The Lou Loop

I love pathetic men / As a precaution dni if you’re a minor :)

[loopwrites]

Bonjour :)

Lou or Loulou - She/her - hapa - avid fic reader - cheese and cider connaisseuse - the pitt lover - sports enthusiast - irl corporate girlie - glasses wearer - I love pathetic men

I write for most of the Pitt characters & Shawn Hatosy characters, feel free to send asks - some of my work is nsfw

I don’t write about infidelity or incest or fauxcest but everything else is fair game :)

Masterlist

other socials: ao3 ; lurker blog

[loopwrites]

Jack Abbot's aspirations (NSFW)

Jack Abbot who decided that he wanted you to have his kids. He was getting older and in his list of aspirations in the middle of to ‘be a good doctor’ and ‘be a perfect husband’ was ‘be a great dad’. His first two aspirations were completed, which meant that there was one more thing he needed to get done. Thankfully he had you, his pretty little wife to help him achieve his goal.

Jack Abbot whose first order was to check on his own fertility count. But clearly he took good care of himself, with the exception of a horrendous sleeping schedule, and that showed in his great results. Once that was out of the way, he needed to inspect you.

Jack Abbot who had woken up wanting to have a serious talk about having kids until he saw you bent over, ass in the air, cheeks flushed from the physical effort. And really there was nothing stopping him from propping you up into his arms and fast walking into the room, stopping the instinct he had of just tearing your clothes away and taking you then and there.

Jack Abbot who lays you down on your shared bed as you throw him an inquisitive glance, after all, you were in the middle of your home yoga practice when your husband had picked you up without a word.

Jack Abbot who met your lips with his, silencing your surprise by swiping in his tongue, loving how you taste. He had prowled over you, hazel eyes dark with need, taking what he wanted as he slowly started grinding his bulge over your cunt, only separated by the thin fabric of leggings. 

Jack Abbot who whispered in your ear about a pussy inspection, that he wanted to make sure that ‘His perfect girl could take his seed’. And of course that made you gasp at how dirty he sounded, but in reality you loved it, loved how he made you feel so made for him.

Jack Abbot who actually ripped your leggings apart one handedly but you were too horny, too lost in the kiss to care.

Jack Abbot who drew shapeless patterns down your neck with his tongue, sucking on your nipples before letting go with a resounding pop. Continuing his trajectory downwards until he left a perfect lick where you needed him most.

Jack Abbot who chuckled when he started sucking on your clit, his hands holding your hips down as you tried to buck up for even more friction.

Jack Abbot who made you cum once before explaining clearly what he was going to do with his fingers.

“Sweetheart you’re going to take one finger first, and then I’ll inch in the others slowly, you get it? 'm wanna make sure your pussy is perfect, so I can make you the mom of my children”

Jack Abbot who follows through, enjoying the quelching sound of him entering your warmth, the way your eyes rolled back when three of his fingers pistoned into you at a fast pace after you passed his first inspection, the way your eyes rolled back when he finally used his cock. 

Jack Abbot who cums not once, not twice, but three times just from imagining you as the mother of his children, already knowing how soft and patient you would be. He then holds up your legs as though it was scientific, and continuously pushes his cum back deep into you when it threatened to spill onto the sheets, not caring as your body shuddered from overstimulation. 

Jack Abbot who made a mental note to look up which positions would be most likely to lead to pregnancy. 

[loopwrites]

Needy!Sammy 's ice cream time (NSFW)

Needy!Sammy who just bought a pint of his favourite ice cream as a treat for making it through the week.

Needy!Sammy who can’t find his ice cream bowl, the one you had made him on one of your first dates at a shape&paint pottery lesson.

Needy!Sammy who had decided that he’d just eat the creamy goodness from the tub even though he can already feel tears of frustration threaten to spill at having to change his usual routine.

Needy!Sammy who saw you laying under the sun, bikini and shades on as you sang along to the radio. His eyes following the lines of your perfect face, to your perfect neck, to your perfect collarbone, to your perfect perky breasts. 

Needy!Sammy who remembers fucking your tits as you held them together, allowing his cock to nudge between the two peaks, rutting himself expertly between them until he came with a strangled cry, his cum coating your pretty lips. 

Needy!Sammy who just got a brilliant idea. 

That’s how you end up shivering under him though you weren’t exactly sure if it was from the way his tongue flicked on your nipple as he swallowed some of the sweetness he had spooned there, or if it’s from the coldness of the ice cream on your chest. 

Either way he was ravaging you, licking, sucking, biting as you whined, your hands tugging at his hair trying to ground yourself. After a particularly harsh nibble on the curve of your breast you couldn’t help but push his mouth away from overstimulation. 

His hazel eyes stared right into yours, his eyebrows raising with surprise, as though he didn’t do anything that warranted your reaction, fat tears glistening in his eyes from the rejection. 

« But sweetheart… please... How else 'm I supposed t-to eat my dessert ? » 

You huffed harshly trying to catch your breath but he just went back to his task, fingers fumbling the flimsy textile of your bikini to the side as he plunged his ice cold digits into you. He even had the balls to giggle as your eyebrows furrowed, your mouth whining at the sensation, body contracting uncontrollably. 

Masterlist

[romantic-insomniac]

manipulative pope cody + ‘just the tip?’ + breeding kink drabble :3

this is for my moots who inspired me to blurb! i luv you~ @valleyanimalz @dirtygir1 @bbuuunnyyy @groovyangelkisses

*nasty smut below the cut teehee* ! mdni !

pope cody hates that you make him wear a condom, that you have been making him wrap it up for the entire two month relationship. he feels it’s an unnecessary barrier keeping him from feeling all of you and filling you up properly. but, he agreed the first time because he was so desperate to be inside you. always has been. always will be.

now, even after you’ve fucked more times than he can count while protected. he’s fed up. he knows that you’ll like it bare. that you’ll need it. that you’ll never make him wear a stupid condom again when you learn how good it feels when he sinks into you raw. you just need his help. need your strong, heroic boyfriend to take that step that you cant take yourself. god, he’s so good to you. that’s what he tells himself when he formulates his plan.

he made sure you came on his face at least three times. until your legs were jelly, brain mush, voice hoarse from begging him to stop. ‘i-i can’t’ you had whined, ‘ ‘s too much andy!’. he did it to get you into that floaty head space where you’re babbling mindlessly and lax for him.

and you’re exactly that as pope crawls up your body and settles where he belongs, above you and inbetween your legs. still, you breathlessly slur the question that he despises. “condom?”

he feigns frustration even though this is exactly what he planned. “shit— i left my wallet in craig’s car… i don’t have one.”

your response is a needy whine that morphs into a gasp when he rests his cock against your drenched folds and slowly slides back and forth. “can i just have you like this sweetheart?” pope rubs his thick length upwards, angry pink tip catching your clit with every pressing glide. you whimper through your desperate nods, nails clawing at his shoulders, fusing your knees to his ribs to stay spread for him. such a good girl, he thinks to himself.

he keeps his ruttings short. almost playfully light in order to not get you anywhere besides out of your mind from teasing. just how he wants it. when you start to wriggle beneath him, whimpering a few mindless “please please please”s, he looks down at your aching pussy to see her clench around nothing. poor baby, she needs me so bad, he tells himself.

his dick is so drenched in your slick releases that pope ‘accidentally’ notches at your opening. staying in motion, he pushes in ever so slightly. your eyes shoot open in surprise “ohh- andy!” you squeal. frustration bubbles in his chest, but he doesn’t give up. because your panic simmers to heat and your mouth forms an ‘o’ as you moan at just his bare tip breaching your wet heat.

he buries his face into your neck to hide his satisfied grin, licking and suckling the skin how he knows you like. “jus the tip sweetheart? please?” he emphasizes his wimpy whines with an inching forward of his hips. your nails tear at the flesh on his back as you shudder. “p-promise?” you croak out. his reply is strained. “ ‘course honey.”

popes promise — to him at least— goes up in flames when he slips a tiny bit further inside and is met with warm, silky tightness. fuckkk. he groans, muscles tensing and you cry out, eyes rolling back. his thrusts are shallow and unsatisfactory. after a only a few, he’s twitching in need, pathetically trying to inch deeper.

you notice, starting to whine and pant. “you cant! i’m n-not on the pill!” the words almost make pope start to piston in and out of you. the thought of coming in you until you’re swollen with his baby infiltrating his mind. that you’ll be tied to him forever and— oh yeah. that’s happening, he decides.

pope leans down to kiss you languidly. trying to tongue fuck you into submission. your pussy is rapidly fluttering around the first inch of him, telling him that you want this just as bad as he does. he uses his words. “you just feel so good sweetheart. need you so bad. need all of you.” a breathy moan slips from you at his praise as you return his kiss greedily.

you pull back and blink up at him with your glossy eyes and kiss bitten lips. when your legs start to wrap around him, crossing tightly at his back, he knows he’s almost home free. “okay... i- i need you too andy.”

you barely get the words out before he hastily pushes all the way inside of you. guttural noises of pleasure are ripped from you both as you clench around him so prettily and he stretches you out so perfectly. it’s searing, intimate and raw. so fucking raw.

as pope starts to thrust in and out of you eagerly, obscene slapping sounds echo throughout the room. he whimpers loudly at the warm, wet feeling of you and the noises your body makes for him.

when you shakily tell him between moans “you h-have to pull out okay?”

it takes all of his dwindling restraint not to laugh in your face.

[loopwrites]

Masterlist :)

Updated 30/05

Slide in my ask if you have anything you want to inspire me with :)

Coming soon:

Titus Danforth: A new Elite family is introduced when the Le Dumas lineage gets destroyed. You're part of the new family and have to prove your worth which is made difficult when a certain Danforth heir seems to have set his sights on you (oneshot)

Random blurbs and imagines for many Hatosy characters

THE PITT

Jack Abbot

Touchy!Jack who can't keep his hands to himself at a bbq (Blurb, NSFW)

Jack Abbot’s aspirations (Blurb, NSFW, pussy inspection, breeding kink)

Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch

Little Padding Feet (Oneshot, exhusband!robby, Angsty)

Brendon ' the Shark' Park

The Shark notices the new OR nurse (Blurb series, a bit NSFW) -Finished Part one - Part two - Part three

The Shark who is your boxing coach and then your PTMC colleague (Blurb)

John Shen

Rascal!John who takes your defence when management wants to get rid of Halloween decorations in the condo (Blurb)

Shawn Hatosy's characters

Andrew 'Pope' Cody

Pope who cries because you're perfect (Blurb, NSFW, p in v)

Yandere!Pope who doesn’t let you out of his sight even if you’re far away at your work convention (Imagine, NSFW)

Sammy Bryant

Needy!Sammy who can't fall asleep without you (Imagine, NSFW, cockwarming, chubby!Sammy )

Chubby!Sammy who is self-conscious at the pool (Imagine)

Sammy wants ice cream but doesn't have a bowl (Imagine, NSFW, foodplay)

[loopwrites]

New these past two days:

Jack Abbot’s aspirations (nsfw, breeding kink, pussy inspection)

Needy!Sammy Bryant’s ice cream time (nsfw, food play, fingering)

Soft!Brendon Park part 3 (finale)

I feel like my fics are not gathering traction when I post them on my phone compared to when I post from my computer? Is that a thing? :)

[cherrywineisawaltz]

MINORS DNI

Free use with Jack abbot is such a beautiful reality because you two are absolutely on different schedules, it’s impossible to find time to be intimate when you’re on alternating rotations, blurred kisses chastely pressed to the others lips in hurried excuses of passion, fumbling hands desperately trying to make the other cum in the split second of time you have before work, hands shoved under the band of scrubs and sleep shorts in an aching rush that leaves you both sticky and unsatisfied. He slips into bed while you’re sleeping, still catching up on the hours before your shift starts, when the firm press of his lips lulls you awake, tongue prodding the inside of your mouth when you can do nothing but moan and hum, still hazy from sleep while he’s bunching your panties down the warm plush of your thighs. His hands easily turn you toward him, body languid with exhaustion, palm groping your tits when you meekly begin to mumble agaisnt his lips, spit coming down your chin where you try and kiss back with matched fervor, “S’okay, just keep sleeping. Gonna get you ready for me, okay? Just a little bit, sweetheart,” your writhing and whining as his fingers stroke your clit, fingers feebly grasping his shoulders with that little strength you can muster. He only shoves his pants down enough to settle under his cock so he can sheathe himself inside you entirely without wasting any more time, cunt swallowing him whole, so warm from being neatly tucked under the blankets all night. His body settles over you, rocking his hips back and forth to breach your cunt with shallow thrusts that knock the gasps from your parted lips. Your eyelids are still heavy with sleep, thighs dangling idly against the mattress, too tired to keep them up and his heavy rumbling groans press up against the cusp of your ear, “Fuck, that’s it, doing so good for me. Sleepy girl, just couldn’t help it seeing you lay here all soft and warm for me—mm—put you back to sleep, yeah? After I cum in this pussy, put you right back to sleep.”

[loopwrites]

Soft!Brendon Park (3/3)

First part - Second part - Masterlist

Park the Shark who practically races to the showers once he finished his last consult, glad that he had packed his white button-shirt, the one his friends said made him look handsome. And he wants to impress you.

Park the Shark who smiles when you come to his office once your shift ends. You’re also wearing a linen white button-up that matches his though yours is unbuttoned, thrown over a stylish singlet that allows him to see your curves. Of course he had seen them the night of the afterwork, even ran his fingers on your soft skin, but he was sure there wouldn’t be a time when he wouldn’t look at you like you were the most beautiful woman on earth.

Park the Shark whose hand twitches as you’re walking together toward the restaurant, unsure of how comfortable you’d be if he was to hold your hand. His thoughts must have taken over his brain as he stopped the conversation you were having about Formula 1. Both of you realised you were big fans as the sport though you were more of an Alpine girl though they ended up moving to the UK which removes their French charm, while he’s more of a Ferrari fanboy, being Italian-American and all.

Park the Shark whose brain stutters but restarts when he feels your warm hand, your fingers entangling with his as you notice his indecision. You kept your smirk at bay because really, who would have thought that Park the Shark would be so easily flustered?

Park the Shark who is a complete gentleman, opening the door, even moving your chair for you to sit on before tucking you under the table. While walking towards your table you had gotten a glimpse of the reservation being held by the waiter and see that the booking had been made weeks ago, a full week before you even talked to him at the bar. Cute.

Park the Shark who asks you questions about your life and answers the ones you have about his. He couldn’t help himself and asks if you were friends with Dr. Stuart, the colleague he had seen you talk to a week ago, the very same man Brendon had hid from you at the bar. “Dr. Stuart’s husband has a moving company.” You had smirked, watching Brendon’s face turn a deep crimson shade of red.

Park the Shark who by the end of the diner was just Brendon because you could no longer just see him as the arrogant mean surgeon, but as a man that you were starting to like more than in a professional way.

Brendon who insisted on paying, saying that he had invited you. You insisted on tipping just for him to click on the 30% option of the paying system as he swiped his black card, a triomphant look in his grey eyes.

Brendon who drove you to your own home after the date, his playlist of jazz playing in the background as you told him more stories about your time at nursing school, how you missed seeing your friends who were now back home while you had moved to Pittsburgh to get closer to your brother and his wife who were pregnant with triplets. And how you missed this one very specific pastry you were sure could only be found in your home town.

Brendon who kisses you gently in your doorway, his hand gently grasping your jaw as your eyes fluttered close.

Brendon who lets you savour his touch before telling you goodbye, heading home before he could enter your house and spend the night like last time, though it took all of his self restraint. He didn’t want you to think he was doing all of this just for one more night of pleasure, he never wanted you to send him one of your indifferent looks he had received for more than a week following your first night together.

Brendon who had to take care of himself under the steaming water of his shower, his big hand grasping his heavy cock as he tugged, moaning your name, imagining your hands that had explored every crevice of his body, the way you had felt perfect under the rolls of his hips, how delicious you had tasted when he had eaten you out. It was the image of your face, eyes scrunched closed while an o formed on your perfect lips that made him cum with a silent cry.

Brendon who the next morning looked at the way you gasped, beaming as your favorite pastry was in your hands (alongside an everything beagle of course).

Brendon who the very next morning woke up with your body under his arm, a content smile on his face as he promised himself to take advantage of every moment he could spend in your presence.

[yournamesnob]

Best friends!rabbot x reader where the reader gets insanely jealous after seeing robby and jack so much as even talk to dr al hashimi and she's being a brat they just have to pay little attention to her for her to calm down maybe she marks them up and stakes her claim

Yummm

mine

perv!rabbot x naive!roommate!reader (prev ⋆ masterlist ⋆ next) | nsfw, mdni, 18+ (jealousy, marking, hickies, semi-public sex, fingering, coercion, corruption kink)

They're late.

They're usually never late.

If they are they'll text or one of them will come up and take you home before returning for whatever held them back in the first place.

You've called once. Sent three messages.

By the time twenty minutes have gone by without a word, you're frustrated.

You just want to go home, get in a nice warm bath, and sleep.

Well...maybe not just.

There's one more thing you want.

One more thing you need.

But they're not answering their freaking phones!

The coil wraps itself tighter within your stomach.

You're angry now.

You pick up your things and practically storm out of the office, barely saying goodbye to your colleagues before you burst through the elevator into the Pitt.

At first you expect the place to be a spiraling mess. At least that would excuse their absence. But instead you find the place uncharacteristically quiet, calm and organized.

However, the shock quickly clears as red stains your vision.

You spot them across the floor, calm as can be, casual even, bags swung over their shoulders as if ready to leave, talking to the new attending.

She laughs at something Jack said, her hand not so subtly brushing against his arm.

Steam practically shoots out of your ears at the gesture, at how he returns her playful smile, at how Robby follows their lead and leans just a little further into her orbit.

You don't think, you just do.

You're standing beside them in a few powerful strides, arms crossed over your chest.

They don't notice you right away, the subtle sting of rejection only adding to your already boundless rage.

So you clear your throat, bratty and demanding.

It's like time stops in its tracks as the two men stiffen, finally turning to face you.

They don't dare talk, no, they don't have to do anything, because as their eyes darken at the mere sight of you, they've already accomplished what they set out to do.

"Hello," it's her who speaks first. "I'm doctor Al-Hashimi, is there something I can help you with?"

You give her a tight lipped smile, never one to be rude.

"No, I'm sorry," you reply sweetly. "I just need to borrow those two."

Jack smirks to himself, fully aware of just how turbulent your water is beneath that sweet facade. Robby on the other hand, is absolutely gobsmacked.

His brows scrunch in confusion, he honestly expected more from you.

The plan was to rattle you, so why aren't you rattled?

Jack catches his internal turmoil, his grin only widening as he continues with his rehearsed play, looking down at his watch and apologizing to you, time got the better of them and all that bullshit.

He turns to Al-Hashimi and says goodbye before steering you towards the parking lot, knowing Robby will follow behind him obediently, but not before leaning down to whisper in your ear—

"It was Robby's idea."

Robby's entire world is turned upside down as you push him into the back of Jack's truck.

He has no time to process what's happening as you throw yourself over his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist as your mouth attaches itself to his.

Jack chuckles darkly as he settles into the driver's seat, turning the rearview mirror so he can watch the two of you before he starts the engine.

Robby finally reacts as your desperation processes through his brain.

You're jealous.

Their plan has worked marvelously.

His hands eagerly snap up to grab your body, silently thanking Jack for tinting his windows the second he bought the vehicle.

Robby does little to stop the assault of your mouth on his body.

He relishes it even.

The kiss quickly turns more heated as your tongue demands entrance into his mouth and he gladly obliges.

It's a clash of want and need, of desperation and assertion, of finally, letting go after months of them pushing you, molding you, turning you into this.

He can't help but think back to the first time this happened, how shy you'd been, how you thought you were doing something wrong.

Whoever that person was is no longer as you stake claim to what is now yours.

Your teeth nip at his lower lip, pulling it back in tandem with Robby's unashamed touch. Strong hands slide up your back under your shirt, skillful fingers making quick work of your bra to sneak beneath the cup while the other undoes your pants.

You moan into his mouth as his fingers pinch your nipples.

"Oh honey," Robby coos. "Are you angry we left you waiting?"

You don't answer, you simply glare at him, eyes turned obsidian with lust.

Jack chuckles darkly at the display.

"We didn't mean to, kid," he adds fuel to the fire. "It's just— she's new, you know? Didn't want to make her feel bad if we just left after our shift."

You turn to stare daggers at him next.

Your mouth opens to retort, to complain, to let your anger be known. It's then that Robby decides to slide his fingers inside your panties.

Your brow instantly scrunches in pleasure, whatever anger swiftly turning into need.

You moan, hips thrusting into Robby's hand.

Snapping your attention back to the chief attending beneath you, your head falls slack over his shoulder, finally getting what you've been after.

"Aw, is this what you needed, honey?" Robby mocks. "Just wanted our attention all to yourself?"

You manage a nod, your own hands sneaking between your bodies to pull Robby's thick erection out of his scrubs.

"That's it, good girl," Robby continues to roll the pads of his fingers over your clit. "Take what you need."

"No," Jack intervenes sharply, causing the two of you to freeze. "Only she gets to cum."

Robby is about to complain, to fight back but then Jack turns to him, trust me written all over his face.

And so Robby does, with his life.

"You heard the man," Robby confirms and you tentatively remove your hands from his crotch, causing a whine to exhale from his already puffy lips.

Your attention gets brought back to them then, the way they're stained a deep mauve from your lipstick, how they're swollen from the intensity of your kisses, how they part slightly as he pants desperately.

You're both drunk on it already, the world around you zoning out as you crash your mouth with his again.

This time you take it slow. There's no need to rush, no need to prove anything. He's here with you, not out there with her.

Robby matches your pace, letting you think you're the one in control, luring you into a false sense of security, lowering your defenses.

His fingers start moving again, playing with your sensitive nub painstakingly slow, matching the movement of your lips.

You groan into his mouth, frustrated and desperate.

You detach your mouth from his then and latch onto the base of his neck, where you know he can't hide beneath his long sleeve and suck.

Robby sucks in his teeth sharply, the pleasure from knowing you're gonna leave a mark making his head dizzy with a new kind of possessiveness he never thought you'd show them.

In retaliation, he leaves your clit, his fingers instead sliding into you without warning.

You hiss into his neck, your body tensing over his, clenching around his thick fingers.

His other hand grips your hip tightly, his grip sure to leave bruises tomorrow.

He moves your body how he wants, forcing you to roll your hips in tandem with his movements.

Emboldened by his ministrations, you move lower, your lips leaving a trail of crimson marks in their wake.

"Mine," you mumble into his skin.

"What was that, honey?"

You sink your teeth into his pec, deep enough that he can hide it, and suck like your life depends on it.

"Fucking shit, what the fuck?" Robby belts, causing Jack to laugh like this is the funniest joke that has ever been told.

"Good fucking girl," Jack praises. "Don't go too deep, don't want to have to keep an eye on a wound tonight."

You hum against Robby's skin, finally letting go and running your tongue over your teeth marks.

The hand at your hip snakes its way around your neck then, pulling you back to face Robby.

You've never seen his eyes this dark. Maybe it's a trick of the light or something because he looks possessed.

"You happy?" he growls. "Everyone's gonna know I'm taken now, 's that what you wanted?"

You smirk brightly, positively high off your newfound confidence.

"Yes."

Robby chuckles darkly, curling his fingers deep inside of you and practically forcing you to cum out of nowhere.

Your entire body tenses, bursting into an explosion of tingles that only intensify as his grip on your throat tightens ever so slightly. You choke back a sob as your body spasms in his embrace.

"That's it, honey, give me everything."

You're unsure when your orgasm lets up but Jack's parking by the time you come back to yourself.

You're slumped over Robby's broad chest as he strokes down your back, your heartbeat finally not thundering in your ears, your breathing finally settling down.

"What can she give you that I can't?" you pant meekly, pushing back tears that you hadn't noticed were gathered.

Jack parks the car, turning to face the two of you. The men share a look then, eyes sparkling with unbridled hunger, lips curling into broad smirks.

"Well honey," Robby starts. "There is one thing..."

The way your eyes widen lets them know everything they need to.

You're ready.

a/n: finals can suck my dick

dividers by @/enchanthings

taglist of pervs <3: @stuffingbuttsandshit, @natendo-art, @barcelonaaababe, @whoreforchrisev4ns, @defijones, @baileyjaneogle, @prettygirl321, @thebirdandthebee, @trashshart, @rufles2, @montenegroisr, @autisticoscarpiastri, @antisirkbitch, @lifeofapittgirl, @scrmqwn, @fuyu-no-kodomo, @angelbunny222, @odettecigno, @navylace, @merz-8, @imnoonejustapiramide, @bunnyzizi777, @in-ky, @howlingco, @possum-pancakes, @graythegoth, @vystasea, @emat-05, @l3tholog1ca, @realwhoreforfictionalmen, @moonlitblossomsofthesun, @viviandarkbloom11, @my-whole-brain-is-crying, @proudlyvastlake, @simp4f1

[rhaenyras-posts]

The things this man could do to me 🤤

[robinavitchslut]

subby!robby who likes to suck his gf's breast milk until his tummy is full 🥵

UGHHHHHHHHHHHH YESSS!!!! and u know what’s so funny i literally messaged @shoniebalognie yesterday saying we need more robby breastfeeding kink fics sooooo….u need to get out of my head anon!!

and if i made it mommy kink……

subby!robby has a breastfeeding kink (f!reader)

wc: 1.8k

warnings/tags: breastfeeding kink, mommy kink, subby!robby, f!reader, talks of pregnancy and pregnancy related stuff, two mentions of their unnamed daughter (he’s a girl dad sue me), handjob, oral (m!), cum swallowing, mentions of readers postpartum body, obvs breast milk drinking.

it had been another one of those days in the ED, one of those ones where everything and anything that can go wrong does go wrong. one of those days where the weight of robby’s responsibility feels too heavy to bear, where he just wishes for one minute his name wasn’t robby, where he wishes he wasn’t in charge, where he wishes everyone would just leave him alone.

still, at least he had you to come home to, his beautiful postpartum girlfriend. you were truly the only thing getting him through that shift, the thought that in just a few short hours he’d get to come home to his best girls, get to see you sitting on the couch still so swollen and round from having his baby only a month or so ago.

the sound of the door closing and robby’s bag dropping to the floor with a heavy dull thud jolts you out of your sleep. you had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him to come home, robby told you multiple times that you didn’t need to wait up for him, that the bed would be much better for you to sleep in but it just didn’t feel the same without him in it.

“long day?” you ask as robby lets out one of his signature deep sighs. you rub the tired from your eyes and peer over the back of the couch to look at him, he looked exhausted, well and truly burnt out from his terrible day.

robby drags his hands down his face before nodding, “like you wouldn’t believe, how’s she been today?” he’s shuffling over to you now, his feet unable to lift off the floor as he makes his way over. he’s kicking his shoes off before flopping onto the couch beside you, falling into you with his head resting on your full chest.

“aw, my poor baby,” you coo with a frown “my other baby’s been good, she went down about an hour ago.” you wrap your arms around his head and hold him against you, placing a soft kiss to the top of his head. he shifts to bury himself in your clothed tits. nuzzling his face all in their warmth, taking in your familiar calming scent.

immediately you feel robby soften, his shoulders relax and he becomes almost limp as he breathes you in. his hands come up to toy with the hem of your top, the backs of his fingers grazing the bare skin of your soft tummy underneath. “can i?” he asks, peering up at you with those big brown eyes that you could never say no to.

“go ahead, baby” you smile softly at him and nod. robby leans back and pulls your top over your head. your full, swollen breasts bounce against the swell of your postpartum stomach as they’re freed from the too tight top you were wearing.

robby takes them in, his pupils blowing wide open as he devours them with his eyes. it’s not hungry though, it’s something much more gentle, more soft than the look he would’ve given them before you became pregnant. something in robby flipped when you told him you were expecting. before he was ravenous, wanted to be on you all the time, possessive and borderline rough. but now, whenever he saw you all bare like this he just melted into this sweet little puppy who didn’t know the meaning of the word rough.

“have you pumped today?” robby asks, lowering his face so he’s inches away from your hard nipple. he looks up at you and you shake your head, “not since this morning, had a feeling you’d be having one of those days.” you stroke the side of his face, your nails lightly grazing through his greying beard. he smiles back up at you, a content, lazy smile that has your heart hammering in your chest.

your daughter had stopped taking breast milk a week ago so you had been bottle feeding her formula instead. however, your body was still producing milk and a lot of it at that. but it was fine, robby would never let any of that go to waste.

“thank you, mama” he hums before closing the gap, his lips wrapping around your swollen nipple. his tongue darts over it a couple of times before he softly hollows out his cheeks and suckles on your breast. your eyes flutter closed at the same time as his, a satisfied hum reverberating from each of your throats.

robby’s hand comes up to massage your other breast, gently rolling it in his hand to relieve some of the pressure he knows has been building up all day. the mild taste of your milk hits his tongue and suddenly all his worries and stresses wash away. your hand is still caressing the side of his face, stroking and scratching lightly at his moving cheeks.

“mm, there you go. feelin’ better, baby?” you purr, your breathing becomes steadier as you feel yourself relax, the pressure in your breast slowly coming down. robby hums and nods around your breast, just gently sucking on your nipple, swallowing the steady stream of milk that you’d saved up just for him.

when the stream slows to a drip, robby lets go, releasing your breast from his mouth with a wet pop. he looks up at you, his eyes half-lidded with a lopsided smile on his face before he leans up to kiss you. you can taste yourself on his tongue, it’s dizzying.

“taste’s so good. so perfect, love you so much, thank you mama” his voice is so soft and breathless once he pulls away from the kiss, your eyes are blown wide now, dizzy with desire for him.

“s’okay, baby. mama loves you too” you kiss his forehead before he leans down again, this time swirling his tongue around your other breast. you let a soft gasp escape your lips, heats building fast in your stomach, there’s just something about how gentle and submissive robby can be that got you so worked up.

he latches on again, his tongue working your nipple as he sucks gently. his hands are on your naked waist, just holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him there. you slide your hand down his chest over his scrubs, pawing and grabbing at his soft tummy on your way down to his own waist. your fingers clumsily fiddle with the button of his cargo’s before you finally manage to pop it open and unzip them.

you slip your hand in and pull his soft cock out of his pants, lazily pumping it in your hand as he feeds on you. he becomes hard almost instantly and the way he’s groaning around your nipple now has your eyes rolling back from pleasure. you give his cock a gentle squeeze before quickening your pace.

“mmm, y’like that baby? like it when mommy gets you off while you’re being so good f’me? making me feel so good, such a good boy f’mommy” you’re babbling now, completely lost in the moment. robby looks up at you, his deep brown eyes so intoxicating you can help but get lost in them.

“mhmm” he’s moaning around your nipple, sucking harder, faster, not enough to hurt but enough to make you feel it. which you do, deep in your core.

pre leaks from his flushed tip, dripping down your knuckles as his hips buck up to meet your fist desperately. you can’t help the giggle that falls from your lips, “someone’s a little needy today, huh? such a greedy little baby, bet you’re just dying to cum aren’t you? that what you want? want mommy to make you cum in her hand?”

robby releases your breast from his mouth and surges up to kiss you, it’s not forceful, just desperate. your free hand comes up to his shoulder, pushing him back down. “god, you are needy today.” you laugh, a smirk pulling at the corner of your lips.

“s-sorry mommy” robby whimpers, his hooded eyes dropping to where your hand is wrapped around his throbbing cock, watching intently as you jerk him off. his hips writhe under your hand, you can tell he’s trying so hard not to thrust up, trying to be a good boy for you.

“s’okay baby, i know you can’t help it. just a greedy little thing aren’t you?” you reach over to kiss his cheek, your hand caressing the side of his face again and he leans into it, nuzzling your palm.

“ye-fuck—yeah, just need you so bad, mommy. want to be inside of you” he whines, his eyes rolling back as he nears closer to his orgasm. his hands fly up to grip your waist, needing to hold onto something, anything to keep him still.

“i know, baby. i know. but the doctor hasn’t cleared me yet, don’t want to hurt mommy do you?” you coo, throwing out your bottom lip. your recovery had been taking a little longer than expected, much to both of yours dismay.

robby shakes his head feverishly, his bottom lip thrown out just like yours. he’s panting now between small whimpers that 6 months ago he would’ve been embarrassed about, but not now. how could he be embarrassed to show the woman who gave him everything how good she makes him feel, how much he loves her?

his veins pulse under your hand, you can tell he’s about to cum and so you get onto your knees and bend down to press a wet kiss to his leaking tip. robby groans then, a guttural groan ripped straight from his chest, groans that don’t stop coming as you wrap your lips around him and start sucking, hollowing out your cheeks while you bob your head in tandem with your hand.

“fuck–mommy, oh fuck. shit–i’m gonna, oh god—” robby groans wildly now, not bothering to stop his hips from thrusting up into your face as his body shakes. his hand flying up to grab a fistful of your hair as he spills into your hot mouth, filling up your cheeks with his thick release.

you swallow around him, making sure not to waste a single drop, just like he had done with you. after a few more sloppy thrusts into your mouth he stills, collapsing backwards onto the couch, his tummy heaving as he tries to catch his breath. you pull off then and crawl over him, lowering yourself onto his chest as he wraps his arms around you, holding you tight to him.

“th-fuck–thank you, mommy” he huffs out breathlessly, his hand coming up to stroke the back of your head, patting your head a few times before he lazily presses a kiss to your forehead.

“s’okay baby, i trust you’ll pay me back for all of this when i’m cleared…” you giggle and robby returns the laugh, though it’s half-hearted through his exhaustion.

“oh yeah…and then some”

a robby mommy kink fic has been a long time coming. god, idk where this came from, blacked out and there it was oopsie. hope you enjoyed <3333

want to be added to my robby taglist .ᐣ reply to this post ᝰ.ᐟ (taglist is tagged from another acc)

robby masterlists

[grimgasm]

hunted | t.d.

✶ pairing | titus danforth x f!reader ✶ word count | 1.4k ✶ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, unspecified/unmentioned age gap, dubious consent, predator/prey dynamics, rough n hard, doggystyle, degradation kink, praise kink, pet names, threats of death, implied captivity, dark, shifting pov, pre-ron2, titus (he's a warning as is) ✶ summary | Perhaps not a rabbit, he thinks, but a vixen.✶ notes | i'm a little rusty when it comes to darker fics so uuuuuhhhhhh let's fucking go, ig? ✌️lowkey inspired by another fic i wrote for the fallout fandom.

masterlist | ao3 | inbox | requests, taglist, submissions: open

Oh, precious poor little rabbit.

It ran as far and fast as it could, hid among the weeds and towering pines but Titus will always be ten steps ahead; he trained his whole life to be better, quicker, stronger. Cut his milk teeth on the snap-crackle-crunch of bone beneath his boot, and the wailing of lesser beasts as their blood watered the soil.

Used the forest - so dense and lush - bracketing the outskirts of the Danforth Country Club & Resort as a personal colosseum, honing killer instincts dagger sharp. Once a brute boy with a harsh mouth and cruel fingers, now a bible black tyrant with a heavy swing and even harder hit.

If only you'd learned there was no out-smarting a fox once it caught the scent of its prey. In fact, you never stood a chance - the game rigged from the start.

"Come out, come out wherever you are," he sing-songs among the ancient wood, dried twigs popping beneath the weight of his steps as he circles the hollowed out trunk you've stuffed yourself inside. "Let's have some fun."

A faint hitch of breath.

The tremble of leaves.

He smirks, an open gash; teeth aching and tongue hungry.

"Is that a little rabbit I spy?" he asks.

You bolt up in a scramble of limbs, your figure a blur of color as you dart to the left. He tsks.

"This is almost too easy, bunny. Don't you know you'll have to run faster than that if you want to get away from me?"

But oh, he can't wait to swallow you whole - bones and all.

When he was a young boy, Father raised foxhounds before they became too troublesome to up-keep.

Sleek, athletic; another weapon utilized in the hunt for generations before Titus was born. While they were an exceptional asset, they required a firm hand to tame - and an even steadier one to control.

Shoved to the ground with your pants around your thighs, ass up and blood oozing from the weeping scrapes on your cheeks, you remind him of the wily beasts. Bucking and snarling beneath the collar of his palm even as his hips rut into the softness of your backside.

Perhaps not a rabbit, he thinks, but a vixen.

"What did I say?" His lips tease the shell of your ear, his voice a low, insidious murmur. "You've got to run faster than that."

You snap your jaws at the side of his head, teeth missing their mark. Tear tracks cut through the dirt clinging to your face, and the scent of moist soil and rot clog your nose. His cock twitches, sheathed in liquid silk.

"Fuck you!"

"Isn't that what I'm already doing, sweetheart?" he coos mockingly. "Or are you too stupid to tell the difference?"

Then Titus grinds your face into the detritus of the forest floor with an unwavering grip around the back of your skull, your hair tickling his palm. Fuck, his hand's so large it nearly encompasses your head, and isn't that a sight for sore eyes?

Seated deep inside you, his shaft pulses.

Your pretty little pussy stretches so wide around his girth the muscles flutter weakly, trying and failing to push him out. Every inch of you is filled to the brim with cock - and then some, several inches of shaft still to go.

"Look at you," he says, tracking the stroke of his free thumb along your entrance in awe. Can't help himself as he pets over where the delicate folds grip onto him like a vice. "Does it hurt?"

He hopes it does, having you at his mercy and forced to take what he gives headier than any drug Viraj peddles. Tiny, miserable sniffles escape as he bullies his way into your body with unrelenting lunges, your walls eventually submitting with a twinge and a sticky squelch of slick.

He slides to the hilt, smooth.

"S'too much, I can't -" a hiccupping whine interrupts you. "Pull out."

Trying to scramble forward off of him is futile, anchored beneath him as you are, but you refuse to give up. Brambles snag on the soft skin of your hands, shallow wells of red opening in the valleys of your palms, and a stray rock cuts into your already shredded cheek.

You've never looked prettier to him than you do in this moment; begging, and desperate for deliverance.

"P-Please."

Your knees spread and your back dips, attempting to slide him out of your throbbing cunt to no avail. If anything, the new angle forces him deeper as you claw at the ground for purchase, your nail beds aching.

"Hm?"

"Please, slow down - hhahh..."

He is a cruel, unfeeling god who offers no drops of mercy. Carving his way through your body as the fat head of his cock scrapes against your cervix. "You can take it."

"No, no, no!"

Fissions of pain racket up your spine, split past your limits as Titus continues to abuse your pussy. Gummy walls rebel, swollen and rubbed raw from the constant friction.

"Fuck, you feel good."

Unlike anything he's ever experienced. Soft and wet and warm. Perfect.

He groans, slides a hand down your trembling flank to hook a paw over your hip. Bones grind as he yanks you back into every punishing thrust. Everything aches - your body a blooming, tender bruise - and sweat dapples your brow, sticks the fine baby hairs to the back of your neck.

"That's it, good girl," he says.

He's the furthest thing from a gentle lover, and yet your clit pulses, neglected and needy. Your pussy squelching obscenely in the dwindling twilight of the forest as slick soaks into the sun warmed earth beneath you.

Meanwhile, the bristling aggression roosted beneath his ribs abates as he loses himself in the soft, silken embrace of you.

"No more," you beg, the first of many tears squeezing past your clenched eyelids. Your breath rattles wet and sticky in your lungs. "C-Can't cum like this - don't wanna cum like this, please."

"Why, worried about what all your dead friends would think?"

You moan in despair, eyes rolling in their sockets. He picked them off one by one until only you remained: his final girl.

Moist breath puffs along the side of your cheek when his chin hooks over your shoulder. Rough lips skate up the slope of your cheek, a faint wetness laving at the delicate flesh of your under-eye as Titus licks up your tears.

Salt burts across his tastebuds, his teeth aching with the desire to rend. A grunt punches its way out of his chest, the squeeze of his fingers tighter than before. "Fuck," he laughs, "I think it's your lucky day, bunny. 'm not gonna kill you - not yet."

This is the most fun he's had in years; a pretty thing like you wrapped nice and snug around his cock, milking him for all he's worth. He's never been allowed to play like these games - always stopped by Father - by Ursula.

But they don't need to know, do they?

You'll be his dirty little secret - locked up for safe keeping.

After all, it can't be too different from minding the foxhound bitches Father reared.

Bitch - his bitch.

A spark of black crackled down his spine. Yeah, he likes the sound of that. And you will too. Maybe. Eventually. Does it really matter what you think?

(It's okay, he'll train you.)

"Gonna..." your head sags, forehead pressed to the dirt in prayer as your thighs begin to shake, clit pulsing in time with your heartbeat. You plead one last time for clemency, lips trembling, "Please."

Emboldened, Titus renews his efforts, wringing every last bit of pleasure out of you. And when he finally pumps you full, you're dumb and dripping. Limb limbed like a marionette with cut strings. Sitting back on his heels, he watches as his cum gushes out of you in a sticky rush, drips down your folds and wets the backs of your thighs.

"We'll work on your manners," he decides, thumb circling your oversensitive clit. Ursula's good for one thing - she did teach him some etiquette after all. "Can't have you misbehaving, can we?"

If you're going to be his pet, you need to act right. As is fitting, and expected, of a Danforth retainer. But then you jolt away with a low hiss, the pressure too much too soon. Aggression boils, roosting beneath his ribs.

Just when he thought you'd be greatful...

He clicks his tongue and digs into the bundle of nerves, feels the hard nub twitch beneath the pad of his finger. Only stops when you beg forgiveness.

"'m sorry, I - I won't mis-misbehave," you sob.

"Now you're getting it." He gathers his spend, fucks it back into you with shallow thrusts of his fingers. "You're a little slow, aren't you? That's okay, I don't need you to think."

feedback is always appreciated

[jadeittic]

Six Weeks Minimum

summary: after a bad fall leaves you with a broken leg, brendon turns your recovery into a full-time mission. no matter how insane he gets about your healing, every moment becomes proof of just how deeply he loves you.

pairing: brendon park + fem!reader

word count: 4.8k

warnings/tags: surgery mention, overprotective!brendon hehe, established relationship, excessive supervision as a love language (but not in a bad way!)

notes: based on this ask from anon, tysm for requesting!

reblogs, likes, and comments are so so appreciated! if you want to read more from me, kindly submit in my inbox !!! xoxo

The first thing you realized after your surgery was that the anesthesia haze was temporary.

The second thing you realized was that Brendon Park being insane about your recovery absolutely was not temporary.

It started in the hospital. The fracture had been bad enough. It was a clean break, the orthopedic resident had explained while showing you the scans, but unstable enough to need surgical fixation after your spectacularly humiliating fall down a rain-slick stairwell outside your apartment building.

You remembered the pain. The ambulance. The sickening crack that had echoed up your leg.

You also remembered Brendon arriving at the ER. That part had honestly been scarier than the fracture.

Because Brendon Park, the notoriously composed orthopedic trauma surgeon who could calmly handle shattered pelvises while every else spiraled, had walked into your trauma bay looking one bad sentence away from committing a felony.

He'd still been in scrubs. Blood on the sleeve, surgical cap hanging around his neck. His eyes had gone immediately to your leg immobilizer, then your face, then the pain monitor.

"Why is her heart rate still that high?" had been the first thing out of his mouth.

Not hello. Not are you okay. Just immediate interrogation.

The ER nurse, who knew exactly who he was and looked vaguely terrified of him even on good days, had blinked.

"She just came back from imaging—"

"She's already been medicated."

"With what?"

"Brendon," you'd groaned from the bed.

His attention snapped to you instantly, sharp and terrifyingly focused. "Did they move you after the X-rays?"

"Yeah."

"Did it hurt?"

"Yes, because my leg is broken."

His jaw had clenched so hard you thought he might crack a molar.

And somehow things only got worse from there. Because apparently orthopedic surgeons became unbearable when the patient was someone they loved.

You found this out over the next forty-eight hours.

Brendon sat through every consult, every update, every medication discussion.

He questioned your surgeon despite literally being able to perform the operation himself (But he couldn't for obvious reasons).

"You're using the locking plate system?" he asked Garcia with narrowed eyes.

She stared at him. "...Yes?"

"What approach?"

"Brendon."

"What?"

"You are not interrogating my surgery."

"I'm verifying."

"No, you're being annoying."

Then came the surgery, which went well.

Too well, actually, because apparently the moment Brendon heard "successful procedure" his brain immediately transitioned from anxious boyfriend to maximum-security prison warden.

The discharge papers had barely printed before he was taking over.

"No weight-bearing for six weeks," he repeated while adjusting your blankets for the hundredth time.

"I know."

"You use the crutches every single time you get up."

"I know."

"You do not try to hop."

"I'm not an animal, Brendon."

"You joke now," he muttered.

The nurse handed over your prescriptions with visible relief. "You're all set."

You thought freedom awaited you. You were wrong. Because the second you got home, Brendon transformed your apartment into what could only be described as an orthopedic dictatorship.

Within an hour, throw rugs were removed, furniture was rearranged, cords were taped down, ice packs were lined in formation inside the freezer, medications were sorted by time and dosage, and your entire life was relocated to the couch and bedroom so you "wouldn't need unnecessary movement."

You watched all this from the sofa with increasing alarm.

"Brendon."

"Hm?"

"You took my coffee table away."

"It has sharp corners."

"It's a coffee table."

"You're on meds and your balance is impaired."

"Baby, I have one broken leg, not a traumatic brain injury."

The first night home, you woke up at two in the morning needed the bathroom.

And normally, this would not have been an issue. You had crutches, you were medically cleared to use them, you were perfectly capable of traveling the astonishing distance between the bed and the bedroom.

Unfortunately, you were dating Brendon Park.

You'd barely shifted under the blankets before his eyes opened instantly in the dark.

"What are you doing?"

You stared at him. "Were you awake?"

"I am now."

"I need the bathroom."

"Okay."

"...Okay."

But instead of going back to sleep like a normal person, he immediately sat up. Then stood. Then reached for your crutches before you even could.

You blinked at him. "What are you doing?"

"Helping you."

"I can use crutches by myself."

He ignored that. You tried to take the crutches from him, but he held them out of reach.

"Brendon."

"I'm making sure you don't slip."

"You cannot stand in here while I pee."

"Yes I can."

"Brendon."

He finally sighed and backed out exactly one step beyond the doorframe. You stared at him in disbelief.

"Why are you still there?"

"I'm supervising."

"You're insane."

"You love me."

Unfortunately, that was true.

And now, it became a recurring issue. If you adjusted position on the couch, his head snapped up from whatever he was doing.

"Brendon, if you ask me one more question I'm going to fracture your leg too."

"You'd need help reaching me first."

Three days into recovery, cabin fever started setting hard.

You were exhauted, sore, itchy beneath the cast and dressings, and so catastrophically bored that you genuinely considered reorganizing your email inbox for entertainment.

Meanwhile Brendon had become worse. Not better. Worse.

There was something about medical professionals witnessing injuries in clinical detail when it happened to someone they loved.

You could practically see the knowledge haunting him in real time every time he looked at your leg.

So instead of relaxing as you healed, he became even more vigilant. He brought you food, adjusted your pillows, timed your medication down to the minute, and hovered. Constantly.

One afternoon you attempted the dangerous and reckless activity of standing to reach for a book on the kitchen counter.

You hand your crutches, you were stable, you were literally fine. Unfortunately for you, Brendon walked in halfway through.

"What are you doing?"

You nearly jumped. "Jesus Christ!"

"You should've called me."

"For a book?"

"You shouldn't be putting pressure on your other leg for prolonged periods."

He crossed the kitchen in seconds, immediately reaching for your elbow like you were seconds from collapsing.

And then he paused, looking at you properly for the first time all day.

Your messy hair. Your oversized shirt that was definitely his. The irritation building behind your eyes.

Something in his expression softened immediately.

"Honey."

"I know you're worried," you said, quieter now. "I know. But I can't just lie there twenty-four seven while you stare at me like I'm made of glass."

His hand slid carefully around your waist.

"You're not made of glass."

"You treat me like I am."

"That's because you snapped your tibia in half."

"Well, technically it was—"

"Do not correct me on anatomy right now."

He looked exhausted suddently and that finally made the pieces click together.

Brendon wasn't hovering because he thought you were incapable, he was hovering because he was terrified.

Terrified of you getting hurt again. Terrified of complications. Terrified of pain he couldn't fix fast enough.

You reached up, touching the tense line of his jaw.

"Hey."

His eyes flicked to yours.

"I'm okay."

His expression did something painful then. Small. Fragile around the edges in a way Brendon almost never allowed himself to be.

"You were screaming," he said quietly.

"When they moved you in the ER," he continued, voice low. "I heard you from the hallway."

You hadn't realized that stuck with him.

"I've seen people in pain before," he muttered. "Obviously. But hearing you—"

He stopped. You stared at him for a second before your irritation melted clean away.

"Oh, honey."

His laugh came out humorless. "Now I sound insane."

"You are insane."

He rested his forehead briefly against yours.

"You scared the hell out of me."

And for a few days after that, he genuinely tried.

Tried not to hover. Tried not to leap upright every time you shifted. Tried not to track your movements like a paranoid mom.

And that lasted approximately forty-eight hours.

Then he caught you attempting to carry your own tea mug while using crutches.

"What the hell are you doing?"

You froze mid-step. "...Transporting tea?"

"You could spill that."

"Yes."

"You could slip."

"Brendon."

"You have one functioning leg."

"I know."

He took the mug from your hands immediately while looking personally betrayed by your decision-making.

"You are unbelievable."

"I survived medical school," you informed him. "I think I can handle tea."

"That attitude is exactly why you fell down the stairs."

You argued for a good ten minutes. And it dissolved into bickering so domestic and ridiculous that by the end of it both of you were laughing too hard to continue.

Still, the hovering remained. Especially at night.

You once woke up around three in the morning to find Brendon gently checking the circulation in your foot.

"...Baby, what are you doing?" you mumbled sleepily.

"Just making sure swelling hasn't worsened."

"In the middle of the night?"

"I woke up."

Another night you caught him staring at your discharge instructions like they personally offended him.

"Honey, I think you've already memorized those."

"There's a typo."

"You are impossible."

But the worst one, the one that nearly ended with you smothering him with a pillow happened two weeks into recovery.

By then you were mobile. You were comfortable on crutches, restless beyond belief, and deeply tired of being supervised every waking second.

So while Brendon was in the shower, you decided to perform one singular independent task.

Make your own sandwich.

That was it! It wasn't anything dangerous, nothing dramatic, it was just a sandwich.

You were reaching into the fridge when you heard:

"What are you doing?"

You nearly screamed. Brendon stood in the hallway dripping wet, hair soaked, shirt barely put on, staring at you like he'd walked in on a crime scene.

"How do you move so quietly?!" you yelled.

"You weren't in bed."

"I was just making lunch!"

"You should've called me first."

You stared at him in genuine disbelief. "Did you just tell me I should request supervision before making a sandwich?"

"No, I'm not saying—It's just that you're still recovering."

"I have a broken leg, Brendon. Not a terminal illness!"

"I know."

The sharpness drained right out of him and he looked tired again. Worn thin around the edges.

"You think I don't know I'm overdoing it?" he said quietly. "I do."

"But every time I look at your leg, all I can think about is what could've happened if you hit your head too. Or if nobody found you right away, or if the fracture had been worse."

He exhaled slowly.

"And I know you're capable, I know you can use the crutches, I know you're not helpess." His mouth twisted faintly. "You're probably the least helpless person I know."

"Then why are you acting like this?"

"Because I love you."

You looked at him standing there. An exhausted surgeon, damp hair dripping onto the floor, eyes shadowed from stress and lack of sleep. You felt your irritation unravel completely.

"You realize this level of hovering is classified as annoying."

"Last time I checked it was called caring?"

You laughed despite yourself. "C'mere, baby."

He stepped closer instantly. You wrapped your arms around his waist carefully, leaning into him while balancing on one leg.

His hands settled against your back with automatic gentleness, like he was afraid squeezing too hard might hurt you somehow.

"I love you too," you murmured.

"I know."

"But if you follow me into the bathroom one more time, I'm filing a restraining order."

"That seems excessive."

He kissed the top of your head to hide his smile. And annoyingly enough?

Even with the hovering, and the overprotectiveness, and the absolute loss of personal autonomy...

You'd never felt more loved in your life.

thank you for reaching until the end! i'd love to know what you thought about this story anddddd if you'd like to see more ;)

[loopwrites]

You’re Wasian, John Shen is Wasian, when you have kids they’re Wasian²

[iwasalamb]

JOHN SHEN IS A WIFE GUY.

He’s grinning as he shows off his wedding ring around his neck. Flicking through all the photos of you and bump. The moment he gets an ultrasound everyone at work is seeing it.

He’s buying coffee sm so you get the points and can have as many free coffees as you like. The moment a woman flirts with him??! He’s suddenly saying his HIS WIFE felt like this a few weeks ago and it’s wasn’t anything terrible.

John Shen getting picked up by HIS WIFE who he mentioned 78283 times that shift and being driven home like the passenger princess he is. You’re playing some stupid music that he loves as he rubs your belly.

[iwasalamb]

TAG UR SHIT CORRECTLY HOLY FUCK I JUST WANNA READ JOHN SHEN X READER. STOP FUCKING TAGGING IT IN AN ABBOT OR WHITAKER OR LANGDON X READER OMFG

[richeeduvie]

Can't decide how seriously Jack would take to examining you (and your cunt) during foreplay. Probably very seriously, but you wouldn't know it from the way he's just so smarmy about it, like you can't see his cock painfully bulging inside of his scrub bottoms.

"You gotta strip, Sleepy. I need to perform a full physical. Can't have any fabric getting in the way of my diagnosis."

The words exactly sound like they'd be in the script for the worst porn video ever, but in the gravel of Jack's voice, they get you wet before he even touches you. Sorry, examines.

You peel off your scrubs, step out of your underwear, and lie completely exposed under him.

And, like the beautiful asshole he is, Jack doesn't take his stethoscope right over your chest. Nope, he just presses the freezing cold metal right up against your nipple.

He circles it until it peaks. You gasp.

"I don't think that's where the heart is, Dr. Abbot."

His head tilt works as a shrug.

"Don't have to listen in on it to know you're dangerously aroused...better settle down there."

And as he tilts his head forward to lick your other nipple---a taste test, Jack slips the stethoscope to where it's actually supposed to be, and you can't help but feel the heart he's listening to share its pulse with your cunt when he smiles.

He nearly whispers.

"She's hammering, kid. Can't imagine how your cunt's gonna feel when I get around to it."

You gasp again when the shock of the metal hits your slit.

Jack listens. If you're guessing right, if you even can with the way the nub rubs up against your cunt, your slick sticking to it, that he's wearing what is a clinical curiosity on his face.

The bastard. The beautiful bastard.

"Huh. She's pretty frantic down there, too. What'd I do to deserve that?"

[angelitairis]

pope n his girl be stimming tg. up in his room hooting n hollering. making all types of noises.