sometimes correct characterization is so important to me and other times I will throw it completely out just so the Character can be a vehicle for kink.
Jack Abbot is a kind autistic man like he's a pleasure dom. sleazy!jack is almost entirely fanon. sure he's flirty. but that's like. it. "I'll pay for it" that's an attentive Dom who does not play about safe words and limits. and we've seen like almost solely kindness from him.
however sleazy degrading mean dom jack abbot forcing his cock down Robby's throat and calling him a good little faggot cocksucker makes my pengis explode so yin and yang
low key wanna write a fic where a suicidal robby, in a moment of impulsivity, has dennis give him road head because he doesn’t care if he crashes. then the distracted driving makes him actually crash except dennis is the one that gets seriously injured and robby has to deal with the guilt.
hope i’m not stepping on any toes by trying this out. the idea really spoke to me
It wasn’t supposed to end up like this, is all Robby’s been able to think for the past twenty-four hours. It wasn’t supposed to end up like this. He sees it in flashes, but barely remembers the impulse that led him to ask Dennis to suck him off on the drive back from work. Both of them were tired—it was one of those shifts—which is exactly why Robby offered to drive Dennis home. They’re still at the point in their strange relationship where everything needs a reason. It’s still undefined, this thing they have, a blend of codependency, comfort, and naked intimacy. No labels—that was Robby’s rule.
Dennis had looked at him with something like horny apprehension on his face at the request. He’s the furthest thing from a prude, but he’s also an ED doctor, fresh-faced with every past case still marked with neon sticky-tabs in his brain. It had been enough for Robby to raise his brows and glance over quickly; Dennis folds so easily. And isn’t that the worst part? Robby knows he could ask anything of Dennis and he’d do it.
With his mind a little clearer, guilt swallows Robby whole. He gave Dennis the gun and asked him to pull the trigger, and Dennis took it without knowing it was loaded.
Ordinarily, Robby doesn’t hear the steady beeping of stable vitals. It’s a sound he’s learned to filter out over the years. But, Dennis’s? Each machine is louder than Robby has ever heard them, a constant reminder of exactly the kind of person he is. The sutures going through his eyebrow throb. Bruises have bloomed all over Dennis’s skin—mostly on his face and torso. Robby would wager that his neck is more blue than tan, but he can’t see it beneath the brace.
There was talk about paralyzis. A lot of talk. Dennis’s head was still in Robby’s lap when the airbag triggered. That word bounces around Robby’s brain and he considers each outcome. The way it’s looking, Dennis would be lucky to only be partially paralyzed, but that would still destroy his dreams of finishing his residency in the ED. If he wakes up, that is. Right now, no one really knows if or when that will happen, and no one even dares to hope.
They lost him once but got him back after three never-ending minutes of chest-compressions. He’s been stable since.
Robby refuses to leave his side, and since he’s off work for the time being, he has nowhere else to be. No matter what he does, he can’t stop seeing the still-wet road after a day of rain; he feels the sensation of the car losing control and hitting the nearest light post. He’d worn a seatbelt, as he always does when driving with Dennis, and he can’t help but wish he would’ve forewent it this time.
”I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice raw as he strokes Dennis’s wrist. Dennis doesn’t react, eyes shut like he’s sleeping and chest rising and falling steadily now that he’s intubated. ”Fuck, kid.” Robby runs his fingers through his dirty hair. ”I’m so fucking sorry.”
blakekathryn
dededos
jbbartram-illu
germansingergirl
janainaart
annaxmalina
discoholicmusic
