling to the inside of your lungs. Across from you, his pecs rose and collapsed in quickened pants; he too taking gulps of your creamy coconut and ocean breeze scent.
Together, you smelled exactly like home, the remnants of a beach house that stayed in the depths of your mind and wants, a house that you thought of sharing with Andrew one day, filling the rooms with litters and light.
But you couldn't think about any of that. Right now, you could only let his being consume you.
Andrew had a thing about people touching him, but he didn't have a qualms about you watching him touch himself. His hazel eyes tracked the way you pulled down the hem of your underwear until the fabric slid down your legs all the way to the floor. Instantly, your scent grew tenfold without the extra barrier, and he swallowed thickly when your slick dripped in glistening rivets down your inner thigh. His alpha clawed at him to drop to his knees and lap it all up with his thick tongue and drink it right from the source.
Instead, he fought against his urges and mirrored your actions, and his boxers puddled at his feet, allowing his hard cock to bob at his lower stomach. He noted the hitch in your breath when you looked down, and his chest puffed a bit more, body liking the effect he had over an omega. He slowly pinched at his already growing knot before wrapping his hand around his length. He growled out a moan at the feeling, watery-thin pre dripping down the outside of his curled fingers.
Andrew's eyes fluttered shut but snapped back open when a quivering whine slipped out of you. The sight of your fingers circling around your swollen clit almost had he knees buckling. To steady himself, he parted his stance and leaned forward, nose drifting towards the scent gland at the base of your neck. He followed the scent upward, circling his face until his mouth and chin bumped against yours.
You were already panting heavily, white-hot pleasure building at your center. Andrew let his lips trace lightly against yours, and a quickening motion at his lower stomach had you leaning in as well.
"Yeah," he breathed into your parted lips. "Yeaahhhh." The second came out as an almost whimper.
You breathed into him just as much before Andrew slowly connected you to him in an opened-mouth kiss. He inhaled sharply and moaned, nostrils flaring as your scent completely rewrote every thought he had. His head bobbed slightly, and you followed the motion, staying connected to his lips. The movement had the tips of your stiff nipples brushing against his hot skin.
He kissed you in lazy puckers and licks while simultaneously running his hand up and down his weeping length. Every few swipes had his hand bumping against his inflated knot.
Suddenly, your head jerked back, and your neck stretched as a moan squeezed from your throat. Another wave of your scent rushed at his face, and Andrew forced himself to watch you cum, fingers steadily circling and dipping into your heat. It wasn't much longer before he spilled hotly all over himself in thick, translucent ropes. He buried his nose right against your gland, still taking in lungfuls of your scent during his high.
Soon he thought after you stumbled into his chest soon, I'll make this omega mine
tags: jack abbot x reader, mirror sex, piv-sex, NSFW 18+ MDNI
notes: guess who listened to "yes, chef" for the first time ever! so I took that little bit of Grant's fantasy about mirror sex and wrote this for jack and as smut homework for @oxalaia-quilombensis (I hope I get an a+ for this), tags are below the cut at the end, please enjoy!
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
A thin, glistening strand of drool connected your lips to the duvet as your cheek brushed into the soft fabric with a rhythmic motion of back and forth. One calloused hand kept you steady, your hips up, knees and front pressed deep into the bed, while the other splayed between your shoulder blades with a firm downward pressure to keep you in position.
Fuzzy pleasure shrouded any attempt at bringing a thought to the front of your mind, keeping you warm and pliant for the body currently kneeled behind you. His grunts twisted and danced with the soft, punched-out breathy moans that escaped your lips with every harsh thrust of his hips.
Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh
Through the haze, you desperately tried to remember what Jack had told you right before he bent you at the waist, but all you could focus on was the way his cock pressed so deep into you, you swore you felt him in your throat. You writhed against the duvet in a sweaty mess. Every inch of your skin tingled in an overwhelming heat that clung like the summer sun.
Your head turned as you swallowed down air, your lungs expanding as much as the position could allow. The small, cooling puddle of your drool felt like a relief against your forehead, but the shift had all the motion stopping. A confused whine crawled up your throat, and your hips tried to keep going, but a squeeze of Jack's hand, nails digging into your flesh, made you still against him.
You felt the way he slowly leaned down while the hand that had found purchase at your back slithered up and around your throat, palm finding your chin, lips brushing your ear.
"What did I tell you, huh?" he muttered.
In response, he got another whine, you being too fucked out to even think. All you could feel was pleasure and Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack.
He tsked loudly, the sound echoing in your ear. The hand around your neck gave a small squeeze before trailing up far enough to sink into your hair. In one fluid motion, he gripped your roots and tugged, lifting your face enough that you met your own lidded gaze.
Oh.
"Jaacckkk," you raspingly moaned.
He nuzzled at the side of your head, and his nosed bumped against your hairline. His hazel eyes met yours through the reflective glass of the mirror at the end of the bed.
"Thaaaat's iiiit," he drawled out, voice low enough you felt the rumble of his chest at your back.
As he watched you, he slowly drew his hips back before sharply bucking forward, the motion pushing out a short keen from deep in your lungs. But even he wasn't able to act as unaffected as he tried as your walls pulsed around his length.
"Do I need to hold your head until you cum around me, sweetheart?" he grit through his clenched teeth. "Would you like it if I did?"
"Fuck, Jack, please, I—" Your words morphed into a high-pitched moan after he tilted his hips to make his tip hit that soft spot deep inside your cunt. "I'm gonna c-c-c—"
Jack grunted loudly, almost collapsing on top of you at the suddenness of your climax, especially one that ripped through you untouched. His weight deliciously pressed you fully back down into the bed. His left hand planted in the spot next to your face, and he staved off his own high by halting once again, cock buried within your walls.
The air filled with the rhythm of your matching pants. Your body slunked sleepily as you came down, mind a bit clearer than it was before. However, you tensed back up as Jack began resumed his thrusting.
"Jack—"
He yanked your head back up by your roots and met your gaze through the mirror once again. "Gotta give me another one,sweetheart, because you didn't listen. Maybe this time you'll do as you're told and keep your eyes on me."
summary: tired of reading fanfics based on your newest obsession, you give in to peer pressure and use a seemingly harmless gimmick from a metaphysical shop. you quickly find out that you should have been careful what you wished for.
tags: dark!jack abbot x irl!reader, fiction breaks the fourth wall, based on the movie obsession, USE OF Y/N CAUSE NO ONE CAN STOP ME, vivid descriptions of violence, mentally unstable!jack, blood, murder, self!harm/mutilation, dd:dne, smut (non-con, oral-fem!receiving, piv-unprotected sex), afab reader, no happy ending, 18+ NSFW and ABSOLUTELY MDNI
notes: this fic is based on this TikTok by @m1yuk1washere, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE know that this is a very dark fic and please be aware of the tags before reading below the cut. I am in NO WAY romanticizing this movie at all. this is not a reflection of Jack Abbot's actual character, but he needed to be ooc for this to work. again, there is no happy ending and nothing is romanticized about this fic or the movie. I highly suggest watching the film once it releases on streaming services.
author's note: 82 of you asked to be tagged, but due to tumblr's 50 limit and me not wanting to get nerfed, half will be tagged in this post, and the other half will be tagged in my co-author's reblog!
word count: 11.5k
And Jack couldn’t stop staring at you like he’d found the love of his life. His hazel eyes trailed along your body, and a deep blush painted across your face. You’d caught him staring across the ER, but instead of looking away, he kept eye contact while his hands moved across a tablet. In one blink, he was moving toward you like a man on a mission. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe under the weight of his gaze.
In fewer than five steps, Jack closed in on you, and his hands lifted just to grip your hips and pull you into his orbit. Your breath hitched high in your throat at his closeness. Around you, the Pitt melted away, and all you could feel was Jack, Jack, Jack—
“Earth to Y/n!”
A snap near your face had you leaning back away from your phone. Your eyes widened as you stared at your small friend group. Suddenly, the entire world around you came crashing down in overlapping voices and the distinct smell of mall food, an odd combination of Japanese, Pizza, and sub sandwiches. Your phone stayed open to the latest chapter of your favorite Jack Abbot fanfic, and now looking at your friends, you knew you’d been caught. You quickly shut off your phone and placed it face down on the sticky table.
“Sorry,” you muttered. “What were you saying?”
Your best friend, Sarah, rolled her eyes. “You’d know what we were saying if you weren’t nose first in your phone. What was it this time? One of those smutty fanfics you’re so into these days?”
“It’s definitely one about that silver-haired doctor,” your other friend, Haley, chimed in. “What’s his name again? Jake?”
“Jack,” you shot out before realizing your mistake. You’d come off too strong, and your friends ate it up like vultures. “I-I mean—”
“You really need to get laid,” Sarah told you, voice dipping into a border-line condescending tone. “Your daddy issues are showing, babes.”
“I don’t have daddy issues.” You rolled your eyes before taking a bite of your now-cooling food, slimy noodles sliding down your throat in one swallow. “And I don’t want to get laid. I’m perfectly content where I’m at; thank you very little.”
Haley hummed. “You’re telling me that you’re happy reading hours and hours of fictional worlds while you could be out and about meeting new people. What if your future husband looks like this Jett?”
“Jack,” you corrected—again. “And I don’t want a future husband unless he looks like Shawn Hatosy dressed in a SWAT uniform.”
“You are so down bad for a fictional man. When was the last time you had an interest in someone who was actually . . . real?”
You pursed your lips when no names came to mind. To get them off your back you could have mentioned the two-second crush you had on Luke Davis way back in ninth grade. But he had been eliminated from the list the moment you got back home and pulled out a Bucky Barnes fanfic where you found out you wouldn’t mind an older man calling you doll. And plus, ninth grade was almost fifteen years ago. Confessing that while currently being in grad school at the ripe age of 24 would have been more embarrassing than saying nothing at all.
“A while,” you spat after settling on a response. “But the modern online dating field is not for me. Every time I try one of the apps, I either get insulted or an unsolicited 3-inch-dick pic like it’s supposed to impress me. Unless you two have a magical solution to find me the picture-perfect man, I’m perfectly okay spending my time reading fanfiction.”
You went to spoon in another bite, but you noticed the way they glanced at each other. The corner of your lips tugged downward. “What? Why are you two looking at each other like that?”
Sarah sucked in a breath. “We weren’t going to say anything but—”
“But you look like you need it,” Haley finished the sentence before turning, hands already deep in her purse on the chair next to her.
You tried to not be offended by her words, but an ugly feeling bloomed in your chest. You hated the way they judged you. Fanfiction had quickly become a paradise away from the ugly world you lived in. If a few chapters and one shots here and there helped your mental health stay regulated, you saw no harm in divulging into the world of fiction. It also helped that most of the fics you read were tagged with “x-reader;” the idea of getting to put your name mixed in with iconic characters kept you feeling alive. Authors let you live lives you could never do in the real world. How could you give up that kind of mental freedom?
“Here,” Haley finally said as she pushed something towards you.
You eyed the red and white packaging with the words One Wish Willow written in fun lettering along with two cartoon drawn people. Hesitantly, you grabbed it and brought it closer to read.
“The guy at the store said they actually work,” Sarah explained. “You state a wish and break it, then tadaaaa your wish comes true.”
Looking at it while spinning it in your hands, your nose crinkled. What Sarah just said sounded way too good to be true.
“There’s no way,” you said, a bit awestruck. Your thumb ran across the words on the back of the package: Spark the middle and break in half. “I think you both got scammed.” You placed it back down on the table, but one look at the two of them gave you a sinking feeling in your stomach. “You two actually believe this shit?”
“Look, Y/n, we just want to look out for you,” Sarah said slowly as if she were talking to a child. “And if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work, but there’s no harm in trying. But we can’t sit here and let you go on like this. Before you know it, you’re going to be fifty, living alone, and still reading stories about fictional characters. I mean, look at yourself.”
To your surprise, Haley nodded along. “Grad school is killing you. And you can’t say that you’ll find a man once you graduate. Because by then, you’re going to find another excuse.”
You eyed the thing as their words sank thorns into your soul, and for some odd reason, you felt compelled to pick it back up again. You don’t know if it was the idea that any wish you made would come true or the desire to prove them both wrong, but instead of leaving it there for them to take back, you grabbed it and pushed it deep in your purse.
“Whatever. But when it doesn’t work, I’m totally rubbing it in both your faces,” you said.
Finally, you shoved the last bite of your food into your mouth, but your mind was racing with the possibilities of what you could use the one wish willow for. Sure, Sarah and Haley wanted you to use it to get a boyfriend, but honestly, that seemed boring. The world, hypothetically, could be at your fingertips. What was stopping you from using it to become a millionaire, change everything you hated about yourself, stop world hunger.
The possibilities seemed to endlessly swim around your brain while you drove back home from the mall, the sky already dimming the closer you got to your destination. You sighed in relief once you pulled into your driveway and leaned your head against the steering wheel, eyes flitting towards your bag. Your fingers itched to pull the One Wish Willow out, and you, against everything, obeyed them. You picked at the heavy paper packaging, and the branch slid out right into your palm.
It was dark and hole-filled, and it barely weighed anything. You guessed that was necessary for easy breakage when you used it. You read over the instructions one more time before taking each end, holding it a few inches from your face.
Outside, the night was quiet. There were no joggers, no late-night walkers, no one to witness what you were about to do. You inhaled sharply and lowered the branch.
“This is stupid,” you mumbled to yourself.
You almost put the branch back in the packaging, but your phone screen lighting up stopped you. You glanced over and caught the notification. A quick read told you that another author had updated a Jack Abbot series. Your heart panged.
Were you truly going to be alone forever, stuck reading fanfiction well into your fifties while pretending you lived in a different universe?
Before you could second guess yourself again, you took a hold of the branch.
“I wish Jack Abbot was real and would love me and do anything for me like he does in fanfiction.”
The branch snapped in two.
You squeezed your eyes shut, and your body tensed as you waited for something like a huge explosion to happen and for Jack to appear like some mythical genie. But when everything stayed quiet, you slowly opened your eyes. Frustrated tears welled in your lash line, and you threw the two pieces of the branch somewhere deep in your car. You jerked the door open and all but slammed it closed. Each step you took to your house reverberated into the concrete walkway. The automatic lights turned on while you unlocked the door with shaking hands, and the key missed twice before finally going in. With a harsh shove, the front door gave way into a dark home. By the looks of it, your mom probably wasn’t home, or every light inside would have been on.
An eeriness crept over you, but through your glossy eyes and overwhelming feelings of loneliness, you brushed it off. The One Wish Willow was an absolute joke, and you knew you should have texted Sarah and Haley that it hadn’t worked. Your chest tightened once you realized exactly why you didn’t want to rub it in their faces right away. In the car, you’d given yourself the smallest morsel of hope that it would actually work. The idea of having your own Jack Abbot had taken over quicker than you would have liked. Even with all your constant reassurances to Sarah and Haley that you didn’t want a man, that you were happy with being alone, you were beginning to feel the crux of being the last single person in your friend group.
Even the promise of a new chapter once you shuffled into bed wasn’t enough to lift your mood. But as you tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep, you reached for your phone in need of familiar comfort. Your thumb pressed on the white T icon, and you scrolled until one caught your eye. The tags used xreader, but as you scrolled, you couldn’t help but notice something peculiar.
Instead of the normal “Y/n” whenever Jack would “say” the reader’s name, your actual name stared back at you in every paragraph.
You blinked a few times, wondering if you’d gotten to the point where “Y/n” automatically became your given name. But when the words didn’t change, your brows pinched. You didn’t have any added mods, and the author stated that they hadn’t given the reader a special nickname or anything of the sorts. You scrolled up until the page refreshed.
Surely there was a glitch you thought.
However, after the loading symbol went away, your name continued to be written in the fic. On one hand, you knew you should have put the phone down; obviously you were tired and sad and currently hallucinating. Yet, you continued reading on, already sucked deep into the story.
Jack didn’t know what to do; you’d disappeared on him after an argument. His calls went unanswered, his messages left unread. His heart raced below his sternum in a panicked rhythm. He couldn’t lose you, not after he already lost his wife. He refused to lose you. With a sharp inhale, he turned and faced an empty space to his right, hazel eyes boring into the reader’s—wait.
You pulled your phone away from your face as you sat up. Had you read that correctly?
—hazel eyes boring into the reader’s. He stood still, seemingly knowing that there was a presence he couldn’t see but could always feel.
“I’ll be there soon, sweetheart,” Jack spoke to no one. “And when I find you, I’m going to make you so, so, so, so happy. I’m exactly what you need and want. I—”
Your phone screen went black after you pushed in the power button. The eerie feeling from earlier grew at the base of your skull, and your skin pricked with the sensation that someone was watching you. Your face whipped to the far corner of your room, the one that was always half-cast with a shadow after the sun went down. Logically, you knew no one was standing there, but you turned your flashlight on anyway. A quick scan around the room settled you some but not entirely.
You slowly lowered back down into your bed and pulled the covers up to your chin. Thankfully, sleep was already licking at the edges of your mind. But as you lolled into its grasp, you couldn’t rid yourself of what the author made Jack say at the end.
—I won’t hesitate to do anything to make you mine.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Two loud knocks at the front door followed by your mom screaming Y/n! Get your ass down here and answer the fucking door! had you shooting up from your bed.
Without even looking at yourself, you scampered down the stairs in just a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. You had no time to even think about what the person on the other side could even want before you wrenched the door open, and all reminders to look through the peep hole first failed entirely. Sun spots swirled in your vision, but once they settled enough for you to see who had been knocking, you froze entirely.
“There you are, sweetheart.”
You knew that voice. You’d heard that voice clearly through your TV speakers.
Your eyes widened, and a breath hitched high in your throat. You gripped the sides of the threshold with white knuckles. For a split-second, you wondered if you were still dreaming before wondering if you’d died in your sleep, because there was absolutely no fucking way the man standing on your doorstep was actually who you thought it would be.
Your body jolted under a firm hand, and you whirled around to see your mother’s figure standing behind you. She eyed you carefully before putting on a smile that only you knew to be very fake.
“Hi there,” she said loudly, voice too chipper for 8:15 am. “How can we help you?”
The salt-and-pepper-curly-haired man smiled warmly, and his hazel eyes never left yours. “Baby, you didn’t tell your mom about me?” he chuckled like this was all some inside joke.
Your mom glared at you from the side of her eye. “Baby?”
“I really should have called beforehand that I was on my way over,” he explained before thrusting out his large hand. “Jack Abbot. It’s nice to meet my girl’s mom.”
The way he said my girl had your heart racing for more than one reason. The main one being you’d never met this man in your entire life, unless you counted the multitude of fics you consumed to the point you felt like you did know him—Jack. But that was all fiction uploaded to multiple websites, yet the man standing less than a foot away from you looked real and not a figment of your wild imagination. Hell, even your mom saw him, so to some degree you knew you were hallucinating or weren’t dead upstairs.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Jack. I’m sorry you’ve seemed to slip my daughter’s mind,” she hissed the last bit out. “Come inside please.” She yanked you away from the door and whispered harshly in your ear, “You could have told me about this.”
Your jaw dropped before snapping back shut when your mind refused to catch up to the situation. Jack—if you could even think of him as your beloved fictional character—stepped forward and placed a hand to the small of your back. His touch felt like electricity, white hot and zipping up your spine. He softly pushed you along until he fully got inside your hours.
“Jack, let’s get you into the kitchen! I’m sure I can make a quick breakfast for us while Y/n changes upstairs,” your mom stated, but the suggestiveness in her gaze wasn’t as subtle as she thought it was.
Jack clicked his tongue against his cheek. “That sounds lovely, but I’m afraid I already made plans with Y/n to go out for breakfast.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in like a rag doll. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart,” he cooed.
As if a spell had been cast over you, you nodded numbly. “Yeah,” you managed to croak. “We’re going out for breakfast.”
“Let’s get you changed, baby, and then we’ll get heading out,” he said. “It was nice meeting you.” With not another glance toward you mom, he walked you over to the staircase and motioned for you to go first.
Once the two of you made it into your room, you closed the door before pushing your back against the grain to put some space between you and supposedly Jack Abbot.
“Okay, what the fuck man,” you sneered. “Is this some stupid cosplay? Did Sarah and Haley put you up to this? Because coming to my house and pretending we know each other let alone dating is downright creepy and stalker behavior.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said while cocking his head to the side. “Did you hit your head? Should I look at it for you?” He stepped forward and raised his hands, but you were quick to shake your head.
“No; I’m fine,” you said. “I’m just . . .” You closed your eyes. “I don’t know why you’re here. You don’t exist here.”
Jack paused for a minute before laughing loudly. “Baby, are you taking the piss? Of course I exist here; you know I exist only for you.” This time, he walked until your fronts were almost pressing. The warm, spicy scent of his cologne hit your nose. His hands did not touch you, but the twitches in his fingers told you he wanted to. “I told you last night that I’d come find you, baby.”
“Huh?”
Jack’s eyebrows furrowed. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head? You asked for me last night after the mall. I know I’m old, but how could you forget so soon, baby?”
His words hit you like an 18-wheeler to the stomach.
The broken-in-two One Wish Willow that remained in your car filled your thoughts. You swore it hadn’t worked, because last night nothing had happened. And then you remembered one of the fine print warnings.
*Wait up to 24 hours for your wish to come true.
It was as if it all made sense now. The fucking gimmick worked; you couldn’t rub it’s failure in Sarah and Haley’s faces anymore. Jack fucking Abbot was in your bedroom acting like the two of you were romantically together.
Your wish—against all odds—had come true.
Happiness washed over you like a tidal wave, and you stepped right into Jack’s orbit, arms coming up to wrap around his middle. You couldn’t believe the way you fit right into his chest, and you were elated to hear his heart beat so fast at your closeness.
“There you go, pretty girl,” Jack whispered against your temple. His hand gently rested against the back of your head. “I’ve missed you so, so, so, so much. I’m yours forever; I’ll do anything for you.”
In the throes of his whispered promises, you forgot about the smallest warning buried within the fine print of the One Wish Willow Packaging.
*Side effects of a wish may include violent tendencies, self-mutilation, and unexpected behavior. Please wish responsibly.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Life with Jack was infinite bliss, and you’d be a fool to look a gift horse in the mouth.
He was the perfect man and exactly the type of person you’d been secretly wishing for the entire time. If you were truly honest with yourself, all the times you said you were happy were lies upon lies upon lies. You hated how Sarah and Haley went on double dates with their boyfriends all the time while leaving you behind. Their happiness just showed that if you didn’t have them, you had no one.
No one to laugh with; no one to be around; no one to love. Jack filled in those spaces like glue holding your life together. Suddenly, you didn’t have to wonder who you’d take to the movies to see the latest film. You didn’t have to sit alone in your bed while hoping for someone to come along and sweep you off your feet like men did in stories. You didn’t even have to worry about feeling scared when you slept. Jack apparently had an affinity for watching you rest.
When Jack was around—which was pretty much all the time—you were never alone.
A few weeks after he showed up on your doorstep, you made plans to introduce him to Sarah and Haley at the local bar the three of you frequented. You’d been excited for them to see what had happened, to see how Jack made you happy. Jack seemed to be passive about it, but one smile his way had him melting to your every whim.
“What makes you happy makes me happy,” he had told you before pressing his lips deeply against yours. “Do I make you happy, sweetheart?”
“So much,” you had whispered back against his lips.
However, now that you were seated next to Jack and their eyes were filled with skepticism and doubt, an ugly feeling settled inside your chest. You tried to focus on the game of Jenga, but the weight of their gaze pressed heavy on your mood that continued to sour the longer the night progressed.
As you tried your best to shuffle another block out, Sarah leaned forward.
“So . . . Jack . . . where do you work?” she asked.
Jack rubbed at his jaw while he thought, and your focus shifted to the way his bicep bulged in the short-sleeved shirt he wore out.
“I’m a senior attending at an ER up in Pittsburgh,” he stated.
Haley raised an eyebrow. “Then why are you here? Surely your hospital keeps your leash a bit tight.”
You pulled the block out successfully and held it up for Jack to see. He mouthed a good girl and winked, sending you into a blushy mess before answering.
“I’m on a well-needed sabbatical right now. My girl needed me here, and I couldn’t think of being anywhere else.” His hand came to rest at your nape, and his fingers squeezed.
“What happens when your sabbatical is up? Y/n’s in grad school right now, and I doubt she can do the long distance,” Sarah explained, and that ugly feeling roared inside your chest.
Jack pursed his lips and sat back against the couch. “I’m sure that we’ll work something out when we cross that bridge. I’m not opposed to long distance, but I’m also not opposed to her moving close to me either.”
Haley let out a soft scoff to which you looked at her strangely.
“Do you have something to say, Haley?” you questioned.
She looked like a deer caught in headlights. “I-I just think that moving in with someone you’ve been with for a few weeks is a bit fast.”
“I’m not getting any younger,” you tried to joke, but the tone of your voice said that you were anything but joking. “And it wouldn’t be too terrible. After this semester I’m changing to online classes anyway.”
Sarah’s face pinched tightly. “What happened to moving onto campus with us next semester?”
You shrugged lazily. “The thought about moving was getting to be too stressful.” You linked your arm into Jack’s. “Jack suggested online classes, and it was like a weight lifted off my chest.”
Your friends stared widely with their jaws unhinged.
Sarah waved a hand around. “Hold on. Just because he told you to do something, you just did it without discussing it with anyone else? Y/n, we won’t be able to afford the deposit for the apartment if you pull out.”
“Plus, what if he dumps you halfway through the year?” Haley suddenly asked in a stage whisper, not caring if Jack heard the question.
Next to you, Jack’s entire body tensed. “I’m sorry—what?”
She at least had some decency to understand that her question was invasive. “Ya know . . . what if y’all have, like, a really bad argument or something? Some relationships don’t end up lasting long enough for a couple to live together. Plus, with your age gap it’s inevitable that—”
Jack suddenly stood from the couch, and his towering body cast a shadow across the Jenga tower. He frowned deeply, and his darkening eyes narrowed down at your friends. His fists curled at his sides while his head tilted very slowly.
“You don’t know anything about our relationship,” he hissed. “So I wouldn’t be so presumptuous if I were you.”
Sarah leaned back enough to look him in the eye at an angle. “Dude, we’re just looking out for our friend.”
“Yeah,” Haley said lightly. “No need to get so upset about it.”
He ran his tongue along his teeth. “I’m upset because you had the gall to even think I’d break up with her.” He bent in slightly at the waist. “I’m in love with her; she is my everything. Whatever she asks me to do, I will do it without hesitation.”
His voice rose with anger on every word, and soon, the entire bar was looking towards your small group. You nervously shifted on the couch, but the annoyance of their questions kept you seated and stopped you from pulling Jack back.
Jack turned his head and spotted an empty beer bottle. He turned back to look at your friends, and without breaking eye contact, he grabbed the bottle. In one fluid motion, he swung it down, and the glass shattered against the side of the table. At the sound, you, Sarah, and Haley stood up. They backed away slightly while you stepped forward to be at Jack’s side. Yet, he paid no attention to you.
“No one on this earth will ever comprehend what it feels like to love someone as much as I love her,” he said, timber dark and serious. It sent shockwaves through your soul. “I’d rather kill myself than ever hurt her or be without her. Every ounce of my blood that keeps my beating heart alive belongs to her and her alone.”
Before you could do or say anything, Jack dragged the jagged edge of the broken bottle from his wrist and towards the inside of his elbow, and dark blood welled and dripped from the long gash. Sharp, surprised and horrified gasps rang through the air.
When your eyes caught the red thick smear, you reached forward and yanked the bottle out of his hand. “Jack!”
At the sound of your voice, Jack’s eyes softened instantly, and all tension in his body melted away. Any glimpse of the Jack moments ago was gone, but the damage had already been done. Everyone, including Sarah and Haley, watched on with scared eyes as you gently set the bottle down. You said nothing and grabbed your (Jack’s) jacket and purse. Your hand found Jack’s quickly, and without saying anything to your friends, you tugged him out of the bar and towards his car. Thankfully, he didn’t fight for the keys, and you took off, leaving the bar to turn into a speck in your rearview mirror.
The ride back to your house was oddly quiet. Jack stared out the window the entire time, never once looking over at you. When you parked the car in the driveway, you shifted in your seat and turned to face him.
“Jack,” you said softly. “Why’d you do that?”
Not being on to deprive himself of your face, Jack turned too with hunched shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
You rested a hand on his cheek. “I know you’re sorry, but you scared everyone. And you hurt yourself.”
“I know. I don’t know why I did that, but I couldn’t let them keep talking about us—about you like that. I love you so much; that’s why I did it.”
“Jack, I don’t need you to cut yourself because you love me, I—”
“Do you love me?” he interrupted.
You paused. “I do.”
Jack leaned back into his seat. “You never say it like I do.” He sat up straight again in a jerky motion, and he placed his hands on your cheeks and held your face there. You watched his hazel hues melt into something darker. “Do you love me? Say you love me. I need to hear you say you love me, sweetheart.”
Your throat bobbed in a thick swallow. “I love you, Jack.”
Like at the bar, he all but melted back into his seat before leaning forward to kiss you. You let his lips languidly move against yours in sloppy motions. His hands tightened around your face, and with a small gasp, your mouth opened just enough for him to shove his hot tongue between your teeth. You moaned at the taste of him.
Before you could go any farther, he pulled back and licked his lips. “Are you going to listen to them?”
Your head reeled at the sudden change of events. “Who?”
“Your friends,” he spat bitterly. “They won’t change your mind about moving with me once I need to go back to work?”
You hummed and tried to lean back in for another kiss, but Jack stopped your motion. His eyes bore into yours deeply in almost a pleading manner.
“Tell me you want to move with me. I can’t be without you, baby. I wasn’t lying when I said I’d rather kill myself than not be with you. Do you want me to kill myself? I’ll tell you how I’d do it. Instead of my wrists, I’d take one of my scalpels and drag it along my throat.”
Your heart beat wildly at his words, and concern corroded any love you felt for Jack in that moment.
He looked at you through lidded eyes. “Is that what you want? You want me to die? Want me to commit suicide just to show you how much I’m obsessed with you?”
You shook your head between his hands.
He grinned stretched impossibly wide, but his eyes stayed dead and unmoving. “Then say what I want to hear, sweetheart. It’ll all be so, so, so much better when you say it.”
“I want to move with you Jack. I want to follow you to Pittsburgh or wherever you go after this.”
You were rewarded with another deep, invasive kiss that left you gasping for air. Instead of fully pulling back, Jack breathed heavily while his nose nuzzled into your face.
“Maybe it’ll be good when I don’t have to listen to Sarah and Haley anymore,” you softly mentioned.
Jack froze near your hairline but didn’t say anything.
“They were kind of rude at the bar. To think they were the ones who wanted to push me to get a boyfriend in the first place. Like, imagine if you hadn’t shown up.”
“You’re no one else’s but mine,” he growled, chest beginning to heave at the thought of you with someone who wasn’t him, kissing someone who wasn’t him, fucking someone who wasn’t him. “I’m never going to leave you.” His eyes fluttered closed. “I’m going to make sure your friends have no impact on your life again. I promise.”
You giggled, not fully knowing the meaning of his words. “We’ll be in Pittsburgh. I’m sure they won’t want to make the drive. Don’t worry about them putting any more unsolicited input into our relationship.”
Soon after Jack gave you one more kiss, you slipped into your house knowing Jack would be back in the morning to pick you up for another breakfast date. You paid no mind to the sound of Jack pulling away from your house or the way his car suddenly passed by in the opposite direction moments later.
Because if you had, you would have realized he wasn’t driving to his house, oh no, he was driving back in the direction of the bar to make sure he kept his promise.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Waking up during the night wasn’t uncommon.
Most times, you never fully managed to sleep deep enough to stay asleep for more than four hours, always having to get up for a drink of water or a bathroom break. But tonight, you woke up for a completely different reason. From the corner of your room, a noise reached you through a deep dream in a wet, continual plat, plat, plat, plat.
With bleary eyes, you looked around the room through barely slotted eyelids. Nothing seemed to jump out at you until you glanced at the shadowed corner. There, someone stood, their outline barely visible against the black background. You blinked rapidly in a desperate attempt to get your eyes focused.
A sigh of relief wheezed through your chest when you realized that the person was just Jack; although you were confused as to why he picked the corner when you had already set up a chair near your bed the first time you found him watching you sleep. You knew he liked to take his prosthesis off after dark to give his limb a break. The least you could do was make sure he was comfortable.
“Jack?” you called out, voice scratchy and slurry with sleep. “What’re you doin’ in the corner?”
When he failed to answer, you pushed yourself up halfway with your arm. You reached for the lamp on your bedside table, but the floor creaking beneath his weight made you stop.
Plat, plat, plat, plat, plat.
“Don’t turn on the light,” he whispered.
You slung your legs over the side of the bed and reached out a hand. “Could you at least come and sit down? Your leg must be killing you.” By now, your eyes had adjusted to the dark atmosphere, and you peered over at him when you noticed something splashed on his face. “Did you get mud on you?”
Jack took a step forward, and his shoes squished against your hardwood floors. He stopped a few feet away from you, and that’s when a thick, metallic waft hit your senses. You urgently rubbed at the skin between your lip and the bottom of your nose in an attempt to disrupt the onslaught of iron. Your brows pinched as you looked up at him with utter confusion.
Plat, plat, plat, plat, plat.
“What are you covered in, baby?” You reached out to touch a large stain on the hem of his shirt. Your fingers game back slick. “What the fuck,” you whispered. Jack’s words be damned; you reached over and turned on the lamp.
As the light drenched the room, horror seized your chest with large hands at the sight in front of you. The noise that had awakened you from your sleep was the steady drip of blood that trickled from Jack’s pant leg. The stain you’d touched was larger under the light, and the lower half of his shirt was drenched in the bodily fluid. His arms that were normally tanned and freckled were covered in blood like cleaning gloves, a harsh line of red cutting around his bicep.
Bile rose from deep in your stomach, and the acrid taste coated your tongue.
“Jack,” you whispered in terror. Sleep’s effect had been ripped from you the moment you realized what he was covered in. “W-why are you . . . covered in blood?”
Jack’s mouth twisted in an elated smile as he looked down at his lower half. “Do you not like it, sweetheart?” Despite his leg, he kneeled between your legs, and his dripping hands rested against your thighs. He looked up at your face with a pinched expression, similar to one you’d see on a sad puppy. “Do you not like it?”
“It’s blood, Jack. Why are you covered in blood?”
“Not like I don’t deal with blood on the daily.” He licked his lips. “You should be asking whose blood it is I’m covered in, baby.” He leaned in closer to your face, and your eyes burned with the smell. “C’mon; ask me.”
You swallowed a frustrated groan before whispering, “Whose blood are you covered in?”
His head lolled to the side. “Remember when I promised you that no one would ever speak out against us again?” Jack moved in closer and pressed his cheek against yours so that his lips were right near your ear. “Let’s just say I made sure that wouldn’t ever happen again . . . permanently.”
It felt like all the blood drained from your face in an icy instant; a complete contrast from the way Jack licked a hot strip up from your pressure point to your ear. Your mouth dried up completely.
“Don’t worry, baby. Those girls are never going to bother us ever again.”
“Jack,” you whimpered, suddenly scared of the man between your legs.
He hushed you softly. “And I made sure that your mother was also removed from the picture. I couldn’t have her waking up to find me like this.”
Your shoulders caved in, and the smallest whimper pressed through your lips. At the sound, Jack lurched back to look at your face. Within three breaths, all emotions washed from his face as he realized that you were scared—scared of him.
Now, he couldn’t have that, could he?
His hand rushed up to your face, and his fingers crushed your cheeks together. He stood to his feet, but his face stayed close to yours, his warm breath fanning across your nose and lips.
“There’s nothing for you to be afraid of,” he said calmly as if he hadn’t just implied that he’d killed your best friends and your mother. “Besides, isn’t this what you wished for?”
Even with his strength, you managed a small shake of your head.
He pouted. “No? But I could have sworn you said I wish Jack Abbot would love me and do anything for me.”
“I d-didn’t ask for you to kill my friends and mom,” you cried through smushed lips.
Jack nodded along like he agreed with you before barking out a laugh. “But you said it’d be good when you wouldn’t have to listen to them anymore. That’s what you said!” his voice thundered in your face. “I did exactly what you told me to, so why don’t you FUCKING LOVE ME?”
You tried to jerk your face out his hand, but his hold tightened, fingers digging into your teeth through your cheeks. Your eyes shut closed, but that did little to appease Jack’s anger. This wasn’t what you wanted; you never wanted your wish to turn into him harming people for you.
“I-I do-do love you, Jack,” you cried while tears traced down your cheeks.
He frowned intensely, lips forming an upside-down u. “I don’t believe you.” His unoccupied left hand gripped onto the pudge at your hipbone. “I can feel you shaking like a leaf. It’s okay, baby. I would never hurt you.”
Somehow, you knew he was telling the truth, though it didn’t help you feel less scared. Your thighs rubbed against each other in a nervous manner, and Jack’s eyes tracked the movement. However, he thought it was for a different reason.
“Oh,” he breathed, eyes widening at the idea formulating in his sick, twisted head. “You want to show me that you love me? Is that it, sweetness?”
His left hand released your hip and trailed lower and toward the right, and you inhaled sharply when he pressed his fingers to your core. You reached out and gripped his wrist, halting any other movement from his appendage.
“No,” you stated. “Jack, this isn’t-this isn’t normal.”
He pressed his hard chest forward, and the cooled blood began soaking through your sleep shirt. You cringed and shuddered when the wet fabric clung to your skin.
“Your heart is racing,” he whispered in awe. “For me? Is your heart racing for me, sweetheart?” He dropped to his knees this time and pressed his ear right to your heart. He exhaled breathily at the sound. “Yeah; that’s for me.” His next inhale was sharp. “I can smell you. You’re utterly dripping.”
“I’m not,” you argued. “I’m—” A wince turned whine cut you off after Jack squeezed your sides painfully.
“You know better than to lie to me.” His matted curls pushed against his forehead as he twisted his face to look downward. “Remember,” he muttered, “you wished for this.”
His hand planted itself in the middle of your chest and pushed you down to your bed, your spine hitting your mattress so hard it pushed out a small oomph.
“Wait- stop-”
Jack shushed you, his hands, still covered in blood, yanked the sleep shorts you’d been wearing down your legs. Your legs kicked and twisted, trying in vain to stop him, but he had them down and hanging off one ankle despite your efforts.
“You just need to remember why you love me,” those big, calloused hands pushed your thighs apart, keeping them pinned open despite your efforts to close them. His hot breath against your core shocked you, your wiggling and writhing halting for a moment. He licked a stripe through your folds, humming in satisfaction. “No one can make you feel as good as I can. No one.”
“Jack please!” Your hands were pushing at his head, trying to get him away from you, but he barely budged, not even acknowledging your efforts.
“Already begging for me and I’ve barely touched you,” his chuckle vibrated through your traitorous body as he laid kisses over your mound. “I told you, you love me.”
“You have to stop! I don’t want this!”
“Yes you do,” Jack wrapped both of your wrists in one of his hands, holding them down against your stomach to keep you pinned. “You want this. I don’t know why you’re trying to lie to me when your cunt is being so honest, sweetheart.”
Humiliatingly, he was right. You could feel how wet you were, practically dripping down onto the bedsheets below you, your hole clenching and begging for something deep inside it. But you didn’t want this. Right? No, of course you didn’t. This was the man who had just admitted to killing your mother and best friends. Their blood was still on the hands that held you open and in place as his mouth descended on you.
But it was hard to stop the whine you let out when his tongue began tracing around your clit. The pressure was firm and insistent, sending bursts of pleasure coursing through you against your will.
You fought through the sensations, trying to focus on wiggling out of his grip, but inevitably your focus was drawn back between your legs. Jack was unrelenting, repeating the motions and keeping a steady pace, like he knew exactly how to push your buttons. You supposed he did, having been created by some sick force of nature just for you.
Belatedly, you realised exactly what his tongue was spelling out against you:
J-A-C-K A-B-B-O-T
His own name, again and again, all at the same speed and intensity.
Gradually, your desperate attempts to flee were being tempered by the pleasure rocketing up your spine. Your twisting and writhing to get away had turned into rocking and grinding against his face, using his bruising grip on your wrists as leverage. But while your body betrayed you, your mind didn’t.
Through the gasps and whines and moans he was yanking out of you, you tried your best to keep up the protests. Your increasingly weak protests of “No!” and “Please stop!” fell on deaf ears, until, right as you neared your peak and, fearing what the impending orgasm might do to your psyche, you got through to him. But not in the way that you’d hoped.
“Stop! Stop, Jack, or I’ll never love you!”
He froze, pulling his face away from your folds but keeping his hold on you firm. You were gasping for air, eyes firmly shut. You were afraid to look at him, afraid he’d see just how close he was to breaking you.
“You want me to kill myself?” His grip around your wrists tightened even more and his fingers holding your thigh open tensed, nails digging into your skin. He didn’t let up, despite the yelp that left your lips. “Is that what you want? You want to watch me slit my fucking wrists right now? Wanna watch me bleed out all over you? Because I will. I love you more than anything - more than life itself - and you are breaking my heart.”
“Jack, I-”
“Do you want that?” His voice raised, eyes wide and manic. “I’m all you need, baby. If I die, you have nothing. You made me kill your mom, your friends, and if I’m gone, what do you have left? You need me just like I need you.”
“No, no I didn’t make you-”
“You said you didn’t want to have to listen to them anymore,” Jack stood from the floor, his blood stained figure looming over you as you cowered back against the mattress. “I did exactly what you asked for, and now you don’t have to listen to them anymore.”
You were shaking, trying to look away, trying not to think about how everyone you loved had died because of a poor choice of words and Jack’s instability.
Jack’s hand grabbed your chin, forcing your eyes on his. His expression had softened, the lines on his face deepening as he stared down at you.
“Don’t make me kill myself because I did what you wanted,” he was begging, the whiplash from his rapid change in demeanor taking a moment to register in your mind. “Don’t make me, please.”
“I-I won’t,” you swallowed around the lump forming in your throat. “I won’t make you kill yourself, Jack. Please don’t do that.”
“Then tell me you love me,” his eyes darkened again and the frown fell from his face.
“Jack-”
“Tell me,” the tone of his voice dropped, practically growling at you as his fingers tightened against your jaw. “You love me.”
“I…”
The words stuck in your throat. The love you’d felt for him from before was still there, but your terror and grief was overshadowing it, making it impossible to verbalize.
Jack sighed, his expression once again changing, this time to disappointment. He tutted at you, like you were a small child failing to follow directions.
“I guess I just have to remind you how much you love me.”
There was no time for you to question what that meant, but you found out quickly. Jack’s hands wrapped around your waist. Before you could even gasp at the rapid change, his thighs were straddling yours, his palm planted between your shoulder blades to hold you down.
“I’m going to make you tell me you love me,” you could hear clinking and shuffling behind you, but it took a moment for it to connect that he was undoing his belt.
“Wait, Jack!” Bucking your hips and trying to push yourself up was futile, his weight and the strength of the muscles cording his arm simply too much for you to fight back against. This wasn’t what you wanted for your first time. You’d been hoping for a romantic dinner with him, followed by sweet, slow sex, not him covered in your loved ones blood as he took you by force. “Jack please, I’m a virgin!”
“Oh, sweetheart,” the heat of his chest, pressing against your back as he leaned down, was scalding. His fingers gently tucked your hair behind your ear, his lips pressing a kiss against your cheek. You didn’t realize you’d been crying until his tongue darted out to lick up the droplet. “Don’t worry. I’m all you need. I’ll be the only man to ever have you like this. I’ll take such good care of you.”
And then he was sliding in, stretching your traitorously wet walls around his length. Fuck, he was thick. You felt every ridge and vein as he sunk into you as deep as he could, until the tip was pressing against your cervix. It was impossible to stop the moan you let out, the noise mixing with his grunt as he ground against your ass.
“Jack, please…”
“You feel so good around me, baby,” He let more of his weight fall against you, pushing you even further into the crumpled sheets. One of his big arms slid around your neck, pressing your throat into the crook of his elbow.
“You need to sto-”
You choked on your words when Jack’s arm tightened, his bicep and forearm cutting off your air supply.
“The only thing I need,” his voice was low and gravely, his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “Is for you to stop pretending this doesn’t feel good, and let me make love to the love of my life.”
Your whole body tensed, walls trying to push him out, as he began to withdraw slowly.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he was panting against your ear now. His little groans and sighs rattled around in your head, clouding your already conflicted senses. “Squeeze me just like that.”
You felt yourself flutter involuntarily around him as his thick cock bullied its way back inside of you. Fighting against his hold to get air into your lungs, your own breathing picked up in pace, each exhale forcibly pushed out when he sunk in.
Jack’s pace was slow. Each thrust was long, pausing to grind against you when he bottomed out, his head pushing hard into the deepest parts of you. You’d never considered yourself a masochist before, but the little jolts of pain mingled with the pleasure, pushing you even higher. The confusing signals sent to your brain were sapping your willpower. You needed to fight him off, needed him to get away from you, but your body was tightening around him, pulling him in.
God, it felt good, but you had to hold out. You still needed to find a way to break free and to get rid of him.
But it was growing increasingly hard to focus on anything other than the sensations between your legs when your head grew fuzzy from the lack of air and your clit was dragging against the sheets as every move he made rocked your body. He’d gotten you close before with his mouth, but now the dizzying pleasure of his cock had your eyes crossing.
“You’re doing so good, my sweet girl,” his words were whispered into your hair as his pace gradually increased. He never fully withdrew, but his hips were bouncing against your ass as his slow, grinding rhythm transitioned into hard and fast thrusts. “Doing so good for me. I can feel how close you are, I want you to tell me you love me when you cum, ok?”
You tried to shake your head no, trying your hardest to beat back the ever rising pressure of your impending orgasm, but Jack’s hold around your neck stopped you from moving. The only noises you could squeeze out through his hold were little whines and whimpers.
“You’re going to say it,” he pulled you in tighter, leaning all of his weight onto you. His hand not around your neck slipped between you and the sheet. “Say it, say it, say it.”
The first brush of his fingers against your clit was all it took for you to shatter in his arms. You spasmed and clenched around him, your eyes rolling back into your head. Your trembling hands scrambled for a hold on the sheets when he pinched the little bundle of nerves between his fingers. It was overwhelming, the intensity of your orgasm squeezing you so tightly around him that you nearly pushed him out.
Jack responded by thrusting even harder inside of you, all the while mumbling, “say it, say it, say it.”
But you didn’t. You weren’t sure if it was your willpower that kept the words from falling from your lips, or the debilitating pleasure that was rendering your mind nearly blank, but you didn’t say it.
Jack roared in frustration as the last waves of your orgasm faded, leaving you shaking beneath him. You were unprepared for him to rip himself away from you, leaving you completely free of him for just a moment. Your brain cleared slightly without his skin on yours. There was only about a second for you to try to will your still trembling body to get up and run, but you ran out of time.
He flipped you over onto your back, spreading your legs wide and forcing himself between them before you could snap them shut. His eyes were wild, his chest heaving with every breath.
And, for the first time, you saw his cock, pointing up and out of where his jeans were just barely pulled down. He was big, even bigger than you’d pictured when he’d first slid inside you. Long and thick, flushed red and dripping with your juices. In any other situation, you’d be reaching for him, eager to get your hands on him. Even despite the position you found yourself in, against your will, you felt your mouth water and hands itching to reach out and touch him.
But you managed to hold back, trying to squirm away from him up the bed. He stopped you before you could put any meaningful distance between you, though, his hands found the back of your thighs, pushing them up and pressing them down, folding you in half.
“I gave you everything,” Jack looked close to tears, but you couldn’t tell if it was from anger or sadness. “I would do anything for you. Why don’t you love me?”
You didn’t have an answer for him. How do you answer when the man confessing his undying love to you killed your family and then took your virginity against your will? What do you say to the man taking off his shirt, revealing the bloody mess of his chest, slashes covering the skin on his left pec?
There were certainly no words to be found when it clicked that those lines were your initials, carved into the skin over his heart. They weren’t bleeding anymore, but the skin was red and angry, blood still smeared over his skin. The more you looked, the more you realized the incisions were much more precise than you’d realized. Jack specialized in trauma procedures, of course the self inflicted modification he’d given himself would be perfect.
Your first instinct was awe, quickly followed by disgust at yourself and fear at the sight of his dedication to you. But you couldn’t help tracing your eyes over the split skin, admiring the clean lines. It sparked something deep inside you, to see him declare your ownership over him so blatantly on his skin, despite the fact that you still told yourself that you didn’t want to hold his leash.
“All I want is to be yours, sweetheart,” Jack’s intensity hadn’t dimmed, but his anger seemed to be gone for the moment. He sounded miserable, literally begging on his knees before you “Please let me be yours.”
“Jack . . ..”
“Please,” he still had your knees pressed to your chest, his fingers flexing and digging into your flesh.
You didn’t know if it was the pathetic way he was begging for your love or the devotion in his eyes that broke you. You could tell yourself that you were playing along, trying to go along with it to get away from him, but you didn’t know if that was true.
“Ok.”
Jack lit up immediately, all traces of his despair disappearing in an instant. The wide and handsome smile that split his face was at odds with the blood still smeared across his body. The juxtaposition was jarring, adding to the warring feelings rising in you.
“Can you say it for me?”
“I love you,” your voice was barely above a whisper. You didn’t know if you meant it - you weren’t sure you wanted to know, either - but Jack took you at your word.
“I love you, too.”
And then he was sliding back in, pushing through your folds and sinking into you up to the hilt. With your legs still folded up and resting over your shoulders as he bent forward, he felt even bigger than he had before, filling you completely to the brim. You swore you could feel him in your throat.
When he pressed fully into you, he leant down, his lips connecting to yours. You didn’t bother to fight him, returning the kiss as he fell into a rhythm. His tongue pushed between your lips as his hips pulled back from yours.
Jack sheathed himself back inside you, thrusting hard and punching a broken sound out of your mouth. He swallowed the noise, continuing to devour you as he continued. Every slow withdrawal was followed by a brutal thrust in.
“I love you,” Jack broke the kiss. His lips traveled down over your cheek until they reached your neck. His teeth scraped over a spot just below your jaw that had you keening, arching up into him.
He continued to work the spot, kissing and sucking and biting until he was satisfied with the blooming bruise before he was moving onto another, unblemished section of skin. It hurt, your skin burning from the contact of his lips, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything besides cry and moan.
“Fuck!”
You couldn’t help the expletive when his hips shifted, his thrust pushing directly against a spot inside you that had your back arching into him. It shot sparks through you, the sensation tightening into a knot in your stomach. Jack adjusted his angle to hit that spot head on again and again. A strangled groan vibrated through Jack when you clenched around him as a result.
“Take me so well,” Jack disconnected from your neck. His forehead rested against your shoulder, looking down to where you were connected, but the bulk of his body blocked your view.
Jack pushed back, sitting up to kneel between your legs. His large hands kept your legs over his shoulders, holding you in place, even though you weren’t sure you’d be strong enough to get away from him, even if you wanted to. He felt too good buried deep inside you.
Your brain felt foggy, the combination of sensations washing away your self preservation and critical thinking. When Jack had you on your stomach, you were being taken, but here, you felt like you were being worshipped. There was still fear simmering under your skin, but it was taking a backseat to the orgasm rising in your gut.
“God, look at you,” Jack was panting, his pace increasing and his eyes focused down between your legs. You didn’t realize what he was looking at until one of his hands let go of your thigh to press down on your stomach against the visible outline of his cock. “Can see how much I'm stretching you out.”
Your body seized, the breath flying out of your lungs. That added pressure made him feel even bigger. It triggered your orgasm, pleasure crashing through you unexpectedly. It caught you off guard and unprepared. Your head lolled back, eyes fluttering as your mind went blank. Jack kept his hand there, pinning you down as he kept thrusting into you, his rhythm faltering slightly as he battled his way through the continued clenching of your walls. He wasn’t letting you come down, giving you no reprieve from the waves of pleasure wracking your shaking body beneath his.
“Oh, fuck,” Jack finally took his hand away from your lower stomach, but you still didn’t get a moment to breath. His fingers found your clit again, rapidly circling the small bud. “One more, baby, one more.”
“No, Jack, no,” you started to try to wiggle away. Through your addled brain, deja vu struck you. It made you almost want to laugh. You didn’t want to get away from him out of fear - although fear was certainly still there - no, instead you were trying to get away from the rapidly building overstimulation. “I can’t, not again!”
“Yes you can,” his rhythm picked up, hips moving even faster against you. The squelching and slapping sounds filling the room were obscene. “I know what’s best for you. Trust me.”
You were chanting; “No, no, no!” even as your core tightened, the rapid build up of your third orgasm contradicting with your words. You were sure Jack could feel it, too. The way your walls clenched and fluttered around him was telling.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” sweat was beading on his chest, mixing with the blood on his skin and dripping onto you, leaving small splatters on your stomach. “Cum for me and I’ll cum for you.”
“Jack!”
You broke. This orgasm hit you like a truck. You felt it physically snap inside of you, the tension releasing a flood of endorphins into your blood. Through the haze wiping your mind blank, you heard Jack cry out, hips stuttering and pushing into the hilt. You could feel the heat as he spilled deep inside of you. It felt like a brand, burning you from the inside out and soaking your depths in him.
The waves of pleasure mounted, consuming you until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your eyes rolled back into your head and everything went black.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Jack had fallen asleep, and you were far from turning over and snuggling into his side after you'd been ripped from the consuming darkness.
You ached in ways you didn’t know were possible. Every limb felt heavy like you’d been shacked to a ball and chain, and you knew every step would be agony. The bruises he’d left behind would mottle your skin for weeks as reminders of what he did to you, to your friends, to your mom. Staying next to him in bed would ease the pain, but you needed to get up. The thought of waking Jack sent your heart into a panicked rhythm, and you were sure the sound alone would wake him up. Soft snores and grunts sounded from his lips every few seconds.
Centimeter by centimeter, you pushed up from your lying position. You thanked anyone who was listening for the fact that he hadn’t slung an arm around your waist to hold you down further. Instead of your normal wake-up routine, ten minutes must have passed by the time you stood from your bed. You could not let Jack wake up under any circumstances. You took another glance back at Jack.
Still asleep.
Gingerly, you grabbed your phone off the side table and began to shuffle towards your bathroom. You held back the urge to throw up when your foot slid through a puddle of thickened, coagulated blood. With trembling hands, you closed the bathroom door, mentally cursing yourself when it gave off the tiniest click. You held your breath and listened and listened and listened for any sign that Jack had woken up. When you caught another puff of steady air, you pushed in the small lock carefully. Not daring to turn on the light, you powered on your phone and Googled “One Wish Willow Customer Service” and clicked the first number that showed up.
Your phone rang quietly three times before a bored voice filled your ear. “Hello.”
“I need to cancel a wish . . . please,” you pleaded in a whisper.
“I’m sorry, we don’t really do that.”
Your stomach dropped, and the room tilted. “Please; you have to do something. I need my wish to go away.” Your mouth pooled with bile-tasting saliva.
“If you had read the back of the box, you would see that wishes can’t be canceled or altered. It’s all in the fine print.”
A whimper slipped through your lips. “He killed people, don’t you understand? And I’m scared he’ll kill me eventually.”
Static crackled from the speaker before the guy on the other line sighed heavily. “The only way a wish can go away is if the wisher or the wished-upon passes. Sorry, but I can’t do anything else for you.”
The call ended, and all you were left to do was stare at your phone.
A flash of pills or your razor against your wrists crossed your mind briefly, but that meant Jack would still be in your world. And there was no telling what he’d do if you died. You could practically envision the city drenched in red and violence. But not doing something wasn’t an option. You couldn’t force yourself to go back into the room, get back into bed, and sleep like your world was perfect.
Your guilt wouldn’t silence enough for that.
With a tight chest, you called a second number and waited.
It wasn’t long before you heard the sirens wail down your street, and you pressed your back against the door. By now, you were certain Jack was either close to waking up or he was now fully awake. You didn’t know which terrified you more.
“Sweetheart?” Jack called out, and your lungs seized. “Where’d you go, baby?” His tone was soft and gentle for now.
You wondered if the blue and red flashing lights poured through your blinds and illuminated his enraged face. Besides the sirens, your bedroom and bathroom were silent. On the other side of the door, Jack made no movements that caused any sound. It was as if he had disappeared, giving you an opportunity to think about opening the door. The golden knob felt cool against your palm and–
BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!
You squealed loudly in terror and backed away immediately from the door only stopping when the backs of your legs hit the side of the tub.
“What did you do, sweetheart?” Jack’s loud voice carried through the door in a hollow manner. “Y/nnnnnn,” he drew out your name. “WHAT DID YOU FUCKING DO?”
Downstairs, another blam! sounded and was followed by many footsteps and cries of Police! and We’re coming up!
A glimmer of hope raced through your chest, however panic engulfed it when Jack began rattling the door so hard you feared he’d take it off its hinges.
“You think you’re so smart? You think the boys in blue will keep me away from you?” Jack screamed through a raw throat. “You’re so dead wrong, baby. I’ll never be apart from you. You’re mine for the rest of your life. I—”
His voice cut off from the slam of your bedroom door. Following, grunts, the Miranda rights, and the sound of struggle echoed into the bathroom. You attempted to block it out with both hands on your ears, but Jack was too loud, too impossible to suppress. All went quiet a few moments later until his empty laugh began to stutter out in broken barks.
You were going to be sick.
“We aren’t over, sweetheart!” he continued, though his voice was waning. “I’ll find you again soon enough! We’re going to be together until the end of time! We—”
“Ma’am, it’s safe to come out,” another male’s voice covered the rest of Jack’s taunts.
You ripped the door open and a sob of relief sputtered from your lips. You stepped back through the smeared blood–a result of Jack’s struggle–and sat back down on your bed. Your spine bent as you hunched forward in an attempt of self-comfort. You gripped your arms with white knuckles, and the bruises Jack left behind didn’t even compute through your twisted emotions.
One of the officers stepped close to your knees. “I know this has been very traumatic for you, but when you’re ready, we’ll need to take you down to the station to get your statement.”
You nodded wordlessly.
Two officers stood in the corner where Jack dripped the most blood while he stood watching you.
“What the fuck happened in here,” one of them whispered, but without much other conversation, you heard him clear as day.
“I wish I knew, man,” the other responded.
Your soul tensed at his wording and the way he tossed it out so casually. Because you’d wished for something you thought to be so trivial, and now look at where it got you.
Alone and traumatized where you’ll be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life.
