No title available
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
bliss lane
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
KIROKAZE
@theartofmadeline
Not today Justin
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
NASA
izzy's playlists!
Kiana Khansmith
tannertan36
Keni
EXPECTATIONS
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Origami Around
Interview Vampire Daily
Show & Tell
#extradirty
macklin celebrini has autism
seen from Italy
seen from Brazil
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Kazakhstan
seen from Côte d’Ivoire
seen from Malaysia
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Lebanon
seen from Panama
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Mexico
seen from Colombia
@lady-djarin
lady djarin's master list
please read before entering!: 99.9% of my works are 18+, enter at your own risk. they are also all from fem (afab) perspective. no physical description of reader other than “typical” fem anatomy. warnings on each work. thanks for reading!
banners from @saradika-graphics please give them some love!!
NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO POST OR COPY MY FICS ANYWHERE FOR ANY REASON. DONT STEAL FICS.
DIN DJARIN
• across the galaxy - series
din djarin x f!reader/each chapter has warnings/ratings
• yes sir - drabble
din djarin x f!reader 18+
• quiet - drabble
din djarin x f!reader 18+
• under the moonlight - pt. i
manda'lor!din djarin x royal!f!reader 18+
• under the moonlight - pt. ii
manda'lor!din djarin x royal!f!reader 18+
• biker!din djarin - drabble
biker!din djarin x f!reader 18+
• five - one shot
din djarin x bi!f!reader 18+
JACK DANIELS
• a cowboy’s hat - one shot
jack daniels x f!reader 18+
• heartbreaker - one shot
jack daniels x f!reader 18+
• whiskey fever - one shot
jack daniels x f!reader 18+
• need you now - one shot
jack daniels x f!reader 18+
OBI-WAN KENOBI
• only a sith deals in absolutes - pt. i
obi wan kenobi x f!reader 18+
• only a sith deals in absolutes - pt. ii
obi wan kenobi x f!reader 18+
BUCKY BARNS
• bucky barnes vs winter soldier head canons
bucky barnes x f!reader 18+
• apple pie - one shot
bucky barnes x f!reader 18+
JOEL MILLER
• oh captain, my captain - pt i / ?
dbf!joel miller x f!reader 18+
• on my radar - one shot
joel miller x f!reader 18+
• lace and pretty things - drabble
joel miller x f!reader 18+
• independent contractor - one shot
joel miller x f!reader 18+
• home - one shot
joel miller x f!reader 18+
• the ranch manager - one shot
joel miller x f!reader 18+
• thoroughfare - one shot
joel miller x f!reader 18+
* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
In another life I would have loved to poison the abusive husbands of the women in my village
You know, as much as we talk about Ethel being an unreliable narrator, I think she has a degree of self awareness that most people miss. In Nettles, she laments to Willoughby that “you’ll go fight a war, I’ll go missing”. She obviously has some sort of subconscious knowledge about the unfortunate truth of the circumstances she and Willoughby are in. And in Sun Bleached Flies she says, “I always knew no one was coming to save me”. Family Tree Intro, which is sort of an intro to the Ethel Cain lore entirely, is solely about Ethel’s awareness of the dire nature of her existence. I think that Ethel is aware of what is happening to her because she grew up seeing rural America destroying lives all around her - that’s the entirety of American Teenager. And in that same song, she reassures herself that she’s “all good out here”, while also admitting that she grew up believing in goodness and hope even though everybody in Shady Grove was living out tragedy (like the loveless life of Holly, for example, or the “neighbor’s brother” who died at war, or even Willoughby who is abused by his father).
Ethel isn’t naive, she’s incredibly mature and smart. Most people in her community are numb to the motions of life and go through all the hurt, but Ethel knows that if she doesn’t escape middle America, she’s going to be stuck there living out the same life as her peers. And that’s the tragedy of the Ethel Cain story. A girl who knew she needed to get out, but she was doomed from birth.
when perverts comes up on my playlist
𝒈𝒊𝒎𝒎𝒆 .ᐟ𝒈𝒊𝒎𝒎𝒆.ᐟ 𝒈𝒊𝒎𝒎𝒆.ᐟ
pairing(s): clark kent x fem!reader
summary: clark kent sneaks into your room affected by a force you’re unsure of but he needs you or something bad might happen. (or) clark needs to cum or he’s gonna die.
warning(s): 18+ content, alludes to sex pollen, dry humping, needy!clark, also mentions of you being related to lex and horribly unedited work!
a/n: hi! it’s been awhile but i’m happy to be here and if you decide to read this fic i’m so happy you chose me and thank you sm for your time! this wasn’t proofread but i hope you love it with all the flaws!
your boyfriend wasn’t usually a climb through your window type, he was a yearner but he knew sometimes you needed your alone time especially after the mini argument you had earlier. thats why when you were woken by yhe sound of him stumbling in you had first thought he was hurt.
“clark, baby what happened?” he’s stumbling over his words, something about the corn field and flowers. he’s stumbling over his words as you help him to your bed where he throws himself. clark feels so much yet not enough at the same time, all he knows is that he needs you right now.
“something’s wrong.” his voice comes out like a whine, his cheeks flushed pink and he’s sweating. his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. you’re gentle when you’re investigating him, cupping the boy’s face but the minute your cold hands touch his face the sound he makes is filthy.
his eyelids hanging low when he whimpers for you. it awakens something in you, something wet between your thighs but you push it down wanting to help him, to understand.
“clark, you’re burning.” you brush his sticky hair off his forehead. his lack of words leave you worried but he can’t form words, not with the way his heart is pounding in his chest, not with the way the strap of your nightgown hangs off your shoulder leaving so much of your skin out for him to see. the thought is fleeting but it’s there, the imagery in his brain of leaving marks on your delicate skin. it makes him feel dirty.
the burning rising in his chest grew with each passing second, he can’t focus not with your hands on him. he needed you away but his body craved you like air. he was dangerous to you, the thoughts in his brain were all flithy in the most perverse ways possible. “get away from me.” he pushed your hands away from him finally getting the courage to slide up your bed telling himseld to go.
go home.
but the feeling in him didn’t fade, the burning grew worse like his body was on fire and he squeezed his eyes shut. he let out a loud whimper and you shushed him quickly looking towards your door.
lex liked to take walks around the mansion, always deep in thought and planning something you didn’t know or maybe a part of him just wanted to protect his little sister after the plenty of tines you put yourself in harms way but who knows.
all you knew now was that clark kent needed your help and lex couldn’t find him in your roon so you shushed him in soft coos. “clark, breath for me, okay?” you tried to reach for him once more but just at the sound of your voice another whimper came through. his head dropping against your silk sheets, his hips bucking into nothing.
your heart sputtered at the sight, seeing the way he sweated through his clothes, seeing the way his bulge pressed through his jeans. sweat was practically dripping from his forehead. “honey, you have to shush.” you tried not to say his name but the pet name only made him react worse.
a loud moan ripping through the air, you react far too quickly your hand covering his mouth. “clark!” you whisper yelled but he couldn’t help it, each sound from you made his body burn. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry.” his voice came out in a soft begging tone, muffled by your hand but the whimpering didn’t stop “i don’t know what’s wrong with me.” he looked at you through hooded eyes, he looked what you could describe as drunk but there was no smell of liquor on him. you slowly removed your hand from his mouth with a sigh
“it hurts.” his hands gripped the sheets to stop himself from touching you, from gripping your waist and pinning you down on your bed, from using you until you cried out and begged for him to stop because it was too much. his eyes squeezed shut again biting into his lip to stop the moan from leaving his lips. “what hurts?” he shook his head quickly afraid for you to hear the words.
he couldn’t bare if you turned him away but he felt his insides burning up, like if he didn’t cum he was going to combust. “please, talk to me.” he hated how perfect you sounded, how it broke him up into pieces, how it made him imagine you in every position possible.
the little please making everything in him hotter. he gulped, a heavy breath releasing from his lips looking up at you with glossy eyes “it burns inside.” fuck, your perfect face. your eyebrows furrowed at his words, your stupidly sweet eyes filled with worry just for him. “how do i help?”
so eager to help and it made his so hard in his jeans. “i think i…” he gulped “i think i need to cum or i might die.” this time when he squeezes his eyes shut it’s to hide his embarrassment. there was a pause in the air, like time stopped as your eyes widened. part of you wondered if he was joking with you, a stupid prank but he looked in a way you had never seen.
clark looked desperate, his body shaking with want and your body heated up at the thought that this was just for you. he didn’t go anywhere else, he went to you. he didn’t care that you were angry at him, all he knew was that he needed you. “tell me what to do.” you speak in a soft whisper that makes him even harder.
he let’s out another whimper, a part of him still fighting not to give in, not to pin you onto the mattress and take you all night long. he was afraid he’d hurt you but the burning inside him ignited more want and need for you. “i just need you, please, please. i don’t even have to put it in.” he begged for you desperately, beginning to paw at your clothes yanking you on top of him. you straddled him, he felt so hard pressed against you. his large hands gripped your waist desperately in pain and need. “please.” you silence his loud begging with your lips kissing him. he moans desperately into your mouth like his body yearned to feel yours.
his hands slid up to your breast, you let out a soft sound grinding against his hard cock through his jeans. the feeling makes him moan louder “clark you have to be quiet.” you told him but it fell on deaf ears as he gripped your hips. his strength caught you off guard as he practically pinned your hips against his beginning to roll his hips into yours.
your head hung for a second a whimper leaving your mouth as the material of his jeans rubbed against your clit. “you’re so perfect.” he groaned a hand coming up to pull your nightgown down revealing your breasts to him. “oh my god.” he flipped both of you over quickly practically giving you whiplash. the bed creaking under your weight but clark didn’t care he just needed more of you.
his head dropped down to your nipple beginning to suckle on it has he held your legs open grinding into again. “fuck.” you moaned tangling your fingers into his dark hair. he muttered something you couldn’t hear but you figured it was a compliment from the way he began to press kisses all over your chest.
he was so close, so close to cumming for you but the dry humping wasn’t enough not with these clothes on but he didn’t wanna fuck you, afraid wirh his super strength he’d hurt you. it was funny even if he was going to die he was thinking abt you. he moves away from you far too quickly yanking off his jeans, in a desperate manner “i’m sorry, i’m sorry”
you didn’t know what he was apologizing for but the sound of his soft voice just begging made you so wet. “it’s okay.” you reassured him nodding as he began to slide his boxers down and your eyes widened at the size of his length. he wasn’t abnormally long but he had girth to him definitely.
“i won’t put it in, okay?” he promised climbing back onto the bed, a part of you felt disappointed but there was no words you could form besides a nod as he towered over you even on his knees.
his eyes dropped low on your wet panties and he groaned, loud animalistic almost “is this for me?” he asked softly the dirty words sounding far too romantic as he stroked his length at the sight. “a-all for you.” you stuttered as his other hand dropped to pussy.
his thumb carefully massaging you through your panties. you bit your lip hiding your moan but clark was loud stroking himself faster. you tried to shush him but the words fell of your lips when he slapped his tip against your pussy through the fabric.
“you’re so hot.” he muttered gripping your thigh as he thrusted against you, the wetness making it easy for him to slide against you. the sounds he makes are desperate, two pieces of himself fighting. a part fighting desperately for his life, needing to cum for you, needing to bury himself into until you were all filled up with his cum but the other side was telling him it was too dangerous.
but the feeling was enough for him (for now)
feeling your wetness drip onto his dick through your panties, watching your face contorting beautifully as you tried to hide your noises. he felt it, his orgasm approaching. he felt it so so deeply, every second approaching closer and closer. “please, fuck.”
then there it was and god, it was so much. his cum practically covered your pussy. he chest heaved as he basically fell on top of you. “i’m sorry. i’ll take care of you i promise i-“ you shushed him softly “it’s okay.” you promised him petting his back “as long as you’re alive.” you laughed.
a/n: thank you so much for reading! i know it’s a little bit rushed but i had the idea and i just needed to share! thank you so much for your time and im very glad you chose this fic to read. please leave your thoughts down below and reblogs are very much appreciated.
desperate clark is the best clark
The Flannel
Jack Abbot x wife!reader
Description- What happens when Jack's wife returns from the bar bathroom and finds another woman with her hands on her husband
CW- reader is jealous as all hell, another character attempts infidelity, Jack has a damn good time, casual and not literal mention of violence, takes place in a bar, implied alcohol consumption
AN- This spawned into existence while I was waiting to pick up my gal from the dentist. It's by far the shortest thing I've ever written, but I usually struggle with length anyway (that's what she said)
You’d be an idiot if you thought it would never happen. That no one would ever see Jack Abbot, the handsome, muscular man with beautiful steady eyes and a heart you couldn’t help but trust the first time he smiled, and wish that they had him for themselves.
You knew it happened, that people gave him a second glance when they passed him on the street, subtly looking him over head to toe and admiring the nice shape of him, the way he moved with quiet confidence, not taking up more space than he needed to make a show of himself like some did. He was handsome, he was attractive, he was beautiful and sexy and cute all rolled into one. You knew these things, and you knew others would too. How could they not?
That didn’t make it any easier to see as you returned from the bar bathroom.
The woman was standing between your stool and Jack’s at the bartop, a hand resting lightly on his shoulder as she tossed her head back in a laugh. Her chocolate curls fell down to her shoulders, catching the dim bar lighting and shining like a rich sleek metal as it moved.
Something in your stomach twisted, something dark and ugly that you didn’t care to think about, filling you with an undeserved surge of anger. You wanted to smack her hand away from him, to yell in her face to back off.
The black metal band on his finger was clear as day. You could see it from nearly across the room, glinting in the hanging lights where his weathered hand wrapped around his lowball tumbler. She must have been able to see it with how intently she gazed at him, drinking him in as if she’d never seen a man before.
That made it all the worse. Accidents happened, a stumble turning into brushed shoulders that could be laughed off, but this, this, was purposeful. It was a choice she was making, to cozy up to Jack, to not look at his wedding band as if it would merely poof out of existence.
Fuck that.
You were storming over before you realized it.
Jack’s face lit up as he spotted you, still a few feet away.
“There’s my girl,” he greeted warmly. His arm was outstretched, welcoming you against his side, the spot by your stool still occupied by the pretty brunette woman who’d had her hands all over him.
“Hi, baby,” you said sweetly, stepping into his embrace and leaning even closer, one hand cupping his cheek to steady him as you kissed him deeply. He made a small sound of surprise in the back of his throat, but kissed you back without hesitation, his arm wrapping further around you to hold you close. His eyes were dark when you parted, a faint questioning look passing behind them as you grinned at him coyly, bottom lip caught between your teeth.
“Making friends?” you asked lightly, settling yourself sideways on his lap, making sure to favor his good leg before you pressed one more kiss to his temple, your fingers combing through the thick curls at the back of his head. When you turned to face the woman, smiling overly sweetly at her, you felt a sick twinge of satisfaction to see the way her lips pursed together tightly.
“Sweetheart, this is Jessie,” Jack introduced, gesturing to the woman. His words lilted with faint humor, like he was watching his favorite reality show and the drama had just gotten good. “She was just complimenting my shirt.”
You laughed weakly. Of course she was. Just the thick flannel, surely it had nothing to do with the way he filled it out with his broad shoulders and thick, bulging biceps.
“It looks like really good quality,” Jessie said, desperately trying to sound neutral. “What is it, cotton?”
Jack hummed, looking to you with a faint smirk. “I wouldn’t know,” he admitted. “This one bought it for me.” His arm tightened around you for a moment, giving you a slight squeeze.
You frowned, your hand running up and down his chest to feel the fabric as you thought. She wasn’t wrong, it really was a good shirt. You’d always loved the soft feel of it under your hands when you ran your hands over his shoulders, sometimes bunching the fabric in your fists when he caught you off guard with an especially deep kiss.
“I don’t remember.” You chuckled, giving her an easy smile. “Guess I’ll have to check later when he takes it off.”
Jessie nodded once in silent understanding, swallowing thickly before she picked up her drink from the counter. It was so close to the one you’d left Jack to look over for you that it had left a ring of condensation on the edge of the napkin you used as a coaster.
“Right, well, I guess I’ll leave you to it,” she said, doing her best to paste on a cheerful smile to match her overly chipper tone. Her words sounded hollow, her finger tracing the rim of her glass as her eyes moved between you and Jack.
You only nodded, giving her an almost sympathetic smile to watch her go from your perch on Jack’s lap, fingers still twirling through his curls in a way you knew from countless hours curled up together that he loved. You picked up your own glass to sip, and Jack had to duck his head into the crook of your neck to muffle the sudden laugh he let slip at the way her eyes widened when she saw your wedding ring.
A flicker of pride went through him, glad that even after so long together, he had made the right choice that day. Hours of designing had gone into your set of rings, months spent deliberating every curve of the band and cut of the stone before he finally showed you, wanting to make every detail perfect for you, to give you something as beautiful as you were that you would never want to take off. And you never did.
“Have a good night, Jessie!” you called as she retreated.
Jack gave you a warm look when she was out of earshot, dark hazel eyes trailing over your face like he wanted to catch every detail of it.
“You handled that mildly,” he drawled, amusement curling at the corner of his mouth. His eyes glimmered, the corners creasing the way they always did, bearing the weight of his hidden smile for him.
You laughed, adjusting your position on his lap to wrap both arms behind his neck.
“Careful, Jack,” you teased. “I might think you liked seeing me all possessive.”
He only hummed, the deep vibration carrying through his chest and into your side pressed against it, lifting one shoulder before letting it down into a small shrug.
“You expect me to be upset to have you all over me, playing with my hair?” He gave you a cocky smirk, gaze lowering for just a moment to your lips before flicking back up. Your breath caught, and he noticed, head tilting slightly as he looked up at you through his lashes that had no business being so thick.
“Thought for a moment you might smash a bottle over her head,” he continued, though his voice had dropped. His hand gripped your thigh, pulling you higher up his lap as he adjusted how he sat on the barstool. It couldn’t have been comfortable for him, but he was far from complaining. “That what you want, honey? Me having to stitch her up?”
The thought of his hands on her made you angry enough to bite your tongue.
“That’s exactly why I didn’t,” you pointed out smugly, nestling even closer until the tip of your nose brushed the bridge of his. “I’d much rather keep you as my private doctor, Jack.”
He laughed through his nose, his unblinking gaze meeting yours without dropping. “I’ll be your anything, baby, but I don’t think I should be your doctor.”
You rolled your eyes, giving his scruffy cheek a kiss before fully melting against him, nuzzling into the side of his neck.
“Have it your way then. I’ll just make Robby my emergency contact.”
A sharp laugh left Jack before he could stop it.
“Don’t even joke about that, sweetheart.”
i’d climb him like a tree
all bark, no bite | j. abbot
jack abbot x fem!reader
summary: a bad shift doesn't allow you the right to give jack attitude. someone has to teach you a lesson.
tags/desc: 18+ MDNI, afab!reader, fem!reader, R2!reader, minor medical inaccuracies but who gaf, rude!reader as a plot device, mom and dad are fighting, established relationship, implied age gap, maybe mean!jack, brat taming/angry sex (it lowkey got away from me LOL), unprotected piv (no hat no cat!!), hair pulling, fingering, dry humping, spanking, name calling/pet names (baby, sweetheart, brat, etc), slightly proofread
wordcount: 5.8k
part 2 - coming soon
a/n: finally posting a regular jack one shot its been MONTHS HELLO!! this one lowkey made me blush and run laps around my room and also my first time at writing full on brat taming LMK IF ITS BUNS!!!!! 💚 requests are open—!! reblogs are a writers best friend
“Donnie, what the fuck is this?”
“Toxicology test.”
“Yeah, without any heavy metals tested…”
“Yep… your student must have miswrote the order and it got tested wrong. You have to write another.” Donnie pursed his lips and handed you a new, fresh lab order sheet. Already knowing of the massive fuse you were bound to blow at any second.
Fucking med students, slipped under your breath as a war path led you to a frazzled med student. The crease between your eyebrows grew deeper and the heat in your neck rose to your cheeks. Nails digging into the skin of your palms as your only form of decompression to keep you from screaming profanities in their direction. Something about the lab today caused a massive delay, so you were already waiting two hours for a simple heavy metals test.
“You.” Tone seething as you grab the thin fabric of black scrubs. A rough tug, yanking a startled med student from the counter of the hub.
Not giving them a moment to process what is happening, a soft jab of your finger into their chest. As if your touch has enough power to make them cave in on themselves. The twitch in your eye is enough to tell them they are in deep. It’s either all that frustration pent up inside of you, or the less than optimal four hours of sleep that you were running on.
“What did you do with the order for Rebecca Washington’s lab?”
They stutter, you cut them off before they can explain themselves further.
“Because all I have in my hand is a toxicology test— Last time I checked, we did not test for blood alcohol and opioids in a god damn heavy metals test.” Volume rising louder than acceptable and venom dripped from your lips as you waved the paper in their face. It was long gone from neat, crinkled in your grip. Giving it one last shove into their chest, before stepping away.
“Redo it or stay out of my face for the rest of your fucking med school career.” Your eyes finish your thoughts with a sneer, turning yourself away. “And fix your fucking handwritting, my four year old niece has better hand writing than you.” You had a particularly heavy sailor mouth today.
The air is thick as you march away, turning your breathing ragged. Your trail could have left burn marks on the slippery linoleum. A few nurses and CNAs eye each other at the fresh eruption that occurred in front of them. By the next shift, everyone is sure to know how you blew up at a med student.
You thought getting the chance to teach med students would be fun, fulfilling even. You loved being taught and having a mentor. You anticipated it being a bit stressful, but this— it was a different kind of stressful. No one warns you of the strain that forms in the back of your head when you have to focus on patients and babysit a small group of 26 year olds for twelve hours. The day had been piling up on you. Mistakes from med students, entitled patients, losing a patient, lack of a full meal. You were at your wits end. The only way you were able to properly emote your frustrations was onto other people.
Your charged stomps slowed down as you leaned against the counter of the nurses station. Catching your exhausted body on the edge, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. Two more hours, and then you can go home, is your mantra of choice to get through the rest shift.
“Maybe wanna lighten up on the interns? Before you scare them away into a different department. Or profession.” Robby’s sudden interjection pulled you back into reality, he leaned against the counter with you. Arms hugged around his chest and glasses hanging low on his nose bridge. A pitiful smile curled onto his face. He was just as tired as you were, but in comparison, you are winning the crash out olympics today.
“Want to tell me what happened? Because I’m not quite sure what constitutes cursing out someone in front of their colleagues.” He asked, tilting his head to try and meet your gaze.
A deep huff left your chest, straightening your posture for your attending. Fingers running through your hair and giving your scalp a brief massage to ease the headache. His eyes had that look— one that said: chill the fuck out. Or, that’s the only way your mind could interpret it. Your brain is stuck in fight or flight mode; everything feels like a constant jab at your competence. The tight thread holding you together can’t take an infamous Doctor Michael Robinvitch lecture.
“They fucked up the order! I mean it’s med school 101 to know how to properly write a lab order and send it away.”
“True, but it’s their first week. Things happen. That’s the ups and downs of teaching. Can’t teach well if you’re always blowing up over the small things. It’s important to remember—”
“Oh blow me Robinavitch.” Turning away from him with a scoff. He really was one to talk; you could have sworn of the countless times he had to give you a stern talking to.
Never in your time working at PTMC have you ever had that kind of bite. Especially with Robby, on a normal day you were obedient under his words. Robby turned to look at Dana, who shook her head and never broke her focus on the ipad in her hands.
“Well she’s got quite the potty mouth today.”
Robby sighed, watching as you walked into another trauma room. Picking up your next case, terrorizing your next med student. His hand reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. Swiping through the screen to bring up Jack’s messages.
Robby: Your girlfriend is on a rampage today.
Jack: What the fuck? What happened?
Robby: Well, she told me to blow her after she verbally abused a med student.
Robby: And you know I like to be wined and dined before going to the bedroom.
Jack: Jesus. I’m picking her up, I’ll be there tonight.
The last hours had flown through the emergency department. Night shift staff steadily trickled in to relieve the day shift of their duties. It is a rare night off for Jack. He posted himself up at the nurses station, chatting up with Lena and Dana as he waited for you to emerge from the locker room. Jack kept his eye on the locker room door, just so he can be the first to see for himself how to day put you through the ringer.
“You’re kidding?” He asked, keeping his voice low to avoid the chance of you walking into their conversation.
“Mhm— told them to fix their hand writing and everything. I caught the poor kid writing their ABCs in the breakroom.” Dana recanted the events of the day to Jack with a small, amused smirk on her lips.
“That’s not really like her…” Jack pressed his lips in a straight line, already thinking of the lecture he was to throw at you about respect. He tries not to be that guy in your relationship, knowing you want a partner not a father. But at a time like this, it gets away from him and he feels the need to remind you of the importance of respect and humility within the profession.
“Go easy on her, it was a rough day for her.” Dana’s eyes and eyebrows jutted to point in the opposing direction behind Jack.
He’s quick to turn around and face you, crossing meaty arms over his chest and putting on a happy smile for you. He’s not surprised you were not returning his smile. The corner of your lips drooping down and your eyes had lost most of their glimmer. Trudging to Jack with your backpack hung over your shoulder lazily, he could see how tense you were.
“Hey baby, how was your—”
First stopping at Jack, shoving the bag into his arms, and beelining for the ambulance bay doors. Dismissing his presence as if he was any other person on the side of the street. Blazing a path of wrath. His eyebrows knit together, surprised you had to gall to ignore him like that. Poor Jack, he is no exception to your attitude today.
“Good luck with that.”
The beginning of the car ride is quiet, only the hum of the engine and click of the blinker filling the void of silence. Jack wanted to make an attempt to talk to you again. Ask what he can do to make it better, offer an olive branch to spare him from your claws. But he knew how you were, you need to decompress. He let the silence stay, opting for silent forms of his affection by opening the door for you and taking your bag. As he let the door close behind him, you already disappeared into your apartment. Left alone in the living room, dimly lit by the floor lamp. Slipping his boots off, discarded neatly by the door compared to your sneakers, as if you had thrown them away when you walked in. Jack thought this was how the rest of the night would go, even though you knew he wasn’t keen on ending the day with silence or bitterness. He was very clear in every argument you had, neither of you is going to bed without talking it out.
Jack placed your bag on the bench by the door, sitting to massage the area around his prosthesis. You emerged from the lit bedroom, scrubs removed and changed into your normal house clothes. One of Jack’s old shirts and cotton shorts. He figured now is better than never to talk about how you’ve been acting all day. Pulling himself up, he moved to the kitchen counter, the one that overlooked the sink. He leaned onto it, watching as you floated around the kitchen. You were trying to avoid as little eye contact as possible, but he is searching intently for your eyes. He took a deep breath to talk first, in hopes your mind was clear enough to have a proper conversation.
“So, I heard you had a little run in with a med student. And Robby.”
You stop what you’re doing, grabbing on to the edge of the counter. You lull your head back and take a long, irritated breath.
“Why? Did your boyfriend tattle on me?” You quip.
Obviously, you didn’t clear your head enough, or at all. His head hung low, developing a headache. Taking a long, deep breath to engage with your temper.
“No— he didn’t tattle,” yes he did. “He expressed… some concern about your performance today.”
Shaking your head, refusing to answer as you fill up a glass of water. The little angel in your head agreed, you were rude to that med student. You’re sure you made the same mistake before. And you knew you didn’t have enough tenure in the ED to be given a pass of the ‘bitchy’ teacher, you were only an R2. But this isn’t about you, it’s about how everything around you chose today as the day to be inconvenient. Is it too much to ask for one day of the year to go in your favor? It’s the principle, although you were most likely using that justification loosely.
“You can’t talk to an attending like that. If it was anyone else, you could have gotten written up. HR meetings aren’t all that fun you know?” Jack ducked his head to try and meet your eyes. Keeping your stare down at the very interesting cup of water.
“Boohoo, it’s not like I cursed him out.”
“You told him to blow you.”
“Exactly. Not a swear word said.”
Before Jack could try to get another word in, you turn yourself away and shuffle into the bedroom. Closing the door behind you with a louder thud than necessary. He puffed, frustrated that you weren’t giving him the time to actually talk things out with you. It’s not to say he’s caught off guard by your behavior. You’ve had your off days, you weren’t always sunshine and rainbows. And you especially aren’t so mouthy with him. Something about today was getting on his nerves quicker than he should let it. He wasn’t the one that messed up your lab order or tried to lecture you during a heavy shift, so why can’t you spare him?
Jack follows you into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. It also let out a loud thud, his irritation coming out in little pieces. That strain formed in his head, handling the door with unnecessary power, grinding his teeth with his clenched jaw. Jack did not want the first interaction of the day with you to be brewing into an argument.
“Honey, you can’t walk away from me when I’m trying to have a conversation with you.”
“Really? Because I did right now.” Your voice comes out steady, that little hint of bitterness hot on your tongue. It becomes a stand off in the middle of the bedroom. Hands on your hips and narrowing your eyes at him as he steps a little bit closer to you. “And from what I remember, you used to be just as bad too, so I don’t know why you’re coming at me on such a high horse!”
Jack tensed his jaw, any more he was going to need to go to the dentist for teeth grinding. That stung a little bit, maybe a lot. Jack isn’t proud of how he used to be, pre-therapy and post-the loss of his wife. But he grew from that, and you saw how that growth turned him into the man he is today. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips thin, holding back from letting your words get to him.
“I’m not lecturing you. You have to understand— yelling at med students and your attending. That’s not something we do.”
“Not what we do? Last time I checked Jack, you aren't my attending! I don’t have to listen to this or you.”
“It doesn’t matter if I’m your attending or not, it’s my obligation as an attending to help you learn that throwing a tantrum—” His voice gets rougher, less collected than he typically is. Jack attempts to put a caring hand on your shoulder, but you swat his hand away.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child Jack!”
“I have to because you’re acting like one! But what else should I expect from my immature girlfriend, hm?”
You took the highest offense being called immature, especially when Jack knew that was a sore spot in your relationship, being immature compared to him. The anger bubbles over, the heat of the work day follows you into your own home, unwelcomed. Without thinking, you raise a hand to the air. Quickly, just want to give him a taste of how his words make you feel. Before it can even come close to his face, Jack’s hand catches your wrist and puts it into a tight hold. The pads of his fingertips press down deep enough to feel your racing heartbeat. He yanks you towards him, chest on chest, closing the gap that has existed between you for hours.
As you try to get the next words out from your lips, a rough hand catches the back of your head and pulls you in for a deep, sloppy kiss. Teeth hitting and drool starting to leak from the corner of your lips as Jack carries out an attack on your lips. Tongue forcing your lips apart and invading the wet cavern. It erupts a moan from your throat that you wanted to keep secret. Jack knew exactly how to render you speechless. The hand on the back of your neck tangles into your hair, keeping a tight grip. Your hand that started out balled into a fist relaxes and rests on his chest, slowly running up to hook around his neck. When he pulls away, panting for air, his gaze is heavy on you. It turned dark and vicious. Those barbed-wire lined walls you had up all day were crashing down around you. And Jack had a sledgehammer.
“Jack…” Melting into putty in his arms as you whimper as he pulls away.
“What happened? A little kiss made you all soft?” He flips you around his hold, pinning the held wrist behind your back. He guided you to the bed, shoving you to bend over the soft mattress. That rough grip in your hair pushes the side of your face into the mattress, only able to see just over your shoulder.
You whine when he presses his crotch into your cotton covered ass. The tent in his pants prodding at the curve of your ass and rutting up. You are sure Jack could feel that drip in your panties forming a little wet spot. He continues to rub his bulge up and down your ass, catching it occasionally on your increasingly wet mound. Taking his hand away from your hair and moving it next to your head, keeping himself up as he leans over you.
“Who do you think you are… trying to slap me— fuck. After all I do for you…” His hot breath floods the back of your neck, panting like a dog. You want to respond, tell him he’s wrong, but you choke on moans.
You try to move your hips up, feel more of him on your aching cunt. But his hips and hold on your wrist keeps you still. When he pulls himself away, the grip on your wrist is free, feeling the ache slowly blur into your body. You want to move, whip yourself around and give him a piece of mind for being so forward with you. But the raw, agitated energy emanating from Jack was enough to keep you down, growing compliant. Jack grabs the hem of your shorts, tugging them down your legs. A large hand kneads the skin, pinching and watching the heat manifest as color from his touch. Humming, you lean yourself into his touch. A finger loops around the fabric of your panties that bars him from seeing your leaking pussy. Coating his knuckle as he pulls the fabric down and away from you. You close your eyes in hopes of getting a blissful night to alleviate the stress of the day. One sudden strike at your ass brings you back down from the clouds. Crying out Jack’s name as he rings another slap on to burning skin.
“I pick you up from work, pay your rent, make you cum whenever you ask— ‘n you can’t even give me the decency of respect when I talk to you?” Another harsh, personal, spank to your abused flesh.
You bury your face into the sheets, muffling the painful gasps that mix with needy moans. Soaking up the little tears that prick the corner of your eyes. You twitch in response to his hands on your body, your nervous system preparing to feel swipes at your bare ass. He pauses, must be taking in the sight of your skin littered with the faint outline of his hand. The result of your moody spirit. You lift your head away from the bed, sniffling a little as you bite your lip to wish away the pain.
“Jack… please..” Ground your elbows into the bed and try to bring yourself up. You couldn’t bear to not be able to look him in the face. Even though you struggled to confidently make eye contact.
“Now you want to be nice? ‘S too late for that honey…” Jack clicks his tongue disapprovingly. One hand now holding your hip while two fingers swipe up the slick on the folds of your pussy. You gasp, relaxing your body back into the mattress.
He doesn’t wait for you to catch up with him, plugging his fingers into your cunt. Your walls immediately flutter around him, wanting to suck him in deeper. He holds off, wanting to go at his own pace. Only reaching to the second knuckle, and pumping thick fingers shallowly inside you. You hum with this pace, it was just enough to scratch that growing itch in your core.
“Look at you… all happy I’m playing with your pussy. Could have had this way earlier if you cooperated, brat.” His hand on your hip left to swat at your ass again. Eliciting a cry of his name with a moan as the pain mixed with the pleasure brewing inside you.
“There she is— my good girl. God, you’re so easy.” He loves the sounds you make for him. The words brewed inside your head, because you haven’t been good at all. You were being a pain all day to anyone within the vicinity. And it got you to this position, bent over the bed at Jack’s mercy.
His fingers slide deeper past your lips, the palm of his hand flush with your skin when he reaches as deep as he can. Shaking beneath him when his pace grows faster, the sinful sound of your wetness squishing on his fingers. It really is punishment, pay back, the way the tip of his fingers brush over that sensitive spot inside you. But he doesn’t bother to stay there, saying hello and quickly leaving. You groan, frustrated that he’s toying with you and not giving in to what you want. Not that you’re asking, more so expecting it. Pushing your hips back to deepen his pace, he quickly slips his fingers away from you. Shaking his head in disapproval.
“You just can’t be patient, can you?” You can hear his belt collide with the hard wood floor, and the sound of heavy fabric falling.
A tingle goes up your spine, like a spidey sense. Because you have been in this kind of position before; where he picks you up by the thighs and fucks into you while you hang over the edge of the bed. Your feet once flat on the floor, press up on to tippy toes, waiting for him to use his strength on you. A few seconds go by, and he hasn’t moved. Your eyebrows knit together, looking over your shoulder and seeing him standing behind you. Arms crossed, looking down at you with an expectant expression, his cock so casually stiff in the air.
“Jack, what are you waiting for?” you ask with a frown.
He leans over you, arms caging you in as the brace onto the bed. His lips dip close to you, giving you words for only you to hear.
“You’re going to come at me with an attitude— when I did nothing to you by the way— and expect me to do all the work?” humming into your ear, expecting one of your smart ass responses. He looks down to your glistening slit, he wants to dive in so bad and show you a good time. But there is a lesson to be taught here.
You stutter over yourself. You never had to ask Jack to do anything to you; he knew how to treat you and what you liked, what made you feel good. You felt silly having to plead to him to fuck you properly.
“You can reach baby, I’m not doing any of the work for you— since you think you know better than me.”
I never said that… is all you can mumble. Jack thought you would put up a fight, but so easily compliant in this state, he watches as you push yourself up by the toes more. Your slit that had been weeping from the lack of attention, glistened in the bedroom light. It brushes the tip of his cock ever so slightly, making you hiss at the small amount of friction. You struggle to even catch him between your folds, constantly bouncing on your toes. Jack bites through his smirk, enjoying the sight of you. Helpless and impatient, willing to do as much as it takes just to feel him inside of you. It’s pitiful, the comparison from earlier in the night to now. Defiant of Jack, ready to slap him when he threw it back at you. Now you’re a dripping, whimpering mess, so eager to feel the slightest touch of his cock against your pussy.
“I— I can’t do it Jack… I can’t reach…” You deflate into the bed, sad whining muffled in the sheets.
It is pathetic, you are a doctor for christ's sake. You should be demanding him in this instance to fuck you right now. But Jack loves to watch. The way your ass jiggles with the bounce of your toes, trying to rock back to try and catch his cock between your folds. He let this go on for what felt like 30 minutes (it was only 3 minutes). Jack let out a deep sigh, a once stern hand turned comforting on your hip. Brushing his thumb against the skin and cooing to you. He moves his hips forward just a little pit, the tiniest tough of his tip against your cunt. It was nothing but everything at the same time. It sent that buzz of anticipation up and down your spine. As you start to rock yourself again, both of Jack’s hands press down your hips pressing you into the bed again. He is still in control here, he’ll go in when he’s ready. In a tortuous pace, his cock slips in between the folds. He holds in a deep groan from finally feeling your warmth enveloped around his cock. You cry out a soft whimper from the slow stretch of your pussy. Even with how slow Jack was going, his girth is like retribution. A brutal size you thought you have gotten used to by now. He reaches the halfway point and stops, prompting another frustrated groan from you. Clearly have not learned about the stakes of your predicament yet.
“How bad do you want it, sweetheart?” He asks. You mumble into the mattress.
He pulls out just a little bit. “Ah-ah, I said— How bad do you want it?”
Lifting your head away from the sheets, your head slumps over. Jack can see you weren’t in the mood to be good still. But he doesn’t have to act anymore, he knows the more you wait, the more time spent not getting pounded.
“I want it really bad, Jack...” you whine.
“Yeah? What do you have to say then?”
“God, not this now, Jack. Just fucking—” cut off by that same swat on your ass. It shuts you right up.
“Wanna try that one more time?” you nod. “What do you have to say to me?” from the tone of his voice, you can tell Jack does not want to ask again.
Shamefully keeping your eyes down, “I’m sorry that I tried to slap you and argue with you, Jack. I won’t do it again…”
Jack hums but doesn’t answer. Making a show of him considering your apology. He should really make you work for it; force you on to your knees and show how sorry you are with his mouth. But he can’t deny, Jack is growing just as impatient as you were. This night should have ended with sex without all the fighting and huffing. His hand glides down to your thigh, brushing the skin.
“You gonna apologize to Robby and the med students too?” giving you a warning squeeze. If you answer correctly, everyone will be happy. Nodding your head, you peak over your shoulder. Eyes damp from tears and hopeful to get the proper kind of release. It is enough to make Jack crumble for you all over again. At last, Jack hums with approval. A happy tap on your skin as he scoops his hands under your thigh and hoists your legs up. He grips right under your hips for the best leverage. Jack is really testing how much strength and stamina he has left at this age. You yelp as the sudden pull moves your hips up, meeting Jack at a better, and deeper, angle. Pushing himself so deep it punches up into that sensitive spot. He finally gives in to that satisfying rock of his hips, letting out a deep groan.This is all both of you wanted. Impaling you with such a force you felt like Jack was going to split you in half. Sweet moans spur him on more, releasing all of the night's irritation on to your helpless cunt.
Jack revels in the feeling of your velvety walls dragging along the veins of his cock. Squeezing down and taking the shape of his girth, like you were made to be filled by him. The whole predicament— arguing, him mandling you, and fucking you with such punishing force, it made your pussy drool and tighten for him. He can tell exactly what you’re feeling just by the way your walls clench around him.
“Such a good girl, you love getting your pussy filled by my cock, huh?” He says through gritted teeth and low groans.
You can’t give a coherent response, too caught up in the motions all you can do is offer him slutty moans. The tips of his fingers dig into your plush skin, an iron grip dragging your body like a toy on his cock. Jack musters enough strength to lift every so slightly. The new angle makes all the difference as the top of his cock bullies up on your soft spot. The impact forces you to see fireworks in your hazy eyes.
“Shit— Jack!” Your body lurches forward from the force of his hips.
“Fuuck, sweetheart. Feel so good around me, need you to cum f’me.” Jack occasionally had to adjust his grip on your hips, trying so hard to not get lost in the pleasure that he drops your legs on accident. “I know you’re close— rub that pretty little clit for me.”
Your hand snakes under your body, delicate fingers shakily running small, fast circles are the bud. Eyes pressed shut and moans pouring from your lips. That knot deep down came rushing to the surface with each thrust of his hips. Your release is slowly coaxed from deep within you, your thighs and knees pressing against Jack’s, locking him in place. It feels like a wave rushes over your body, your orgasm crashing through you in ripples. Body shaking while your hands grip on to wrinkled bedsheets.
“Ooooh god, Jack!”
“That’s it baby, make a mess on me.”
Jack’s hands slowly let go of your hips and help in letting your feet meet the floor. As soon as you limp in bliss, he lets his pace become self-indulgent. Cock pistoning in and out of your pussy while your walls still clench around him in post-orgasm glory. Pushing himself deep, right to the hilt, he lets his seed slip inside you. Flooding your silky walls with hot, white cum. It leaves a satisfying warmth with you. Jack moans and crones through his release, a thrust or two to push all of his load deep within you. He tries not to fall on top of you when the fog clears from his head. A little drips of cum leaking from you as he pulls out, half-limp cock slick with a mixture of your desire and his cum.
“Jesus, Jack.”
“I should be saying that to you. All that huffing, puffing, and yelling. If you wanted it so badly baby all you had to do is ask.” He teased, a lazy smirk on his lips.
Crawling up the bed a bit, you manage to turn yourself over for the first time supporting your weight on your elbows. Panting heavily as you take in the sight of a sweaty, fucked out Jack. It is an insatiable sight; little beads of sweat dripping from his neck to his chest, the tuft of hair above his cock damp with body fluids. Jack eyes the scheming smirk on your face. Lifting your foot to poke at his stomach.
“I don’t know if I learned my lesson yet. You weren’t the most… convincing.” Pursing your lips and trailing your eyes from his firm stomach, all the way up to his lingering eyes.
“Yeah? I guess I have some more gas in the tank to teach you, brat.”
Jack grabs your ankle and yanks your body back towards him, a high and excited squeal coming from you.
“Hi.”
The med students whips around, eyes widened and already shaking. A trauma response from the incident a couple of days ago. You had a basket in your hand, filled with muffins, fruit, and a random energy drink you picked up from the story. Holding it out from them, you try to come off with a gracious expression rather than guilt.
“I’m sorry for how I spoke— treated— you earlier this week. I was out of line and you’re still getting the hang of things around here. I was stressed and I should not have taken it out on you. ‘Sorry for yelling at you’ basket?” Giving them a crooked smile and handing the basket to them.
It follows with a short conversation, exchanging necessary apologies and coming to an agreement it was an off day for everyone that day. You felt embarrassed having to apologize for behavior that could have been completely avoidable if you remembered what emotional regulation skills are. In the end, you are glad no bridges were burned. An ease settled over your body as the med student walked away with a softer smiler than before.
“And where’s my basket?” Robby pipped in.
“Jack said you would rather have an eight pack over a basket. And I think I would be in more trouble if I brought beer into the workplace.”
Robby didn’t care to cover up the deep huff of laughter. Bringing a pat to your shoulder as he shook his head.
“I need to know what Jack did to get you to come to your senses. Could use it on you if you ever feel like shooting at me again.” Robby said contently.
You scrunch your face, “No you don’t, Robby.”
“Why not?” he asks, les confused more intrigued.
“You’d have to ask Jack for permission. I know you guys are close, but I don’t know if you’re close enough to share.”
You turn on your heels and walk away quickly, trying to stifle the little giggle inside your throat. Robby runs his hand over his mouth and beard, slowly catching up with what you were putting down. He scrunches his own face, shaking his head to clear away the dirty thoughts.
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I Wanna Make You Scream
summary: med school had gotten boring to jack abbot and michael "robby" robinavitch. in an attempt to liven things up, they settle on two things: serial killings and making you theirs no matter what.
tags: ghostface!medstudent!rabbot x reader, possessive!boyfriends!rabbot, med school scream au, dark!rabbot, ooc rabbot, no age gaps!, violence, medical inaccuracies, murder, improper use of medical tools, morally gray reader (idk fam she finds out but doesn't turn them in), 5.6k words of pure smut (threesome, coercion/slight dubcon, degradation, blood kink, fingering, piv-unprotected sex, blow job [when in Paris], sloppy seconds, overstimulation), small time skip at the end NSFW 18+ MDNI
notes: I feel like I am very qualified to write this as someone who has scream in their top 4 on letterboxd and has written stuilly x reader fan fiction before, so I am well versed, I also love horror and have been wanting to write a few more darker fics on the side (still throwing around the idea of a saw inspired jack abbot fic), MY TAG LIST IS CLOSED, please enjoy!
word count: 14.9k (making this the longest one shot I've ever written)
You set your coffee down with a small thunk on the long classroom table somewhere in the middle of the lecture room. Your binders and notebooks joined next, placed down more carefully to not tip the cup over, because spilling your caffeinated beverage before 8 am would have been a tragedy in and of itself. Your backpack sat nicely in the seat to your right, and to your left you placed one textbook exactly in the middle.
One for Jack, and one for Robby; just as you'd been doing since you met them during orientation of your first year. Because where one of them was, the other wasn't too far behind with you, their added third to their duo, falling somewhere in the middle.
Even though Robby was already an MS4 whereas you and Jack were MS1s, he'd known the curly-haired redhead during childhood and scooped you up right along with him. Now halfway through your second year where Robby wasn't as around as either you or Jack would like, he promised to at least sit with you when he got called in to assist during the few lectures of the ACLS provider course. Today happened to be one of those golden moments where all three of you got to be together again.
Normally, you liked to be the first one in the room to get a feel for the atmosphere and not be rushed to find a nice seat. Doing so had grouped you and Jack in Gross Anatomy and Histology last year, and you would have liked to keep the streak going, however, as you looked around the room, your eyes caught on a male student sitting front and center with his hands folded.
You fought the urge to scoff. Who fucking picks front row?
Taking a seat, your head ducked closer to your backpack, and your hands dug around to find at least one of your good pencils before Jack decided to use them all for himself.
"Are you looking for something?" the guy's voice echoed from the front.
You didn't even look up over the desk when you answered. "Just needing to find a pencil."
He fell quiet for a few moments, and you were sure he was watching you struggle to reach the bottom of your backpack, hoping that he'd stay quiet or at least look away. When you failed to grasp anything pencil-shaped, you straightened back up and squeaked when you came face to face with the guy, jolting at the sheer suddenness of his presence. He was holding a regular number 2 pencil out near your face, sharp end almost between your eyes. If you'd been any closer, your nose would have tapped it.
"You can have one of mine," he said, more insisting for someone you didn't even know.
You eyed him carefully. He was taller than you, you noted, and that even if you were still sitting down, he'd probably tower over you the way he was doing as he waited for you to take the yellow pencil. Your lips pursed together.
"I'll be fine," you answered. "My friends probably have extras."
"But I'm offering you mine. It'd be rude not to take it."
Your stomach flipped. This guy probably wasn't going to stab you with the pencil in broad daylight right before class was about to stop, but your mind went sailing right back to last night's news that yet another student had been murdered while studying in the top floor of the library, and a chill raced up your spine.
"You just go ahead and keep it; I think I'll wait," you muttered, eyes tearing away from him to look at your coffee, the steam rising steadily through the hole in the lid.
He scoffed loudly. "Well, if you're not going to take my pencil, can I at least get your name," he said as though you had to compensate him for "wasting" his time.
"Why would I give you my name if I don't even know yours first." You paused before adding with a smirk. "We're not supposed to give out our names to strangers."
From your peripheral as you turned to look toward the door, you saw him physically contemplate your words.
"Stephen with a ph," he pushed out, and you swore little droplets of his spit hit the cover of your binder.
You desperately wanted to drag a sleeve over it for good measure, but that would just open another can of worms.
His name didn't ring any bells. He certainly wasn't a part of your friend group, and you knew he wasn't the type of guy that Jack would go out of his way to befriend either.
"Now, tell me your name."
Your fingernails curled into your palms, mind willing for either Jack or Robby to walk right through the doors in some divine intervention. You were more than capable of telling the guy off, but why would you when either one could do it for you.
Women in STEM you always told them after you managed to get them to do something for you.
When you failed to answer and give up your name, Stephen hunched forward and placed both hands on the desk. Sadly, his weight and abruptness made the entire thing shake, and before you could reach out, your coffee tipped over and spilled in the opposite direction, right onto his shoes and pants. Your lip automatically slipped between your teeth in an attempt to not laugh as he yelped and cursed loudly. Yet, when he turned back towards you with fire in his eyes and out stretched hand with the pencil curled between his fingers, your face dropped.
"You bitch," he growled while shoving the pointed end in your direction. "You ruined my shoes!"
This time, you were the one to scoff. "You shouldn't have shaken the table like that, so really, you ruined your own shoes all by yourself."
His face flushed red, and his eyes practically bulged out of the sockets; he looked as though he were less than a second away from exploding and going off on you when the door opened wide, reviewing the two you had just been manifesting.
Your head whipped so hard in their direction that you winced at the twang in your neck, and your chest heaved in a sigh of relief.
"No, dude, I'm telling you, this class absolutely sucks," Jack loudly announced, hands gripping his backpack straps as he waddled in. "Just be glad we get here early because by 8 all these seats are fill—"
His words died in his mouth when he finally looked away from Robby and over to where you normally sat, and his expression dropped at the sight of Stephen still towering over you with the pencil in your face. He halted abruptly, causing Robby to follow his line of sight. You tried your best to smile and slightly wave when you met their hazel and deep brown eyes, but the damage had already been done.
Jack scowled something fierce, and his knuckles turned white. He took no time in resuming his walk over. Robby stayed close behind, height feeling more dramatic than normal.
"Heeeyyyy," you drew out before pushing up out of the seat.
Neither said nothing in return, opting to take their normal spots at your sides. Jack's hand planted in the middle of your lower back while Robby slung an arm around your shoulders, large hand squeezing gently when it rested against your upper bicep.
Jack's chin jerked out at Stephen. "Who're you?"
Stephen straightened slightly and puffed out his chest like that was going to do anything. "Stephen Miller."
"Stephen Miller," he echoed before turning to you, his eyes softening. "Do we have a problem here?"
"I was just trying to be friendly man—"
"He wasn't talking to you," Robby cut in. His eyes were darker than you'd ever seen them.
In response you raised your head slightly. "No problem. Just having a conversation."
"Didn't look like a very friendly one," Jack muttered. "You sure, sweetheart?"
"Yeah." The corner of your mouth twitched slightly, but you knew both of them could see right through you. "I'm sure."
Jack and Robby wanted to press more. Their chests had tightened the minute they saw this boy standing over you with what looked like intent to harm. For all they cared, they'd go straight to the dean and report him for violent tendencies, but the look in your eyes and normal want for no animosity kept them close. However, they did share a knowing glance over your head, something that you missed completely as you began to gather your stuff from their seats.
The door burst open a beat later, and students began filling the classroom. Stephen finally sulked back to his chair but not without one more heated glare in your direction.
"What the fuck was that about?" Jack muttered as he slung his backpack down to the ground.
You rolled your eyes. "I guess my search for a pencil was louder than I thought, so he asked if I wanted one of his. When I said no and that I'd probably just steal one of yours, he got . . . angry? I don't know; it was weird. And then he knocked my coffee over," you retold, the last little bit coming across as more whiny than you would have liked, but you were a second year med student for fucks sake.
Coffee kept you sane, and that asshole had taken your morning dose away from you.
"Sorry we didn't get here sooner," Robby stated while getting his papers out, and you fully turned his way.
This had been the first time in months that you got to see him. Between his countless hours as an R1 over at an ER a few towns over, about a two to three hour drive one way, and dealing with his own personal shit, he'd been gone long enough that a short beard covered his jaw and space between his nose and lips. You couldn't help yourself as you reached up and lightly scratched at it.
"When did this get here?" you asked, desperately trying to change the conversation.
His facial hair was soft beneath your fingers, and you felt the way he slightly leaned into your touch.
"I already gave him shit about it; don't worry, sweetheart," Jack announced loudly. "He leaves us for—what?—three months and comes back with a face blanket?"
Robby chuckled and leaned away to look at his friend over your shoulder. "Laugh it up, kid. You're just mad because all you can grow is that upper lip caterpillar."
"Please, let's save the bickering until the clock hits at least ten o'clock," you laughed.
Jack opened and closed his jaw while he made a talking motion with his hand, to which you lightly smacked hip upside the head before taking a seat. Almost instantly, Jack's left hand found the top of your knee.
"But seriously," he muttered, leaning closer so his voice didn't carry much, "are you okay, though? That guy . . ."
You placed your hand on top of his. "He's fine. I doubt he could do much damage with a pencil."
"You never know," Robby huffed. "I'll be back soon; gotta check in with Professor Barlowe." He leaned down and pressed a very light kiss to your temple, something he'd started doing recently, and then clapped Jack on the shoulder as he passed.
Your brows furrowed slightly when you noticed the way Jack let his eyes trail Robby, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. The two had always had a stronger bond than you would ever realize, and if they wanted to let you know if anything changed, you'd let them come to you first before asking invasive questions.
So, instead, you settled on asking about the homework. "Were you able to get it all done? I was up forever."
Jack pulled out a small stack of papers. "Yeah. I finished them this morning. Had a bit of a late night but managed to get a decent amount of sleep." He smiled widely, crooked teeth on full display. "How about you?"
"Uh, I don't know if you listen much to the radios but there was another stabbing last night," you murmured.
His eyebrows rose. "No shit?"
"Yeah." You swallowed thickly. "Miles Pennington. He was found by the janitors in the library. No one knows who did it since all the cameras have been out since last semester, but he had five stab wounds and thirteen clean incisions."
"How do you know all this?" he asked, shoulders hunching slightly.
"My friend works the late night desk. She's the one who called the police and stuff. I'm surprised you didn't know any of this Mr. I have a police scanner and listen to it for fun."
His head leaned back as he barked out a laugh before he looked back toward you, mischief gleaming in his eyes. "You're trouble; you know that?"
You let your eyes quickly trail the freckles that dotted his outstretched neck. "Yeah, yeah. Anyway, it kept me up most of the night, because—" You looked around before leaning in closer. "They think all the recent killings are all connected."
Jack choked on his spit. "What?"
"Every single one of them had calls from an unknown number on their hand-held mobiles that ranged from five to ten minutes."
Under the desk, Jack's fingers tightened and curled into a fist. Through the adrenaline high, they'd, once again, forgotten to grab the fucking mobile.
He hoped he was able to keep a calm expression to hide the way his heart was beating wildly beneath his sternum. However, his breathing must have quickened, because he watched the way your brows furrowed with concern.
"Are you okay?" you asked, scooching forward in your chair to give him a once over.
"Fine," he managed to get out. "Just . . . I think I forgot one of the questions."
"Oh, that's okay," you said, hand already sliding your copy of homework over without a second thought.
Jack's heart clenched at your kindness that he definitely didn't deserve. Not when he was the one to give Miles every single one of those incisions with a scalpel Robby swiped from work. The guy was so close to graduating and becoming a resident, but he just had to go and flirt with you last Christmas, blatantly asking if you had plans to "stay warm" during the break. He had almost killed him then, already envisioning the way the blade would sink deep into his gut, before Robby had given him a look, eyes screaming to be patient.
He only had to wait until midterms, get him alone, and have Robby make the call and give him what they dubbed "The Test" over a call before he could pin him to the ground. It had been easy with very little struggle, even with his vision clouded with that white opened-mouth mask they'd found in a going-out-of-business Halloween store. Cash payment; no trail, no evidence.
Jack was already starting to itch again, that vein deep need to spill blood instead of stopping it from flowing, to cause harm instead of protecting.
You snapped in front of his face, and he blinked rapidly.
"You're spacing out again," you said. "Do you need to take a break? I doubt we'll get in trouble if we sneak out to get more coffee."
He shook his head. "No, I'm fine." His finger tapped on your homework. "Thanks for this . . . again."
Your hand rose and covered your mouth as you giggled. "No problem. I cannot have you flunking this class, Jack Abbot. I don't think I'd survive without you."
"Nah, you're smart enough," he said after lightly flicking your temple. "You'll probably match your first try with whatever hospital you choose."
"You think so?" Shyly, you tucked a piece of fallen hair behind your ear.
Jack met your eye with a ferocity you hadn't seen. "I know so."
Heat flushed to your cheeks and spread down your neck into your top, and you quickly looked back down at your papers and binder. You took one glance toward the front, eyes locking onto Robby where he stood discussing something with your teacher.
"Guess I just need to survive the next two years and hope I don't get a phone call myself," you whispered loud enough for Jack to hear over your scratching pencil and the beginnings of the lecture.
It was almost like you'd been put under a trance every time the lesson began to not miss anything important. Because of this, you missed the way Jack locked eyes with Robby over the tops of the students' heads. His older friend barely glanced in the direction of Stephen, and the slight nod he got sent a pleasured chill racing over his skin.
Jack couldn't wait to feel the slick of Stephen's blood and organs against his black leather gloves as he cut him up once clean slice at a time.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The phone's cord tangled around your finger as you giggled into the chunky receiver while Robby told you about one of the pranks his attending played on him because he fell asleep in an on-call room.
"And then, they had the fucking audacity to page me, and I went running before I fell face first into the hub!"
"And then what?" you laughed breathily, leaning back until your head hit your pillow.
"Then so many casualties came in after, and I was stuck with the cast on and unable to help! I had to wait hours before they could get it off."
"Did it teach you not to fall asleep?" you questioned with a smile that he couldn't even see, but Robby could definitely hear it in your voice.
He smiled as well, lips practically kissing his phone. "For a bit, but then I managed to find an excellent napping place."
"Did Benton tell you off for it?"
"Nope." Robby looked down at the paper in his hand, fingers playing the frayed edge. "He actually woke me up with my acceptance papers."
You sat up straight and gasped loudly. "Michael Strausser Speer Robinavitch! You got accepted into their emergency surgery program, and you didn't fucking tell me in person! You ass!"
"It just slipped my mind."
A scoff flew from your lips and echoed in his ear.
"It just slipped my mind," you mocked, voice dipping into a lower tone that didn't quite match Robby's all the way. "Did you tell Jack?"
"Yeah," he breathed.
"And how'd that go?"
Robby pursed his lips at the memory of Jack screaming at him before kissing him right on the lips. "As well as you could imagine."
"He just . . . worries about you, I think," you tried to console with your lip between your teeth. "Worried about you several hours away, worried that he won't be able to catch up."
"Did he tell you about his plans after med school?"
You nodded on instinct before catching yourself. "Y-yeah, he did. He's brave for it."
"Only Jack could want to be an Army field medic," Robby grumbled while running a hand across his jaw. "He's insane."
A low hum rumbled through your chest in agreement. "He wants to help people, but I don't understand why he thinks he needs to do it under active fire."
For some reason, tears pricked at your eyes, and you rapidly tried to blink them away. To keep them away, you did your best to sniff quietly, but the sound was louder through the phone than you thought.
Robby frowned, and his brows pinched. "Hey, why're you crying?"
You chomped down on the inside of your cheek before replying, "I don't want him to get hurt, and he's going to be so alone over there. It breaks my heart every time he wears that stupid Army crewneck he got at the recruitment office."
He knew exactly which one you were talking about; he pulled the damn thing off Jack's freckled body earlier that morning right after he got back from slicing the kid in the library with blood still crusting at his shoes and at the stretches of skin the robe didn't cover. Robby had licked it all off before taking Jack's cock in his mouth.
"Did I lose you over there, Robinavitch?" you asked when you could only hear heavy breathing.
Robby raised his brows and smirked. "Oh, am I simply Robinavitch to you now?"
"It's what you get for keeping important information from me!"
"Okay, baby, okay," he mused, laying it heavy on the small pet name. “Have you decided what you’re wanting to do after school? We could always use you over at Sacred.”
Nervously, you twirled the phone wire around a finger. “Actually . . . I’m thinking about looking into an endo fellowship.”
Your words hit him right in the stomach. “What?”
You huffed. “Yeah, I know I said I might go into emergency med, but Robby, I don’t think I can keep up with that life. Seeing all those traumas would fuck me in the head.”
“So, Jack’s leaving me, and now you’re leaving me?”
“Don’t put it like that. You’re a big boy; you’ll be fine.” Your eyes glanced around the room before widening when you caught the time. "Fuck, Rob, I gotta go. I'm supposed to meet my roommate for breakfast tomorrow before my 8 am." You paused before adding. "Thanks for talking to me. I've really missed you, ya know?"
"I've missed you too," he confessed, "a lot."
"It's not the same without you. I have Jack, but I think I can say we both feel incomplete when you're not here."
"Feel the same out there," he whispered. "I'll let you go, but I'll give Jack a plan for lunch so we can all meet up, yeah?"
"Sounds good, Robby. Sleep well," you said before ending the call.
Your hands raised high above your head, and a soft moan slipped through your lips as you stretched. Needing to use the bathroom one more time, you softly slipped from the bed and padded toward the connected suite. You still had no clue how you managed to get a room with a bathroom, but you were never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
However, only a few feet away, your phone screeched a loud shrill into the air. Your cheeks puffed as you blew out air, mind thinking that Robby probably forgot to tell you something important. Your hand curled around the receiver and raised it to your ear.
"Robby, I swear if you forgot about something again I'll—"
"Hello?" a distorted voice cut you off, and your stomach dipped ever so slightly at the unfamiliar caller.
"Um, hi?"
"Would you like to play a game?"
You frowned deeply. "No thank you. I think you have the wrong number. Goodbye."
The phone clicked back into the stand, and you turned away once more, ready to get peeing over so you could get some sleep. Yet again, your phone rang, and you jumped at the noise. This time, you stomped back over and ripped it right out and up to your ear.
"You shouldn't have done that," the voice tsked. "Because now, if you hang up again, I'll have to kill someone for you."
Your blood ran ice cold. "How is this?"
"Uh, uh, uh, I ask the questions here, sweets. And you still haven't answered my first one: would you like to play a game?"
"Fuck you," you spat. "Is this Stephen from class, because I swear if this is just some elaborate prank, I'm going to report your sorry ass to the dean."
"Oh, she has a mouth on her," he—because this had to be a man—laughed. "What fun you and I are going to have."
"I'm not going to play whatever stupid game this is, Stephen."
"Sorry to tell you, but this isn't Stephen," he growled, and the sound had you shaking slightly.
Knuckles turning white, you gripped the phone tightly. "Then-then who is this?"
"Can't tell you that or it'd ruin the surprise!" He sighed and clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Now, I will ask for the last time, do you want to play a game? Or should I start killing your friends? What are their names again? Jack and Michael?"
"If you hurt them—"
"You'll do what? You don't even know my name? But I know yours, Y/n."
Your skin itched, and you whirled around, almost like you swore that you felt someone's eyes on your body. You stepped up to your window and cracked the blinds open with a finger. When no one seemed to be standing outside, you let the slat fall back down.
"Will you play now?"
A thick glob of saliva fought back against your attempt to swallow it down. "Fine. I'll play. What are the rules?"
"If you can answer my questions, I won't kill poor Stephen here."
In the background, you heard muffled screams and cries that matched the student who had held a pencil to your face. Tears slowly streamed down your face as it fully settled that the man on the other end wasn't playing around, that a life was in your, a mere med student's, hands.
"Don't hurt him, please," you whimpered.
"Such big emotions for a stranger. Oh, you're going to be such a good doctor one day." He cleared his throat. "Question one: a twenty-three-year old comes rolling in after being involved in a motorcycle accident. Her BPs seventy-eight over forty, heart rate’s one-forty. She has absent breath sounds on the left, and her trachea’s deviated to the right. What kills her first?”
“How am I supposed to know that? I’m only a MS2, fucker.”
“You’re smart enough to know it. All that time spent with that emergency resident, and you can’t remember anything?”
“Just give me a second!”
“I fear Stephen doesn’t have ‘a second,’” he taunted, and in the next moment, a pain-filled wail muffled through your phone, causing a sob to rip right from your throat.
“Okay, okay, just—” You pinched your eyes shut as you tried to think through the question. “Tension pneumothorax,” you settled on before holding your breath.
“And your treatment to keep him alive?”
“A-a needle decompression followed by a ch-chest tube.”
The distorted voice paused on the other line. “Correct. See, I knew you would get it. You’re so smart, Y/n.”
You unsuccessfully tried to wipe the tears from your cheeks, but your eyes kept replenishing them. “Okay, I answered your fucking questions, now let the guy go.”
“I’m sorry. Was I not specific? We still have three more to go before I think of letting Stephen here see another sunrise. Next question: A trauma patient arrives talking to you. Five minutes later, they’re confused, then unconscious. What do you suspect is happening?”
A frustrated groan bubbled through your chest. “I need more information.”
“If your patient is unconscious, you don’t get more information. Tick, tock, sweets, Stephen’s counting on you.”
“It-it could be something like an epidural hematoma?”
“And what would be the classic artery?”
“The middle meningeal artery.”
“I’m so proud of you for getting that correct.”
Instead of feeling elated, you were so close to throwing up that you could taste the tang of bile on your tongue. “What’s the next one?”
“Feeling confident, are we?”
“Ask the fucking question.”
“You’ve got penetrating trauma just left of the sternum. Blood pressure is dropping. Neck veins are distended, and the heart sounds are muffled. What’s the diagnosis, doc?”
“Cardiac tamponade,” you answered instantly. It had been one of the homework questions from the ACLS provider course you had with Jack.
“Treatment?”
“Emergency thoracotomy if they’re crashing. Pericardiocentesis only if it’s the bridge.”
“I guess you really can stay awake during your classes. Now, for the final question: your last trauma patient just received a massive transfusion after losing too much blood like poor Stephen will if you get this wrong. All seems to go well until the monitor suddenly shows a widening QRS, peaked T waves, and then ventricular tachycardia. What is killing the man on your table?”
Your stomach dropped to your toes. This should have been the easiest one. You should know this.
“It’s hypocalcemia,” you stated.
The line went silent.
“Did I get it? I got it, you mother fucker,” you growled.
However, all you got was a click on his tongue. “Wrong.”
All blood drained straight from your face. “Wha-what? No, I’m certain it’s hypocalcemia. It’s the textbook definition of it.”
“The diagnosis you’re looking for is actually hyperkalemia. You would have needed to administer potassium instead. Well, the calcium would have been the protocol, but it wasn’t the answer I asked for.”
“N-no,” you stuttered out with another sob wracking your body. “Please don’t hurt him. Let him go.”
“I gave him a fighting chance like all good doctors do. But sometimes, in the real world, we can’t all save our patients. Say goodbye to Stephen. He’ll be missed in class.”
Your throat constricted in a gag as wet slashing sounds echoed through your phone speaker. You should have turned it off, but you stayed frozen to the middle of your room, mind fuzzy and close to dissociation as Stephen’s wails rattled and echoed in your brain. He gave a particularly loud screech that followed almost a ripping sound, something you’d heard before from medical tapes used in surgical classes, the tell-tale noise of someone wrongly cutting through skin and tendons.
In a few moments, he quieted before the line went fully quiet, save for the heavy, distorted breathing from the assailant. All you could manage to do was whimper and tremble.
“Thanks for playing, sweets. Better luck next time.”
The drawl of the dial tone echoed in your ear until the receiver slipped from your hand and landed in a loud thunk against your carpet. Your knees almost buckled as you tried to make your way back to your bed, bathroom break far forgotten. It didn’t even cross your mind as you sat shaking on the comforter, hands clenching the blanket.
All you could hear were Stephen’s moans and cries, and if you could get past those, the man’s words rang freely.
Say goodbye to Stephen. He’ll be missed in class.
The killer was in the ACLS provider course. One of your classmates just murdered Stephen and probably all the other guys too.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
“What’s so important that we had to meet before your first class, baby? Thought you had plans with your roommate,” Robby’s voice sounded behind you, and you flinched violently at the suddenness. “Woah, it’s just me.”
Your red-rimmed wide eyes looked up at him from the empty space at the small coffee table in the on-campus cafe, and his cocky smirk dropped as he took in the paleness and horror that had been plastered on your face since that phone call late last night. Robby grabbed the top of the chair and dragged it out to sit. His knees bumped against yours while his hands gently rested on your cheeks, fingers tilting your chin in order for him to look you over, ever the doctor.
“What’s wrong?” he questioned. You sleepily watched his eyes flicker down your face in an obvious fashion. “What happened?”
You jerked out of his hold and looked back down to the table. “Let’s just wait for Jack.”
Almost as if he were waiting for you to say his name, Jack plopped down into the seat opposite of Robby, the three of you making a triangle around the table. He too was wearing a smile that dropped just as quickly as Robby’s had moments earlier. At least he didn’t start going full doctor on you, but his concern was evident in his pinched expression.
“What’s wrong?” Jack asked, eyes glancing over toward Robby.
“That’s what I asked,” the brunette responded without looking away from your shaking form.
“I-I wanted to tell you both before the n-news got out,” you stuttered between shaking breaths.
Jack leaned forward and placed both his hands on the table. “What news? I think you’re scaring us a bit, sweetheart.”
“Stephen wa-was murdered,” you squeaked, “last night, right after I finished talking to Robby.” Your pointer finger picked at your thumb, loose skin catching with every scrape.
“Did your friend have to call in another one in the library?” Jack asked.
You shook your head. “No. I did.”
“You did?” Robby echoed, and his concern morphed into confusion. “Was he murdered in the girls’ dorms?”
Another shake of your head. “No.” Tears welled in your lashline, and you squeezed your eyes tight as another wave of Stephen’s cries rang through your memory.
Jack licked his lips and leaned back in the chair. “Well, didn’t you say the killer calls his victims? So, unless you’re a ghost, you should have been far away from whatever happened.”
“You two don’t understand!” you screeched, not caring if a few people turned their heads toward you. “He called me. I had to listen to-to—” Bile burned up your throat as you slapped two hands over your mouth in case it decided to spew between your teeth.
“Jeez,” Robby muttered as he dragged a hand down his jaw. “You had to listen to him getting . . . ya’ know.”
“Murdered,” Jack filled in casually, like he wasn’t concerned at all about what you’d just confessed. Although, he did do a good job at looking a bit surprised. “But why would he call you?”
“I don’t know,” you whimpered, arms coming to wrap around your middle as you hunched in on yourself. “One minute, I thought I was talking to Robby, and the next I thought it might be Stephen because of the pencil incident, but then I tried to hang up again, and . . .” you trailed off right as you remembered what the distorted voice had told you.
“And what?” Jack pressed.
“He said if I hung up and didn’t play his game, he’d kill you two.”
From the corner of his eye, Jack looked over at Robby for the briefest moment before scooting his chair closer to you to wrap you in a hug. Your pliant, shivering body went willingly right into his embrace, and he couldn’t help the smirk that stretched onto his face.
Everything was going to plan better than they had expected. Sure, calling you hadn’t been their first line of action, but looking at you now, so scared, so terrified that they were in danger, made them feel like they should have called you first. Robby initially had been the one who wanted to call and hear your panicked little whimpers, but he’d been the last caller. At least Jack had the decency to record everything, and Robby didn’t remember the last time they had both cum so hard while fucking as they played your delicious sounding cries, its echos joining the perfect symphony of their moans. It was almost as good as having you there with them, but they had to get you willing.
And right now, you seemed on the verge of being just that. They’d planted the seed of doubt in your mind that they weren’t untouchable, that they might be the next victims.
Jack ran a hand up and down your back in soothing motions, and you pressed into his chest, eyes meeting Robby’s worried-looking brown hues across the table.
“Did you already give your statement?” he asked.
“Yeah; last night,” you sighed. “My roommate found me crying, and she was the one to call. Everything happened so quickly.”
Jack pressed his cheek into the top of your head. “Did you recognize the voice?”
“No. It was all distorted.” You tensed suddenly. “But he did say something weird.”
Robby eyed Jack wearily. “Yeah?”
You nodded. “He said that Stephen would be missed in class, but—I mean, wouldn’t that imply that the killer was in the same class as us?”
Jack mouthed a quiet fuck and closed his eyes. He hadn’t meant to say that; he needed himself as far from the scene and victim as possible. Robby normally got away with it since he was supposed to be three hours away while Jack made sure his alibi of being in his dorm room stayed air-tight.
“Did you tell that to the police?”
The corner of your lip turned downward. “I-I think? I don’t know; I can’t remember.” Your words started to slur into a whine, and a single tear slipped down your cheek in frustration.
“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Jack cooed, hand never stopping in soothing circles while he held you. “Tell you what. Why don’t you and I go down to the station after class if you’re feeling up to it.”
Your stomach gurgled at the thought of having to retell what you went through for the sake of adding one more detail, and you swallowed thickly even if your mouth had gone dry.
“I don’t think I want to go to class. Seeing the empty seat . . .” If you thought about it for long enough, you knew you’d start crying all over again. “Can we just stay here? Or go to the fountain outside?” You’d been looking at Robby, but you pulled back from Jack enough to look him in the face. However, when neither of them answered right away, your stomach sank. “Oh.”
Robby cupped a hand at his neck, a familiar thing you’d seen him do for a year straight when he got stressed or nervous.
“Jack and I promised that we’d help out with an advanced simulator today for the fourth year students after you two’s first lecture.”
That was utter bullshit; they hadn’t been asked at all, but they needed to get away from you for a couple of hours to really let you sink into helplessness and paranoia. The longer you went without them with the thought that any moment they might be stabbed and sliced, the more you’d run into their willing arms no matter how they decided to break the news about their late-night activities.
You pulled fully out of Jack’s embrace, and the freckled boy had to stop himself from bringing you right back in, hands already itching to grab onto your arms. But he pulled himself together; he would have all night with you once they got you right where they wanted.
“Will I at least see you both before Robby has to go back tonight?” you asked, finger going back to pick at your thumb, face wincing when a spark of pain shot up your digit. You looked down in time to see blood well under the flap of skin.
“Of course. I’ll be at Jack’s dorm after I finish up with the final night class,” Robby said and finally smiled. He leaned over and softly pinched your cheek. “I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye to my favorite girl.”
A rush of pleasure crept up to his chest at the sight of your heated cheeks, and somehow, evening couldn't come soon enough. After you stood and left, probably headed toward your dorm to try to get some sleep, Jack turned towards Robby with a flick of his head.
“Tonight?” he asked, lips stretching into a wide smirk.
Robby didn’t even look his way, eyes still planted on your figure. “Tonight.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Three raps of your knuckles against the wood door and a muffled Come in! from Jack had you pushing the creaky thing open and stepping right into his dorm. You eyed the small piles of clothes that you tried not to step on as you made your way toward his bed. Jack was leaned back against his headboard with a sleepy look on his face and pajamas on his body: a pair of much-too big sweats (that you guessed probably belonged to Robby) and that fucking Army crewneck.
“Would it kill you to clean once in a while?” you asked while taking a seat right at the edge of the mattress.
“There’s a system to it. Left side of the room is for clean clothes, and the right is for dirty,” he responded with a shit-eating smirk.
You rolled your eyes and turned to face him as much as you could without lying stomach down on the bed. “You’re such a boy.”
“At least my room’s not dripping in makeup,” he shot back, face scrunching in disgust. “It’s almost like I can smell it from here.”
“No, that’s your hairspray.” You reached out to ruffle his curls, but his hand darted out and wrapped around your wrist before it could get any further.
Jack pulled slightly, and you followed, knees digging into the comforter so he could bring you closer. “You know better than to touch the curls.”
“Then don’t make fun of my makeup,” you muttered before ripping your hand out of his hold. Using your hands, you pushed yourself further up the bed and mirrored Jack with your shoulder against his and back against the headboard. “How’d that simulator thing go?”
His lip curled. “As well as it could be. Fuck, I hope we’re not going to turn out to be like those stuck up know-it-all assholes. They think they know every damn answer.”
You nudged him slightly. “As long as we study and actually know the answers, we can act as asshole-y as we want to.”
He ran a hand through his hair and scoffed. “That’s the thing. We asked the question for the mock-up ER, and one of the guys in there—total douche—didn’t even know the protocol for hyperkalemia.”
“It’s potassium instead of calcium,” you rattled off mindlessly before pausing.
Jack turned slightly. “Yeah. How the fuck did you know that?”
Your eyes locked onto your feet. “It-it was one the question I got wrong before Stephen—” Your mouth quivered. “Fuck, it’s all my fault.”
“Don’t say that.”
“But it’s true, Jack,” you muttered. “I killed him.” Panic began to lick at the edges of your mind, and your chest started heaving in pants. “I killed him. I killed him.”
Jack pushed up off the headboard and hovered halfway over, hands raising like he didn’t know where he could touch you without sending you over the edge. “You gotta breathe, or you’re going to pass out on me.”
His words were like he was talking underwater, and you couldn’t even process what he was telling you to do. This was not a part of their plan, but Jack had to make due with what he could before Robby got back from killing one more student, a guy who had looked at you way too long in your pharmacology class. Before he could really think things through, Jack cupped your face, leaned in, and kissed you deeply.
The feeling of his lips broke you out of whatever hysteria threatened to take over, and you found yourself mimicking his movements as you kissed him back, lips moving against the other while your hands found purchase in his crewneck. Your eyes fluttered shut before snapping back open when Robby popped in your mind. You pulled back instantly and wiped your lips as though that would get rid of what just happened.
Jack took in your debauched look, you clearly liking that he kissed you, but the worried look you had sent his heart racing the wrong way.
Had they read you wrong the entire time?
“Jack,” you breathed. “We can’t.”
He cocked his head. “Why can’t we?”
“Robby.”
“What about him, sweetheart.”
You looked at him earnestly. “Aren’t you two . . .” You left words unsaid in case you were the one to get this wrong.
Jack almost looked bashful as he replied. “You’re always too damn smart. Catching onto things before we could even tell you.” He leaned back in though and pressed another kiss to the side of your mouth. “We are . . . together, but—” He dragged his eyes over your body with a heated look. “But we want you too.”
His words had you blinking rapidly. “What?” you laughed out, but one look from him said that he wasn’t joking around. “Are-are you serious?”
He clicked his tongue against his cheek. “Deadly.”
You weren’t too sure who moved first, but you met his mouth once more halfway. You moaned loudly at the feeling of his lips and teeth mushing against yours. His hands rose and planted on your hips, fingers curling into the small pudge against bone and pulling you into him, hips dragging along the blankets until you were seated on his lap. Your knees dug into the mattress on both sides of his thick thighs as you held onto his face.
Jack shivered with glee at the feeling of your grinding weight on top of him, cock already stiff below Robby’s pair of sweatpants hugging his legs. He bucked up slightly into your dampening core, and your jaw dropped enough for him to slide his wet tongue right into your hot mouth. He languidly licked around your teeth before playing with the tip of your tongue. You couldn’t help but think that if he was this into your mouth, you wanted to imagine what it’d feel like against your clit. At the vivid picture popping into your imagination, you ground down harder against his bulge.
Jack being large wasn’t surprising; not with the amount of tight pants he liked to wear, but you never imagined yourself being able to feel it nestled against your clit through your thin pajamas. As you continued to rock back and forth, he let go in order to play with the hem of your shirt before lifting it over your head and tossing it to the ground. His eyes widened slightly when he realized you’d foregone the bra.
“Fuck,” he muttered after pulling back to really look at them, hands rising to cup your breasts.
With his pointer fingers and thumbs, he pinched your nipples into soft peaks, drawing a higher-pitched whine from behind your teeth. By now, your underwear were soaked with slick arousal. Without warning, he leaned in right as your back arched and took one bud into his mouth. His cheeks hollowed, and a loud sucking noise squeaked out of his lips. You jerked at the feeling and sank your hands into his hair.
“Jack,” you breathily sighed.
“That’s me, sweetheart,” he retorted after letting your nipple go with a wet pop just to do the same to your other one.
You normally weren’t one to cum just from stimulation to your breasts, but the hazy feeling from grinding on Jack’s cock and his lips and tongue circling your nipples started to well in your stomach. Your jaw dropped again as a loud moan shuddered out of you after he bit down on the sensitive peak before running a soothing, wet stripe over it. He pulled back again to lightly blow on the heated flesh, and his cooled breath made goosebumps race up your skin.
He dropped a hand to play with the waistline of shorts, and you lifted your hips to allow him to get your sleep shorts and underwear off in one go. They quickly joined your shirt at the floor, and his hand had just started to trail between your thighs when his bedside phone gave off a loud shrill into the air. Jack acted as though he didn’t hear it, lips still suckling away at your chest.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” you panted between the grinds of your hips.
“Just let it ring,” he responded, but the sound had already ripped your attention away from between your legs.
With a smile, you reached over and picked up the phone, mind too full with pleasure to even think of the last time you picked up a phone without knowing who was on the other line. Really, you should have been more careful, but with Jack under your naked body, all caution was out the window.
“Jack’s busy right now,” you giggled into the phone, “but I can give him a message—”
“Hi, baby.”
Your hips stilled, and your blood froze at the sound of the distorted voice. A dizzying feeling replaced the warmth of pleasure in your system, and you could barely get out a response that wasn’t a small, terrified noise.
“Has Jack left you that speechless already?” he continued, voice sounding louder than it had last night over the phone. If you really thought about it, it felt as though he was right next to your ear. “Go on, baby. You were looking so pretty getting messy over him. I was really enjoying the show,” he growled, voice suddenly right over your shoulder instead of through the speaker.
You dropped the phone and whipped around right off Jack’s lap, and panic seized your chest, because right by the door, a tall man draped in black fabric and a hollowed-eyed white mask stared back at you. You started to scramble as a small scream ripped up your throat, but Jack was quicker. He grabbed your hips and brought you back to this lap, this time facing the masked intruder. His arms wrapped around your middle and held you through your struggles and tears.
“Jack, what the fuck!” you sobbed, hands wrenching and nails scratching at his arms. “Let me go! We’re going to die! Let me go, please!”
Instead of doing what you demanded, Jack tucked his chin onto your shoulder as the man started stalking toward the bed. With each step, your struggles grew. By now, Jack’s arms were littered with bleeding stripes from your desperation to get away, but that only added to his pleasure, cock never failing to fade into softness against your back. Your chest heaved and tightened the closer the man got before he stopped at the foot of the bed.
You watched with wide eyes as he raised a small box to where his lips would be under the mask before his empty gloved hand suddenly lifted the stretched-chin until the mask slipped from his face, and Robby’s dark brown eyes locked on yours.
His lips curled into a devilish smirk. “Surprise, baby.”
For a split second, you thought you’d pass out, suddenly overwhelmed with everything in a dizzy sensation.
“What?” you sputtered.
Jack hummed over your shoulder and ran a finger down your tear-streaked cheek. He pouted when you met his eye from the corner of yours.
“Aw, sweets, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Not enjoying our little surprise?” he taunted before a chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Awww, Mikey, look at her. The poor thing’s shaking.”
Robby let the voice modulator fall to the floor with a dulled thunk that kept your heart racing against your ribcage. In a desperate attempt to keep a distance between you and Robby, you tried to fling yourself to the side, but Jack just tightened his arms around you more.
“Not so fast,” he said. “Not when we haven’t gotten to the best part yet.” One arm let go so his hand could grip your chin to keep you facing Robby. “Go on and spread her legs for me.”
Without hesitation, Robby kneeled at the edge of the mattress and crawled until he reached where your feet planted against the comforter. His brown eyes, the hues almost black with lust, watched you intently as he placed his gloved hands on your naked knees. Yet, when he tried to part them, you swung a foot and connected it right between his legs, drawing a grunt from deep in his lungs.
He shuddered, his hand reaching down to palm himself over the long black robes he wore. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he fought to get air back in his lungs. As his hand pressed down harder, he groaned, looking up at you through his eyelashes. The inky blackness of his pupils swallowed the brown of his irises entirely.
The motherfucker liked that.
Jack’s hand slid down from your jaw and wrapped around the front of your throat, and his fingers squeezed lightly against the sides of your neck, sending a fuzzy wave to your brain, and your breath hitched, body stilling in his grasp. His lips softly grazed your ear as he whispered, “Be a good girl and stay still for us. You’ll like it, I promise.”
He jerked his chin out towards Robby, and you could only watch him finally grip your knees. In one fluid motion, he wrenched your legs apart, revealing your glistening cunt to both of them. Robby hummed lowly in amusement.
“You’re so wet for us, baby,” he mused and lowered his face until he was inches away from your core.
An embarrassed heat flooded your face and neck when he inhaled sharply. If you bucked your hips to get him to move back, you’d just shove his nose right into your folds, and if you withdrew them, you’d grind right into Jack’s cock. You were stuck, and neither seemed to be concerned with how you felt.
“Please let me go,” you pleaded with a whimper and squeezed-shut eyes. “I won’t tell anyone.”
Jack tutted against your ear. “It’s not that we don’t believe you, sweets, but . . .”
“We’ve already waited this long to have you like this,” Robby finished his sentence, finally pulling back from between your legs to look down at you as he ripped the gloves off. “We can’t let you go after we’ve worked so hard to get you right where we want.”
“You fucking murdered people,” you spat, body beginning to shift unconsciously as a result of your fear . . . or something closer to simmering arousal that you didn’t even want to admit to. “And now you think I’m just going to sit here and enjoy this?”
“Well, yeah,” Jack smacked his lips. “Cause even though you’re putting on a big show of being brave even if you’re terrified—” He reached down and ran a fingertip through your cunt from hole to clit before holding it up to the light to show just how wet it was. “Your body is still begging for us.”
You shivered against him. “It’s not—I’m not begging.”
Jack sighed loudly. “That’s okay; we know you will once we get started.” His hazel eyes met Robby’s gaze. “Go right ahead, Mikey.”
“Robby, please don’t,” you whispered as he leaned back down, bare fingers coming to grip at the soft insides of your thighs. “Don’t do this. I—”
You bit down on your lip to stifle the first moan that threatened to burst out as Robby’s tongue began to lick at your puffy folds, fingers curling into Jack’s freckled forearms and thighs jolting at the feeling. He held them down. His tongue moved inward and stiffened into a point to drag upward to your throbbing clit, the texture of his tastebuds adding to the buzzy stimulation. He toyed with you, going from circular motions to biting down gently with his front teeth. As he tilted his face to get a better angle, his beard rubbed against your inner thighs, and the scratchiness of it added to the burning pleasure from your core.
If he continued, he’d leave a lasting reminder of beard burn for you to remember this night.
Above, you refused to look down at him, lip staying between your teeth as he tried to break you. Jack was having none of it, and the hand around your throat pressed harder into your pulse points, cutting off your circulation to flood your brain with a hazy feeling that made the pleasure from Robby’s ministrations grow tenfold.
It was only when he licked around your sopping entrance that a keel ripped from your throat, and the sound was like music to their ears.
“Good job, sweetheart,” Jack muttered as he let go to allow oxygen to rush back in. “That’s what we want to hear. Keep going, Mikey. I wanna hear more.”
“Just keep her steady,” Robby responded against you, and his words sent vibrations tingling through your cunt, drawing out another heady moan. He continued to go back and forth from your clit to your hole before the first finger breached the tight entrance. “Oh, fuck, she’s tight,” he groaned, cock throbbing as he imagined sinking deep into you.
“Yeah?” Jack breathed. “Saved yourself just for us, sweets?”
“No,” you moaned out, hips slightly rocking to alleviate the stretch. “Nooooo shit!”
Robby sucked your clit as he began to pump his finger in and out, your innermost muscles clenching in uncontrollable spasms around the digit. Slowly, he felt you begin to loosen and suck him back in. Your head tilted back against Jack’s shoulder when he curled his finger upward, expertly finding your soft spot. Your back arched, and your hips raised into Robby’s face, making his nose catch against your clit.
A wave of pleasure washed over you. Your once tense muscles had relaxed as endorphins fought to replace your terror, leaving you close to putty and pliant between them. Your legs widened instinctively when Robby added a second finger.
“Oh—fuck!” you wailed out when both fingertips rubbed along your walls, slick gushing out with each thrust. “Robby!”
“There we go,” Jack gleefully said, voice filled with nothing but content as he felt your body drape against him, all fight draining the closer they got you to cumming. “I told you that you were going to like it.”
Somehow, Robby managed to get his fingers to reach further, and stars dotted your vision by how deep you could feel him. You didn’t want to imagine how deeper he could get with his cock—wait.
You were giving in. You couldn’t; this was wrong. They killed people. You needed to get away fast.
“Robby!” you parroted and followed with a moan as your lower belly simmered with something that was about to snap. “Gonna cum! Wanna cum!”
Finally, you looked downward and met his lidded gaze through his eyebrows, lower face hidden behind your soft mound as he continued to lick and suck and graze your bundle of nerves with his teeth. He was close to sending you right over the edge, but there was one thing they both wanted to hear.
They wanted you to beg for it.
Jack finally unwrapped his arms from your middle to start palming at your breasts again. “C’mon, sweets. Mikey’ll make you cum, but you need to ask nicely for it first. Just say the magic words and—” He pinched and pulled and twisted your nipples, and a cry ripped right out of you, “—he’ll give it to you.”
Your eyes burned with unshed tears, and somewhere deep, the need to push back flickered before being doused with a rush of arousal. Robby added a third finger and quickened his thrusts, causing a squelching noise to fill the room.
Finally, after feeling the heat about to boil over in your core, you whimpered out the smallest, “Please.”
Robby groaned against you, and bit down hard on your clit while curling upwards with stiff fingers. You came instantly, walls clenching rhythmically while Robby kept his pace steady to draw out your high for as long as possible. He watched the way your thighs shook and the way your arched beautifully, stomach curved out high as Jack continued to pull and grab at your breasts.
You all but collapsed back against Jack’s chest when Robby finally pulled away, your sticky arousal coating his lips and chin and also the three fingers that he stuck in his mouth. He held eye contact with you as he swirled his tongue between the slots. Jack huffed behind you.
“I want a taste,” he demanded, and Robby quickly leaned over you, robes draping across your heaving chest, and kissed Jack.
The loud slurping noises coming from over your head made you groan when your hole clenched around nothing.
“Tastes good,” Jack muttered before licking across Robby’s lips. “Tastes so fucking good, sweetheart,” he addressed you even if he was currently occupied. He bit down, and Robby whined as a metallic tang filled their shared saliva.
You lied there, and for a moment, your mind caught up to the situation at hand. Robby and Jack were the murderer—murderers? One to make the call, and the other to kill the student. Through the initial shockwaves of your orgasm, your stomach dipped, and you pushed up slightly, hoping they were both too into the other to miss the way you tried to inch across the bed. Jack pulled away suddenly and reached across, hands planting on both sides of your hips. Air rushed from your lungs at the sheer amount of his strength as he flipped you in one fluid motion and put you on your stomach.
“No, fuck you,” you whined against the covers. “I’ve never—”
Jack’s hands maneuvered you like a personal doll: knees pushing into the mattress and hips high in the air. He used his knees to knock yours wider to fit behind. You tried to push up on two hands, but he sent you right back down with a strong enough push between your shoulder blades. He held you down and pulled down the waistline of his sweatpants just enough to pull his cock out, lips parting in a hiss at the cold air enveloping his heated flesh. He sighed when he got a hand around himself, and the tip spurted out a line of precum. He used his palm to spread it across his length before he notched it at your entrance.
Your body tensed at just the feeling of the large head already barely fitting even if Robby had managed to get three fingers in you.
“Wait,” you said and gripped the comforter. “No, no, please wait, please, Jack, I’m a virgin, wait—”
As though your pleas fell on deaf ears, Jack slowly started to sink into you. He shuddered when your warmth sucked in the first inch like your cunt needed him even if you thought you didn’t.
“Fuck, sweets,” he hissed. “Robby said you were tight, but fucking—can’t believe I get to be your first.”
You gasped at the stretch and intrusion, and he kept feeding himself into you even after the first bit of resistance. You’d mold perfectly around him soon enough. Your inner thighs shook and tensed as he pushed in further, and sweat collected at your brow line as your body heated under the pressure. You shut your eyes tight, but that only made it difficult to concentrate on anything but the feeling of Jack’s massive cock bullying its way into you.
Jack pulled back slightly, and the drag of the head along your walls had you gasping for air.
“Too much for you?” Jack cooed as your whimpers hit his ears. “Shhhh, it’s okay, sweetheart, you can take it; I know you can.” He slowly pushed back in. “Take a deep breath for me, yeah? Big streeetch,” he drew out until the entirety of his length sat inside you.
Your chest heaved as much as it could into the mattress, and your jaw dropped to take in lungfuls of air. You felt too full, like one wrong move and Jack would rip you in half. It only got worse when he started to thrust, and his tip started tapping against your cervix with no more room to push into.
“J-Jack, f-fuck,” you stuttered, and tears once again streamed down your cheeks. “Please—fuck!”
He rocked his hips against yours to the point that his balls slapped against your ass with every thrust. “You feel how deep I am inside you?” he grunted while his hands tightened around your hips. “Fucking taking all of me. Such a needy girl for my cock.”
You bit down on the comforter, muffling your whines in an attempt to keep how much he was affecting you to yourself.
“Oh, sweets, that won’t do,” Jack tutted and sank a hand into your roots, fingers curling around the strands and yanking your head upward with a yelp. Your hands scrambled to get under you to relieve some of the pressure, but Jack didn’t stop thrusting, and the motion had your breasts swinging in the air. “Mikey, give her mouth something to do.”
You eyes widened because under Jack’s fucking, you somehow completely forgot about Robby. But now as he shrugged off the robe and unbuckled his pants to get his cock out, you started sobbing once more.
“Please don’t do this. I loved you two,” you weakly confessed, mind warring against your needy body, but all that did was make Jack angle his hips on an upward thrust to hit that spot that made you wail.
Robby fisted his cock while he raised your chin up, and his eyes softened for a split second. “You’ll just have to learn to love this version of us, baby, because we love you just like this.”
His words hit you in the pit of your stomach, and suddenly his words broke something inside you.
This was Jack and Robby, your two best friends who’d do anything for you. You couldn’t keep fighting against them if you tried.
Your jaw chomped shut hard enough that your teeth clicked together, but both of them were one step ahead. Jack let go of your hair and snaked a hand between your thighs to start circling his fingertips against your clit as he continued to fuck into you at a slowed pace, really wanting to draw this all out.
You couldn’t help the moan that flowed freely at the double stimulation attacking your cunt, and your jaw unhinged enough to let Robby slip the tip of his cock between your teeth. Instantly, the salty tang of his precum coated your mouth. He held the sides of your face and pushed in deeper.
“Another deep breath, baby,” he groaned before he thrust into your mouth, giving you barely any warning to brace for his cock to fill your mouth.
Your throat constricted in a gag, but a flick of Jack’s fingers around your bud paired with a harsh thrust pushed you forward until your nose right into Robby’s navel, his wiry happy trail filling your senses with his deep musky scent. Above you, Robby arched into the feeling and groaned into the air. You were now filled on both ends as you desperately tried to breathe in through your mouth.
Robby’s cock nestled against your tongue and a few inches down your throat. He was definitely longer than Jack, but the redhead had a much thicker girth than the brunette. Jack planted both his hands on your shoulders and pulled you back until Robby almost slipped right out. You sputtered and coughed from the lack of air, and a string of saliva wiggled down from your mouth to the bed.
In just a breath later, they resumed, and you moved upwards and backwards on them like a pig on a spit. You felt dizzy between the white-hot pleasure Jack gave your cunt and the fuzziness that took over when Robby slipped down your throat. Both men moaned and grunted when you seemed to clench down on them at the same time.
“Fuck, you weren’t kidding when you said she was—shit—so fucking tight,” Jack moaned when your walls spasmed around him, nearly cumming from the feeling. “You any close, sweets? Wanna feel you cum on my cock.” His words went straight to your body, and your pussy tightened. “Oh, you like when I talk to you? Is that right?”
You whined in response and nodded. .
His fingers picked up against your throbbing clit to meet his thrusts, and your stomach flipped with the onslaught of never-ending ecstasy flowing through your lower half. He could tell you were close when you started leaking around him, inner thighs sticky and wet enough to transfer onto his when he pushed into you with wet plap, plap, plap, plaps.
At your front, Robby continued lazily thrusting into your mouth with jerky motions, knowing that once Jack filled you, he’d have his turn to sink deep into your pussy. His head leaned back when he managed to make you gag, and your throat constricted and caught his tip. His large hand basically covered the back of your head. He kept you tucked against his navel even when you tried to jolt back to get more air. His soul thrummed at your panic, and he wondered if you could feel him get harder between your teeth.
“Uh, uh, uh, uh,” sputtered around Robby with every draw and snap of Jack’s hips.
“Just give in, sweetheart,” Jack whispered into your ear after slotting his stomach into the dip of your back. “Let us know that we’re making you feel so good.” Using two fingers, he pinched at your clit just as his hips began to stutter, a tell-tail sign that he was about to cum as well. “Fucking—shit—give it to me.”
With a muffled cry, your body shook as your second orgasm ripped right through your body. Jack could barely fuck into you with how hard you were clamping down on him as your cunt wept and dribbled onto the bed.
“Good—fucking—girl,” he punched out with three forceful thrusts. His hands planted back onto your hips, and his fingers curled white-knuckled into the skin so hard that you knew you’d have his fingerprints bruised into you by morning. His lower stomach pulsed when you began to whimper from overstimulation, and the sound had his cock throbbing. “Fuck, gonna fill you up, sweets. Gonna cum, gonna—fucking shit!”
He thrusted hard once, twice, three times before he stilled, cock spurting release into your fluttering hole. He had squeezed his eyes shut, but he peaked through his eyelids to see Robby lean over with a hand between your legs. The air knocked right out of Jack’s lungs when your cunt clamped down on him again near the end, and he guessed that Robby had rubbed right against your clit. Jack’s chest heaved through his high.
“Good job, sweetheart,” he muttered, giving little rocks of his hips to prolong his own pleasure, dick already softening just a bit. “You took me so well; so well.”
His hands loosened from your shoulders, and without any strength left in your wobbly arms, you fell right back into the bed, body twitching in the aftershocks. A whimper climbed from deep in your chest when he finally pulled out. Your hole clenched and pushed out a thick glob of the mix of your rapidly cooling slick and his cum from your walls.
You felt his finger drag along your folds to catch it just to push the mess right back in, drawing a mewl from your lips. Too tired and fucked out to care about what they did next, you let your hips lower until they rested against the bed. You heard some shuffling through the haze, and the next moment, your body flipped over. Each of your limbs tingled with warmth, and you let out the smallest giggle.
You enjoyed that more than you’d ever admit to it.
“What’s so funny, baby?” Robby asked as he took off the rest of his clothes just as Jack was taking off his crewneck but leaving his sweats still on.
Your eyes fluttered shut. “Think it’s funny that you said you loved me, but you killed people,” you slurred.
Jack and Robby shared a look before the taller took his place near your feet.
“Stephen deserved it, baby,” Robby darkly muttered. “And all those boys who came before him.”
Jack ran a soothing hand up and down your leg. “You’re our girl. We couldn’t let them live after how they acted towards you.”
Like he did earlier, Robby parted your legs, leaning down for half a heartbeat to press a small kiss to your twitching clit before trailing open-mouthed kissed up your stomach until he reached your lips. As though all fight drained out of you with the last climax, you matched his advances and kissed him back, legs absentmindedly parting to let him hover over you.
You were the one to break the kiss when he rutted his cock through your sopping, overly-sentivie folds. Your breath hitched high in your throat before breaking to give way to a shuddering moan. You tried to push him off, but his lips stayed glued to your neck.
He reached down and positioned his cock head to your entrance, and he slipped in with no resistance, the added lubrication of Jack’s spend and your relaxed muscles adding to his eased thrusting. The back of your head pushed deep into the mattress, and you swore you could feel Robby all the way up into your throat. Through lidded eyes, you caught the sight of Jack already hard again in his hand, his hazel eyes watching intently as Robby started to fuck you.
“Hnnngggg,” you moaned through your teeth. Robby’s tip hit your cervix with each forward movement. “Oh my—fucking—please, Robby!”
“Only took two orgasms to get you begging, hm?” Jack asked, and he reached over to pet at your face while simultaneously fucking up into his hand. His fingers traced your lips before he plunged them into your mouth. His breath stuttered when you started softly sucking on his digits.
“Whatever you’re doing up there,” Robby grunted, hips snapping into the heat of your walls, “she likes it. Her cunt’s clenching—shit—around me like a fucking vice, man.”
Your high-pitched whine came out all muffled through Jack’s fingers. Without someone holding your hips down, you began to meet Robby’s thrusts in shallow grinds. Where Jack’s cock stretched you out to the point of bliss, you wanted Robby’s length to stay buried deep to constantly rub against your walls. He must have understood what you wanted, because he stopped with the full thrusts and ground against your hips. The thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbed deliciously against your swollen clit, and you whined at the added stimulation.
After having climaxed twice so fast, it didn’t take long before you started to writhe under Robby’s frame, close to cumming without needing much.
“Gonna—” You gagged when Jack pushed his fingers in farther. “Gonna,” you warbled.
“Gonna cum already for us, baby?” Robby grunted. “Well, when you do, I wanna hear you cry my name, okay? Want your pretty mouth to spit it out.”
You nodded shakily and tried to respond, but Jack’s fingers were too deep for anything eligible to come out. After thrusting them a bit more and getting them slick with your saliva, Jack pulled them out of your mouth. You squealed loudly when his fingers rubbed between your clit and where Robby was rutting into you.
“Ooohhhh,” you breathed. “Jack! Feels good!”
“Yeah? Does it feel better when I do this?” Suddenly, the pressure inside your walls exploded as Jack nudged his pointer finger into your hole, digit brushing against Robby’s cock to make you feel fuller than you ever had. “I bet that feels really good for you, sweetheart. Got your hole all nice and filled to the brim.”
He tried to angle his wrist as best he could to press upward, and your thighs tried to close around his hand, but Robby’s hips kept them spread wide open. Needing to alleviate the pressure, you dug your feet into Robby’s lower back and arched into his chest. In one more movement to grind against Jack’s hand and Robby’s cock, you came instantly in a soundless scream.
Robby folded over as your walls suddenly clamped down on him without warning. Your chest shook in a deep sob as the pleasure almost became too much. But through the shivers and pinpricks of euphoria, you remembered what Robby had asked.
“Michael!” you screamed, hips jolting uncontrollably against him. “Micahel! Michael!”
Like some Pavlovian effect, Robby groaned loudly with stuttering hips, cock spurting with hot waves of cum deep inside and fusing his and Jack’s cum to your cunt. No matter who you else might fuck in life, they’d always know that their cum was in you first.
“Such a good baby,” Robby spat, mind barely keeping up with the feeling of your warmth entrapping his cock. “So smart for remembering. Fucking love it when you say my name. Fucking love you.”
Your eyes had squeezed shut yet again right before you felt splatters across your face and heard a plethora of curses and moans from Jack above you. Some of his cum painted across your eyes, and you could only lie there and take his spend to your face.
For a moment, you ceased to exist on the bed, mind floating blissfully somewhere else as you stewed in the slowing waves of your probably final orgasm. It wasn’t until you felt a warm, wet towel against your face did you open your eyes again. You blinked rapidly to clear them of the gloss that had taken over, and Jack cooed softly as he wiped his drying cum from your cheeks.
“There she is,” he whispered. “There’s our girl. You did so well for us, sweetheart. Can’t believe we got to finally do this with the girl we love.”
There it was again: their declarations of love.
You wondered if it was all a ploy, but with their soft touches and slow roll of your pliant body to settle between them as sleep licked at your body, something settled inside your chest. Sure, they’d killed people, but they’d been right about what they said. Stephen deserved it, deserved what they did to him along with all the other boys who’d made you uncomfortable before meeting their ultimate demise.
They’d done it all for you . . . because they loved you.
Your lip twitched into a soft smile as you relaxed into the blanket Jack tossed over the three of you.
“I love you both, too.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Morning light was the first thing to cause your closed eyelids to glow as your body slowly woke up. Instead of gently being lolled from your sleep, you became instantly aware of where you were and more importantly who you were between. Sometime after falling asleep, you’d managed to tuck yourself under Robby’s chin while Jack clung to your back, their shared heat making the bed feel like a furnace. You shifted. One leg slipping from between Jack’s, and your hips tilting away from Robby’s.
Yet, you’d barely moved a few inches when Jack was the second to wake up. He muttered something sleepily before tightening his arms around your middle.
“Don’t go,” he slurred, voice still thick with sleep.
“I need to pee,” you whispered back, but all you really wanted was to retreat to the bathroom to wrap your mind around what had happened last night: their confessions, them fucking you, you confessing your love for both of them. If you stayed any longer, the dream of last night might become reality, and you weren’t ready to face the possibility that you might become their next victim.
Robby shuffled slightly at your front and nuzzled his cheek into the top of your head. “Pee here. Pretty sure Jack’s into that,” he sighed, almost like he was seconds away from falling back asleep, however, his eyes shot open when Jack whacked him in the face with a spare pillow.
“I don’t have a piss kink,” the redhead groaned, not even opening his hazel eyes. “I just think it’s hot.”
“Then it constitutes as a piss kink, kid.”
Jack pushed up with one arm while rapidly blinking the sleep away. “Can we not kink shame your boyfriend, please? We get one morning with her between us, and you start spouting bullshit nonsense.”
“Guys,” you whined. “Enough.” Your head tilted down until your forehead connected with Robby’s chest. “Let’s just get this all over with.”
Jack paused with another pillow mid-way in the air, fingers letting go to let it drop down to the bed. He slightly curled around your shoulder and tried to meet your eye. “Get over with what?”
Robby twirled a piece of your hair around a finger. “What’s going on in that head, baby?”
“I already know what will happen next. You’re going to tell me that last night was a fluke, and I’m about to show up on the news as another dead body,” you spat. “So, please, make it painless and get on with it.”
Over your head, Robby and Jack shared a look of concern before Jack plastered himself along your back.
“No, sweetheart, no,” he cooed. “That’s like the exact opposite of what’s going to happen. We weren’t lying when we said we loved you.”
You shook your head and closed your eyes. You didn’t believe them. How could you after all they’ve done?
“Listen, baby,” Robby started as he pushed back to make you look at him, “Jack and I love you so much, and the thought of us never being able to have you pushed us over the edge. It’s like an itch we can’t scratch unless we get rid of the problems.”
“And the problems were all those boys who either thought they had a chance or made you uncomfortable by thinking you wanted them back,” Jack growled, and the noise went right to your core. “We fucking love you so much, and it was agony to see them hurt you, so we hurt them in return—like, take them out entirely.”
“No one messes with you unless they want to mess with us,” Robby stated. “But we’d never hurt you, baby. I think we’d both rather kill the other if we ever did.”
They both waited in silence for you to answer, and for a moment, they thought that you were able to push away, grab your clothes, and run out the door with how heavy you were breathing. But then, they both noticed the way your thighs shifted together, and it dawned on them that you were into this—them killing men just for you.
“You really mean that?” you finally asked, voice meek and scared for them to laugh and yell psych!
“We’d let you kill us if we didn’t, sweetheart” Jack said, voice steady and strong. “Our hearts beat only for the other and you.” He placed a kiss on your bare shoulder before lightly biting into your skin.
Robby inhaled sharply. “We’ll stop . . . if you want us to. No more games, no more murders—”
“Unless you want us to,” Jack added. “Say the word, and you’ll have a heart on a platter if you wish.”
A loud groan rumbled through your chest, and your hips jutted back against Jack’s front. “You two can’t say stuff like that.”
“Why not?” Robby asked, and you could hear the smirk in his words.
“Becasuse—” You squeaked when Jack suddenly palmed at your breasts under the covers. “Because it makes me feel . . .”
“Good?” Jack filled in, but you shook your head.
“Loved. It makes me feel loved, and it’s fucking crazy to say that, because you’re willing to murder people if I ask for it.”
Your thighs parted when you felt Robby try to prod between them, and a lazy sigh exhaled from your lips as he slowly started to circle your clit through your puffy folds that were still slick from last night’s activities.
“We’re willing to do a lot more than murder,” he muttered, lips pressing into every inch of your face. “But we have you now, and unless anyone thinks they can get through us, we won’t need to put any more bodies in the ground.”
“Promise?” you asked with a pant catching the end of the word.
“Promise,” Jack grunted, hips bucking into your ass.
“Promise,” Robby echoed.
“Okay, okay,” you said. “I was also telling the truth when I said that I loved you both. Just wanting to make it clear that this goes both ways.”
“Good,” Jack said as he placed two hands on both sides of your hips. “Now, flip on your front. I wanna feel your cunt cum on my cock again.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ ·
Night was not the best place to be hanging around a parking lot in the middle of Pittsburgh. Unfortunately for Brendon Park, he found himself doing just that around an hour after his shift ended at 9 pm, eyes narrowed at his slashed tires on his brand new Porsche. Someone had done this, and all he needed to do was wait for the stupid tow truck and security officer to come help him out. He could have left it for the morning and gotten an uber, but Park was a proud man.
And yet, what did they say about pride? It commeth before the downfall.
He was so busy huffing and puffing while stalking back and forth along his car that he failed to hear the twin footsteps rapidly approaching behind him. He didn’t even know he wasn’t alone until a white-hot pain in his side froze him in his tracks. His torso twisted, but that just dug the scalpel in deeper. He stumbled to get away, but all he was met with was another parallel stab to his other side.
Automatically, Park applied pressure over the blood already soaking through his scrub top. He looked down and hissed before looking for his assailant. He squinted into the dark, and his breath hitched when twin robed figures stepped out into the small bit of light coming from a close to burning out lamp. It was almost like the two were from a slasher movie in the 90s with their hollowed-eyed halloween masks and glittering robes that donned their bodies, keeping Park from knowing who had just stabbed him twice.
“What the fuck?” he hissed as he backed up into his Porsche’s driver door, hand trying to grip the handle but failing because of his blood’s slickness. “I’ll give you money or whatever the fuck you want but stay right over there or I swear I’ll call the cops.”
One of them tilted his head, and Park felt the dead eyes stare right through his soul.
He watched as the other—the taller one—raised a box to where his mouth would be behind the mask.
“You wanna know what we want, Brendon Park?” he asked, voice distorted through the modulator.
“I’ll give it to you,” Park grunted, the pain blooming up his sides and into his chest. They must have hit one of his kidneys and possibly an organ with how fast the anguish was spreading, making it hard to breathe in and out.
The taller looked down at the shorter, and their eyes met before they nodded. Park’s eyes widened when they both produced longer knives than the shorter ones they stabbed him with. The modulator rose again, and what he said next sent a chill right through Park’s stomach.
“We want to see what your insides look like.”
Without a beat, the two robed figures pounced on him, and in just a few minutes, Park slunked down to the concrete, leaving a painted bloodied smear across his car’s door. With satisfaction pumping through their veins, the two watched as he took his last wheezing breath before dying in a puddle consisting of almost all his blood. His body wouldn’t be found until the morning with stab wounds littering his body. His fault for parking away from everyone else in fear of his car getting scratched.
Only when the two were sure they were the only breathing beings in the lot, they ripped off the masks, and Jack huffed loudly.
“Murder was so much easier in med school when I wasn’t missing a fucking leg,” he grumbled while shifting his weight onto his real leg. He ran a hand through his sweat-soaked salt-and-pepper curls.
“Tell me about it,” Robby answered. “If he were any shorter, my knees would have given out if I had to bend down.” He kicked at Park’s leg and smirked when the body recoiled slightly. “But man did that feel good.”
“I’m kinda glad he decided to go off on her. Last mistake he’d ever make, but nothing beats the rush of this.”
The memory of Park berating you in the middle of their ER flashed through their minds. They'd seen the way you flinched under his words in a way they hadn't seen in decades. They'd wanted to kill him right then and their, but Robby and Jack weren't ones to break their promises, however, the next time all three of you had the day off, you told them what you wanted between moans as Robby sandwiched you between his and Jack's chest.
"I want him gone," you had whimpered out, forehead pressing into Jack's collar bone while Robby rocked you back and forth on his cock.
"Want who gone, sweets?" Jack questioned before grunting loudly when his tip notched against your clit.
"Park—shit—I want him gone."
You wanted them to kill Park, and they were never ones to disappoint.
Robby went to say something, but the shrill of his iPhone had him digging and floundering through the drapes of robes. When he managed to bunch the fabric, he reached into his pocket and took out his phone, answering it without a second glance.
“Hello? Michael Robinavitch speaking.”
“Do you want to play a game?” a voice answered from the speaker, and the two glanced at each other with devilish, knowing smiles.
“Depends on what type of game it is, sweetheart,” Jack responded, crossing his arms against his chest.
“I wanna know how much it’ll take to make you two scream.” Your small laugh followed, you not being able to take this as seriously as the two had back in school.
Robby brought his phone up closer to his mouth. “I don’t know the exact answer, but I think you can start with being naked and face down on the bed by the time we get back.”
“I think that can be arranged. Get home soon, or I might have to play the game myself.”
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this was sick and deranged and i loved every second of it
just a quick thought... reader sending a video to abbot of them and robby fucking while he's on shift 😩
WAIIITTT YOUR BRAIN
Jack walks out to the ambulance bay with a crick in his neck and a sore fuckin' leg. It's been a long shift and it's barely past midnight, so he's surprised by the text from Robby on his phone. You both should've been sleeping hours ago.
Robby: "Enjoy, brother." And then a video attachment.
Jack looks back past the hospital doors to make sure no one's coming, and then he presses play.
"Fuck, Robb—" he scrambles with the volume while blood rushes to his face — and then directly to his cock. He recognizes that sweet little voice immediately, that angelic whiny tone you get when you're being fucked stupid. "S'too much," you're whimpering, much quieter now. The screen shows you from a low angle, tits bouncing thighs shaking with strain. "Please".
"Alright, alright, ease up, honey." Robby's voice is gruff from behind the phone. "Daddy ain't here so you gotta do the work this time. Ah ah—" he smacks the outside of your thigh when you slow down and that only makes you a poutier blubbering mess. "Don't slow down, keep going. Atta girl. Smile at Daddy, sweetheart."
You look up then and Jack just about cums in his pants. "Daddy," you warble, eyes weepy. "He's being mean," you moan when Robby's thrusts up. "need you."
"Yeah, honey?" Robby grabs your jaw with his free hand and squeezes your cheeks, aiming the camera right at your face. "Y'need your daddy?"
The video cuts off with your sob and Jack clears his throat. Adjusts his pants.
Jack: "Don't clean her up. You're both getting it when I get home."
oh my god
Nothings gonna hurt you, baby
Summary: after a bad nightshift you get stuck in your own head, letting it dift you away into that hazy space until you need Jack to reel you back in with a worthy distraction... Based on this lovely anon request <3
Warnings: mentions of a bad ER shift and the negative impact on mental health, some subspace/subdrop vibes, softdom/Olderboyfriend!Jack, car shenanigans, praise, over the panties rubbing, clothed play, clit stimulation, vaginal fingering whilst driving, Jack talking you through (bc ofc he does?!) kinda open ended cause i wouldn't mind picking up from this at some point.
Masterlist
It'd been one of those shifts.
You know the kind that starts in a mood far too good to be working a 12-hour shift and ends with the lingering question of why you'd chosen to take the path into medicine at all.
The same kind that goes from good to bad in a blink, that goes from stable to crash carts, and condolences that are never enough.
Those 12 hours felt like a test of will, of strength, of your shreds of remaining sanity. You can’t stop thinking about it all; those saved and those... Those not.
It weighs heavy in your head but presents heavier in the slump of your shoulders beneath a backpack strap.
The early sun is already golden as you finally make it out to meet Jack at his car again, leaving a night you'd rather forget behind. All you want now is to be home, to curl up with the man who understands it all on such an experienced level—highs and lows—and sleep.
"There she is," he calls whilst you cross the lot, his beam almost as bright as the sun's rise, eyes crinkled, and jaw peppered with white stubble. He still has some energy left in him by his voice, how though you have little clue. At least there's no way break room cold coffee is the answer.
You pull on a smile of your own, though, one like you didn't already spend your night working beside him or catch up with him half an hour ago about having to finish up some charting before you could leave.
"Sorry about that," you apologize anyway, to a shake of his head.
"Told you already, s'fine it happens—hop in." Those thick, freckled biceps ripple as he takes your bag and places it inside the backseat along with his own.
The engine is a rumble you're almost thankful to be able to hear when he pulls away, a distraction from replaying beeping machines and commands during procedures. It pairs perfectly with Jack's humming and the tap of his fingers on the leather wheel along to some song playing quietly on breakfast radio.
You're too busy zoned out on it all to notice Jack's curiosity, though, or to catch the crease in his brows or the bite of his jaw. He can see you in his periphery, fingers clenched tight into scrub bottoms you couldn't be bothered to change from, that slightly misty look in your eye as you watch the world go by through the window.
He's seen this before with you and knows the drop of a bad shift too well—what your mind needs to ponder and what to be distracted from.
Jack clears his throat, a quiet attempt at getting your attention before he asks. "Doing okay there, sweetheart?"
You meet his eyes in the rearview mirror, clearing the lump out of your own throat. A sound thoroughly unconvincing, your reply bordering closer to a question than an answer.
"Oh, Yeah m'fine?"
"Uh huh.." Jack hums, attention half on the road, half on that telltale knotting of your fingers in your lap. "Been staring out that window for a lil while now; I wanted to check in."
"Just.. Tired."
He sighs, nodding, offering you a sympathetic smile. "I know honey, was a long one, not so far now." he lets that sit for a moment, lets his eyes track the squish together of fabric squeezed thighs and fingers picking until theres loose thread.
"In the meantime.. S'there somethin you're wantin? Keep on fidgeting over there"
You swallow, shrug, chew at your lip slightly, before offering. "I.. I dont know"
Its a lie, a bad one really, but it fits the state you're in- when being verbal makes your mouth feel like its stuffed with cotton. When your thoughts jumble and make it hard to untangle the things you need from those you dont.
But Jack knows. He always knows, when you need things that you cant always say just yet. "Thats alright" he says softly, one hand leaving the wheel to reach over the cener console, before letting it rest limp in your lap. His lips curve into a smile that both reassures and confirms. "Aint gotta know. Tell you what, you can have my hand to hold the rest of the way; how's that sound?"
You nod, letting yourself drift again, this time allowing your nails to trace the worn lines and plush curves of his palm.
You admire how thick his fingers are, marvel at the way you know exactly how fucking perfect they feel stretching you open.
"Jack.." you breathe, thighs pushed tight beneath where you hold his hand.
He hums, focused on the road.
"Please.. Need to- to not think. Now."
Jack doesn't say a word, just waits for your fingers loosen around his, for your thighs to part in the car seat. Then he touches you, fingertips apply the barest pressure over the crotch of both scrub bottom and underwear.
The friction is.. Nice, But just that. Not good, not direct and, most of all, its not at all enough.
And asif on cue, Jacks voice breaks the quiet. Asking a question he knows is almost mocking.
"Hows that angel, better?"
You cant speak, cant even begin to have your mouth form the words, but a mewl does slip free- wanton and needy. It makes Jack's lips quirk up into a smirk, the maddeningly slow pace he rubs you at never faultering.
"aint enough is it?" he coos, glacing your way. "my poor girl, Huffin n' puffin in that seat. We're almost home, can have whatever you want then i promise"
The speed you head shakes almost makes him worry about whiplash, a pitiful sound filling the car. You squirm beneath the seatbelt, wiggle your hips against his still moving hand, anything to keep it going.
"C-cant.." you struggle. "Please Jack, need it now.
"We'll be home in few more mi-" hes cut off via the soynd of fabric tearing, of seams giving in from the pressure of both fingers curled into them tight and legs trying to shuffle wider in an awkward space. The rip leaving behind frayed edges and a gaping hole that reveals the wetly stained patch of your arousal in your panties.
You're nothing but wide eyed and illuminated by the morning sun in that moment, squirmy and needy, wanting nothing more than to get out of your head.
And Jack? Still with one hand gripped on the leather wheel, driving steady down intersections and bustling blocks, finally gives in.
"Oh honey.." His coo is pittying as he meets your eyes in the mirror, fingers already moving on your thigh toward the rip. "Alright shh, let's make some space." He taps your furthest hand with his fingertips. "pull those panties over f' me, open up a little wider, thats it good girl."
If you thought the contact of the air inside the car on your bared pussy was bliss, the slow trace of Jack's middle and ring finger up your sticky slit is sublime. He teases them up and down, traces the lips of your pussy, gathering your arousal until his fingers slide with little resistance. That first circle to your clit making your hips jolt up, a quiet gasp ripping from the depths of your chest.
Its good- so fucking good- that the hand not holding your panties digs into his forearm, keeping him there; controlling the stimulation you revel in. It's like the radio melts away, like the sun bothering your eyes and the streets passing by no longer exists, every flick and pinch toward your puffy little nub further dousing the fire in your gut in excess gasoline.
"Thats it" Jack drawls, suppressing a growl in his throat. "guide my fingers angel, take what you want."
And boy do you.
With a broken moan and a lilt of your hips, you guide a thick finger into your fluttering hole. You take it greedily, jaw falling open at the strech of his middle inside you, before guiding in a second to join in. Leather seats squeak quietly as you rock your hips, chasing the perfect drag of his tips against your walls, curling dangerously close to the spot that always has you shattering.
Those squeaks of the seat are drowned out however, quite literally, what with the debauched squelch and drip of your pussy. Your gasped moans and soft whines dont help, every sound in the car hardening Jack's cock in his pants to something solid.
"She's so wet, you hear that? Specially When i curl em righhhht there," he marvels in a coo, thumb adjusting to bump against your clit with every motion. "my thumb on that puffy clit, rubbin all those thoughts away. s' been hard tonight, i know baby. Doin so good"
Your lips form the shape of his name, the sound breaking in your throat as your nails only dig deeper into his freckled forearm. Every drag against your walls feeling better than the last, every sensation to your puffy clit growing almost overwhelming.
"J-jack" you mewl, hips jolting in the seat as you slide down slightly, head thrown back in that space between door and headrest. "O-oh god- m' close"
"Yeah?" he responds, pleased. The engine rumbling back to life after another red light, driving like he hasnt got his fingers knuckles deep inside your poor soggen pussy. "Gonna cum like this before we get back home? Be my best girl?"
You hum, the deep curl of his fingers drawing you ever closer, winding that band in your belly tighter.
"That's it, i know" Jacks thumb presses against your clit with the slightest increase in pressure, your hips jolting in the seat. "Just let it happen, dont chase it.."
You dont, or at least, you try. Your whole body is trembling, toes curling tight in your sneakers, nails close to maiming his forearm. The rhythm consistent, steady, perfect in every possible way.
Jack coaxes you anyway, like he always does, keeping you grouded with the husk of his tired voice. "Just ride it out, deep breaths, can feel it comin. drenchin my hand and my car seat, s' gonna be a big one huh?"
You struggle to reply, heaving out a broken moan "U-uh huh"
"Do it," he nods, eyes locking on your hazed, lust blown ones in the mirror, a growl ripping from him as he feels the telltale ripple of your pussy clenching around his curling, dragging digits. "Yeaaah, there we go, cum for me angel, make me proud."
The orgasm hits you in the chest first truth be told, It steals the very breath from your lungs, taking with it the noise you'd intended to let free. Your ears ring, vision a haze of white behind tightly cleched eyelids.
You cum violently, with a stuttering chest, writhing hips, and stomach muscles contracting wildly under your top. Arousal squelches lewdly down his hand, soaking the seat beneath you and whats left of your scrub bottoms, debauched and filthy. Your pussy pulses intensely even as he slows, as if trying to milk out any further bliss jack could bring her.
In fact, he doesn't let up until the last shocks overtake you and the bliss begins to burn. When your body no longer writhes and your moans turn to soft whimpers of overwhelm. Every motion turns gentle then, the draw out of his thoroughly soaked digits, the lift of his thick thumb from your puffy clit.
You let go of his arm with still closed eyes, body slumping into the seat exhausted and stated.
You dont catch him drag his tongue over those fingers, nor register the car's lack of movement, but what you do see when those eyes finally pop open? A smile as proud and adoring as it could possibly be.
And the solid tent of Jacks own arousal
"That feel a little better sweetheart?" he asks softly, reaching over to unclip your seatbelt. When you hum, he lets out a breathy laugh, rounding the car to meet you at the passenger side. "Yeah, i thought so silly girl.. Now, Lets get you all cleaned up and into bed hm?"
Writing this lowkey got me thinking about this here link i saw recently🤭🙂↕️ (fingering)
But Thank you so much for requesting and reading i hope you all enjoyed <33
reminds me of a road trip i took recently🤭
Happy Campers
camp counselor!Joel Miller x f!reader | 3.4K | read on AO3
Summary: Joel Miller, the new head counselor at Camp Happy Trail, makes sure this summer will be one you won't forget.
WARNINGS: 18+ Only! No outbreak AU. '80s AU. Think Camp Crystal Lake vibes w/o the murders. Set in 1980. Mention of another p-boi. Mention of semi-public sex. Accidental voyeurism. Fingering. Auralism. F!masturbation. Joel is a bully AND has a big 🍆. Kissing. Breast/nipple play. One spank. F!oral. Unprotected piv. Creampie. Mention of pregnancy (not reader). Cheating. Secret fmf threesome (makes sense in context). M!oral. Cum swallowing. Reader is early-to-mid-twenties, able bodied, with breasts and vagina, but otherwise undescribed. Feel free to imagine Game Joel or Show Joel.
Adriana's note: another little thing in my wips for a few weeks, and I really wanted to have it out by the end of summer. This was inspired by a fantasy an idea of Joel in 1980s short shorts (this look should definitely make a comeback)
dividers by @/strangergraphics-archive 👑
JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST
SUMMER 1980
You love your summer job as counselor at Camp Happy Trail. You love being outdoors, helping the campers with swimming, canoeing, hiking, learning about nature. You’ve looked forward to it every summer since high school.
This year is different. There’s a new head counselor in town, and he’s trouble in the form of Joel Miller.
He’s tall, broad, graying, and stern. His dark brown eyes apprise every counselor in front of him as the group gathers on the camp’s front lawn two weeks before opening day. He goes over the rules and expectations of all staff members. You pay attention even though it’s the same old drill: no fucking around during working hours, make sure the campers are safe at all times, please report injuries and have them sent to the nurses station, et cetera. You could recite the rules by heart.
Only one thing has you concerned.
You raise your hand to speak. Joel glances over at you but continues talking, stressing the importance of keeping away from drugs and alcohol during the next two weeks, especially once the campers come on opening day. You know all that. Still, you wait with your hand raised until Joel sighs, giving you time to speak.
“What happened to Frankie?”
Joel tries really hard not to roll his eyes. “Francisco Morales won’t be here to help us set up. He’ll be here on the camp’s opening day.” He snorts, arms crossed as he eyes you up and down. “What, is he your boyfriend or somethin’?”
“No..” you reply, unable to stop the embarrassment from creeping up your spine. Of course you and Frankie hadn’t set any firm definitions about what you are, but the past two years you’ve spent here have also been spent by fucking him in the woods during early morning hikes, blowing him in the storage shed, and sneaking him into your cabin to have him go down on you all night.
You have his number, but there’s been no answer when you’ve called before driving up to the campsite. You wonder what’s keeping him from being here.
Piper, the girl you’ve hated since you’ve been counselors together these past few years, shoots a smug look your way as the meeting is adjourned, and she walks off with Joel’s arm around her waist. She glances over her shoulder at you, giving you the finger.
She’s just jealous because Frankie chose you over her two years ago. She hasn’t let you alone in peace since.
Joel is a hard task master. At dawn he has the counselors up and jogging through the trail in the woods and chopping firewood before breakfast. Swim safety is in the afternoon when the heat is at its worst, the air humid with the scent of sunblock and stagnant lake water. At the very least you’re given some time to lay out in the sun afterward, drying off on the warm boards of the dock.
Back at the cabins only two people are unaccounted for – Piper and Joel. The other counselors make crude guesses as to where they are and what they’re doing. You’re elected to go and find them before it gets dark. Piper has dinner duty and Maya refuses to do all the cooking alone.
Slipping on your jean shorts, your towel slung over your shoulders to catch the water droplets from your still-damp hair, you set out in search of Joel and Piper.
The sun is just starting to set when you find them in a thick copse of trees near the edge of the forest, Piper pressed against a tree as Joel’s fingering her, his hand down the front of her red bikini bottom as he plunges inside her, head bent close to her ear, muttering dirty things. You stop, half-hidden by the trees as you watch them, your own pussy growing wet just bearing witness. You know you should turn and leave, forget you ever saw this, just tell the others that Piper and Joel are coming back soon.
But you’re frozen to the spot, watching them in the secrecy of the woods, your own hand ghosting over your clothed clit, imagining what Joel’s thick, rough fingers must feel like.
There’s a sharp snap of a twig that echoes in the air, causing Piper and Joel to quickly part. You’re already hurrying down the path, shame and lust heating your cheeks.
Everyone is split up in pairs, the counselor bunks only small enough to house two comfortably, and unfortunately Joel assigns you and Piper together. You tell yourself it’ll just be a couple months and most days will be too busy for you to have to deal with her very much.
Piper grabs the top bunk before you have a chance to claim it. But once you’re settled in the bottom, she makes you switch back after she finds a spiderweb too close to the ceiling.
But even your nights can’t be peaceful. Joel sneaks in after lights out, and you have to endure the soft giggles and moans coming from the bunk below you. The entire bed frame rocks with Joel’s thrusts as he fucks your bunkmate.
Great, just great.
They make no effort to hide whatever’s going on between them. His hand is permanently on her ass, barely clothed in the camp counselor uniform shorts, his entire paw covering her ass cheek. The others don’t notice or don’t care, too caught up in their own romantic entanglements.
It only makes you miss Frankie more. Out here in the woods you have no way of contacting him except through the main office line, but Joel stands right in front of anyone who wants to call home, dials the number on the rotary phone, and waits with arms crossed as the call is made. Nobody does personal calls while he’s in charge.
You try to keep yourself busy with helping get the camp ready. The grass near the cabins is maintained, repairs are made to the buildings themselves (which Joel oversees, and you can’t help but to check him out a little while he’s fixing the sign above the infirmary – he looks too good with a hammer), checking that the generators are working properly, and that the electrical system and water pressure are good.
There’s so much to do that by the time you climb up into your bunk you fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.
The only thing that could possibly wake you is Joel fucking Piper in the bunk below yours.
Joel’s grunts and groans, paired with Piper’s moaning and gasping, keep you awake. You lose count of how many rounds they go, the entire bed bunk frame shaking with their movements. And at one point you can’t help it as your fingers travel beneath your sleep shorts, finding your wet pussy and tracing your slit. Two fingers fit inside you easily as you lift your legs to get comfortable. Closing your eyes you start fucking yourself on your hand, imagining Joel’s fingers inside of you instead of yours.
You’re trying desperately to keep your whimpering to a minimum but you doubt they’ll hear you over their own sounds. Your fingers match the pace of Joel’s thrusts, though you imagine his cock is a lot bigger than your two fingers combined. And the way he’s been fucking Piper for almost an hour solidifies the fact that his stamina is good.
Your fingers glide over your clit, circling and swiping, your hips arching up as you chase the friction you so desperately need for your release as you listen to Piper’s moans and Joel’s increasing grunts. Eyes squeezed tight you plunge your fingers as deep as you can, timing it just right with Piper’s final, momentous scream. You try to keep as quiet as possible as your release coats your hand, clit throbbing, legs quaking.
Joel corners you after breakfast the next morning, barring you from following the others to the field where a soccer match was planned. Instead he drags you to the boat shed. You hate it there. It’s dusty and cramped and there are cobwebs in the corners.
“What’s wrong?” you ask, your heart in your throat as Joel peers down at you, something unreadable in his deep brown eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he mimics you. “You think I don’t know you were gettin’ yourself off to me and Piper last night?”
The blood drains from your face, leaving you cold. “Wh-what?”
“Stop actin’ innocent. You weren’t exactly quiet. Piper was laughin’ at you, sayin’ you’re a lonely little virgin.”
“I’m not a virgin,” you tell him tersely.
“Really?” Joel’s voice is full of derision. “Prove it.”
The blood drains from your face. “H-how?”
“You’re a smart girl. You know how.” But just to be mean he explains it in detail. “How about you bend over–” he slaps the hull of a nearby canoe and puts his hand on your lower back, pressuring you towards it. “--pull those pretty little short-shorts down and let me check for myself.”
“You’re not serious,” you sputter.
“You afraid or somethin’?” he smirks.
You’re not afraid per se. But you’re definitely wet enough so that he’ll tease you if he finds out. “Of course not,” you stand up to him boldly.
He looks amused by this, and the way he cups his bulge in his own shorts shows he’s more than a little turned on. Your eyes drop down to where his thick cock is hardening under the skin-tight fabric.
With determination in your eyes, you’re certain of yourself when you reach up and grab Joel by the nape of his neck, kissing him. His eyes go wide at the initial shock of surprise, but then they close, a deep and satisfied growl in his chest as he kisses you back, his tongue slipping past your lips. Your gasp turns into a soft moan as his large paw on your lower back presses you closer to him, rubbing his hard-on against you.
“I bet this pussy’s already soaked,” he mutters, finally breaking from the kiss to nip at your neck. “But first..” he pulls away, a devilish look in his eye. “Lift up that shirt, honey, and lemme see those pretty titties.”
You scoff despite the fact that you are indeed soaked, but you’re already this far in. You might as well go all the way. You lift up your shirt, your white lacy bra on full display. Joel’s big meaty hands pull down the cups, palming your tits with his rough bare hands, bouncing them in his palms. “Look at these.. you gonna lemme suck ‘em?”
Fuck. This isn’t going how you expected but you can’t complain. You nod and he immediately pulls you close, picking you up and pinning you against the canoe as he takes your nipple in his mouth, groaning, using his free hand to pinch your other nipple. “So sweet,” he groans, releasing off you with a wet pop before sucking on the other.
“Joel!” you gasp, a fresh wave of wetness seeping through your underwear.
“Don’t worry, I’m gettin’ there,” he mumbles, helping you shimmy out of your shorts and pressing you forward against the boat. He lands a quick spank across your ass cheek, chuckling at the way your flesh jiggles and the sound of your yelp. Then he spreads your cheeks wide. “Look at that.. pretty as the mornin’ dew..” He kneels down and laps at your honey, making you moan. Almost too late you catch yourself, muffling your own sounds with your palm.
His large, rough hand trails down your spine, keeping you in place as the thick head of his cock slides through your folds, collecting your wetness and teasing you as he slides between your cheeks. You mewl in protest as he chuckles. “Maybe you’re right, maybe you’re not a virgin. Not the way you’re actin’ so greedy for my cock. Well darlin’, take it..”
He eases into you, using shallow thrusts and you can’t help but exhale, the rush of breath leaving you in surprise before he angles you down, sliding in to the hilt. “You’re full of me now,” he grunts out, holding steady to your hips. “God damn, tighter than a nun’s asshole.”
Your walls flutter around him with each stroke, your hands bracing you against the smooth wood of the upturned canoe. You whimper in time with each smooth thrust. Each time Joel bottoms out you feel it deep in your belly, probably deeper than anyone’s ever gone.
“Wish you could see how you’re soakin’ me,” Joel grunts, giving a few quick thrusts to let you hear the sound of your sloppy pussy. “How do you like it, darlin’? You want me to make a mess of you inside, or do you need me to pull out and shove this cock down your throat so you can swallow my load?”
“I-inside,” you pant. “I have an IUD.”
“That’s a relief,” Joel mutters, speeding up, one big hand wrapping around your front to tickle your clit. “C’mon, baby, need you to come on my cock before I bust inside you..”
He slows down just enough for you to work your way up to it, the heat building in your belly and your core, moaning at the way he lifts your hips to meet each thrust, sweat gathering at your temples. “Joel,” you whine, thinking of nothing but the way he’s fucking and filling and stretching your cunt. With an expertly angled thrust home you fall apart, moaning his name as you squeeze around him, and he picks up the pace, slamming into you until he swells inside you, his hot cum painting your walls. His cock is still twitching in the aftershocks when he finally releases his grip on your hips and pulls out of you. You quickly shove your underwear and shorts back on to catch his leavings already starting to leak out.
“Smart girl, bein’ on birth control,” Joel mutters, stuffing himself back into his own shorts. “I wish Piper was responsible like that.”
You school your features into nonchalance after you pull your shirt back down. There’s a little stab of guilt when you realize you’ve just fucked your bunkmate’s boyfriend.. even if she is a bitch. “What do you mean?” you ask innocently.
He reddens, as if he shouldn’t have spoken. “You’re sworn to secrecy, alright? Piper’s pregnant.”
“What?” Joel immediately clamps his hand over your mouth. He still smells like sex.
“Shut. Up,” he warns. “If I find out you told anyone else you’re packin’ your bags and goin’ home. Understand?”
You nod and whisper “Yes,” when he removes his hand. “It’s yours?”
He scoffs. “She says so. Still– not a peep. Got it?”
Piper becomes grumpy when Joel’s visits make an abrupt stop. But she’s no bitchier than usual, likely trying to get back into Joel’s good graces. Little does she know he’s only stopped coming to her because he’s taken up fucking you instead – in the storage shed, in the empty cots in the infirmary, the walk-in pantry in the kitchen. He maintains the position that he doesn’t like you very much while you’re in front of the others, sometimes giving you tasks you have to complete on your own – with the sole purpose of finding you to hook up.
The last night before the campers are due, everyone lets loose. Couples sneak off into the woods with sleeping bags and sinful intentions, some stay on the pier by the lake, drinking and laughing.
You’re the only one who’s made it to your bunk at an appropriate hour, wanting a full night’s rest before the big day. But your sleep is interrupted when Joel and Piper come in, slamming the door behind them, all over each other, kissing and giggling. With a silent groan you put your pillow over your head, already expecting to drown out the noises they’re about to make, which are going to keep you up all night.
They’re in the bottom bunk, a little quieter now that their mouths are busy. But soon there’s that familiar rocking rhythm and the sound of Piper’s moans and squeals, coming to a crescendo. Once again Joel’s stamina is off the charts. You’re in the middle of pleasuring yourself, two fingers shoved as deep as you can go, when everything stops and you hear Joel murmuring. There’s a creak as he gets out of the bunk, and Piper giggles as he positions her facing away. Now Joel’s eye level with your bunk and you gasp as you come face to face with him. He winks at you.
“What do you think you’re doing?” you whisper as quietly as you can.
“She caught up with me. I couldn’t shake her,” he explains just as softly. “Don’t leave me hangin’, sweetheart. Bring that pretty pussy to my face.”
Without hesitating you lift up your nightdress, scooting to the edge of the bed, thighs spread around Joel’s face as he fucks into Piper – oblivious to everything going on – in the bottom bunk. He’s got his dick buried in her while he’s eating you out. You’ve never experienced anything hotter.
You hear Piper’s staccato cries as Joel pounds into her from behind, his own moans humming through your flesh, heightening your arousal, your clit standing at attention between Joel’s lips, his mustache tickling your soft skin. You already know you’re going to come when your legs start shaking, toes curling at the waves of pressure building up in your very core.
“Joel!” you try to whisper as softly as possible. “Joel!.. I’m gonna come!”
He only smacks harder into Piper, her own cries louder than yours. “Come for me,” he whispers back, the tip of his tongue giving one teasing swirl around your pearl before he dives back in. Your back arches off the bed, lightning shooting through your veins as your cunt pulses, drenching Joel’s mouth as you come. He groans, licking up every drop, watching you through his lashes. “Good girl,” he whispers, backing off when you become too sensitive, his lips warm on your inner thigh, stubble scratching at your soft skin as he pulls off of Piper, turning her around so she’s sucking him off.
You hear her moaning and sighing, gagging on his cock. Meanwhile Joel lazily fingers you, scissoring his digits inside your sloppy pussy, his eyes black and glossy while Piper deep-throats him. Your fingers card through his hair as you ignore the softening of your heart in seeing him so tame and vulnerable.
Your name is on his lips but he moans Piper just in the nick of time, his breaths growing unsteady as he comes close to the end, getting ready to bust in Piper’s mouth. You take his head in your cupped hands. “Come, Joel.. give her what she wants,” you whisper. He groans, his thrusts getting sloppy as he fucks his girlfriend’s throat, stilling at last, his features tensing then relaxing as Piper gasps softly, swallowing his thick load.
The next day Joel treats you the same as he always has. Everyone’s minds are on the Opening Day festivities ahead, even if some of the counselors look like they’ve only had a couple hours’ sleep. You’re bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, not just because of last night, but because you’re genuinely excited for summer camp to officially begin.
The campers hurry out of the stuffy buses and onto the rolling green grass, toting duffel bags, wearing the gold and blue camp tees and ball caps, eager for their summer to begin. Everyone is assigned to a counselor, and as soon as your group is ready you start to lead them to their cabin. You have a full day ahead: a quick icebreaker so everyone can become acquainted, a scavenger hunt that will enable the kids to work as a team, then a game of capture the flag, then lunch. You have your day cut out for you, and in the back of your mind you wonder if you’ll cross paths with Joel again..
Your thoughts are interrupted by someone shouting back at the buses. All the counselors turn to look, surprise written on their faces as they find one more latecomer to Camp Happy Trail.
Frankie Morales, adjusting the Standard Oil cap on his head, dark curls already sticking to the sweat on his neck, hurries off the last bus. His royal blue camp tee clings to his torso like sin, accentuating his broad frame. You’re speechless when he reaches you, putting his arms around you and lifting you off the ground before landing a big kiss on your lips. The campers are grossed out, giggling and making faces.
When he pulls away, cupping your face in his hands, you can feel everyone’s eyes on you, just as shocked as you are to see him finally arrive. “I missed you, babe,” he says, planting one more kiss on your forehead. “So what have I missed?”
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this was way hotter than it should be
MDNI, 18+
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Singing karaoke with Trinity and Mel, except it’s “Don’t Cha?” by The Pussycat Dolls and you’ve all somehow convinced a bunch of others from the E.R. to come have a drink, including Jack and Robby (I can’t quite see Robby at a karaoke bar, but I also can’t imagine Jack going somewhere like that without making Robby tag along, so here we are. 😂) And when it’s your turn to sing, you do a kind of burlesque type thing where you have fun with it and teasingly strip your jacket off and spin it around in the air. You toss it jokingly to Dennis offstage and wink. Jack and Robby are at the bar, and Jack is just drinking you the fuck innn. Beer? Whiskey? Fuck the alcohol. Who needs it when he has you, in front of him, swaying your hips and shaking your ass like there isn’t an entire bar of people with eyes on you? He just wants that sweet ass in those jeans on a platter in front of him, and he’ll die a happy man. There is, however; too many eyes for Jack’s liking.
Don’t get him wrong, he wants to watch you. He could watch you do this alllll night long. You’re so carefree and effortlessly sexy in the way you move, and sing, and laugh. It’s just that he wants to be the only one watching you. He wants you to dance like this for him naked, and at his place. Did it make him feel like a little bit of a gross, old man? Sure. But if he’s got you - in nothing but his old college T-shirt to wake up to every god given morning - people can think whatever bullshit they want. Fuck ‘em. Yeah, maybe he can be a little gross. He’s daydreamed a time or two about you meanly shoving your panties in his mouth as you bounce up and down on his cock. And yeah, he’s older than you. But that just means he knows how to fuck you better than any guy your age ever could.
You girls aren’t at all quiet when drinking, and Jack overheard you earlier telling the group how nobody’s ever given you an orgasm. And it is a fucking tragedy if Jack ever heard one. He’s embarrassed for the men in your age bracket that don’t know how to please and worship a woman like you. You’re a ray of fucking sunshine that deserves the world, and Jack just wants to show you this - by fucking you with his tongue while you clamp your thighs around his head, crying for him to stop because it’s so deliciously too much. It’s okay, he’ll build your tolerance. You’re not even used to one orgasm from a man let alone two or three a night - every night - rain or shine, period or no period. Don’t worry baby, old Jack’s gonna get you there.
oh my fuckinf gowdd
the love drug
Jack Abbot x Resident!Reader
Summary: After an unfortunate mixup of pain medication and your friend's party substances at Pitt Fest, you're rushed to the Pitt and placed in the care of Jack Abbot. As he oversees your care, you get a little too touchy, and a little too honest.
Word Count: 6.6k
Content: accidental drug use (MDMA), mention of alcohol consumption, age gap (reader is mid 20s), fluff, comfort, a hint of smut (18+ MDNI) - literally like two seconds of thigh riding, mention of ovulation
A/N: listen… I’ve never done MDMA. I did a lot of research, but I had to fudge some stuff for plot. don’t do drugs kids
Pitt Fest was not your idea. When your friend Beth offered you her spare ticket, you waffled at first. You're not really a crowds person, or a partying person. Beth was always the partier in college. But you do like live music, and she pointed out that your top Spotify artist from last year is in the concert lineup.
So you’d caved.
That decision is coming back to bite you in the ass, and bite hard.
It’s hot as balls outside. You’re covered in sweat, which mingles in a sticky and unpleasant mix with the sunscreen you’ve been dutifully applying since the afternoon to avoid frying like an egg. When the sun finally set, you no longer had to worry about the burgeoning threat of skin cancer, but the heat doesn’t break. In fact, it almost seems to get worse, because more and more people arrive to crowd you as night descends and the bigger names with larger fanbases grace the stage.
You’re waiting for Beth outside of the bathroom facilities. She's been ingesting a steady stream of margaritas since sundown, so she leaves you holding the bag, literally. At least it's a nice excuse to separate yourself from the throng of jumping, sweaty bodies gathered by the stage.
It’s nearly two in the morning. You’re hungry. Your feet are killing you. You have a headache from the festival’s sugary cocktails. You’re sweating through the top Beth lent you. And on top of everything else, your ovulation cramps are kicking in like a motherfucker.
Growing desperate, you dig through Beth's bag, searching for the little Altoid tin that she always keeps her pain meds in. At long last, your hands make contact with the metal tin at the bottom of her tote. Nearly crying with relief, you pop an aspirin in your mouth and wash it down with the tepid bottled water you’ve been clutching for the last hour.
Beth's voice rings out from behind you, talking over the din of the nearby DJ set. “What are you doing?”
You turn towards her, and see Beth staring at the tin in your hand. “I have cramps,” you explain, and just as you’re about to shove the tin back in her bag and hand it to her, she grabs your wrist.
“…please tell me you didn’t just take one of those,” she says urgently.
You raise an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because those are not aspirin, babe.”
Your blood runs cold. Your brain quickly does the math — Beth had told you how much she’s looking forward to meeting up with her rave friends tomorrow for the second night of Pitt Fest. Beth has always been quite the partier. And she often partied with her good friend Molly.
Your eyes widen in horror. “Oh no.”
Pitt Fest, as always, is a huge pain in the ass for the night shift.
Handoff gets messy. There's a shit ton of substance cases, even more of heatstroke. Robby stays longer than he should and snaps at everyone, clearly in his feelings remembering last year’s Pitt Fest. Understandable, yes, but it also makes everyone’s life that much harder when they’re within sniping distance of him.
Needless to say, Jack is already over this shift, and it’s not even halfway done. It doesn't help that his favorite resident happens to have the night off, which deposits his mood firmly in the hospital basement. Which, coincidentally, happens to be the location of the morgue.
Now that Robby has been politely ordered to go the fuck home, Jack feels like he can finally focus on his job instead of doing damage control with the med students. As he walks down the hall, Lena catches his attention from the hub desk.
“We have an ambulance two minutes out with a mid-20s female, collapsed at Pitt Fest,” she informs him. “Probable dehydration, likely drug-related, because, well… Pitt Fest.”
This festival truly is the gift that keeps on giving. Jack cracks his knuckles and eyes the ambulance bay doors. “All right. Let's get ready to receive the party girl.”
A few minutes later, the gurney is wheeled in by two paramedics and received by Lena and Parker. Parker shoots an alarmed and confused look over her shoulder at Jack, who steps forward to supervise.
“Dr. Abbot!"
Of all the things Jack expected to see tonight, this is at the bottom of the list. You're strapped to the gurney, scantily clad and gleaming with sweat, a goofy smile on your face and your pupils blown so wide they nearly swallow your irises.
Jack scrubs a hand through his hair. “You're shitting me.”
This is quite the surprising turn of events.
After Lena sets you up in South 16, Jack discreetly shoos away Parker so he can handle your examination himself. He doubts you would be comfortable with one of your fellow residents seeing you like this, considering your condition and your current state of dress.
Jack closes the door behind him and saunters over to you. His eyes snag on your tight, strappy top, and the strategically placed cutouts baring sections of your midriff and chest. He’s holding onto his professionalism by a thread, especially with the way you’re shifting around on the exam table, causing the hem of your miniskirt to ride up.
He has no choice but to focus up. You need medical attention, not the kind of attention his brain and body really want to give you right now. First, Lena takes your temperature and shows him the number on the display. 100.2 degrees F. It's coming down from what the paramedics recorded in the ambulance, and not so high that he’s still worried about heat stroke. But you’ll need cooling down regardless.
“That’s quite the outfit you got on,” he mutters as he gently raises your chin and shines his penlight into your pupils.
“Do you like it?” you ask, beaming up at him even as you squint. “I borrowed it from my friend. She’s so nice.”
Your pupils are so dilated that your eyes are almost completely black.
“Yup.” Jack clicks off the light and sighs, turning to Lena. “She’s rolling, all right. Let’s get a tox to make sure there’s nothing else to be worried about.”
You don’t seem to even register the pain of the needle prick, but you let out a delighted little hum when Lena smooths a bandage over your arm and adds gentle pressure over top of it.
“That feels good,” you murmur with a lazy smile.
“I bet.” Jack crosses his arms and tries to give you a stern look. “Can I ask what my best resident is doing taking ecstasy at a music festival?”
“I didn’t take it on purpose, I swear,” you protest, your eyes widening in a brief panic. “It was my friend’s. I thought it was aspirin, for my cramps.”
“You’re menstruating?” he asks, picking up his tablet and sitting in the edge of the exam table next to you to amend your chart.
You shake your head and say matter-of-factly, “Ovulation cramps.”
His eyebrows shoot up towards the ceiling in surprise.
You continue babbling, unaware of the grenade you just lobbed at Jack. “She tried to get me to throw it up, but I couldn’t because I don’t really have a gag reflex.”
Jack takes a deep breath to prevent his brain from completely short-circuiting.
Your face breaks into a sheepish smile, and you giggle, “Oops. Sorry, that was probably too much information.” Leaning forward on the exam table, you bring your face inches away from his and observe with a sigh, “Your eyes are really pretty, doctor.”
From behind him, Jack hears Lena snickering under her breath. He clears his throat and straightens up to standing.
Avoiding Lena's eyes, he instructs her, “Let’s, uh, get her some fluids and cooling packs, huh? Maybe a Saf-T-Pop, too. Keep her mouth occupied, so she won’t say any more nonsense she’ll regret in the morning.”
Lena just shoots him an amused look and heads off to gather supplies. Nurses, he thinks ruefully to himself. They see everything.
Movement and sound draw his attention back to you. You're laid back on the exam table, eyes fluttering closed. And you’re running your hands through your hair, letting out a pleased little noise like the sensation is better than sex.
Jack breathes carefully through his nose. He needs out of this room with you, before this becomes mortifying for everyone involved. His phone buzzes in his pocket, giving him the perfect excuse for escape.
His voice is thin when he speaks, and for a moment, he’s glad you’re too high to notice. “You sit tight, sunshine.”
As he turns to leave the room, your hand catches the edge of his scrubs.
“You’re leaving?” your mouth turns down into a pout, those huge eyes shining up at him. He very nearly gives in, very nearly reaches out a hand to stroke a thumb across your cheek just to hear the kind of sound it would pull from you. But his phone buzzes insistently, so he briefly pats your knee instead.
“I have other patients to see. But I'll be back before you know it,” he assures you, pulling open the door and diving headfirst back into the glorious chaos.
At least it’ll be a convenient distraction from the thought of you, eagerly waiting in south fifteen for him to return.
He shakes his head in disbelief. Ovulation cramps. You’re gonna be the death of him.
An MVA, a ketamine overdose, and a cardiac event later, the Pitt finally slows down enough for Jack to breathe. Enough to check your tox screen and sigh with relief that the MDMA you mistakenly took wasn’t cut with anything. Alcohol is the only other thing in your system, in levels not high enough to be concerning. Although, combined with the ecstasy, it means you probably won’t remember much of this exciting little escapade.
At long last, he manages to find some time to check on you.
In his absence, Lena had set you up with a gown to preserve a little more of your modesty. You’re laying on the exam table amongst the cooling packs, an IV attached to your arm and a Saf-T-Pop in your mouth that’s turning your tongue red.
A smile breaks like sunrise over your face as soon as you see him.
“Hey there, sunshine,” he greets you, approaching you with a little more warmth now that Lena's sharp eyes aren’t here to observe.
“Hi. I missed you,” you sigh.
Jack smirks. “Did you now?”
You nod happily. “Mm-hmm.”
“How are you feeling?” he asks, his gaze attentive, checking you over.
“Cold,” you answer, wrapping your arms around yourself.
He reaches up a hand to feel your forehead. Still warm, but still steadily coming down over time. He’s satisfied enough with your progress. You'll be out of here in no time.
The prospect disappoints him just a little.
“Yeah, your body is having trouble regulating its temperature,” he explains, his thumb stroking delicately along your hairline. “We’ll need to keep these cool packs on you a little while longer.”
Just as his hand retreats, your hand catches his wrist. You press his palm to your cheek, almost nuzzling into it like an affectionate kitten.
“Your hands are so warm,” you murmur, eyelids slipping shut as you revel in the sensation.
The gesture catches him off guard, but he doesn’t pull away. He couldn’t even if he wanted to, and he certainly doesn’t want to.
“Easy there, gorgeous,” he chuckles softly. “I need that hand for doctoring.”
Your eyelids flutter halfway open, and you look up at him with a lazy grin, clearly pleased as punch. “You think I'm gorgeous?”
Jack freezes for a moment. The word had slipped out without him even registering it, familiar and endeared and entirely too revealing.
“I plead the fifth,” he replies, warmth creeping up his neck.
You giggle again. God, that sound does things to his heart that are medically concerning.
“I think you’re gorgeous,” you mumble dreamily.
Jack blinks in surprise.
He’s been a little too fond of you for a while now, been staring a little too long when you brush past him in the halls. And he’s suspected before that it might not be completely one-sided. He sees how you receive his attention and praise differently than the other attendings, how you look at him with more than just the admiration of a mentor. But suspecting it and having it be confirmed are two different things. Especially since you wouldn’t be saying any of this if you were sober.
He tries to laugh it off before his ego can run away with the compliment. “I think you’re high.”
You shrug. “Maybe. But I always think you’re gorgeous.”
Removing his palm from your cheek, you examine it with fascination, running a finger along the deep set lines. “I think about these,” you say thoughtfully. “All the time.”
Jack is a little ashamed at how quickly that comment goes straight to his cock. His favorite resident, fantasizing about his hands, maybe even touching yourself to the thought of them, wishing your own fingers were his—
He drags his free hand over his face and mutters, "Jesus Christ."
“Can I tell you a secret?” You peer up at him again, that goofy, starstruck smile returning. “I’ve got, like, the biggest crush on you.”
Unfortunately for Jack, there is very little time to process this very interesting information before his phone buzzes again. Just beyond the doors, he can hear the familiar sound of what is likely a high-priority trauma heading into the bay. Voices overlapping in urgent tones, gurney wheels on tile floor, grunts and yelps of pain from a patient.
Jack crosses to the door in two steps, and speaks over his shoulder to you. “Hey, baby, I gotta handle something. Stay out of trouble, okay?”
As the door swings shut behind him, he just manages to catch the sound of you happily mumbling to yourself, “He called me baby.”
Which is how he heads into Trauma 1 with a smile on his face, entirely too cheerful for a man facing down a compound femur fracture.
The shift that would never fucking end is almost fucking over. And all Jack can think about is you. You and your moony, lovey-dovey eyes and your wide, childlike smile. You gazing up at him and crooning I have the biggest crush on you. You giggling and telling him point-blank that you’re ovulating.
As he rolls out of yet another demanding trauma, Lena updates him on your condition. You’re rehydrated and back to a normal temperature, pretty much ready for discharge if you can be released to someone who will take care of you. He returns to your room, finding you unhooked from your IV and cold-pack-free, happily set up with another lollipop.
“Jack, you’re back!” you exclaim, and then laugh at your accidental rhyme.
Still rolling, he thinks. He checks his watch. According to your best guess of when you took the ‘aspirin’ in your friend’s purse, it’s been about four hours. You'll be due to start coming down anytime in the next two hours or so. He's due to head out, but he can’t bring himself to go home until he knows you’re leaving in capable hands.
“Hey, sunshine.” He offers you a tired but warm smile. “Seems like you’re in pretty good shape here, and you should be tapering off pretty soon. You got anybody to take you home, keep an eye on you?”
A little crease forms between your brows as you think hard. “I don’t know where my friend went when the ambulance came. And I think my phone died,” you add pathetically, gesturing to the device in your lap and its terminally black screen.
Jack pinches the bridge of his nose. He can’t in good conscience leave you to your own devices, especially when you’ve never taken ecstasy before. At worst, there’s still a chance you could have some kind of reaction. At best, the comedown is sure to knock you on your ass.
He can only think of one thing to do. It's not the best idea. It might not even be a good idea. But his brain is too addled from the long shift to come up with anything better. And you need someone to take care of you.
“Jesus. Okay,” he mutters to himself, then sits on the edge of the exam table, bringing his face level to yours. “Listen up, sunshine.”
You gaze at him intently, attention vacillating occasionally between his eyes and his mouth. Jack has a feeling that what he’s about to say will go in one ear and right out the other. But there’s a chance you’ll retain it, so he says it anyway.
“You're gonna have a pretty serious crash when you come down. All those happy little chemicals that are making you feel good right now?” He gives you a soft little tap against your temple, and you giggle softly. He continues, “They’re gonna go on vacation for a day or two. I don't want you dealing with that on your own. So I'm gonna take you to my place, just to watch out for you until you’re feeling a little more like yourself.”
You’re quiet for a minute, your brain catching up and computing the meaning of what he just said. When it finishes, the lightbulb goes off behind your eyes, and you ask excitedly, “We’re having a sleepover?”
Of course that would be your takeaway.
He chuckles as he helps you to your feet. “That's right. You got it.”
When Jack drapes his hoodie over your shoulders and guides you out of the Pitt to his car, he’s reminded of all the reasons that this is probably a terrible idea.
He sees the watchful eyes and the knowing smirks of the nurses. He sees Parker and Crus snickering behind their hands. He sees Shen counting up his winnings from the betting pool, because he wrote down molly and tripsitter Abbot.
And he feels your hand clinging to his bicep, sees how you gaze up at him with a dreamy expression as he walks you out to his car. He’s knows he’s really going to need to behave himself for a few hours, because there’s a very good chance that you won’t, and Jack doesn’t want to accidentally take advantage of your… impaired judgement.
You spend most of the ride with your face by the cracked car window, feeling the wind on your face, eyes blissfully closed. Jack thanks his lucky stars that he thought to give the apartment a once-over before shift, so he isn’t bringing you into a total mess.
He walks you into his bedroom and gestures to the en-suite. “Bathroom’s there, if you want to take a shower. I'll find you something a little more… comfortable to wear,” he adds, peeling his eyes away from your tiny little shirt and how you’re already fussing with the straps.
As he turns to his bureau to find you a t-shirt, he feels arms wrapping around his middle, your body molding to his back as you embrace him with a sigh. “Thank you for being so nice to me.”
Jack swallows and delicately removes your hands, stepping out of your embrace and ushering you in the direction of the bathroom.
“Go on, then,” he instructs you. “While you’re still upright.”
You barely even register it as rejection, heading towards the shower and wiggling out of your top before Jack even has the chance to close the door behind you. Which he does, quickly and with his eyes glued to the floor.
His instincts were right. He will very much need to behave himself while you’re here.
He busies himself while you shower by changing out of his scrubs and assembling a meal. It's a humble offering — just a couple of sandwiches and frozen french fries heated up in the oven, but it’s better than nothing.
After about twenty minutes, you emerge from the bedroom with damp hair and your face scrubbed clean, clad in one of his t-shirts and a pair of his boxers, smelling like his soap. You lean on his kitchen island with a contented little sigh.
Jack repeats it to himself like a mantra — behave yourself.
“Time to eat something,” he says, sliding one of the plates toward you.
“I’m not hungry.”
“I know. But I'm trying to set you up for success here, so you don’t feel as awful when this is out of your system. When's the last time you ate?” he asks.
You rest your chin on your hand as you think back. “I had… lunch.”
“Thought so.” He puts the plate into your hands and steers you in the direction of the couch with a hand on your lower back. “You and I are gonna eat these sandwiches, drink some water, and watch Planet Earth.”
You gasp in delight and plop down onto the couch. “I love Planet Earth!”
He knows you do. You'd gushed about it being your favorite docuseries at work, and he’d bragged about owning the box set. It had been the first day you and he had really started to bond.
Once the tv is on, it thankfully keeps you occupied. You chew your food slowly, enraptured with the beautiful imagery on the screen. Managing a decent effort with the meal, you eat half the sandwich and most of the fries before you start to lose a little steam.
You abandon your plate on the coffee table, then take Jack completely by surprise as you lean over to lay your head in his lap.
He goes still for a moment, unsure if he should be allowing this. But he doesn’t have the heart to push you away, so he puts his plate aside and lets a hand come to rest on your shoulder.
You sigh happily and snuggle closer.
It's been so long since Jack has taken care of someone like this that he’d almost forgotten what it feels like. How good it feels to be needed. The easy intimacy of sharing a space, sharing a meal, of letting someone melt against you after a long night.
Affectionately, he brushes a stray lock of hair out of your face, and you practically purr in response, leaning into his hand. So Jack keeps doing it, keeps gently stroking his fingers through your hair, preferring to watch your relaxing form instead of the polar bears on screen.
The two of you spend nearly an hour like that, until your breath starts to take on that even, drowsy quality and Jack’s own brain starts calling for rest. He gently eases you off his lap to sit up, takes you by the hand and leads you to bed, already resigning himself to the aching back that a couch nap is going to earn him.
Jack sets you up with a glass of water and the best blankets in the linen closet. As he turns to head back to the living room, your hand grabs his arm, pulling him back.
“Stay.”
Your voice is low and warm. You're sitting up in his bed, his sheets pooled around your knees. Your eyes are dark, tempting, pleading.
Jack knows dangerous territory when he sees it.
Still, your serotonin is due to start dropping any time now, and hurt feelings are only going to be worsened once it does. Jack sits carefully on the edge of the bed, maintaining a few inches of distance, his other hand gently cradling your cheek.
“Sorry, sunshine. Not a good idea.”
You move closer, your gaze fixed firmly on his mouth. “Why?”
Best behavior, Jack.
“Because you’re still tapering off. Plus, I just worked a long shift and I need to sleep.” He takes in a deep breath as he feels your hand slide across his shoulders. “And I've got a feeling I won't be getting much rest next to you.”
In a move so surprising that Jack is momentarily powerless to stop it, you rise up onto your knees and shift to straddle one of his thighs.
“What if I promise to be really, really good?” you murmur sweetly.
Jack knows he should stop you, and he almost does. But then you rock your hips on his thigh, the tiniest little life-ruining movement, and you let out the softest, neediest little sound. Suddenly, Jack is hanging onto his sanity and self control-by a thread. And that thread is fraying rapidly.
“Baby,” he whispers, half warning and half plea. His hands come to your hips, torn between stopping you and spurring you on.
Your hips rock again, more purposeful this time. “Please,” you beg quietly, so close now that your lips just barely brush against his.
For a few shameful moments, Jack forgets about his fatigue and the ache in his leg and he wonders… how morally reprehensible would it really be to just let you get off on his thigh? You’d said yourself that you’re ovulating, probably making you even needier. Fuck, he can feel how badly you want it, wetness soaking through the boxers you’re wearing and Jack’s sweatpants. Would it really be so awful of him to sit passively as you hump his leg to get the relief you’re clearly so desperate for? To take pity on you and let you use him for your pleasure?
But he knows it would be wrong, because he’d be getting off on it even if you didn’t touch him. You're not in your right mind, and he doesn’t want to make you come for the first time when you’re whacked out on MDMA.
Summoning the will from deep inside himself, he stills your hips and eases you off of his thigh, ignoring your whines as he nudges you back onto the pillows.
“It wouldn’t be right. I'm not touching you until you’re sober,” he says firmly.
Jack gets to his feet and tucks the blankets around you. “I’ll see you in a few hours. Wake me if you need anything.” He laughs softly at the pointed pouting look you shoot his way. “Other than that.”
“You’re no fun,” you call after him as he retreats into the living room.
Once the bedroom door is shut behind him, he collapses on the couch and wrestles off his prosthetic, punching a throw pillow a few times to soften it before going horizontal. Even after what felt like the longest shift he’s had in months, he’s unsure how much sleep he’ll actually manage to get knowing you’re in the next room. Probably snuggling one of his pillows as if it’s him, probably squeezing your thighs together until the last of the drugs leave your system.
He groans and rolls over, willing his body and his still half-hard cock to go to sleep.
You wake feeling like death warmed over.
You’re in a bed that doesn’t belong to you, but smells familiar and comforting. Same with your clothes. A few memories make it through the fog, blurry and out of order. Planet Earth. Jack’s hand, warm and pleasant on your cheek. An ambulance ride. Lena ruffling your hair and handing you a lollipop. A shower with a chair and a grab bar and soap that smells like Jack.
You’re at Jack's apartment, you realize with a start.
Checking the time groggily, you observe that you've slept from the early morning until late afternoon. Thank god you’d asked for tonight off as well, anticipating you’d need recovery time after Pitt Fest.
You can vaguely recall the warm, fuzzy feelings you’d experienced last night. In the abstract, at least. Now, you feel mostly guilt and shame and embarrassment and anxiety. How could you have been so stupid?
Sounds of life echo from the kitchen, which means Jack has woken up ahead of you. Your guilt sharpens. Jack is spending his hard-earned downtime taking care of you, because of your own carelessness.
Fatigue clings to your bones as you shuffle to the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror is less than kind. Dark shadows frame your eyes, worse than the usual bags worn by the night shift crew. Your hair is a mess, and you sigh as you comb your fingers through to tame it.
Time to face the music.
You trudge out into the kitchen, where Jack is wearing an apron over a t-shirt and sweats and cooking an omelette, looking awfully chipper for having slept seven hours on the couch. He looks so good that it briefly makes you angry. Fuck him for looking so good, while you look and feel like utter dogshit.
Of course, that annoyance turns to guilt again when he looks up and smiles.
“Hey, lover girl,” he greets you warmly as you lean on the kitchen island. “How are you feeling?”
You rub your eyes and groan, “Like I got hit by a Mack truck.”
He squeezes your shoulder fondly and grabs a plate from an overhead cabinet. “Let’s get some food and water in you.”
“Thank you,” you mutter sheepishly. “I’m sorry about… all this.”
“Don't even worry about it, sunshine.”
Jack hands you a glass of water and starts making you a plate. You accept it with a grimace. “I'm not feeling very sunshine-y right about now. I can't remember half of what happened after I went down at the concert.”
“I hope we’ve learned not to go digging for meds in that particular friend’s purse.” He smirks and sets a plate in front of you. A vegetable omelette and buttered toast. Your appetite hasn’t yet returned to its normal levels, but your doctor brain knows that you really need to eat, so you reach for the toast first.
“Never again,” you vow as you take a bite.
In the light of day and out from under the influence of Beth's ‘aspirin,’ you get a good look at Jack's apartment for the first time as he assembles his own plate. It's not spotless, but it’s generally tidy, and it’s a very nice place. Good furniture, great windows with better blackout shades, a nice floor plan. Its niceness only makes you feel smaller.
You poke at your omelette, stewing. “Dr. Abbot?”
“Jack.”
“Jack," you concede, frowning. "Don't take this the wrong way, but…why am I here?”
He plates his own omelette and leans a hip against the kitchen island. “You’d never taken MDMA before, and I knew you’d be in for a hell of a drop. I didn't want you to be on your own.”
You resist the urge to frown. This whole saga is doing nothing to remedy your tragic crush on him. Did he have to be so nice and caring on top of everything else? It feels a little unfair at the moment.
“That’s… very considerate,” you mumble.
“What can I say? I'm a considerate guy.” He pops a bite of omelette into his mouth with a wink.
A thought occurs to you that briefly makes your stomach turn. “Does the whole Pitt know?”
Jack's expression tells you everything you need to know before he even speaks. “There… might have been a betting pool on the subject. Shen cleaned up.”
You drop your face into your hands. “Awesome. That's really awesome.”
Every single one of your coworkers knows that you spent the night rolling. Tears prick at your eyes beneath your palms, which only worsens your humiliation. The last thing you need right now is to cry in front of Jack Abbot. Even if it’s just because the chemicals in your brain are out of whack, it doesn't make it any less embarrassing.
“Hey.” Jack's hand finds your shoulder again. “Don’t worry about it. They're good people, no one is judging you.”
Despite your best efforts, a mortifying little sniffle slips out at the kindness in his voice.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Come here.”
You can’t bear to look up, but your breath hitches in surprise when Jack pulls you into his arms. Instantly, your brain begins to quiet, focusing on the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the reassuring weight of his arms around you, the slow arc of his thumb rhythmically stroking your shoulder blade.
It's medicine. Oxytocin and dopamine, feel-good chemicals produced by physical touch, bolstering your brain against the sapped well of serotonin the ecstasy left in its wake. It also makes your heart flutter pathetically in your chest.
He holds you for a long moment, his grip tightening when you finally loop your arms around his waist and return the embrace.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” you whisper, allowing the comfort to sink into your skin and fill your lungs.
“Of course.”
Jack only pulls away when you do, gently swiping a calloused thumb underneath your eye to banish the straggling tear that managed to escape.
“Let’s get comfortable on the couch,” he says, a hand settling on your back to guide you. “You’re still on the comedown.”
You worry you might be overstaying your welcome. But Jack seems to be in no rush to get you out of his apartment, content to let you rot on his couch as long as you need to. Surely he must have better things to do on his night off than take care of you, but he sits sentry at your side without complaint.
After some consideration, Planet Earth is tabled for the time being — even if you’ve seen it before, animal death is sure to bring back the waterworks in your current state. Flipping through channels, you settle on a cheesy mid-2000s rom-com that you’ve seen before and snuggle back into the couch cushions.
Through it all, you feel the comfort of his steady presence, his hand rubbing idle circles on your back, like an IV drip of Vitamin Jack straight to your brain. You give into the feeling, too worn out to fight it, curling into his side. Eventually, you feel a gentle graze at your scalp as he idly plays with your hair. It surprises you for a moment, but you’re not complaining in the slightest. You melt into it, eyes fluttering closed until you’re slipping in and out of a light doze.
Afternoon fades to evening, to dinnertime, to nighttime, to bedtime. Even after your intermittent sleep, your fatigue is still bone deep, and Jack insists you can stay the night. You really try to convince him to let you take the couch, but he refuses, insisting that your body needs proper rest to return to baseline. At the end of the night, he sends you off to bed with a smirk.
When you wake up in Jack's bed for the second time, it’s much less disorienting. It helps that you’re much clearer than you were seventeen hours ago. The clock reads 9:05 am — you have the whole day ahead of you to shower, change, and steel yourself for the humiliation ritual that is bound to be your shift tonight.
You stumble into the living room, bleary-eyed. Jack is reclined on the couch with a laptop and readers perched on the end of his nose. Ugh, fuck him again for looking so good.
His eyes find yours over the edge of the screen. “Hey there. You sleep good?”
“Mm-hmm,” you reply, stretching. “I'm feeling much better, I think.”
His mouth curves at the corner. “Good.”
Leaning on the edge of the couch, you sigh and glance at the clock on the wall. “I should probably head home soon, get my life together before shift tonight. Would you be able to drive me home?”
“Sure thing, sunshine.”
After you eat breakfast and shower off the cast of bedrotting from the day before, you change back into the clothes you arrived in, which Jack took the liberty of washing for you. As much as you appreciate the gesture, you blanch at the idea of Jack handling your underwear, and try very hard not to think about that mental image.
As the quiet car ride progresses, you ponder your looming fate, mentally preparing yourself for the teasing you’ll get from the nurses and other residents. It's disorienting to not know what you’re walking into, to have been mentally absent for most of it.
You can’t resist the urge to ask anymore. “Was I a total mess?”
He nods, amused. “Yes. But a very cute mess.”
“God, this is so embarrassing,” you groan. “What did I say?”
“Are you sure you wanna know?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.
That makes you pause, glancing at him warily. “…was it bad?”
“You got a little fixated on hands for a while.” Jack pauses, like he isn’t sure how much to reveal, if you’re ready to handle it. “Said you think about mine all the time.”
Suddenly, you feel a bit sick, even though the car is headed in a straight line down the road. If that's just where it starts… if that’s not the worst of it, then what is?
“Oh god,” you whisper in horror.
“You said you think I'm gorgeous,” he continues, voice thick with amusement. “And that you have a big ol’ crush on me. And… you might’ve tried to seduce me a little at bedtime.”
Your cheeks flare hot. This is quite possibly the worst outcome of the situation aside from death. At the moment, death feels preferable.
You stare straight ahead, sinking in your seat and pressing your hands to your forehead to try and keep your brain from exploding. “Excuse me, I'm just gonna open the door and go lay down in traffic.”
He laughs, the sound warm and fond and doing absolutely nothing to temper your embarrassment. “It's okay.”
“It is completely not okay, Jack,” you protest, turning your body away from him and towards the passenger side door, like that will save you from this conversation.
Jack places a hand on your thigh.
All the systems in your brain go down simultaneously.
His palm rests just above your knee, not high enough to be too inappropriate, but it’s intimate. Especially because your choice of garment for Pitt Fest leaves your leg bare and exposed to his touch. Never once does he take his eyes off the road.
“It was flattering,” he says coolly, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your knee. “And extremely cute.”
He lets the assertion hang in the silence, and he doesn’t move his hand, letting it rest warm and comfortable against the soft skin of your thigh.
After some considerable effort, you remember how to breathe. Once the oxygen makes it to your brain, you manage to peel your hands away from your face and peek sideways at him.
“…really?” you ask, because you need the confirmation. Does Jack Abbot — your mentor, the object of all your desires, and the man who just babysat you through an unwitting MDMA trip — really think you’re cute?
He gives your thigh a gentle squeeze. “Really.”
There isn’t much else to say for the rest of the car ride. Jack keeps his hand on your thigh until he turns down your street and throws the car in park. You try and fail to suppress a smile the whole way, and allow him to walk you up to your building’s front step, palms tingling with anticipation.
“I’d like to do this again sometime,” he says as you unlock the main entrance. “Minus the party drugs.”
You grin up at him, slightly emboldened by the revelations that occurred in the car. “You wanna have another sleepover?”
“Very much.” His eyes crinkle at the edges when he smiles back. “See you tonight?”
“See you tonight, doctor.”
You turn to head inside, but Jack catches your elbow. “Hey. One last thing.”
Before you have time to register his closeness, a hand slides along your waist, another cupping your jaw, and Jack is kissing you.
A warm, pleasant feeling floods you from top to toe, a high rivalling the chemical one you’d experienced twenty-eight hours ago. He kisses you like he’s been thinking about it that entire twenty-eight hours. It's tender and hungry at the same time. By the time he pulls away, your lips follow after his and you almost stumble forward into his arms.
You open your eyes and blink up at him, feeling a little dazed and starstruck again.
“Had to wait until you were level,” Jack murmurs. He gives you a lingering peck at the corner of your mouth and descends down the front steps to his car.
You beam after him.
such a gentleman
The Big Ones Hurt
Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader
Summary: Simon overhears you say his dick is small.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Consensual freeuse. Traffic light safe word system. Your boyfriend fucks you rough (but lovingly) while you’re on the phone.
Word count: 3.1k
You were being a good friend.
It really was as simple as that—a woman you’d known for over a decade now was going through the worst breakup of her life, and she needed your support. You’d offered that support without hesitation, thinking nothing of the fact that you were in the healthiest of relationships yourself. You sure as hell never would’ve imagined a conversation like that could lead to this.
“His dick was huge, too,” your friend groaned across the line. You heard a shuffling of pillows and a soft thump, and you pictured her punting one off the bed.
You were lying on your stomach in your own bed several hundred miles away, holding your phone to your ear and trying to bite back a slow-growing grin.
“Couldn’t have been that big,” you hummed.
Again, your best friend groaned as if she were in pain.
“No, I’m telling you, the guy was fucking massive, hon. Just hung like a…a goddamn horse. I’m gonna be sick.”
“You can find another monster cock someday.”
“I don’t want to, though! It was so good.”
“You know, a big dick isn’t everything.”
Now you were trailing a finger over the embroidered edge of a pillowcase, trying your hardest not to think of the man who’d just slipped out of your sheets thirty minutes prior. Right before your friend had called with her devastating news, before you had been obliged to join the I-Hate-All-Men tirade of the century, you’d been getting put through the mattress by your boyfriend—a man who didn’t lie, or cheat on you, or steal, or shatter your heart into a million pieces.
A man whose dick was considerably bigger than most.
Simon was probably already three beers deep with his buddies at the pub down the road, the same lopsided, happy-go-lucky smile on his face he always wore when you and him had just had a quickie before he left home
Suddenly, the tail-end of a sentence snapped you out of your reverie, your friend’s tone loud and a little shrill:
“—easy for you to say!”
You blinked. “Easy f—wait, what?”
“Simon Riley. Love of your life.” You could imagine the woman snapping fingers in front of your face if she had been with you then, as if to say, Ring a bell? “Don’t even try to act like he isn’t a crazy good lay. And huge.”
Your cheeks heated at the accusation. Hell, you’d probably mentioned to friends in passing that your boyfriend was an altogether generous lover, a caring man in every respect, along with a couple other vague intimations about his prowess that would leave a whole lot more to the imagination than not, but this? You hadn’t even touched on anything about his size.
Normally, you wouldn’t engage in that kind of talk—at least not to that level of detail, revealing intimate facts.
But your best friend was hurting, and it seemed like she needed something to feel better in the moment.
So, shortly, it slipped out before you could think better:
“Simon’s not even big.”
Your mouth clamped shut as soon as you said it.
Liar, every fiber of your being hissed at once.
(Shut the fuck up, I’m helping a friend out)
“No way. You’re full of shit,” she giggled.
(Well, yes)
“Nope.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
You swallowed hard. Already hating yourself as the silence across the line stretched on and you knew your friend expected you to elaborate, and then you did.
“Honestly, it’s pretty, um…small. And—And that’s OK! Like, nobody’s perfect. The sex with him is still so great, and if anything, it’s nice not having such a big dick to worry about, y’know? So don’t feel like dating a smaller guy is so bad. You can still have amazing sex.”
You tried to end it on a positive note—the message you meant to get across, which was that the girl could be happy with a guy of any size and she didn’t need to stay hung up on her stupid ex—but it fell flat, even to your own ears. Clearly, you’d dropped a bombshell.
“But he is just…such a big dude. You’d think—”
“No, I know, Simon’s tall,” you interrupted hastily. Wincing. “But like I was saying, you can still do a lot with an average-sized dick. Or—Or even a tiny one.”
“It’s tiny?!”
Fucking shit.
“No, no, no, not tiny! I mean, not that…tiny. He’s fine.”
Your pulse was pounding so loud in your ears you could hardly hear yourself think. Or breathe. Or lie. Or try to piece together the most incoherent string of words that came out a little something like, ‘Seriously, uh…Simon’s the sweetest guy I’ve ever dated, and um…dick size doesn’t even really matter. The big ones hurt. I mean, the guy’s not huge, but not tiny, and—’
“Well shit, lovie, how fuckin’ little are we talkin’ here?”
At the rumble of a voice by your other, phone-free ear, you nearly jumped and catapulted your device across the room. You would’ve yelped, too, had it not been for a big, broad palm clamping over your mouth. As a familiar weight and breadth and scent settled over your being—a body coming to lay on top of you from behind—your friend continued to chatter on the line, clueless.
“OK, OK, I get it. Love a guy of any size. And Simon’s not perfect—even though that fucker’s about as delectable as you can get in every other way…”
While the woman’s voice faded off into a far-distant hum rattling off Simon’s best qualities and lamenting the odds she’d ever find a man quite so wonderful, you were confronted with several of these same features at once: his wide, muscular chest blanketing the back of you entirely; his stubble tickling the cusp of your cheek as he leaned in close; his strength pinning you to the bed and only loosening the grip around your mouth a little; and of course, there was that voice again, lower—
“Too bad about my microdick, huh?” Simon chuckled.
“—and I bet he knows how to use it!” your friend went on, not hearing a word of what was going on with you.
“Hey, uh—hey, I’ve gotta go. I think I—” you started.
As soon as you did, though, you felt the pressure on your spine soar to new heights. You let out a low whine.
Simon was crushing you now.
Your friend cut in, “Yeah? You OK?”
Before you could attempt a reply, the hand that had once been covering your lips lowered to just underneath your chin; Simon squeezed your throat.
Playfully, he made clear by nipping at your earlobe.
“No need to stop on my account,” he murmured.
So, rushed and more than a little flustered now, you made up some excuse on the phone about mistakenly hearing the doorbell, and you let your friend forge on. You dropped the phone onto the bed by your pillow.
Then you turned your head, the rest of your body immobilized by the heft of your boyfriend’s weight on your back, and you finally, finally got to meet his gaze.
Behind you, Simon was smirking.
His whole demeanor betrayed amusement.
It wasn’t every day the man got to hear his dick was the size of something much smaller than it actually was, you reckoned. Still, he deserved an explanation.
“S-Si…” You tried to grit out a whisper, deflated by his weight and forced to hide your words from your friend.
Never mind the fact that your boyfriend looked, smelled, and felt just as irresistible as he had when he left home less than an hour ago. A simple, all-black ensemble fit him like a second skin and accentuated every mouthwatering ridge of his body, most visible to you in the glimpse of his bicep you caught under your chin. He was warm. Solid. Drenched in that dizzyingly potent sandalwood aftershave that you liked so much.
You’d never tapped the ‘mute’ on your phone so fast.
“Shit, Si, I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean— I only said it— she’s going through a breakup right now, and I just t—”
Simon hit ‘unmute,’ followed by ‘speakerphone.’
He leaned back.
“…but what reeeally fucked me up was how he acted after. Like, couldn’t even look me in the eye, the dick…”
Your friend prattled on—back to sinking neck-deep in a story of how shitty the dating scene was and how she should’ve given up ages ago—while you flitted your gaze to your phone. You stared in awe, wondering why the fuck Simon had decided to tap those buttons in a moment like this, and questions started to bubble up.
At the same time, you heard the clink of a belt buckle.
Simon knelt behind you. He straddled your ass, and when you tried to sit up, he pressed a palm to the center of your back. He moved about it all swiftly.
Finally, the quietest, quickest hiss, ‘Si, what the fu—’
“Spit.”
That part, he said too loud. But the man didn’t seem to care much at all as he reached with his other hand and stuck his upturned palm under your face, waiting for it.
“What did you say?” your friend cut in presently.
Your face stung with embarrassment—at just the prospect of being found out by someone who had no concept of what was going on—that you forced it out:
“N-Nothing. Keep going.”
You spit in Simon’s hand like he’d told you.
Your phone couldn’t have been resting more than two or three inches from your face on the bed, and the space in general was small. There wasn’t a lot to be done by way of masking your activity, other than to simply hang up the fucking phone, but it didn’t sound like discretion and decorum and being considerate were at the top of Simon’s list of priorities right now.
Still, you felt a press of his lips against the back of your neck before he mumbled, “Remember our safewords?”
You did.
‘Yellow’ to slow down, ‘red’ to stop.
It wasn’t often you had to use the words with Simon, but from time to time, in particularly heated and impassioned moments, you appreciated the safety net.
And freeuse was something relatively new to you both—just accepting him in and letting him have his way with you at random points during your day, casually.
It didn’t make it any less tricky, or jarring, when the man next pushed inside you, bottoming out in one go.
Your sleep shorts tugged to the side, lying facedown underneath this massive, hulking man, you had only to grit your teeth and feel yourself stretched to full capacity with the shove of Simon’s bare cock in you.
“Oh, fuck,” you let out, hoarse.
“No, right? It was so gross, honestly.”
Amidst the airing of your friend’s mile-long list of grievances against her ex, your boyfriend settled his full, thick, demonstrably larger than average dick in your body until it felt like he was scraping your lungs.
You clawed the sheets and squirmed under him.
“That feel tiny to you, sweetheart?” Simon’s mouth was right next to your ear now, whispering filth while your walls stretched and squeezed to accommodate him. Warmth leaked out from where you connected.
You shook your head weakly, barely able to breathe.
It somehow made it even wilder and more maddening to have your senses deprived—Simon behind you, restricting your movements, with you obliged not to make a sound at the pleasure he was inflicting on you.
Your hips pinned to those pretty, floral-patterned sheets and your pussy made to gape in a perfectly wide ‘o’ around Simon’s whole cock, you felt helpless.
Stretched.
Protected, still.
Simon hadn’t even withdrawn to get a full stroke in, and he was already caressing your cheek with the backs of his knuckles, giving you more time to adjust to him. His tip kissed your cervix, and a heat sank in.
“Sweet dove’s still sore from earlier, yeah?” he murmured. “Didn’t think I gave her that much…”
But he did, of course.
“—couldn’t even make me cum—” your friend went on
Simon always gave you enough.
Just as your walls preemptively clenched around that slick, hard length and the man started to stir, rolling his hips against your ass in the shallowest of movements, your lips parted on a half-moan. Your chest constricted
“—it must be so much better with Simon, isn’t it?”
Suddenly, your boyfriend took a fistful of your hair.
In a murmur again, close to your ear:
“Go on, then. Don’t be impolite.”
“S-So, so good,” you rushed out. Those thrusts finally picked up, and Simon fucked you quietly into the bed. You sucked in another strangled breath, and trying your hardest not to moan, “He’s fucking…incredible.”
“I bet,” your friend laughed.
More shit-talking of men ensued.
Simon returned to his original, dominant position blanketing your body completely with his own, forearms planted on either side of your head on the bed and your phone resting inches away from you both. His cock pounded a furious pace inside you, precum and spit and your shared fluids easing the repeated slide. You gripped the sheets tighter, and Simon did the same with his ironclad hold in your hair.
Then his cock slid in higher, a little to the left, and the tip of him hit that special, tender, mind-numbing spot.
You felt the grin against the side of your face before you heard him chuckle, quiet as anything but elated.
Simon was the only guy who’d hit your G-spot before.
He hit it again. And again. And again, shaking the whole bed frame with the force of his thrusts. He kissed your neck and let your head loll back on him. While your friend chattered on, he did what he did best
“That’s a good girl,” he praised. “Gonna come f’me?”
You nodded, head bobbing against his softly.
If there were any moment for retribution, now would be it. If Simon were even the slightest bit the spiteful, insecure type, he probably would’ve taken the opportunity to make you beg for him—tell him how huge his cock was and how lucky you were to get it; how terrible it was to lie about a thing like size. It was.
But Simon didn’t, opting instead to give you pleasure. And he got plenty from you, too, you could tell by the breaths that were growing more and more ragged against your neck and the frantic stutter of his hips.
He was so big it was as if you could feel him in your throat. With every thrust that pushed you closer and closer to the edge, and with every twitch of every inch stuffed inside you, you feared you might not be able to conceal the sounds from your friend for much longer.
Your jaw unhinged on another wide-open, noiseless moan that probably made it look like you were in pain, and at the same time, your friend carried on over the phone, laughing about this loser’s goofy fucking face.
“Yellow?” Simon panted into your ear.
In other words, did you want him to slow down?
You shook your head no. Let him pelt your insides with the force of those hard, merciless thrusts and carve a path clean through your body in a way that only he ever could. He molded you to him perfectly. Tenderly.
Crescents digging into your scalp from how tightly he held you to him, you felt Simon twitch and keep beating your G-spot while you writhed under him, “You wanted a big dick, yeah? Don’t run from it now.”
It was in those words—paired with the obvious stretch and the depths your boyfriend was able to reach with his cock, how lovingly he fucked you while controlling your pleasure—that you broke. You couldn’t hold it in.
At the last possible second, Simon offered you his free hand to cover your mouth, knowing how loud you were liable to get, and you let out a muffled shriek into his palm. You grit your teeth and whimpered and kind of despised how high-pitched and needy you sounded, but you knew Simon loved it, almost as much as he adored the slippery wet noises your body and his made when he was emptying the contents of his balls into your cunt and fucking you senseless through all of it.
You finished as close as you were when you’d started, Simon’s chest glued onto your back. You both were breathing heavily, senses reeling from your highs. Simon’s cum stayed plugged in you with his thick cock holding it there, and the heat burrowed to your core.
You blinked, and you smiled contentedly at the warmth
Simon planted kisses wherever he could find bare skin for them to go, along your jaw and on your cheek and over your ear, like he always did after you two had sex.
“Wasn’t too far, was it?” he whispered. “Know I’m—”
“—big,” you giggled, barely louder than a breath after his hand had slid from your lips and cupped your face.
Then you went on, as the haze in your mind was starting to clear the slightest bit, and you remembered why you were here in the first place, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything about your size, Si. I’m—”
“—going to bed!” your friend announced suddenly.
Your attention and Simon’s snapped back to the phone
With all that had been going on over the last couple minutes, you’d almost forgotten the woman was still on the line at all. She’d been talking before that, right?
“I— OK. Yeah, no, that’s fine,” you said, stupidly. Then, regaining a bit more of your composure, “I’m so sorry about everything that’s been going on with…him. You deserve so much better, and you will find better, OK?”
That sounded coherent enough.
You would call again tomorrow. Really listen and be there to offer more helpful advice than you’d done tonight—this was more about letting her vent, anyway.
So, reaching for the phone and expecting to hear your best friend chirp a quick, simple good-bye at any second, you lifted your hips back against Simon. You angled his still-hard dick inside you and pushed him deeper through the sticky warm mess he’d just coated your walls with, and you bit back a smile when he grunted. You met his eyes over your shoulder, and you felt his grip on your chin flex. His gaze sharpened.
But, before he could smirk and murmur in your ear something like, ‘Round three can be arranged if you really want it,’ your friend cut in again over the line.
Her voice rang louder, and a little lighter, too, this time.
“Goooooodniiiiiiiiiight, hon, I love you so, so much!”
“I love you, too. Night!” you answered reflexively.
Then, your friend added, as swift as anything:
“And goodnight to you, too, Simon! Glad to hear that microdick’s being put to good use, happy for you two!”
Before you could say a word, she laughed and hung up.
so so so sexyyy
—my man of mystery 🤍
maid of honor duties:
organising the bachelorette ✓ calming the bride ✓ not fucking the best man ✓
wc: 6.7k
tags: texting, gentleman jack abbot, maid of honour!reader, slowish burn, eventual smut, dating, unprotected p in v, fingering, blowjobs, no age gap mentioned
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monday
The wedding had come around far quicker than you expected.
Your best friend had been dreaming about this day since she was fifteen, long before there’d ever been a ring on her finger. She’d planned the dress, decided on the venue and even had opinions on the hors d’oeuvres that would be passed around on silver platters during the reception. By the time her fiancé proposed, she already had a guest list tucked away somewhere and at least three pinterest boards dedicated to centrepieces alone.
So, really, you shouldn’t have been surprised when she ran the wedding like a military operation.
As her maid of honour, you’d been promoted to second-in-command. There were group chats for every task, weekly coffee dates spent debating whether the invitations should be cream or ecru, despite the fact they looked exactly the same, and enough colour-coded spreadsheets to make a project manager weep with pride. She may as well have handed you a headset and started calling you Monica Gellar.
Not that you minded.
You happily accompanied her to cake tastings and offered diplomatic advice when seating plans threatened to reignite decade-old family feuds. Being maid of honour wasn’t just a title to you. It was a responsibility, and you intended to do it properly.
Still, even you had to admit she’d gone a little overboard when your phone buzzed with a notification announcing you’d been added to your seventh WhatsApp group.
bridesmaids x groomsmen 🤍
Apparently this one existed solely to pair everyone up before the wedding.
You frowned at the screen.
It wasn’t exactly as though you needed weeks of preparation to walk down an aisle beside someone. Surely introducing yourselves five minutes before the ceremony would suffice. Clearly not.
Five minutes later a lengthy message from Katy appeared...
hey all! we're only a week away from the big day, so you know what that means… time for matchmakers! 💍
i've dropped a list below of all you lovely bridesmaids and your corresponding groomsmen. i'm pretty sure most of you know each other already, but if not, pleeease make sure you have a chat before next weekend. i don’t want any awkwardness down the aisle!!!
love you all! xoxo katy 💋
A laugh escaped you. Trust Katy to treat introductions like another item on the wedding itinerary.
You didn't have to look far for your name, sat in bold at the very top with MOH next to it. Cute.
Your gaze drifted across the page to the name beside yours.
jack - BM
You frowned again. Katy had said everyone already knew each other.
You didn’t know a Jack.
Curiosity getting the better of you, you tapped on the name to open his contact.
Nothing. No profile picture. No status. Just a phone number and one solitary word.
Jack.
Helpful. You tilted your head at the screen.
“Who… are you?” you murmured to yourself.
For someone important enough to be the best man, he was remarkably mysterious.
You tried to think back to any mention of a Jack. High school? University? Work? Somewhere in passing over the years? But Katy and Matt collected friends wherever they went, the sort of couple who could strike up a conversation in a queue and leave with an invitation to dinner. Jack could’ve been anyone.
Eventually, you decided it wasn’t really your problem.
You’d introduce yourself before the ceremony, exchange the obligatory pleasantries, walk down the aisle together and that would be that.
Your phone buzzed before you’d even set it back down.
An unsaved number. Curiosity won.
Hi. Katy’s orders. Apparently we’re supposed to become friends before next Saturday?
I’m Jack
A smile tugged at your lips.
wow… you’re real
The reply came almost instantly.
Jack:
Last time I checked
Although Katy’s got enough spreadsheets to convince me we’re all just NPCs in this wedding
A laugh escaped you.
So, he was funny.
You saved his contact, half expecting a profile picture to magically appear. But nothing. No photo. No status. Just Jack.
The mystery lived on.
honestly, maid of honour duties are keeping me up at night
Jack:
Can’t say Matt’s got me working quite as hard. Guess I lucked out?
if u fancy swapping the suit for a bridesmaid’s dress, i'm sure we could come to some sort of arrangement...
Jack:
I’m in.
You smiled to yourself.
As first conversations went, this one was surprisingly easy. There was none of the awkward small talk Katy had clearly been trying to avoid. Instead, every message seemed to slot another tiny piece into the image you’d started building in your head.
Funny. Quick-witted. Entirely faceless.
so… how do you know matt anyway?
bit surprised i've never heard of you before today, considering you’re the best man
A typing bubble appeared and disappeared.
Then came his reply.
Jack:
Ouch. That stings a little
You grinned.
Jack:
Kidding. Honestly, I was surprised too. Thought his brother would’ve got the gig
Another pause.
Jack:
I’ve only known him a couple of years. Helped him out after he had that accident a while back
You frowned at the screen.
That accident.
That was one way of putting it.
It's been a horrific three-car pile up. Matt had been trapped behind the steering wheel while emergency services fought to free him. He’d spent weeks in hospital recovering, and afterwards Katy never stopped talking about the guy who’d pulled him from the wreckage, kept him alive until the ambulance arrived and refused to leave his side.
She’d called him a miracle more than once.
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.
wait
you're that guy
There was a brief pause before his reply arrived.
Jack:
That guy?
the guy who literally stopped matt from dying
Jack:
Guilty as charged
You stared at the screen for a moment.
Well that certainly explained the best man title.
From everything Katy had told you, Matt had made a point of staying in touch after he recovered. What had started as gratitude had slowly turned into an unlikely friendship, one that had clearly become important enough for Jack to be standing beside him on his wedding day.
jesus didn't realise i was texting a real-life hero
His reply appeared almost immediately.
Jack:
Not a hero. Just a doctor :)
It should’ve sounded unbearably cheesy but instead, it was somehow the most impressive thing you’d heard all week.
Another piece of the Jack-shaped puzzle quietly clicked into place.
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tuesday
You woke early the next morning, rolling over to savour the last few peaceful minutes before your alarm dragged you into the day.
More out of habit than expectation, you reached for your phone.
No new messages.
You weren’t sure why that disappointed you.
Last night’s conversation with Jack had been… nice. Surprisingly easy. The kind of conversation that left you smiling at your screen without really noticing.
You slipped your phone back onto the bedside table and got on with your morning, went to work and about your business.
By 10:30, you’d almost forgotten about it.
Then your phone buzzed.
Jack:
Morning
A second message followed almost immediately.
Jack:
Just remembered we’re supposed to spend an entire day together on Saturday
A smile found its way onto your face before you’d even started typing.
bit late to back out now…
His reply came within seconds.
Jack:
Shame. I was hoping you’d be unbearable so I’d have an excuse
You huffed a laugh.
give me time x
The tiny blue haha reaction popped up above your message.
Well. At least he appreciated your sense of humour.
Jack:
I was going to say… we’re spending a whole day together and I don’t actually know much about you
You have my story
hardly!
Jack:
Well the important bits
You rolled your eyes.
what, that you’re a doctor who saves lives? very impressive but limited I'm afraid
i'm going to need more than that
Jack:
Alright then. What do you want to know?
You didn’t even have to think about it.
first celebrity crush. fave drink. best holiday you’ve ever been on. go
The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.
Jack:
Sounds less like getting to know each other and more like you’re preparing for one hell of a date...
Heat crept into your cheeks despite yourself.
answer the questions!!!
Jack:
Sarah Connor
Saw Terminator at the cinema when I was about ten and thought she was the coolest person on Earth
You blinked. That wasn’t the answer you’d expected.
Jack:
Bourbon. I know, I’m painfully predictable
And Italy
Most beautiful place I’ve ever been
You smiled as you read each message, the puzzle coming together piece by piece.
Jack:
Your turn.
afraid i have a meeting now
you'll have to wait 🤗
Jack:
You're a cruel woman
By the time your meeting finally wrapped up, you’d forgotten all about your unfinished interrogation.
It wasn’t until you collapsed onto your sofa that evening, kicking your shoes off with a sigh, that your phone lit up once again.
Jack:
Right
I’ve waited long enough
Pay up
You frowned at the screen for a second before remembering.
Oh. The little Q&A you had going on before you had to slip off to work.
A grin spread across your face as you unlocked your phone.
demanding, aren’t we?
Jack:
I’ve been told patience is a virtue
Unfortunately I work in an emergency department, so mine’s been worn dangerously thin
You laughed.
fine 😤
celeb crush… orlando bloom but specifically POTC orlando bloom
His reply arrived before you could even start thinking about the next answer.
Jack:
The fuck is POTC? Did he have an illness?
You snorted.
pirates of the caribbean you idiot
😭😭😭
Jack:
Jesus I'm old
Anyway, next
...... wow
fave drink spicy marg, a classic?
then best vacation probably greece
went to a tiny island, all white buildings and clear ocean it was unbelievable
A minute passed before another message appeared.
Jack:
You strike me as someone who plans a vacation down to the minute....
You frowned.
excuse me?
Jack:
Colour coded itineries, packing half your closet, arriving to the airport four hours before your flight?
You stared at your phone in mild offence.
who have you been talking to?
Jack:
No one...
Lucky guess?
You were almost annoyed he had you figured out already.
three hours early
and the itinerary is only to get the most out of the vacation
everyone is grateful for it ok
A blue haha appeared over the middle text.
Jack:
Knew it
alright then, mr knows absolutely everything
tell me something about yourself i couldn’t POSSIBLY guess
The typing bubble must have stopped and appeared ten times before finally-
Jack:
I’ve never seen Titanic
Woah too far. Is this a red flag?
get out
Jack:
Never seen Star Wars either
i don't care about that one but titanic ???
where have you been
your name is literally jack did people not taunt you in the 90s
Jack:
They did and that's exactly why I haven't seen it
Fuck that movie, I've heard there was more than enough room on that door
The conversation drifted on from there. You told each other all the important stuff: Jack's first concert was Pearl Jam, the story where you totalled your first car at seventeen, how Jack is a military man but has a deadly hatred of fish.
You'd laughed hard at that. He got you back when you confessed once peed your pants at a Dairy Queen over the age of twenty. He asked for more details and you obviously declined.
Before long, another hour has passed. It felt strange, the idea that you were getting on so well with this man after a mere two days of texting.
You’d never met him.
You still had no idea what colour his eyes were, whether he was tall or short, whether he gestured when he talked or smiled with dimples or laugh lines.
And yet, somehow, the faceless contact labelled Jack was becoming the person you found yourself looking for whenever your phone buzzed.
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wednesday
T-minus four days until the wedding of the century.
When you’d first started texting Jack, it had been because Katy insisted the bridal party got acquainted before Saturday but now, neither of you had mentioned the wedding once.
Your phone buzzed just after seven.
Jack:
Morning
Hope your coffee’s better than mine...
A photo followed. The paper cup balanced on the nurses’ station looked as miserable as the coffee inside it probably tasted.
You laughed to yourself before replying with a picture of your own mug. Unlike his, yours was pink with little blue flowers painted around the rim.
Jack:
Much better
Jealous already
You didn’t know it, but Jack found himself smiling at his phone before he’d even looked at the mug. Instead, his eyes had landed on your hand wrapped around it, the neat manicure and silver rings on your fingers, the tiny glimpse into the life of someone he’d somehow become accustomed to talking to.
Wednesday slipped by in the same easy rhythm the last couple of days had settled into.
You learnt that Jack worked nights, meaning his first message usually arrived just as he was finishing his shift. Every morning you’d remind him that drinking coffee immediately before bed was a terrible idea.
Every morning he’d ignore you.
When you sent him a photo of the sandwich you’d picked up from the deli opposite your office, he told you it was his favourite lunch spot whenever he found himself nearby.
Later that evening, he sent a picture of his dinner.
The logo in the corner of the takeaway bag made you laugh.
no way. that's my favourite thai place!
Jack:
Good taste
i'd say the same to you
It was strange how often your lives seemed to overlap. Favourite cafés and the same takeaways. The same terrible habit of skipping lunch when work got busy.
None of it was particularly significant on its own, but each little coincidence felt like another thread quietly weaving the two of you together.
By the time evening rolled around and Jack was on shift, his messages became less frequent.
You understood that and yet you caught yourself glancing at your phone more often than you cared to admit, almost expecting it to light up.
It didn’t.
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thursday
By Thursday morning, reaching for your phone before you’d even opened the curtains had become second nature.
Usually, Jack beat you to it.
Today, he didn’t.
You decided to take advantage of the rare opportunity.
had the most boring evening last night because SOMEONE decided not to text me
You hit send before you could overthink it. Thirty minutes passed before your phone buzzed.
He was probably drifting in and out of sleep after another night shift.
Jack:
I can only apologise
Think half of Pittsburgh decided to walk into the ED last night
Your smile softened. It was easy to forget sometimes.
Over the past few days, Jack had become the man who complained about hospital coffee, debated which movies were actually classics and spammed your messages with a whole lot of Hahas.
Then he’d casually remind you that his day (or night) job involved keeping people alive.
It was… admittedly rather attractive.
suppose i'll forgive you
The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.
Think it means I owe you a drink?
You grinned.
at the free bar on saturday?
don't spend all your doctor money on me sir
Jack:
I wasn’t actually thinking about the wedding...
Your thumb hovered over the screen as you read the message again.
And then one more arrived.
That’s assuming you don’t hate me in person
If you don’t… I’d quite like to take you out properly
You stared at the words for a moment longer than you’d care to admit.
A week ago, Jack had been nothing more than a name in a WhatsApp group and now, somehow, the thought of meeting him had you smiling at your phone like an idiot.
Then you realised you hadn't replied.
The truth was, you didn’t know how.
One minute you were debating favourite vacations and celebrity crushes, the next Jack was talking about taking you on a date. It wasn’t exactly the direction you’d expected the conversation to take with a man you’d only known for four days and only through a phone screen.
Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard. You typed then deleted it. Tried again and deleted that too.
Eventually, you settled on the approach that seemed to define the two of you best.
Light-hearted sarcasm.
bold of you to assume I’m even going to like you in person?
Jack:
I’m choosing to ignore that
A smile tugged at your lips.
you should x
Jack:
Good
Because I’d already started thinking about where I’d take you
You let out a quiet breath, suddenly very aware of the warmth spreading across your cheeks.
Before you could dwell on it too much, you steered the conversation back onto safer ground.
you're terrible at this flirting thing you know
Jack:
Who said I was flirting?
oh pleeeease
Jack:
Fine
Maybe a little
You spoke again that evening.
Jack was already back at work when another photo dropped into the chat. This one from the ambulance bay.
Darkness had settled over the hospital, the glow from the automatic doors spilling across the wet tarmac outside. He wasn’t in the picture, not really, but when you looked closer you caught the faintest reflection in the glass.
Just enough to make out the outline of his figure standing with one hand in his pocket.
A flash of metal hung around his neck, catching the fluorescent light. His stethoscope, you assumed.
looks exciting!
Jack:
Don’t jinx me
sorry
hope your evening is full of stubbed toes and minor headaches
A blue Haha reaction appeared before his reply.
Jack:
That’s oddly specific
i'm just trying to manifest an easy shift for you
Jack:
Much appreciated
The conversation drifted on long after that, jumping from one meaningless topic to the next any time he managed to sneak a break with his phone.
The last thing you sent him that night was a rambling commentary on the sitcom he’d admitted to watching whenever his head was too fried after work to concentrate on anything else.
You’d finally given it a go and apparently it did the trick.
You never saw his reply.
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friday
You’d booked the day off months ago.
Between the salon appointment, packing an overnight bag for the wedding hotel and making sure everything at work had been handed over before the weekend, there was plenty to do.
For the first time all week, you let yourself sleep in.
It was nearly nine thirty when you finally reached for your phone to see two unread voice notes from Jack. Both sent at 7:16 a.m.
A smile found you before you’d even pressed play.
Voice message (0:12)
“Just driving home from the hospital. Figured this was easier than texting…”
“You can thank me later for recommending that sleep-inducing TV show.”
You could hear the quiet hum of the engine beneath his voice, punctuated every now and then by the steady click of his turn signal.
For a moment, it felt strangely intimate. Like you were sitting in the passenger seat beside him.
The second voice note was even shorter.
Voice message (0:15)
“One more thing…”
There was a pause, as though he’d almost forgotten.
“Hope you’re wearing comfortable shoes tomorrow.”
You heard him laugh quietly to himself.
“Matt sent me the wedding playlist. I'm definitely stealing you for a dance.”
You replayed that one. Then, before you could stop yourself… you played it four more times.
You texted him back to tell him your heels were six inches high, but you’d endure the pain for him.
There was no reply.
Jack was almost certainly asleep by then, finally home after another night shift, so you slipped your phone into your bag and got on with your day.
There was plenty to keep you occupied.
You packed your overnight bag, headed to the salon for your hair appointment and fielded what felt like a hundred phone calls from Katy, each one another last minute check to make sure everything was exactly as she’d imagined.
Not that there was even much left to organise.
By that evening, you’d checked into the hotel where the bridal party would be staying. Tonight was reserved for celebratory drinks; tomorrow morning would begin before sunrise with hair, makeup and enough champagne to calm eight nervous women before the biggest day of Katy’s life.
Jack, meanwhile, slept through most of the afternoon and thankfully had the night off.
The last thing you wanted was for the best man to arrive straight from the ED looking as though he’d survived the apocalypse.
Matt had organised beers with the groomsmen instead, the plan being for them all to arrive fresh or fresh enough on Saturday morning.
Tomorrow.
The thought made your stomach flutter and now because of the wedding. Tomorrow, you’d finally see him. The anticipation was equal parts exciting and terrifying.
Your phone lit up later that evening.
Jack:
Think I’ve had enough sleep to last me a lifetime today
Consider my wedding prep complete
From your hotel room, you snapped a quick picture of your fresh manicure wrapped around the handle of your overnight bag.
mine too!
A moment later a little pink heart appeared on the picture and you paused. He’d never reacted to one of your pictures before.
Jack:
Is it crazy to say I’m really excited to see you tomorrow?
Your heart gave an inconvenient little flip even though you wanted to play this cool.
i have that effect on people
A few seconds passed before you sent another message.
but seriously… i'm excited to see you too
i's say we’ve followed katy's orders pretty well. hopefully we know each other well enough to survive walking down the aisle together
Somewhere along the way, you’d both forgotten this conversation had started because someone else told you to.
An hour later, you found yourself surrounded by six bridesmaids and one very emotional bride.
The hotel bar buzzed with conversation as spicy margs appeared one after another, glasses clinking together in toast after toast.
To Katy. To Matt. To the years that led them here.
Stories were shared, embarrassing memories dragged back into the light and every so often Katy dabbed at the corners of her eyes before insisting she absolutely wasn’t crying.
You were having a wonderful time.
Even so… your phone remained face up beside your glass.
Every time it lit up with Jack, you found yourself smiling before you’d even read the message.
You spent the evening updating each other from opposite sides of the wedding.
He complained about the groomsmen and you sent him photographs of increasingly chaotic bridesmaids.
He rated the beers. You rated the cocktails.
By the time midnight rolled around, you’d both had enough drinks that the conversation lost some of its usual sarcasm.
A new message appeared.
Jack:
There’s something I should probably tell you before tomorrow
Your smile faded.
Jack:
It’s always the awkward part of meeting someone new… but I’d rather you heard it from me than saw it
A knot tightened in your stomach. Your mind immediately leapt to every worst-case scenario imaginable. Secret girlfriend. Children. Something that would make the last week feel very different.
You swallowed.
okay…?
The typing bubble lingered for a long time.
Jack:
You know I was in the military. Two tours overseas
Well… I was medically discharged after I lost my leg
It’s amputated below the knee
I get around fine, but I limp if I’ve been on my feet too long
I just didn’t want tomorrow to be the first time you noticed
You stared at the screen. For reasons you couldn’t quite explain, your eyes stung. Not because it changed anything but because it didn’t.
You wished, more than anything, that he wasn’t several miles away.
jack :(
if you think that’s going to make me like you any less, you’ve got another thing coming
thank you for telling me. i can’t imagine that’s an easy conversation to have with someone you’ve only just met
if anything… i think you’re even braver than i already thought ❤️
His reply came almost instantly.
Jack:
First of all…
We’re not strangers anymore
You smiled.
Jack:
Secondly…
If I’d known losing a leg was worth a red heart, I’d have mentioned it on Monday
The laugh escaped before you could stop it and a few heads turned around the table.
“Sorry,” you grinned, quickly setting your phone face down. "Carry on.”
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ °❀⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ᢉ𐭩 ˙⋆✮ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ .✦ ݁˖ ⋆˚࿔ ° ❀⋆ ⋆✴︎ ᢉ𐭩 ˚｡⋆
saturday 💍
You were awake before dawn.
Champagne flutes filled, music drifted through the bridal suite and someone was already laughing before hair and makeup had even begun. Katy was first in the chair, as she’d insisted, while you floated between topping up glasses and making sure everyone had actually eaten something.
When she finally stepped into her dress, the room fell quiet.
You’d seen it at every fitting, pinned and clipped and half-finished, but nothing compared to seeing it now.
Pearls scattered delicately across her collarbones, the corseted bodice cinching perfectly at her waist before falling into a lace train that seemed to glide across the floor behind her.
For a moment, all you could do was look at your best friend.
“You are absolutely not crying before I walk down that aisle,” Katy warned, catching your expression in the mirror.
You laughed, blinking quickly.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m… emotional.”
She rolled her eyes affectionately.
“You’re going to ruin your makeup before I ruin mine.”
The bridesmaids slipped into sage green dresses that morning, soft satin catching the light as everyone fussed over zips, earrings and bouquets. Yours skimmed perfectly over your figure, the colour making your eyes appear brighter than usual.
The morning passed in a whirlwind and you barely looked at your phone. There simply wasn’t time.
Somewhere amongst the chaos, Jack arrived with the other groomsmen an hour before the ceremony, but the two of you remained on opposite sides of the hotel.
The calm disappeared as bouquets were handed out and the mother of the bride burst into tears.
As maid of honour, you became the unofficial shepherd, ushering everyone towards the courtyard before anyone had the chance to wander off.
Only when everyone was lined up did you finally stop moving.
You straightened Katy’s veil one last time, adjusted a bouquet and took a steadying breath.
A quiet cough sounded behind you.
“I’m looking for the maid of honour.”
The voice was instantly familiar. Youturned.
Oh. So this was Jack.
Silver threaded through dark hair, a perfectly tailored suit sitting effortlessly across broad shoulders, the sage green pocket square matching your dress exactly. A dusting of stubble framed a smile you’d already decided was dangerous.
He looked every bit as confident as he sounded over text. Maybe more.
His gaze met yours with unmistakable recognition, lingering just long enough to make your stomach flip.
“Heard I’ve got the best seat in the house,” he added. “Walking down the aisle with her.”
You smiled before you even realised you were doing it.
“Ah… my mystery man.”
Stepping towards him, you extended your hand.
“Nice to finally meet you.”
He looked at your hand, then back at you, a grin spreading across his face.
“I think we’ve earned more than a handshake.”
Even so, he took it. His hand was warm.
“Pleasure’s all mine.”
Before either of you could say another word-
“Places!” Katy’s wedding coordinator clapped her hands and everyone hurried into position.
Jack offered his arm without a word and you slipped yours through it instinctively before instrumental version of Bittersweet Symphony floated through the speakers.
You glanced sideways.
“Very Katy.”
He chuckled. “I was thinking exactly the same thing.”
Then the doors opened and you stepped forward together.
Petals lined the aisle, every familiar face turning to watch as you walked towards the ceremony.
Halfway down, Jack leaned in ever so slightly.
“And she thought this was going to be awkward.”
You laughed under your breath.
“Shows what she knows"
The ceremony passed in a blur.
You watched Katy and Matt exchange vows through misty eyes, smiling as Jack stepped forward to hand over the rings.
Every so often, you’d glance across the altar.
Every time, his eyes were already on you.
Then the reception arrived in a flurry of hugs, photographs and champagne.
You barely saw Jack for the next hour.
There were veils to collect, makeup to fix ans guests to direct. Only once everyone had settled into the reception room did you finally escape to the bar.
“Spicy margarita?”
You turned and smiled.
“You remembered. Bourbon?”
His smile widened. “You remembered too.”
The bartender slid both drinks across and for moment, neither of you spoke. You simply looked at each other.
“So?” Jack asked eventually.
“So?”
“Does the mystery man live up to expectations?”
You pretended to think about it.
“The jury’s still out.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Fair.”
“And what about you?”
He took a slow sip of bourbon.
“I think she’s even better than I imagined.”
Heat crept into your cheeks. Thankfully, the music swelled before you had to answer.
Jack set his glass down.
“Come on.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“Dance floor.”
“Bossy.”
“So I’ve been told.”
You laughed and followed him anyway.
The song wasn’t anything special, just another upbeat wedding classic, but somehow that didn’t matter.
His hand settled carefully against your waist as yours rested on his shoulder. Your fingers intertwined.
“I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” he admitted.
“What? The questionable DJ?”
His smile softened. “No.” His eyes held yours.“You.”
The word settled somewhere hot in your belly.
“You must’ve had a very quiet week.”
“I didn’t.”
“I know.”
He smiled again.
“I still meant it.”
You looked away, suddenly fascinated by the fairy lights overhead.
“You’re a good dancer.”
“I practised.”
“You practised?”
He shrugged. “Didn’t want to let you down.”
His thumb brushed absentmindedly against your waist and you felt your heart responde immediately.
Everything around you seemed to fade into the background. The music, conversations, clinking glasses.
There was only him.
His eyes drifted to your lips before meeting yours again. You smirked when you caught him.
“You’re even prettier than I pictured.”
Your breath caught.
“I could say exactly the same about you.”
He laughed quietly. “Best compliment I’ve had all month.”
Several songs later, applause interrupted as speeches were announced.
Reluctantly, you left the dance floor as champagne appeared in your hand and guests settled into their seats.
Then, without a word, warm fingers slipped between yours. You looked down. Jack gave your hand the gentlest squeeze before nodding towards the hallway.
Questioning, you followed.
The noise faded with every step until only distant laughter filtered through the closed doors behind you.
He stopped, turning to face you.
“Jack…” you whispered. “What are we doing? Katy’s going to come looking for us.”
He took one small step closer.
“I’ve wanted to do something for a while.” His eyes dropped briefly to your lips. “I just couldn’t do it in there.”
Your pulse hammered. “Yeah?”
His smile was almost imperceptible.
“Yeah.”
Jack closed the distance between you, soft lips grazing yours in a kiss that felt both so gentle and hot. His thick hands snaked around your waist, pulling your body in and he almost gasped when your fingers found his curls.
He pulled away slightly, forehead resting against yours, lips stained with the pale blush of your gloss and you could've sworn you heard him utter an almost silent fuck under his breath.
"Been thinking about that for too long." He confessed.
"So since Wednesday?" You jibed.
He shook his head, laughing softly.
The main doors burst open, music flooding the hall again.
"We better get back." You didn't want to. You could've stayed here all night with Jack, savouring his taste.
He reluctantly agreed, following you back inside.
The wedding was everything Katy had imagined it to be yet it had been even better for you.
Everyone grew drunk and leery, the music became more danceable and empty shots lay littered across white table cloths.
It was around 1am when Jack walked you to your room. You were tipsy, not drunk, swaying nicely through the hotel lobby with your heels hooked through your fingers.
You stood side by side in the elevator, watching the floors pass in silence, the brush of his arm against yours covered them in goosebumps.
Then you were there, outside your hotel room, fishing for the plastic key strewn into your clutch bag. The door flashed green as you swiped, pushing the handle to open it just a crack.
After everything you'd learnt about Jack, the thing that stood out the most was his chivalry. The true definition of a gentleman. He walked you up here without even a hint at wanting to come inside, no matter how much he hoped you'd ask.
You stood, lip bitten, studying his face with such intent.
Then you kissed him again. This time different to downstairs, hotter and messier, you gripped his shirt until your knuckles paled. Even then, he didn't push you into the room, letting you lead, looking into your eyes for acceptance when you pulled away.
"Need you to come inside." You panted. "Please."
You didn't have to beg, he thought it sweet that you did anyway.
Then you were walking backwards, lips locked, until your calves hit the bed frame and you fell back to sit. Jack towered over you, his hand rising to cradle your face, thumb sweeping from your jaw to bottom lip.
"Beautiful girl."
You sucked his thumb into your mouth, hand lazily draped around his wrist as you pushed it in further. "And a dirty one too." He half laughed before his mouth fell open, watching you work your tongue.
You pulled it out with a pop. He was hard against his trousers, you could see that. Thick outline straining against the material and he jolted into your touch when you started to rub your palm right where his cockhead was.
"Fuuuuck," his head fell back despite your touch being so gentle. You wondered how he'd react when you took him in your mouth.
"Can I?" You whispered, hand tugging at his belt buckle.
He nodded, eyes dark, pupils blown.
You made short work of it, pulling the buckle open to release the buttons and slowly draw down the zip. His shirt was untucked and you could see the light dusting of hair leading south. Suddenly you were aware of the slickness between your own legs.
You freed him from his boxers, a little taken aback by the size of him, swallowing thickly as he stood in front of you. Hard and girthy, tip reddened from your teasing.
With a few slow strokes, you leant into him, tongue darting out to lick the head. His hips jumped, hand in your hair as you took your time. Your tongue trailed down his shaft, swirling the precum away. Saliva fell from your lips and you coated him entirely before taking his cock in your mouth. You held him at the base as you adjusted to his size.
"Jesus Christ baby," your head bobbed slow and deep. "Want me to cum right now? Fuck." He laughed weakly, fist tightening in your hair when he felt the back of your throat tighten around him.
You moaned at the feel, a gargled noise vibrating against skin before you sped up. He tasted so good and filled your mouth completely. You got so carried away, getting your throat fucked he had to pull you off.
"Not gonna cum in your mouth the first time baby," he panted. "Need to feel you properly."
It was the best sex you'd ever had. He undressed you so tenderly, peeled away the sodden panties, not before bringing them to his face, taking all of you in. Fingers danced over your slit, spreading your wetness until your pussy was shaking for something more.
"Jack!" You gasped when strong hands hooked under your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed.
His tongue found your clit with ease, licking clean circles so tightly you were panting his name and practically humping his face. You came at the first feel of his thick fingers inside you, he'd worked you so good and proper with his tongue that all it took was a deep curl of his middle finger to send you reeling, back arched, heels dug into his back.
He gave you a minute to come round, hands stroking your thighs, wandering over every inch of skin.
"That was so good baby," he cooed. "So fucking good."
"Need you to fuck me," your breaths were still shallow and hard. "Please Jack, need you inside me."
How could he refuse?
"I'm gonna baby, gonna make you feel so good." He kissed your stomach, hands ghosting your sides and making you shiver. "Just a sec okay?"
Jack turned to sit on the edge of the bed. You didn't realise until he removed his pants the rest of the way, letting them pool to the floor and reveal the prosthetic attached at the knee.
He removed it with such ease, setting it aside and rubbing the skin where it had sat.
When he turned to you, his expression was different.
"Does it bother you?"
You wanted to hold him and never let go.
"Not in the slightest." You came up to your knees, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. Your lips ghosted the shell of his ear. "Want you so bad..."
Jack fucked you til you were shaking. You took him so well, legs wrapped around his back, cock so deep it felt like he was pounding the inside of your stomach.
His moans made you wetter, the way he'd grunt on every thrust, snap his hips into you and cry out, your name being whispered over and over.
"That's it baby, just like that, so fuckin good oh my-" he stuttered, body tensing as he felt his release building. You were closer, seconds from the hardest orgasm you'd had in years, hips jolting up into him, nails dragging down his chest.
"M gonna cum Jack, you're gonna make me c-cum..."
He held all his weight on one hand beside you, sinking into the mattress. The other found your clit again, circling it frantically and in rhythm with his cock slamming into your cunt.
"Come on baby that's it, cum for me, beautiful girl, come on-"
Your vision blurred, muscles clenched, pussy throbbing around his cock. You came on him with a long drawn out cry, head pressed back into the pillow.
You were a sight for sore eyes, pussy oozing, dripping onto the sheets. Jack felt it, pulling out to fuck his fist until he was spurting hot and white over your stomach with a deep, throaty groan.
You could've cum again just from that. The way he pumped his fist, mouth agape, eyes burning into you.
It took a while to catch your breath. Both of you. Then you were laid, head on his chest, on the hotel bed. Your wedding attire strewn across the room, curtains half shut. He kissed your temple and nursed you to sleep with the soft stroke of his hands against your shoulder.
You had the best sleep of your life that night.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ °❀⋆ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ᢉ𐭩 ˙⋆✮ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ .✦ ݁˖ ⋆˚࿔ ° ❀⋆ ⋆✴︎ ᢉ𐭩 ˚｡⋆
this is so hot omfg
do u think jack would have a thing for his fingers in his girl’s mouth? like feeding her little oral fixation..
- 🦢
oral fixation with jack abbot
WARNINGS: MATURE CONTENT AHEAD (MDNI) - oral fixation, fingers in mouth, blowjobs mention, mean-ish jack (more just like dom!jack lowkey)
A/N: sorry this is a short one, i’m just getting back into the swing of writing & all that!! but this is the perfect way to get back into it :)
────────── ୨ৎ ───────────
it’s no secret to jack that you liked having things in your mouth. that sounds gross, but it’s true. you loved sucking on an ice block in summer, sucking on a straw until it was all chewed and you couldn’t drink out of it anymore, sucking on the ice from your glass until it melted.
and of course, the more sexual things. it should make jack feel perverted, the way he takes notice to these things. the way your mouth waters before you get his cock in your mouth. the way you suck hard, barely letting his cock leave your mouth. or how about the sheer amount of times you do it, going down on him every chance you get. god, sometimes you’d just be sitting on the couch and pull out his dick so that you can have it in your mouth. jack wasn’t particularly a ‘receiver’ more than a ‘giver’ but who would he be to deny his girl anything?
and when you didn’t have something in your mouth, something to numb the feeling? you were a brat. that’s the only word fit to describe you, jack decided. he learnt the signs early on, you were moody, short tempered, dissatisfied with anything he did. and the only way to fix you was to give you something to suck. which is how you’re in the situation you’re in right now.
he grabs your face with one hand, squishing your cheeks. "come on baby, open for me," he instructs. one word that makes your body go limp and without even thinking you comply, parting your lips just wide enough for his fingers to fit in.
he runs two thick fingers across your bottom lip and your eyes flutter closed at the sensation of his fingertips against your lips. he pushes them just past your lips, grazing the tip of your tongue and you close your mouth around them. you immediately move your tongue against them, swirling around them and without even realising it you begin sucking on them hard.
"is that what you needed huh, baby? just needed my fingers in your mouth to shut you up?" he coos, stroking the side of your face with his free hand, you melt into his touch, nuzzling your face against the large palm.
he pushes his fingers to the back of your throat, so he can hear the gagging sounds you make. he’s rock hard at this point but is enjoying the view too much to stop now. you with your wide, doe eyes staring up at him, drool dribbling out your mouth and coating his hand.
each thrust of his fingers reaches a new depth, each time you think he can’t go any farther back, he does. tears begin to pool in your eyes, the lack of oxygen getting to you. you try hard to breathe through your nose but each thrust of his fingers takes all the air out of you. you’re at his mercy, no choice but to take it, and love it. which you do.
oh wow
silver foxing hard mr hatosy 🫦
HE— HE KNOWS WHAT HES DOING RIGHT?!
