❁Angel❁

23| she/her| Black/Queer

[godmadeaterribleerror]

good things

✦Read on aO3! - Masterlist - Soldier Boy Masterlist✦

✦summary: soldier boy never liked soft things, until he met you. suddenly, there's nothing more important in the world✦

✦warnings/tags: Soldier Boy x female!reader, no use of y/n, no description of reader, age gap (he's a hundred), angst, softer!ben, canon divergance, pining, plot to earn the smut (dirty talk, posessiveness, teasing, praise and degredation kink, size kink, dry humping, body worship, dom!Ben, nipple play, finger sucking, begging, manhandling, oral f!reciving, pussy spanking, overstimulation, clit abuse, creampie, monster dick ben, rough sex, this man is a sex god fr fr, edging, dumbification, dacryphilia, hyperspermia, squirting), love confessions, fluff✦

✦wc: 11k✦

✦author's note: request! i love that old man✦

Butcher said he knew a librarian, and Soldier Boy snorted.

“You think some moldy, four-eyed broad is going to help us fix this? Some gal who’s never gotten her hands dirty in her life?”

“I think we’re runnin’ outta options,” Butcher said, shooting Soldier Boy a look of challenge. “You got better ideas, I’m all ears. ‘Till then, we’re goin’ to see my girl.”

Soldier Boy had opened his mouth, ready to suggest many better ideas—he was full of them, a real strategic genius—when Hughie cleared his throat from his side. He had a hand up, like he was going to touch Soldier Boy’s shoulder, but thought better at the last second.

“She’s- You’ll like her, I think,” Hughie twitched, struggling to hold Soldier Boy’s gaze, but still trying. He’d never say it, but Soldier Boy admired the weed, twitchy kid’s tiny balls, for not giving up and running to the hills. Bravery wasn’t exactly in the cocksucker’s favor. “You’ll like her a lot more than us.”

That almost made Soldier Boy laugh. “That ain’t gonna be hard, kid.”

But screw him north, south, and to Tinseltown, the cocksucker was right.

They walked into the library, and the first thing Soldier Boy noticed was that it was warm and cool all at once. Like stepping into a building made of springtime. Sunlight poured in, but there was a soft hum in the background from the fans. The furniture was cozy, but everything was perfectly clean. Butcher called out a name, lazily bouncing on his feet, and an angelic voice called back.

“Be right there!”

Butcher smirked. Hughie shifted nervously, shooting Soldier Boy looks like he’d explode in this little fairy book house. He wouldn’t. Place wasn’t worth wasting his bomb on anyways.

Then you floated into view, and Soldier Boy felt the ground under his feet shift. You weren’t a molding, self-important, four-eyed bitch. If this was a fairy book house, you were a fairy. If you had the voice of an angel, it was because you were an angle, and the world twisted itself to give you everything you needed. The sunlight bended, hitting you like some scene from those romance movies he’d always refused to shoot. You floated more than walked. You smiled like you knew everything, and it didn’t even piss him off. 

Soldier Boy hadn’t been a teenager in almost a hundred years, but suddenly he remembered. How it felt for his face to heat and his cock to twitch and his heart to race under his palms. He kicked himself silently, gritting his jaw and standing a little taller. He was a grown fucking man. An American icon. A hero. He wasn’t going to tip over his fucking feet like some kid, especially not for some pretty girl that probably looked down on him. On everyone. The smart ones always did.

They were also the most fun to get in bed. They got bratty, then stupid when he fucked them nice and slow. All the mocking and sass draining out of their pussy, onto Soldier Boy’s hands and cock. Sharp eyes go dazed and sneers fall into open, shocked lips.  

You’ve got those sharp eyes, as you take their little group in. They’re like a hawk, picking them apart with a single look. A hawk in a doll’s body. A sexy, smart little doll.

But there’s no sneer. Even as you glare at Butcher, you’re more pouting than anything else. Solider Boy wonders if you’d pout while begging for him, or just get defiant and bitchy. He’d love to find out.

“You’re getting blood on the carpet,” you tell Butcher, and he shrugs.

“Ain’t you worried about where I’m leakin’ the blood from, love-“

“No.” You cross your arms, lifting you chin. “You’re going to clean it up.”

Butcher’s shoulders curve slightly. Like a scolded fucking child. “C’mon, I got other shit to be workin’ on-“

“Then you shouldn’t have dragged blood on my carpet.”

“But- I got work I needed ya for-“

“Hughie can tell me about it.” You offer Hughie a small smile, and he waves in return.

Soldier Boy stands a little taller. Maybe you just haven’t noticed him yet.

“Clean,” you snap at Butcher, turning on your heels and marching back between the shelves.

Butcher looks at Hughie and Soldier Boy, like they’re supposed to save him from this shit. Hughie gives him an apologetic smile, and follows you into the back. Soldier Boy grins, clapping Butcher on the shoulder before following.

“You didn’t tell me she was a firecracker-“

“She ain’t a firecracker,” Butcher muttered, rolling up his sleeves and glaring around the entryway for whatever people use to clean things. “She’s a fuckin’ problem.”

Soldier Boy smirked, looking back to where you disappeared. “Even fuckin’ better.”

Butcher snorted, giving Soldier Boy a strange, half-amused look. “Good luck with that one, Gov. Don’t blow the fuckin’ job.”

Soldier Boy flipped him off. He’d never blown the job over a woman before—not even an ethereal, enchanting one—and he’s not about to start now. He stood in the corner of your little office, while Hughie asked you questions about books and chemicals and other, smartass shit that Soldier Boy’s never bothered with. He always had people like you on payroll, to give him those answers when he needed them, but usually he didn’t. You punch anything hard enough, it breaks. And he was pretty fucking good at punching.

He said that, at one point. Hughie sighed like he was in physical pain—kid was fucking dramatic—and you just gave him a curious tilt of your head.

“You’re good at punching?”

“I’ m the fuckin’ best.” Soldier Boy pushed off the wall, crossing over to the desk. “Could show you sometimes. Teach you how to defend yourself.”

“Hm.”

You looked him up and down, and Soldier Boy found himself puffing out his chest and flexing his arms. He’d dealt with hard to get girls before. They always cave, when he chases long enough. When he gives them a bit of a show, and promises them it’ll be worth their time.

“What would I be defending myself against?” You asked, soft and sweet. Your voice was like honey. Soldier Boy wanted to get trapped in it, like a fly.

“There are evil people out there,” he drawled, leaning over the desk.

You didn’t lean away, but you blink, and Soldier Boy hears your heartbeat skip. Any reaction is a good one. Meant he was doing something to your body, and that was the first step in getting his foot through the door.

“But I’m here to protect you,” Soldier Boy winked, and stuck out a hand. That was his favorite line. It always fucking worked. “Soldier Boy, doll. Pleasure to meet you.”

Usually, that line made women of all ages and makes swoon. They’d bat their lashes and giggle if they were easy, roll their eyes and flush if they were hard, get starry-eyed if they were innocent, or twirl their hair of they were just as sinful as Soldier Boy himself. But you looked him up and down, and your heartbeat was at a steady baseline. You watched him like you were trying to read him. Like he had thoughts written over his face, and you were  skimming through them. Through him.

“I know,” you said, taking his hand and shaking once. Your fingers weren’t trembling. Your smile was kind, but controlled. “Nice to meet you.”

Soldier Boy blinked, hand still hanging in the air as you turned back to your computer. He’d felt an unsteady heartbeat under his fingers, when you’d touched. But it wasn’t yours. It was his. He wasn’t fucking nervous. His mouth was oddly dry. He cleared his throat and stood back up, trying to strangle some fucking dignity into his body. He wasn’t about to fold in half like some fucking pussy. He just hadn’t gotten properly laid in too fucking long. You were pretty. That was fucking it.

You helped Butcher and Hughie with the job, tracking down books and flipping through them with nimble fingers. Soldier Boy imagined them wrapped around his cock, and forced himself not to rub himself through his pants. He wasn’t about to be that fucking pathetic, no matter how much it hurt. No matter how he couldn’t look away from you for a single second, in case you just turned into mist and turned out to be some kind of fucked up hallucination.

Soldier Boy watched you, as you read and spoke to Butcher. You were polite. Please and thank you and tiny fucking giggles that made his balls heavy. It would be fun to fuck all that out of you. All those sweet words pouring out of your lips, as you’d cry and sing for him.

Butcher seemed to respect you, which said something Soldier Boy wasn’t sure how to hear. Nothing and everything good. When Hughie told you what supes they were going after, you didn’t blink or crow uselessly about murder not being right. You’d just rolled up your sleeves and gotten to fucking work. Soldier Boy could appreciate that. No use in crying about shit that had to be done.

“How’d Butcher find someone like you,” Soldier Boy asked when it was just the two of you. You looked up with raised brows, he almost fucking balked.

 Pretty fucking doe-eyes that ripped right through him. Fucking dangerous.

“Someone like me?” You echoed, and he grunted.

“You’re too fucking gorgeous to be tangled up in this shit-“

“Am I?” Your lips twitched. “I wish someone would’ve told me that. I would’ve kicked you out.”

Soldier Boy opened his mouth, his tongue dragging over his lips. You kept fucking smiling and talking, and he was asking you to smile and talk, but it did something drug-like to his brain and he didn’t fucking like it.

“You know, I used to watch your movies as a kid,” you said casually.

Soldier Boy smirked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He could fucking work with that. “Yeah? You a groupie?”

That got another, breathy little laugh from your lips. Christ, the sound was addicting. “Not quite. I’m not- That’s not really something I do.”

“Somethin’ you do? The fuck does that mean.”

You shrugged. “Hero worship.”

Soldier Boy frowned. The fuck were heroes for, if not to be worshipped. “You think you’re too good for that shit? For getting wet from seein’ someone you want on a screen?”

That got a flush. It’s the best fucking color he’d seen, on your face. He wanted to kiss over it, make it bloom down your neck and over your tits.

“I bet you were a dirty fuckin’ girl, weren’t you,” he leaned further forward, and dared to reach over the desk. To brush his fingers against your arm, and revel in the way you shivered from his touch. “Had posters of me in your room, didn’t you. Used to touch yourself, thinkin’ about me breaking through the fucking wall and taking you right there.”

You blinked at him, with those pretty fucking eyes. They were glossy, now. Another step. He was closer, to what he wanted, and it was the best damn feeling in the world.

“Well, I’m here to make dreams come true, doll,” he traced down your arm, and your breath caught. “Just tell me how you want it, I’ll fuck you ‘till you’re too cross-eyed to read this shit.”

He jerked his head to the books, and waited. This was the part where you told him to bend you over the desk, to pin you to the wall, to pull you into his lap and let you ride him until you passed out.

But instead, you fucking laughed. You pulled your arm back and giggled, shaking your head like he’d said something funny. Soldier Boy’s mouth fell open, and he felt like a fucking idiot. You flipped through your little book, ignoring his dumbfounded expression. He opened and closed his mouth like a damn fish, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

“My favorite was Ghosts of Hanai,” you told him, offering another one of those mind-numbing smiles. “Did you know it was a book first?”

Soldier Boy did not know that. He couldn’t remember how to speak, to tell you that.

“It’s a really good book. Obviously you’re not the main character- In the book- But I kind of liked the adaptation anyway. It wasn’t as- You know- Good. But it was more fun.”

“I’ll show you fun,” he muttered before he could stop himself, and you just giggled again.

If you did that shit one more time, he was going to have to go into the bathroom to beat himself off. Soldier Boy knew why Butcher called you a problem, now. You were perfect, and infuriating, and he should’ve wanted to put your head through a wall for fucking laughing at him, but he didn’t. He wanted to hear that songbird sound again. He wanted to fucking get under your skin, the way you’d seeped under his.

“Bye, Soldier Boy,” you waved to him like a sweet siren, when they were ready to go. He grunted, and waved back.

“You sure she ain’t some kind of supe,” he asked Butcher in the van, and Butcher snorted.

“I’ve wondered, but nah. Just a fuckin’ human.”

Butcher gave Hughie some kind of secret look that Soldier Boy didn’t concern himself with. He was too busy thinking about you. He’d have to go back to you see you. He’d make up a reason why. But he wasn’t used to not getting things he wanted, and he was worried he might want you so much his annoying fucking heart was going to give out about it. He couldn’t allow that.

You’d remember him. You’d laugh for him more. He’d figure out what made you like him, and he’d do it, and then this annoying buzz in his bloodstream could fuck off.

This annoying fucking feeling better fuck off.

It wouldn’t fuck off.

Soldier Boy found himself back at your library after a week. If anyone asked, he’d say he tried to stay away. It would be to preserve dignity. To pretend he hadn’t been hoping they’d need more stupid books so he could go back and see you.

You were clinging to the edge of his every thought. That laugh, that smile, the magnetic way you’d spoken and sat and been. Gentle but not weak. Kind but not stupid. A rare kind of thing to be, when you knew the dark kind of shit that grew in the corners of the world. Part of Soldier Boy prayed it was just an act. That he’d talk to you a little more, and you’d be no better than the rest of them. Then he could fuck you and forget after, like he’d done with almost every other person on his long, stained list of bodies.

But you were just fucking like that. And it was insufferable and enchanting and fucking amazing.

“Soldier Boy,” you said when he returned, blinking in surprise, and something else he couldn’t read. “You’re… back?”

He grunted. “Obviously.”

“Do you need help with another-“

“No.”

You frowned at him. Did that little head tilt, and Christ, what he wouldn’t give to just bury his fucking face in your neck and breathe you in. 

“I just here to get a book,” he heard himself say, and Jesus, you were doing something to him. He didn’t give a fuck about books. He certainly didn’t want one.

But you were here. And Soldier Boy had a feeling you wouldn’t be open to him just being here to see you.

And you lit up, when he said he wanted a book. Great. Now he was going to have to fucking read, just to get some pussy.

“What book?”

“A- Big one.” That had to be impressive. “Biggest you’ve got, doll.”

He winked, looping his thumbs through his belt. You made that face again, brow raising slightly. “Big as in long, or complicated?”

Soldier Boy shrugged. “Both.”

“Fiction or Nonfiction?”

Why were there so many kinds of fucking books. “Whichever one you like better. I trust you won’t give me something shit.”

That made your lips twitch, and it hit Soldier Boy like a rush of coke. His head got lighter and the world got sharper, and you smiled at him, and that heartbeat was his again. He really was worse than a fucking teenager.

“Wait here,” you told him, and he did. Like a fucking dog.

You came back with a massive heap of a book. There couldn’t be that many words in the world, let alone enough sentances to make something that long. Anything worth saying shouldn’t take more than a fucking page.

“Infinite Jest.” You passed him the book, and he stared at you. “Long and complicated.”

Soldier Boy grunted, not bothering to spare the book a glance. You were what he was here for, and if you just fucking walked away, he felt like he might explode.

“You like this thing?” He almost barked, and you paused, already a half-step back.

“It’s okay,” you said slowly. Actually fucking thinking about your answer. “I like his essays better.”

“Essays?” Soldier Boy frowned. “You like his fuckin’ book reports?”

You gave him one of those coy, honeyed half-smiles again. He was worried he was going to fucking drool. “Creative essays. Like- Book reports about your life.”

Soldier Boy nodded, glancing down to the book, then back to you. He didn’t want to read this shit. Book reports had, as far as he remembered, always been short. And he wanted to see what kind of shit you liked to read. What you considered good. “I want one of those. Instead of this.”

He’d meant it to be an order, but it came out without the usual edge he put in his tone. That edge was his best weapon. It had won him countless battles before they even fucking started.

But you just gave him that fucking look. The one where he felt flimsy and stupid and weak, his body all excited from your attention and his fingers itching to dig into your soft looking skin. You smiled, and he swallowed, drawing himself a little taller. He wouldn’t just fall into you. He refused to be that fucking weak.

“Read that first,” you told him. “Then we’ll talk about the essays.”

You turned and walked away. Soldier Boy let you go, because if he touched you, he was worried he was going to turn into more of a weak fucking lapdog than he already was. He wished he could read you—read that smile, those looks, the lacey tone you took with him and seemingly no one else—as well as you seemed to be able to peel him right apart. He looked back at the book, roughly flipping it to the first page. He tried to read the first sentence, but the words floated off the fucking page and didn’t even brush through his brain. He couldn’t read this shit.

Then we’ll talk, you’d said.

You’d talk to him, if he read this.

Christ on a Cross. He was going to try and read a book.

It took him a month. A month of staring at words in the dead of night, when he couldn’t sleep and no one was around to see. If Butcher caught him trying this shit, he’d never hear the end of it. Hell, he wasn’t hearing the end of it now, and no one even knew he was reading.

“Where you goin’, Gov?” Butcher barked as Soldier Boy moved to the door, and he scowled at the air.

“None of your fucking business.”

Then Butcher said your name, smiling knowingly, and Soldier Boy wanted to punch his teeth in. “You’re goin’ to see her again, ain’t you-“

“Said it was none of your fucking business,” Soldier Boy spat, raising a firm finger. “Not another word, or I punch your teeth into your asshole, you got that?”

Butcher just laughed to himself, and Soldier Boy ground his teeth. It wasn’t anything like your laugh, but then again, nothing was.

“Hi, Soldier Boy,” you greeted him without looking now. He wanted to think that meant something. That you were getting as obsessed with his presence as he was with yours. “Did the dictionary help?”

“Mhm,” he glanced at the sitting area, where a few old folks—younger than him, but wrinkled in a way he’d never be—were poking through the newspapers and chatting. There were some kids in the book section. Few teens giggling, somewhere deeper between the shelves.

No one paying him any mind. No one to look at him and wonder what the fuck Soldier Boy was doing in a library, why he’d needed a dictionary, like he was some dumbass who couldn’t speak or read or-

“I needed a dictionary,” you said, and Soldier Boy blinked. You were looking at him. Right at him. He felt it, in his heartbeat, and he never wanted it to fucking stop.

“What,” he said, stupid and drunk, and you smiled.

“I needed a dictionary. To get through Infinite Jest. The first time,” you amended, your eyes getting strangely softer the longer you watched him. “But- I still needed it.”

Soldier Boy’s hands curled into fists. “You read it multiple times?” This one time was feeling like it was going to fucking kill him.

“I read most things multiple times.”

He snorted. “Jesus.”

That made you blink. A faint flush creeped onto your face, and you looked back to your computer. Soldier Boy froze. Your heart was doing a little fucking stumble.

Interesting.

“You’re real fuckin’ smart, huh?” He tried, just to see what would happen.

Your heart did the little stumble again.

Jackpot.

“Maybe,” you mumbled, glaring at your screen. “I just- Like books.”

Soldier Boy snorted. “Yeah. Think I figured that one out myself.”

You hummed, not meeting his gaze anymore. You were getting quiet. He didn’t like it. Not like this. You’d be allowed to get quiet and shy when he was balls deep inside of you. Right now, he wanted to hear that pretty fucking voice, teasing and sassing and helping him, all at once.

“What kind of books do you like,” he asked, and it sounded lame to his own ears.

But you looked at him. And screw him up the ass and sideways, it was fucking worth it.

“What kind of books do I like?”

“That’s what I fucking said, isn’t it?”

You stared at him. He stared back, because there was one thing he wasn’t going to let himself do, and it was back off of this.

“Why?”

And Soldier Boy leaned back. Because you said it like that was a real question. Like he wouldn’t, obviously, naturally, want to know every fucking thing about you. Women liked it when someone listened, he’d learned over the years. He’d listen to whatever the fuck you wanted to say, if it got you closer to being in his arms.

“Because,” he said, and your lips tugged down into that pretty pout.

“Because why?”

“Can’t I just fuckin’ want know?” He snapped, and you leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms.

“No one ever just wants to know.”

Soldier Boy rolled his eyes. “Well, you’re looking at someone, doll. So get that through your pretty head.”

You blinked. Flushed. Wrapped your arms around yourself, like you were trying to stop that loud heartbeat from jumping right out of your chest.

“I like everything,” you said stiffly, and Soldier Boy smirked.

“Everything, huh.”

You shrugged, and he leaned over the desk. Your breath hitched, and he knew his features were turning wolfish, but he didn’t fucking care. You seemed into it anyways.

“Everything,” he breathed, and your lips pressed in a nervous little line. “Show me what everything is, then.”

And I’ll show you everything, gorgeous. He thought about saying it. Thought about how you’d melt and get nervous and he’d have his in.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t figure out why—what the fuck was wrong with him, what the fuck you were doing—but the words got caught, and he didn’t say them. He had you where he wanted you anyway, he rationalized. Talking to him. Smiling at him. Breaking you right now would be too fucking easy.

Since when had he not wanted easy.

Maybe since you pulled him through the bookshelves with light, delicate fingers on his wrist. Like you were afraid of breaking him. Since you talked and talked and talked, and he realized how fucked he was.

He wasn’t listening to you talk to fuck you. He just wanted to hear you talk, about books and ships and history and romance and any other fucking thing you wanted. He went home with a book he hadn’t gone there for, because you said it would help him keep trudging through Infinite Jest, and it did. He finished it that week, and marched back into your library with a prideful grin, slamming the monster of a book down on your desk.

“Done,” he declared, and you smiled at him like you were fucking happy, and it did something to his chest he didn’t want to name. Something fucking gooey and light. Something dangerous and strange.

“Did you like it?” You asked him, like it fucking mattered. 

Soldier Boy nodded, and you beamed.

“I have something for you, next.”

Of course you fucking did. You were just perfect like that. And the next thing was a damn picture book, but when he glared at you, you just giggled and pushed it further into his hands.

“Trust me,” you said, and fuck him, he did.

He took the damn book, because you were the one handing it to him, and he’d read it, because that smile was the best thing he’d ever damn seen.

“Bye, Soldier Boy,” you said when he walked away, and he paused.

Soldier Boy. The character, in the movie you hadn’t liked as much as the book. “Ben.”

You blinked, and he sighed.

“My name is Ben.”

“Oh- Okay,” you flushed, and there it was again. That little skip in your heart. “My name is-“

“I know your name, doll,” he drawled, and you bowed your head. Shy and adorable and he was so fucked.

“Right. I- I knew that.”

He chuckled, grinning down at you, and that hawk sharpness in your eyes was gone. You looked like a fucking bunny, and screw him, he wanted to bend you over right there. He brushed his fingers with yours, and you made the tiniest fucking sound.

“Bye, pretty girl,” he said, and you mumbled another bye of your own.

Soldier Boy took a deep breath through his nose, and smelled it. Heady and thick and purely fucking you.

You were turned on. It made his own cock twitch in response, throbbing and begging him to coat itself in that sweet slick between your legs. To feel the way it would stick and slide against him, to cover himself in you and make you his and-

He took a deep breath. He’d be back tomorrow. He’d keep testing it, until you snapped. You made him chase, he’d keep fucking chasing. He didn’t want to just take you anymore. He wanted to make you admit it. That you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

He was worried that wasn’t fucking possible. That no one had ever wanted anyone, as much as he wanted you.

Feelings were so fucking annoying. He still refused to name them. You’d do that for him, with all your smart words and pretty eyes. 

Soldier Boy looked over his shoulder before he walked out the door. You were watching him. He smirked, waving a hand in goodbye. You flushed and looked frantically back to your computer. 

He’d get you where he wanted you. Didn’t matter what he’d need to do. He looked at the book in his hands. Comic, you’d called it. He’d give it a shot. For you.

He was starting to worry, about the type of shit he’d do for you.  

“What’s your thing,” Ben grunted at you one day, and you frowned.

“My thing?”

“Everyone’s got something that gets them in this shitty game,” he said. “They kill someone you love? Help someone you hated. One of those soft little fuckin’ pussies try and do something to you?”

A small, angry part of him flared at that. Anything that had touched you would burn.

“I mean- It’s just the right thing to do,” you mumbled, looking back to your book, and Ben snorted.

Of course you’d do the right fucking thing. He knew you better now. He shouldn’t have bothered to be surprised.

You liked things too much. You were too soft and too hard in all the strangest places. You never looked at him like you were afraid, and you praised him for finishing comic book after comic book—you’d been right, he liked those things, more than he’d say aloud, but you knew—and then you’d flush when he gave you a little too much attention and get sassy when he tested you.

He knew about your past now. There were darker parts that made him angry. Happier shit that made you smile, and made him want you to smile about him one day.

You knew about his past. More than he’d ever told the tabloids. He’d found it slipping out of him, the longer he was around you. But you had that effect on him. Flowing over his like the fucking ocean and catching him in your tide. He didn’t fight it. Anything that made you look at him, that let him tease you, and made you all fucking soft and sugary.

Ben brought you dinner now, like some kind of delivery boy. But you always smiled at him, and asked him how his day had been, and damn him that kept making it worth it. You kept making it worth it. He was allowed in your place now, and he didn’t question why. He’d just been there, and you’d been going home, and he’d been allowed to walk you there. It wasn’t too far from the library, and pretty fucking small, but it smelled like you. Felt like you. So he liked it, and he found a reason to be there almost every fucking day, and that reason was food or your safety or another comic book. You’d talk and he’d listen, then he’d talk and you’d listen, and fuck him, he felt better than he had in longer than he wanted to admit. In maybe forever. And it was all fucking you.

“Wow.” Hughie had said to him, about a week ago. “You really don’t just want to like- You know. Bang her.”

Ben had grunted, not bothering to respond. All the shit he said just made them bigger asses. Butcher had taken to asking him to read every single piece of paper they came across. Frenchie had been making kissy faces behind his back, and asked him to make out with a book. The only reason Ben hadn’t crushed his skull with a single hand was that he’d be kicked out, and you’d probably frown upon that upon that.

“Heard you been reading,” MM had grunted to him. “Didn’t know you knew how.”

Ben had ignored that too, mostly because he hadn’t know he could read either. But he was getting better at it. Helpful to have a good motivator.

You.

He didn’t want to just fuck you anymore. He wasn’t sure what the fuck he wanted. You smiled and the world felt in order. You said his name and it sounded like being called home. Fucking you would be a benefit—you’d only gotten hotter, the longer he’d looked, and his shower and pillowcases knew your name as well as his dreams did by now—but he also liked just… sitting here. Talking. Like some cucked, pathetic little housewife-

“Why do you do it?” You asked, and Ben paused.

“Do what? Fight?”

You nodded, watching him with that judgement free curiosity. He frowned at his burrito, hoping it would give him the answer. He didn’t fucking know. He never thought about that kind of shit, unless you asked him to.

“Couldn’t you just… leave?” You asked softly, and he glanced up at you under heavier eyes.

“You want me to leave, doll?”

“No.”

You’d answered so quickly. It made him feel a million feet tall, and decide that maybe flying wasn’t that fucking bad, if this was what it felt like.

“But- Do you really want to do this forever?” Your voice was so quiet, Ben was worried you were trying to tread lightly around him. He never wanted you to do that. Not with him. If he was getting raw and weak, you had to fucking come down with him.

“Nah,” he took a large bite of his burrito, speaking through the mouthful. “Sick of it. All of it. Been lookin’ for something better-“

“Ben,” you chastise, holding out a napkin. “Chew.”

He rolled his eyes, but chewed. You smiled, waiting patiently for him to finish. He never fucking knew how you did that. Put up with him, when all the members of Butcher’s team looked like they wanted to throttle him every damn second. He used to like it like that. To be satisfied, with the way people would glare at him and not be able to do a fucking thing about it.

But you just… liked him. And that felt better than anything else.

“Looking for something better,” he said after he swallowed. “Y’know. Not this shit.”

“What does better look like?”

You asked it gently, and he doesn’t need to think about it.

Better looked like you.

“Still figuring that out, doll,” he muttered, and something taut flashed over your features. Ben frowned. Times like this, he really fucking wished he could read you.

“I hope you figure it out soon,” you mumbled, and Ben swallowed.

He did too.

You’re getting confused, but Ben is a confusing man.

Everything you’d heard about him—from Butcher, Annie, and the TV—said that he’d be a monster. An impossible, murderous asshole who’d snap you in half to get what he wanted. Over sexual and disrespectful. Arrogant and cold.

And he was arrogant. He was impossible, and a bit of an asshole. He’d flirted with you like he couldn’t help himself, and looked at you like he wanted to eat you alive.

But then he actually read the book. He smiled at you, and got soft around edges you hadn’t even noticed were so sharp. It had been like watching barbed wire unravel. Concerning and strange and… endearing.

Ben was surprisingly endearing.

It was like he’d never just had a friend before. He wandered after you in the library like a puppy, and leaned over your desk with squared shoulders like he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing himself.

“What’s that,” he’d ask you every day, about almost every thing, and you’d shove down a laugh. Under all the gruffness and anger, he mostly just seemed confused. About the world. About you.

So at least it was mutual. The uncertainty.

Because for everything you understood about Ben—his loneliness, his age, his strange puppy like demeanor—you didn’t get this. What he meant to you. What you meant to him.

You’re afraid you’re in love with him. That somewhere between take-out dinners and telling him you read romance books, he stopped being just Ben and became yours.

Not yours.

No one else’s. He says he hasn’t gotten laid in forever. Between visiting you and working, you’re sure he hasn’t had time to mess around in a bar or alleyway. That makes you smug, in a way that sits too brightly in your chest. You don’t want him to find that kind of feeling anywhere. You wish he’d ask for it from you.

He makes moves. He flirts and teases and smirks when it pools between your legs, nostrils flaring and eyes gleaming. Like he fucking knows. But he never does anything about it, and you’re going insane.

You mean something to him. You had to. He’s not the kind of man who would’ve stuck around this long, if he didn’t. But he’s also not the kind of man to deprive himself of things. If he wanted you, he should’ve fucking taken you by now.

Hughie turned red, and mumbled something about this not being his business, when you brought it up.

“Just- Talk to him,” he’d pleaded. “Not me. Never me- I- I like life.”

You’d frowned, but Hughie had frantically changed the subject. He seemed to know something you didn’t. They all did.

“He’s fuckin’ obsessed with you,” Butcher had drawled, when you’d asked him. “That’s what we know.”

Your face had burned. “It’s- No he’s- I mean- I know he- He likes women, and- I’m one- But- Just sex-“

“Love, he could find sex on the street or gutter if his dick needed a tug,” Butcher had rolled his eyes like you—pacing and wringing your hands—were the insane one. “He read for you. I’m real bloody sure he didn’t even know what the fuck a book was, ‘fore he laid eyes on your pretty fuckin’ face.”

You’d smacked Butcher. He’d laughed, and started asking more mission-related questions.

You’d obsessed over it all day. Obsessed with you. He wasn’t. He couldn’t be. You were you and Ben was Ben. He was Soldier Boy. The handsome face you’d grown up fawning over, the big man on the TV screen that seemed untouchable. You’d almost fainted when you saw him, something like a survival instinct locking over you and stopping you from becoming a downright pathetic schoolgirl. You tried to divorce him in your head, from the idealization of a childhood crush.

But you couldn’t. He was meaner and kinder and smarter and cruder than anything you’d managed to dream of. His praise made you dizzy and his mocking tone sent a pool of desire between your thighs, and then he did the dishes when he thought you weren’t looking—you think he might be under the impression you’ll believe they’re just doing themselves—and asked about your interests and didn’t fuck around.

He was supposed to fuck around. To make it easy on you, to get over the infatuation.

He hadn’t. And now you’re so far gone you spend every day gorging yourself on his attention.

Obsessed.

Pretty girl, he calls you. You’d like to be his pretty girl, if he’d just put a claim on you. You wish you could drink enough to be brave. You wish he’d be selfish again, and just fucking take you.

But you’re going to have to do this the hard way. The way that cleaves you in half, if there’s a single wrong serration. If he just carves your chest open, takes your heart, and doesn’t offer his in return.

You have to try. Because if you don’t, you’re going to be here forever.

He brings you your favorite food, tonight. He sits with his knee bumping yours, and it makes your head so clouded you almost forget your plan.

“Do you have… anything?” You ask, your voice barely more than a nervous breath. “That you want to do?”

Ben gives you a sideways, almost confused look. “The fuck does that mean?”

“I mean, just- What are you planning to do?”

“When.”

“In the future.”

“Ah,” he shrugs, raising his burger back to his mouth. “This.”

You swallow. That’s not helpful. “This?” You prompt weakly, and he nods. “You mean- This?” You wave a hand around the room, and Ben’s lips twitch. “Me?”

“You?”

He says it like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, and your heart shrinks.

That’s what you thought. You never should’ve listened to Butcher and Hughie, you knew that wasn’t what he meant, you fucking knew it and- God, you were so fucking stupid, to think he’d want you back.

“Nevermind,” you mumble, and Ben stiffens.

“Doll-“

“I’m getting a new shipment of books tomorrow.” You don’t want to talk about this anymore. “So- I might be too busy to eat lunch-“

Ben snaps your name, and you stare at your hands.

“I- Um- I don’t know how long it will take, so you don’t have to come over-“

Ben grabs your wrist, his touch almost searing into your skin, and when you look up, he’s staring at you. He’d moved to kneel over you. Your noses would brush if you twitched. His breath fans over your face, and you’re embarrassingly slack under his hand.

“Ben…” You whisper, because you don’t want to do this. You don’t want whatever fragile thing you had—even if it was just friendship—to break.

But he doesn’t move back. He never really has.

“You’re sulking,” he mutters, and you try to bow your head, but he catches your chin with two fingers. Tilts it slowly back up, forcing you to hold his gaze. “Why.”

Your voice is tiny. “Doesn’t matter-“

“The fuck it doesn’t matter. What’s wrong with you.”

“Nothing,” you try to avert your gaze. It’s impossible. “I just- You’re- I’m-“

You cut yourself off lamely. Ben leans in closer, jaw ticking as he scans over your features.

“You want it to be you?”

Your mouth falls open. “I- What?”

“My future.” He rasps. “You want it to be you?”

“Do you?”

Your mouth falls open. “I- What?”

“My future.” He rasps. “You want it to be you?”

“Do you?”

You expect him to laugh, but the lines on his face just deepen. He lets out a sharp breath through his lips, then smirks.

“Maybe I do,” he almost purrs, tipping your chin a little futher back. “What then, doll?”

You gape at him. So close. Saying words he won’t be able to take back, but not enough to make you melt. You’re still guarded. Still careful.

“Say it,” you whisper, because you have to be sure. “The- The whole thing.”

Ben frowns. “Doll-“

“Say it,” you almost plead. “If you mean it-“ Please fucking mean it. “If this isn’t just- If I’m not just some fixation, Ben, please say it-“

He crashes his mouth over yours, and your words turn into a long, hungry whimper. His lips are chapped and warm. Soft but firm, the kiss demanding but controlled. His hand slides into your hair, the other coming up to cup the back of your neck, and you melt into his strong body. His tongue traces over your lower lip, and you whine softly.

You get breathless embaressingly fast. Your thighs press together, but he’s not making it easy on you. His hand on your neck drags down your spine and splays possessively on your back. He pulls you closer, humming in satisfaction when you brace your fingers on his thighs. His knee pushes between your legs, and you grind down against it without a thought.

“Christ,” he kisses the corner of your mouth, smirking as you pant and cling to his jeans. “Needy little thing, ain’t you?”

“Ben,” you whimper, and he hums.

“’S alright. I’m gonna take care of you.” He hooks his arm under your knees, the other sliding under your arms. “C’mon.”

You wrap your arms around his neck as he pulls you into the air, pressing your face into his neck. He carries you steadily to the bedroom, setting you down with suprising gentleness on the bed. You blink hopelessly at him, as he draws back up. He still hasn’t said it.

And like he can read your mind, Ben smirks and flicks your nose with his thumb.

“Not a fixation,” he says. “Just my pretty fuckin’ girl.”

You flush, but refuse to cave that fast. “That’s not saying it.”

Ben snorts. “Jesus, woman-“

“Say it.” You snap, before—under the burn of his gaze—adding a mumbled, “Please.”

Ben chuckles. He peels off his shirt, and you almost forget to be stubborn. His big. Even bigged than he looks with his shirt on. His skin is tanned and soft, his boobs might be bigger than yours, and you can see the flex of thick, well built muscle with every breath. Your tongue flicks over your lips, and he smirks.

“You’re real fuckin’ demanding, you know that?”

“You- You’re supposed to- Ben-“ Your protests fall flat, as he trails a light touch up the underside of your leg. “Ben- That’s- You’re- Not playing fair-“

“I’m not tryin’ to play fair, doll,” he teases. “I’m tryin’ to get you ready.”

“Ready?” you squeak, and he hums, squeezing under your knee.

“Want you to be nice and relaxed for me,” he murmurs. “Gonna use this pretty fuckin’ body right. Make you wet, make you fuckin’ stupid.”

He pushes his fingers under the hem of your shorts, and your breathing is staggered and shallow. You lean back and push into his touch all at once, and Ben’s grin widens.

“Look at that. Already playin’ nice.”

You try to glare at him, but he lean back down, pressing you back into the mattress with a deep kiss. Your fingers shoot into his hair, as his weight settles between your legs. It forces them open, his budge pressing right against you clothed, aching pussy. You hadn’t even let yourself fully feel it—the vastness of your desire—because you’d been worried it would’ve just consumed you entirely. That you’d turn into some sex-crazed lunatic, imagining Ben above you and touching you and kissing you. You would’ve turned into a puddle that spent her days in bed with a vibrator, dreaming of what she couldn’t have.

But now you have it. You have him. Kissing you like he’s trying to let you consume him. He groans, with every whimper he draws from your lips. His hips roll against your core, and your breath catches. Your cunt feels like it’s almost in pain, from the neglect of intention. You scratch at Ben’s shoulders and belt, trying to drag him closer and tear every barrier between you apart with only your nails.

Ben catches your wrist, and pins it over your head. You thrash and strain, and he just chuckles, dragging his thumb over soft skin.

“Look at you,” he rolls his hips down again, and your back arches off the bed. “How the fuck could you think I wouldn’t want this?”

You blink at him, breathing through your mouth, and Ben leans down. His kiss brushes the very tip of your nose. You mewl, wired and desperate, and Ben laughs. The mockery of it only makes the heat between your legs stronger.

“You make me fuckin’ crazy,” he says, jaw clenched tight. “Make me… Feel things.”

“You make me feel things too,” you breathe out, and Ben stills.

“Yeah?”

You almost giggle at the slack, worshipful look on his face. Guarded but leaking with a hope you’re sure his old, old heart doesn’t know how to recognize. You don’t strain against his pull on you. You just lean up and brush a kiss over his jawline.

His whole body shudders. You sink back into the cushions, beaming as his wrecked expression. A low growl rolls through his chest, and his eyes go so dark it’s almost predatory.

“You,” his voice has dropped, so impossibly deep. “You…”

Words seem to fail him. You don’t mind. You don’t love Ben because he’s a man of words. You have enough of them as it is. You surround yourself with them, and there are only so many in the world that can express this. The electric, new and fragile and hungry thing between you. 

You love Ben because he’s a man of action. And you know he’s not going to be able to say he loves you.

So he crashes back down, and shows you instead.

It starts with open mouth kisses, over your collarbone and throat. You head tips back, your mouth going slack, and Ben moans against your skin.

“So fuckin’ responsive.” He snakes a hand under your body, giving you ass a firm squeeze. “Knew you would be. Sensitive fuckin’ doll, probably getting fuckin’ soaked from just a little touching.”

Humiliations burn with arousal in your gut, deep and hot and intoxicating. You are soaked. You can feel it every time you shift against him.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Ben coos, kissing a particularly soft part of your neck. “I know how bad you want this. I can fuckin’ smell it.”

Your eyes widen, your mouth falling open. “You- You what?”

“You heard me,” he pushes your shirt slowly up, thick fingers brushing over the soft skin of your stomach. “Every time you got needy, doll. I could almost taste it.”

“And you- You never-“

“You’re the one who said to be sure.”

His tone is mocking, but his touch is hot and his expression is shockingly soft. You flush under the attention, unsure what to do yourself. Just splayed on the bed for him to play with, dazed and confused. Ben grins like a wolf, and tears off your shirt without a warning. You almost protest, but he doesn’t give you the chance.

“No bra,” he takes on perked nipple, rolling it between his fingers with a dangerous smile. “Fuckin’ slut.”

You swallow, watching with wide eyes as he lean over your chest. Electricy shoots through your body, as he wraps his mouth around your neglected nipple, sucking lightly as he plays with the other one between those infernal fingers. You stare at the ceiling with fluttering lashes, lost in the warmth of his mouth. His tongue flicks, and you whimper. Ben’s teeth graze against you, and a weak noise of his name falls from your lips.

He smirks, dragging more kisses over the curve of your breast. He gives your nipple one last flick, then kisses over the hurt.

“Already bein’ so quiet,” he teases, toying with the band of your shorts. “Think I might need to make you scream, doll. Make you prove how bad you want this cock.”

“I- I want it-“ You stammer, pushing up on your elbows. “Don’t- I want it-“  

“Shh.” Ben presses his finger against your mouth, and your jaw snaps shut.

He blinks. You swallow, trying to drag up the strength to resist him again, but it’s too late. He’s seen it. How fucking desperate you are to please him.

“Jesus,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “You’re- Chirst.”

Your cheeks burn. You try to roll onto your stomach, but Ben catches you and rolls you back. You pout at him, silently pleading with him not to make this a fucking thing, but he just keeps examining you. His gaze burns over your skin. You think you’re going to fucking explode.

Slowly—almost carefully—Ben pushes his thumb into your mouth. You take it, batting your lashes and loosening your jaw. The pad of his fingers tickles the back of your throat, and you suck lightly, eyes fluttering shut. Ben massages your thigh, and your legs fall further open.

“This what you really fuckin’ wanted, huh,” Ben mutters, and you hum, swirling your tongue around him. “You’ll do anything I fuckin’ tell you.”

You hum, sucking harder. You eyes burn, and you squeeze them shut.

Ben taps your cheek with his free forefinger. “Open.”

You obey, blinking through the shame, not letting yourself slack on his thumb. You flick against it, the same way he’d played with your nipple, and his throat bobs.

“Fuckin’ dangerous,” he says, and you don’t understand why he thinks that. You’re the pathetic one here.

But Ben pulls his thumb back, and with a softness you didn’t know he had, he leans down and brushes his lips against yours. It’s a restrained, teasing kiss. You think you’re going to cry, but then he pushes his knee back against your core, and you can only gasp against his mouth.

“That’s it, doll,” he mutters. “Relax for me.”

“Be- Ben-“ You blubber, already fucking ruined. “Touch me, please-“

He deepens the kiss, his tongue pressing into your mouth with such demand you almost sob. He knee grinds itself against you, moving back only so he can rip your shorts and panties away. Your breath hitches, as two massive fingers drag their way through your cunt.

“What a fuckin’ mess,” Ben growls. “I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I. Not fuckin’ my pretty girl like she needs.”

You whine, nodding like a bobblehead. Ben pulls slightly back, kissing a stray tear on your cheek.

“Fucking crybaby,” he hisses. “Barely even done anything yet, you’re going to be a fucking wreck when I’m done.”

God, you are. There’s no way around it. Those two fingers are curling right against your weeping pussy, and if he doesn’t do something soon, you’re going to fucking scream.

“I’ll give you something to really cry about.” Ben slams a quick, harsh kiss back on your lips before pulling away. “No cumming, ‘till I say. You got that?”

You stare at him, and the softness is gone. His jaw is set, his eyes sharp, and his voice a rough command. Usually, you’d laugh at his attempts to boss you around, but right now you’re barely more than putty in his arms. You nod, and Ben huffs in satisfaction.

“Good girl.”

Your cunt squeezes around nothing. Ben must smell the gush, because his nostrils flare and his fingers dig into your hips.

“Been waitin’ too fucking long for this,” he says, kissing his way down your body. “Going to take my fuckin’ time, doll. Think I’ve earned that much, keeping my cock in my pants long as I did.”

You mewl an agreement, and Ben laughs.

“Anything I say,” he mutters to himself, pulling your legs over his shoulders. “Too fuckin’ good to be true.”

You’d argue this wasn’t good, if it wasn’t the best feeling you’ve ever experienced. You’re completely at Ben’s mercy, one massive hand massaging your ass as the opposite parts your pussy folds, giving him a good look at the evidence of your desperation.

Ben hums in approval, and your pussy clenches again. He laughs, kissing the inside of your thigh, and blows a puff of cool air against your clit. Your hips fly off the bed as you cry out, and Ben slams them down with a single hand.

“Stay still.” He orders, and you whimper in acknowledgement.

You’re going to try. You’re really going to fucking try, to listen. To be good for him.

But he does’t make it fucking easy.

Ben dives headfirst into your pussy, and you almost fucking scream. You knew he was experienced, but this feels like someone’s mouth fucking you with a sex machine. A hot, messy sex machine that has rough lips and a thick tongue, plunging in and out of your gaping cunt. His nose drags against your clit, rubbing into it over and over like he’s trying to set you off, and you grab at the sheets to try and achnor yourself.

“Be- Ben- Fuck-“ He makes out with your clit, and your eyes roll back in your head. “Oh- Oh my god-“

He pulls back, smacks your pussy, and pushes his face back into your core. Your body doesn’t even seem to know how to process it, every nerve so lit up that it’s scrambled and dazed. You’re almost, literally, overloaded with pleasure.

Ben keeps eating you out with the fervor of a starved man. He uses his whole face, tonguing you like he’s trying to memorize the way you squeeze around him. Whenever you cry out for him, he spanks your pussy, and you can’t tell if it’s a punishment or reward. Maybe both, if the way your cunt pulses with every hit is an indication.

He hits your pussy again, right when you’re so close to the edge you can taste it, and you almost cum. The only thing that stops you it is physically yanking yourself back, trying to escape the intensity of his touch.

Ben grabs you and drags you back. You whine, looking up at him with glossy, tear stained eyes. He wipes them away with his thumb, glaring down at your open, wrecked expression.

“The fuck did I say about moving?”

“I- I didn’t-“

“You did.”

He plants one hand on your lower abdomen, spanking your pussy with the other. Once. Twice. Your eyes roll back and the tears roll down your cheeks, but Ben just sneers.

“You wanna cum, doll?”

“Yes- Yes, please-“

“Then be fuckin’ good.”

He spanks your pussy again, and pushes his face back in. Your cunt is so abused and raw it only takes a few seconds to work you back up to where you were before. You try not to move, but then Ben—like he wants you not to listen—flicks his clit back and forth over your clit, so fast it feels like a vibrator. Your thighs lock around his head, and your back arches off the mattress.

This time, Ben doesn’t pull back and spank you. This time is worse. He just… Keeps going. He’s strong enough to keep your hips steady against his face. He grabs your ankles, and forces them to stay around his head. You can’t get away from him, as he works your pussy. You thrash in the sheets, crying out and shoving his head as it becomes borderline impossible to hold your orgasm in, but he doesn’t fucking stop.

You’re crying, loud and pathetic, and Ben just moans against your cunt. You roll onto your stomach, trying to crawl away as your traitorous pussy grinds against his face, and Ben slaps your ass. One arm leaves your body—though it doesn’t help you at all—and you hear skin slapping behind you. You manage to twist over your shoulder, and almost cum just from the sight.

Ben, jerking himself off as he keeps you pinned to his face. His cock is thick and big, bigger than anything you’ve ever see. It’s almost pretty, and that’s not something a cock should be. He’s leaking with pre-cum. You want to lap it off of him.

He slams you further onto his face, and you mewl, collapsing back into the matteress. You might pass out, with the effort to keep your orgasm in. You can barely think, barely speak. You’re just sobbing into the sheets and lost in the pleasure.

Then it stops.

Ben pulls away, and the loss is worse than the torture. You cry out, babbling something like his name, and Ben’s lips slot gently over yours.

“Doin’ so fucking well, babydoll,” he mutters. “Just a little longer. It’ll feel good.”

You nod, trying to chase his lips when he pulls away. He hums in amusement, pressing a kiss to your neck, and drags your ass up into the air. Your knees are already wobbly. You wouldn’t be able to stay up, if Ben didn’t wrap an arm around your stomach and force you up.

“Never seen someone so fuckin’ gorgous when they cry,” he mutters, rubbing that thick cock between the lips of your pussy. “Think I just like you wet, honey. Wet and fuckin’ sweet.”

He gathers some arousal with his fingers, then reaches over to press them against your lips.

“Taste,” he orders, and you obey thoughtlessly.

You don’t taste bad. Just… Strange. You moan, but mostly because you like Ben’s fingers being back in your mouth.

“That’s it,” Ben coos, lining himself up against your entrance. “Keep suckin’, pretty girl. Know it helps.”

You hum, and you’re too gone to actually think about what he said. It helps.

Then Ben starts to push inside you, and it becomes obvious what he meant. You squeak around his fingers, and Ben shushes you, slowly. Pushing every inch in so slowly, letting you adjust before giving a little more. You’ve never been strenched this wide, had such deep an angle. You keep sucking on his thumb, trying to find something to do with your body but seize up and wiggle. Ben thumbs slowly at your clit, helping it get further and further in.

“Fuck,” he hisses when he bottoms out, his balls pressed against the curve of your ass. “Fit me like a fuckin’ glove, doll- Christ-“

Ben leans fully over you, his body blanketing yours and his hand splaying back over your stomach. His face presses into the crook of your neck, his thumb pulling out of your mouth so his hand can wrap around your throat. He grinds his hips down, and you mewl, fresh tears falling from your eyes.

Ben kisses them away, rolling his hips again. His cock hits so deep inside you, you think you see stars. Just having him in you is cruel. You’re so full, with so little friction, it’s a wonder you’re not sobbing.

But Ben takes mercy, squeezing your neck gently before whispering, “Sing for me, babydoll.”

He pulls almost fully out, slams back in, and you scream. It’s a broken, delighted sound of pleasure, and Ben groans against your skin. He lets go of your throat, letting your cheek press into the mattress, and grabs your hand. Your fingers tangle together, as you pant. There’s nothing you can really do but take it. The size of him along, it knocks the air clean from your lungs. Ben presses demanding kisses, over your face and neck. You try to kiss him back, but you mostly just writhe and cry out his name.

He’s like an animal, with all his grunts and growls of your name. Every thrust drags his cock over your g-spot, splitting you open over and over until you’re just a ball of tears and nerves in Ben’s arms. His thumb wanders back down to your clit, rubbing tight, harsh circles, and you scream. The Zpressure in your body feels seconds from exploding, and you really don’t think you can take much more.

“Be- Ben-“ Your eyes cross, as he keeps pounding into your gushing cunt. “Ooooh- Bennn-“

“I know,” he kisses your cheek, then the corner of your mouth, his hips snapping down like a drill. “Soak my cock, pretty girl. You can do it, come on-“

The permission is all you needed. Ben’s hips snap forward, the head of his cock angled to drive into that gooey spot, and you come undone. Your orgasm is blinding and powerful, sweeping through every inch of your body. It lasts, as Ben fucks and fingers you through it, unraveling you so completely you think you black out for a moment. All you remember is a heavenly, strangely pure kind of floating feeling, and Ben’s growled praise in your ear.

“Good girl,” he hisses, and you coo, pussy fluttering and weeping. “Fuckin’- Gonna fill you up, doll, fill you up real fuckin’ good- I’ll be leakin’ out of this pussy when I’m done, let everyone know who the fuck you belong to- My girl, my fuckin’ girl-“

Ben’s thrusts grow jagged, his hand moving back to your throat, and you make a blubbering sound of agreement. He chuckles, choked and rough.

“You’d fuckin’ love that. Bein’ full of me, bein’ mine, bein’- Fuck-“

Ben cums, thick ropes of cum spurting into your cunt. There’s so much of it, so much of him, you can almost feel it in your throat. Almost fucking taste it. He tries to fuck you through it, but soon his release is dripping down your thighs and spraying back to your calves, and he pulls out. A stream of it hits your back as he moans, and you only squeak when Ben rolls you over and paints your stomach and tits white as well.

It’s a glorious fucking sight. Ben in all his glory, his cock wrapped in his fist and coated in your juices, his chest heaving as he moans your name and cums all over your body. When he’s done he doubles over, crashing his lips against yours and kissing you with so much fervor, you could almost think no sex had happened at all.

He pulls back, and you giggle. You don’t know why. It just feels like the right fucking thing to do, with how softly he’s looking at you. How unbelievably fucking lucky you are. Ben raises his brows, rolls his eyes, and presses a softer kiss to your lips.

“You think this is funny?” He mutters, but there’s no venom in his voice.

You nod, smiling up at him, and he sighs.

“You’re lucky,” he mutters, and he has no idea.

You press a kiss to his lips, and they twitch up. His eyes soften again, as he takes you in. So fucked out you can’t even speak.

“Good?” He mutters, and you nod like a bobblehead.

So good. So fucking worth it, for the months of mind games of questions, with how fucking good it was.

Ben smiles. And you can read it all over his face.

How he really does feel the exact same way.

“Told you I’d take care of you,” he grunts. “My fuckin’ girl.”

And you are. And he really, really fucking does. He cleans you up and feeds you. Gets you water and crawls into bed, lighting up a joint but keeping you tucked tight into his chest. You look up at him with a dazed smile, and he looks down at like some adoring, devout follower of a secret religion.

“We should get married,” he says suddenly, and you laugh, finding enough of a voice to respond.

“Date me first, smart guy.”

He grunts, pulling you closer and kissing the top of your head. You both know there isn’t much dating that will need to be done, to get you on board. But Ben’s going to try anyway. And you love him for it. How willing he is, just for you, to really, always fucking try.  

✦End note: eric kripke WISHES he had my vision of soldier boy ✦

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[hellsite-yano]

when you're talking with a friend and they say "...can I be a little problematic?"

[sluttylittlewaistenthusiast]

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all the fanfics i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

ᡣ𐭩 how you can help palestine . fic recs m.list

@docrobinavitch

That Was Me Blue

when the wedding invitation arrives for your ex husband's marriage to your little sister, you're tempted to set fire to your entire life. your attending, jack abbot, has other ideas.

Did I Do This To Myself?

after jack breaks up with you out of the blue, you show up at his favorite bar to stir up chaos

@lovebugism

Off Day

in the middle of the worst e.r. shift of your whole career, you catch your not-quite boyfriend, shirtless, in an empty room with another resident.

Tender is the Night

you have a perfectly casual, no-strings-attached night out with a charming stranger you met at a bar; only for jack to find out that he's slept with his resident the next morning, and that you’ve made a very memorable first impression on your new attending.

Coming Around Again

while trying to calm down from a panic attack, you accidentally end up in the same room jack abbot is sleeping in, after you've already switched to the day shift just to get away from him.

You Win Some, You Lose Some

you assume jack likes you until the pitt starts betting on how long it'll take him and samira to get together; jack assumes you like him until you get called into work while on a date with your coworker. turns out, all it takes is a bad bet and an even worse date for you and jack to realize how in love the two of you are.

Looking Good Today, Doc | @softundermoonlight

your shift had started terribly. and texting the wrong person (the way-too-hot night shift attending) might be the final stroke.

@flowersforbucky

Its Always Darkest Before The Dawn

after a heartbreaking night shift, all jack wants is to get home to you.

Petals For Armor

vignettes of your relationship with jack abbot told through the five love languages.

Sargeant. M.D. | @drjohncarters

you stop providing camgirl services to your clients when you start your residency. except you can't let go of your favorite client, who, as you quickly find out, is your new attending physician for the next four years. he recognizes you immediately and is ready to stake his claim.

@s-writing-s

Everywhere, Everything

Taking your friend's advice and buying a sex toy might end up being the best thing you ever done—even if it doesn't seem like it at first.

Distance

Jack's a good attending. He's nice to you. Polite. But he doesn't treat you like he does the others. He doesn't send you smiles. He never laughs with you, and he never seeks out your company. It hurts enough that you've decided to leave and take an attending position elsewhere.

Slim Pickins | @flofaiiry

a tipsy reader confides her boy troubles to jack, then realizes maybe one of the good men she's been waiting for has been in front of her the whole time. (it's him, he's good men.)

Cologne and Money | @relaxdiva

You tell yourself it’s just a crush. Just proximity. Just long nights in the ED and shared adrenaline. But when a workplace incident ends up with you being accidentally sedated, your filter is stripped away, the truth slips out—and the man you’ve wanted for months hears it all. You wake up embarrassed, determined to pretend it never happened, but he has other plans. In a department where gossip spreads fast, you’re forced to confront what’s been simmering between you two all along.

On Me | @snoopysupe

5 times jack pays for you +1 time you pay for him.

@pencil-n-pen

You've Ruined My Life

good things happen to those who are found crying in the supply closet by their hot, older, maybe flirty boss-slash-mentor.

Too Sweet

being in and out of the hospital all the time has never been an enjoyable experience. But after meeting a certain ED doctor who you can't seem to get away from, things just might start looking up.

Thinking Of You | @peachyparkerr

after things fall out between you and jack, you do your best to stay away from him when you can. but that doesn't mean that you don't wish that things were different, and it certainly doesn't mean that jack enjoys seeing nurse mateo diaz flirt with you.

@inkydelusions

Hoola Hoop

when you first heard of code hoola hoop you'd whished you'd never have to use it, but the pitt is full of surprises. when jack abbot finds you on the hospital roof, defeated and hurt, he makes the decision to change both your lives for good.

Something Med School Didn't Cover

when the doors of the pitt swing open to reveal you on the gurney, dr. jack abbot’s world shatters, forcing him to fight for two lives he didn't know were at stake.

Elevator Confessional | @mariposium

getting stuck in the elevator with the one doctor on the emergency floor you were hoping to avoid at all costs was not on your bucket list for your shift. neither was having to face the feelings you both had buried for each other.

Oblivious To Him | @mabel-777

jack likes his younger resident, but you are completely oblivious to it, thinking he’s just a nice attending.

It Had To Be You | @munsonpetal

you and jack abbot have known each other for five years. over those five years, feelings on both ends began to bloom. will one failed date finally give one of you the courage to admit your feelings?

Fall in Love (Again and Again) | @cryonme

a failed marriage, a traumatic brain injury, an old emergency contact, and a love that doesn’t give up.

@dearwalker

Gorgeous

You’ve been secretly losing your mind over Dr. Abbot for months. One slip on ice later, and your giant crush on the night attending becomes everyone’s business thanks to a concussion and a mouth that won’t stop calling him gorgeous.

The Great War

Years after your separation, life throws you back into Jack Abbot’s orbit in the worst way possible, carrying a devastating diagnosis that could be the reason your marriage fell apart in the first place: a tumor that may had erased the part of you that fell in love with him all those years back. And he’s not ready to lose you twice.

10 Things I Hate About You | @voidsagent

After joining in on the bet on Westbridge, you find an old bet on your relationship with Jack.

Where Do I Put My Love? | @alinathinkstoomuch

abbot offers up his house for a simple family bbq to help you out of a jam...unfortunately, neither of you are capable of keeping it simple.

Unaffected | @geminiwritten

even after swapping from nights to days, you just can’t seem to escape the inconveniently attractive night shift attending. then a ptmc night out, a sparkly dress, and a not-so-innocent game of never have i ever leads to dr. jack abbot making sure you can never utter the words “never have i ever finished during sex” ever again.

The Jack Abbot Effect | @mariposium

your boyfriend has a way about him that draws women in like bees to honey. it’s never bothered you before, but after a bad shift and an ill-timed bet, you are quickly reaching the limit of what you can handle.

Dancing In The Dark | @inknopewetrust

jack learned to deal with all of his problems alone. when he finds someone to help shoulder his burdens, he falls deeply, unconditionally head over heels for you—and he loves coming home.

@weird-is-life

My Savior

When a creep at a bar won't take a no for an answer, you fall into Jack's lap and get him to play your boyfriend.

Shy Shell

It becomes Jack's mission to get you out of your shy shell around him, and somehow it works.

So Fucking Endearing | @inkdrinkerworld

you do a bar crawl with the night shift as a new couple with jack abbot and he’s concerned about your blood sugar

Mornings At Robby's | @dearkeery

Robby had asked Jack Abbot to house-sit while he’s off on his three-month sabbatical. It just so happened that Robby also asked you, his sister. Out of all the things he’d managed to list, one would think Robby would have the decency to let you know that you weren’t the only one tasked to keep his house intact. But no, of course he didn’t because where’s the fun in that?

Casual | @hearts4hughes

I Couldn't Make It Any Harder | @annaevermore

You consider yourself really hard to love, so you try to keep your distance from Jack. He won't have any of it.

Bed Chem | @spikedfearn

Jack Abbot was still wearing his wedding ring the night he kissed you at your apartment door. Widowed and still learning how to want something again, Jack turns the best date you’ve had yet and one charged goodnight into something neither of you is ready to walk away from—and for him, wanting you is one thing, but letting himself have you is another entirely.

@seewhoyouwanttosee

Slim Pickins

In a final and desperate attempt to try and revive your love life, you turn to a dating app– only to have every attempt sabotaged by your boss.

Go Go Juice

After a series of bad dates, mid-conversation ghostings and a week straight of rejections– you need some good ol’ fashioned fun. Unfortunately, you end up drunk-dialing your hot, older boss– the one you’ve been crushing on since starting your residency. For some reason, he picks up.

The Terrible Date | @fromsil

a terrible date, on your evening off, ends you up at the emergency service in a bad state. the very same emergency service you work at.

@beccasdoll

Attuned

the new nurse in the pitt has caught jacks attention.

First Times

a collection of their first times together.

[docrobinavitch]

did i do it to myself?

dr. abbot x f!librarian!reader masterlist content: 18+ mdni, sexually suggestive content, swearing, alcohol, age gap, exes to lovers, angst with happy ending, hurt/comfort words: 6.3K synopsis: after three months together, you were sure you were in love with jack abbot. but then, he breaks up with you with little to no explanation and you're left reeling. after several failed relationships where you were constantly made to believe your feelings and wants were too much, you assume this is why jack has left you. in a bid to get him back, or hurt him, or both, you show up at a bar you know him to frequent and test his patience. a/n: this is for all my sensitive girlies, you are never too much!! i wrote this in a fugue state bc i missed jack let me know if u like as always my inbox is open to yap <3 syd

JANUARY

You knew he would be at the bar that night. Well, that wasn’t exactly true, but you knew his schedule and you knew he was off today. And sometimes when he was off, he went to the speakeasy at night.

The same speakeasy the two of you had your first date at.

Okay, so, maybe you hadn’t known if he would come tonight. Maybe you had just been coming to the speakeasy most Thursday nights since he had broken up with you. It wasn’t that you wanted him back, you just wanted to make him suffer. The way he had made you suffer.

At least, that’s what you had convinced yourself. Because the alternative was too humiliating. You had always had a habit of falling too hard and too fast. You were too sensitive, cared too much, got attached too quickly. You were planning future vacations and creating Pinterest boards for the apartment you would eventually move into just a month or two in. And when it was all over, it was always you who was falling apart while you watched from afar as the other person always seemingly escaped unscathed. 

Your friends wouldn’t say so, but you knew they found it all a bit pathetic. With Jack, especially, they hadn’t understood the draw. They had teased about his age, referred to him as grandpa in your conversations, pointed out his weird schedule, how you rarely saw him because of it. They thought you probably didn't even know him very well, that whatever infatuation you had was just a carefully curated delusion.

But they didn’t see what he was like when you were alone together. How could they know about the times when he made you dinner in his kitchen when you were too busy to even think about what to eat? How he had twirled you around in your socks on the linoleum floor while Dancing in the Moonlight spun on his record player. 

They didn’t see all the times he quietly ran his fingers through your hair the way you liked when you were sad. He never made you feel like your feelings were too heavy or a flaw, which was foreign to you. It was why you had been left reeling when he ended it.

“I don’t understand.” You were shaking your head, sure you had misheard him. Sitting across from him outside your favorite coffee shop, holding the shaken espresso he had insisted on buying for you, that you now understood to be some kind of fucked up consolation prize. 

“I just…” He tore his gaze away from yours, as if it would lessen the blow if you couldn't see his hazel eyes glint green in the sunlight when he said it, “I don’t think it’s working.”

You had never gotten more of an explanation than that, too in shock to ask anything in that moment. You weren’t sure, but you thought you must’ve asked him to leave because the next time you looked at the seat where he had been it was empty and your iced coffee completely melted. 

You were aware, as you always were, that to everyone else who didn’t attach themselves like cling wrap to their significant other, three months wasn’t a whole lot of time to date someone. Especially when you were adults on opposite work schedules. You hadn’t even said the L word yet, but that was just because you knew from experience that it was better for everyone if you waited until the six month mark to do that. You were very much in love with Jack Abbot, but you thought you'd scare him off if you were the first to say it. All the rules you had to set for yourself to make yourself more like a cool girl and less like Velcro in your relationships.

With Jack, you had followed the rules. You had made sure not to call too often, not to cry in front of him, not to seem too eager to spend more than just a night together, leave in the morning after coffee, don't leave your toothbrush behind in his bathroom, and on and on the list went. You liked him so much, you were extra careful. And you thought it had been working.

Until it wasn't.

And now it had been a little over a month since he had broken up with you and you were at the bar. This definitely broke the rules, but what did it matter if he thought you were a crazy ex girlfriend? You were still just an ex.

And when he walked into the bar that night, you pretended not to notice. You ignored the thrum of your pulse in your ears when you heard his rough voice give the bartender his usual order. Whiskey, neat, with a twist. You kept your attention on the bouncer that had been talking with you the last twenty minutes, hoping Jack saw him and felt green waves of envy. It was needless, though. The bouncer was loyal and married with kids. Had been showing you pictures of his wife and kids just five minutes earlier. But that was just fine, as long as it looked like something else altogether to Jack.

You knew you looked hot tonight, you had dressed this way intentionally. Knee high black boots, red crushed velvet maxi skirt with a long slit that stopped mid thigh, and a black mesh top with intricate floral patterns down the sleeves. The New Year had just passed so it was probably too cold for the outfit, but you also knew how crazy it drove Jack when you showed a little skin.

He had taken a seat at the bar top, but you were at a table in his line of sight, as was the bare skin of your thigh. And you felt it, when he noticed you. The heat of his gaze was unmistakable. His eyes were so intently focused on the slit in your skirt it felt like his hands were already on you.

The bouncer left you after a couple of minutes, called back to the door, and you heard it when Jack immediately stood and began to walk towards you.

He sat at the chair across from you, setting his glass on the table, "What're you doing here, kid?"

You allowed your eyes to trail up to his. It hurt as spectacularly as you thought it would, seeing him up close like this again. A knife twisted in your side at the tired look in his eyes, the gray stubble across his jaw that you longed to run soothing fingers across.

Reaching towards his drink, you pulled the spiraled orange peel from it and placed it between your teeth, chewing it lightly. 

"That seat's reserved for people who actually intend to fuck me." You said, jaw clenched.

He laughed softly, "Well I guess I'm in the right seat, then."

You grimaced, "That's not funny."

"I wasn't joking."

You narrowed your eyes at him before leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest, abandoning the orange peel on the table in front of you, "Okay, well it's reserved for people I intend to fuck, then. So, if you could find another seat…"

"You think I don't know you came here to see me? The same place we had our first kiss? Dressed like that and flirting with strangers in front of me?"

Your lips twisted upward in satisfaction when he couldn't help the hungry look in his eyes when they landed on the bare skin of your thigh, running a hand across his jaw in agitation.

You rolled your eyes, "Is your name on the deed to the bar or something?"

His eyes darted back to yours and the corner of his lips tugged up into a smile, "I don't remember you being so prickly. You used to be sweet."

"Yeah, well, breaking up with someone out of the blue and for no reason will do that to a person. I'm not a doormat."

He sighed and shook his head, "Come on, really?"

"What?" You asked sharply, "Did I mischaracterize it? Because that's how I remember it."

He leaned on his forearms so he was closer to you, his probing eyes locking on yours, "You wanted to end it, too. I was just the one to pull the plug."

For a second you thought maybe you were hallucinating. You actually physically recoiled from him in surprise, waited for him to repeat himself. But he didn't.

An incredulous laugh tore out of your throat, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

He shook his head, "You weren't in it at all the last few weeks."

"Jack," You said breathlessly, "That could not be further from reality and I think it's fucked up that you would try to blame me for the fact that you ended something special for no good reason."

"I'm not blaming—"

"I mean I would've done anything you asked, I was fucking in love with you, so for you to say that I wasn't in it whatever that even means to you, is frankly deranged."

He seemed taken aback and it took you a few moments to even catch up with what you had said in your annoyance, but once you had, your chest tightened with panic.

"What did you just say?" He asked slowly.

You felt short of breath and you stood in such a hurry, you rattled the table and almost knocked Jack's drink over, "You're right, I shouldn't be here."

"No, hang on—" Jack secured a firm hand around your wrist, "Sit back down."

You tugged lightly, "I have to go."

"Hey," Eric, the bouncer, made his way over to the two of you, chest puffed out. But Jack made no move to release you. "This asshole giving you trouble, baby?"

You smiled sweetly at him, "I'm okay, Eric."

Jack laughed humorlessly, "'Baby', huh?"

"Don't do something stupid, man." Eric said, stepping closer to Jack.

You had never known Jack to be aggressive in any way, so when he stood up and gently pushed you behind him, you were floored.

"Why don't you back off my girl, hm?" Jack said, deathly quiet.

My girl? You had a passing thought that maybe you had fallen and hit your head at some point earlier in the day. Surely that was the only logical explanation for whatever this fever dream in front of you was.

"She never mentioned a boyfriend, only an ex." Eric and Jack were now eye to eye, nearly chest to chest as they sized each other up.

"Um, boys?" You moved around Jack so you were standing to the side of them both, "I'm fine, okay? Eric? Eric." Reluctantly, he tore his gaze from Jack and looked down at you. You nodded reassuringly, "I'm good. Promise."

He took another long look at Jack before backing away, "You'll shout if you need me?" You nodded, and then he went back to the door.

"The two of you sleeping together?" He was more on edge than you had ever seen him. Knee bouncing as he sat back down. Jack was always the picture of calm and collected, especially in a crisis. So to see him so worked up now, really over nothing, was foreign to you. "He was acting awful… Familiar."

You sighed, "No. I know him from the library. He comes in for our Adult Literacy Program."

His knee stilled when your words registered and he looked over at you before sighing and running a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry." He shook his head, "M'such an idiot." He murmured.

You chewed on your cheek and turned to look towards the door, "I'm gonna go home, Jack."

His head shot back up, "Wait, can we just talk for a minute, please."

This was what you wanted, you thought. For him to be asking for you, desire seemingly reignited. But not like this. You wanted to have the upper hand this time and you had revealed your hand too quickly. He was in control again.

"I'm sorry." You said softly and excused yourself from the table.

SEPTEMBER

It was a beautiful fall day, perfect for the outdoor flu shot clinic you were running out of the library. You were running around with your clipboard in your hand, pen occasionally between your teeth as you checked in with all the professionals who had volunteered to administer the vaccine, pharmacy techs and nurses from the community.

But while you were doing so, you spotted a man you didn't recognize. Head full of thick, graying curls and an easy smile as he spoke to one of the nurses you had checked in with a few minutes ago. You frowned and looked down at your clipboard. The only volunteer you were missing was a Mrs. Dana Evans, RN.

"Excuse me, sir?" You politely tapped him on the shoulder, "The clinic's not open yet, you can wait inside until we're ready—"

"Oh, I'm not here for the shot, already vaccinated."

You nodded slowly, "Um, okay, well this is a private event so if you could—"

"Sorry," He chuckled quietly, "I'm Jack Abbot, I work at PTMC. One of our nurses, Dana Evans, said she was supposed to volunteer here, but something came up. She asked if I could cover for her." He pulled out his hospital ID, the word DOCTOR written under his name and photo.

You looked up at him quizzically, "We don't get a lot of doctors volunteering here."

He cocked his head to the side, "Why, because they think it's below them?"

"No, I think it's because most of them haven't administered a vaccine in so long that they have no idea how to do it anymore."

He huffed a laugh, "Well, you don't have to worry about that, I know how to use a needle."

He winked at you and, well, he was very handsome. It made your knees weak. You cleared your throat and broke eye contact, "Okay, well, thank you for being here, Dr. Abbot. Just don't maim anyone, please."

"Just, Jack, if you don't mind." He reached out a hand to shake yours, "I don't think I got your name."

Almost against your will, your brain registered his toned arms and prominent veins that snaked down from his biceps to his hands. And the freckles, God, the freckles that dotted his skin were gorgeous. You swallowed hard as you took his hand and gave your name.

"You organize this by yourself?" He asked, dropping your hand.

You nodded, "Yeah, every year. We usually get a decent turn out."

"That's really good. You're saving lives, you know?"

You bit your lip, and shrugged, "I suppose. The community's really important to me, it's part of why I became a librarian. Libraries were always there for me when no one else was." You realized you had overshared too late when you noticed the gentle smile on his face, "Sorry, um, I just really love the library."

"Don't be sorry," He shook his head, "It's sweet. You're sweet."

You laughed nervously and hung your head, hoping you weren't as transparent as you felt. Sweet. Just one word and it felt like he had reached inside your chest and pulled your heart out with his bare hand.

"Well, I should get back to it. I'll, uh, see you around?"

His grin widened and he nodded, "Counting on it."

You spun away and— Walked directly into the table behind you, nearly losing your balance as your thighs slammed into the hard surface. Oh, awesome.

You didn't turn back to see if he had seen (of course he had, there was no way he could miss it), but you did hear an unmistakable chuckle as you scurried away.

Humiliated, you avoided him the rest of the event. If the snacks or water needed to be refilled by his station, you had one of your other librarians do it.

Hours later, when the clinic had ended, you were beginning to put away all the folding chairs when a voice came up behind you, "Thought you said you'd see me around?"

You jumped, turning to face him and he laughed, "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I just couldn't help but notice you handed out everyone else's snacks and waters yourself, except the ones near me."

Catching your breath from the near heart attack he'd given you, you shook your head, "That… wasn't intentional."

"Oh, no? Was it also unintentional when you went by and thanked every volunteer for their help except for me?"

No, it had all definitely been intentional. You hung your head, "I didn't think you'd notice."

He blew out a long breath between his lips, "Man, I must be more rusty than I thought."

You frowned, "What?"

"I've been trying to flirt with you all day, but I must have done an awful job if you were avoiding me."

You bit your lip, tried to figure out if he was fucking with you somehow. It wasn't that you hadn't been flirted with before, you had. But Jack Abbot struck you as the kind of man who just flirted with everyone all the time at baseline, never meaning anything by it. So it had mortified you when you had gotten so flustered.

Deciding he was probably being genuine, you smiled, "I wasn't—I mean, I was avoiding you, but only because I thought I was being pretty embarrassing earlier."

He hummed, "Well, I thought you were adorable. You should walk into tables more often." You laughed and his grin widened, "When you've finished up here would you want to grab a drink with me?"

"Yeah," You said immediately before you could think on it too much, "Yeah, I'd like that."

He was waiting outside for you once you clocked out and walked you to his car, "Where are we going?"

"I know a place," He opened his car door and gestured for you to get in.

You smirked and climbed in the car, watched through the window as he smiled back at you and gently closed the door.

JANUARY

The snow crunched beneath your boots as you walked away from the speakeasy. Your breaths steamed out in front of you and you tightened your arms around yourself in an attempt to keep the heat in. It wasn't long before you heard an additional pair of shoes behind you and you rolled your eyes, "Jack, I said I don't want to talk."

"I know," He slowed once he caught up to you, "But could you at least let me drive you home? In complete silence?"

"I don't mind the walk."

He scoffed and shrugged out of his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders, "You're gonna get sick and then you're gonna have to come see me, which seems like the last thing you want."

"There are other doctors in Pittsburgh."

He laughed, "Sweetheart, you ever see a doctor in this city that's not me, I'd consider that infidelity."

You hummed, "Sounds like a you problem. Didn't you promise me silence?"

"Yeah, that was taken off the table when you refused to let me drive you."

You stopped cold on the sidewalk, causing him to nearly walk straight into you, "You can't walk me all the way home without a jacket, you'll freeze."

He raised his eyebrows, "So you agree that it's too cold to walk?"

You really didn't want to get in his car. You'd be warm and enclosed in a place where the smell of him infiltrated your every sense. He'd be close enough for you to touch. To remember all the times you'd made out with him in that car like a couple of teenagers. Including the day you met.

You chewed the inside of you're cheek, "You'll be quiet the whole ride?"

He made an X over his heart with a finger, "Promise."

You leaned your head back to look at the sky, thought about begging God to intervene on your behalf, remembered you didn't believe in God, and sighed, "Fine."

And so Jack walked you back to his car, opened the passenger door just like he had a few months ago, closed the door gently before walking over to the driver's seat.

You crossed your arms over your chest and turned to look out your window. It was bad enough the whole car smelt like him, like his bed, like his clothes. If you looked at him too, you thought you might combust. Or worse, cry.

So you sat like that in silence for a minute or two. Until you felt the warmth and heaviness of his hand on your thigh.

You whipped your head around, "You promised—"

"I said I would be silent," He murmured, "I never said anything about touching you."

You stared stubbornly down at his hand on your leg. His fingers were slowly fingering the edge of the slit in your skirt, teasing.

You scowled in his direction, "This is cheating."

"I didn't know we were playing games." He glanced in your direction, then back to the road, "Besides, I thought we were on the same team." He said softly.

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the window, "It was you who broke up with me, Jack." You said quietly. But you made no move to push his hand away.

His fingers slipped past the fabric of the skirt and you were struck dumb by the feeling of his calloused fingers stroking gently against your inner thigh, "Starting to think that might have been a misunderstanding."

You felt your resolve slipping. You started the night hurt and confused, as you had been for several weeks now, lashing out like a wounded animal. He had tamed you so easily, a few gentle words and the stroke of his fingers against bare skin and you were putty in his hands again. It would've made you angry if not for the desperate yearning that grew and expanded in your chest with every moment that passed.

When he pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex, you were practically vibrating in your seat. Jack had grown more brazen, slipping his hand higher and higher between your legs. You had conceded a couple of minutes ago, spreading your legs to provide him more access and had heard his sharp intake of breath when he noticed.

He parked the car, removing his hand from your leg as he did, and then you both turned at the same time to watch the other.

"We should probably talk," Jack said.

You inhaled slowly and shook your head, "You promised me silence."

He tilted his head, gave you a look that suggested he was fighting a losing battle against himself, "C'mon, kid." He said softly, "We shouldn't be doing this if we're not gonna sort this out first."

You unbuckled your seatbelt, "You should've thought about that before you put your hand up my skirt."

He scoffed, but was unable to argue further because you were climbing across the cabin of the car so you could straddle his lap. You had to hike your skirt up all the way to your waist to accommodate the spreading of your legs and Jack slowly inhaled through his mouth at the sudden feel of you on top of him.

"Until we get out of this car," You whispered, forehead leaned against his, "No more talking. Please."

His eyes latched onto yours and his hand cradled the side of your head, anchoring you to him. He nodded against you, helpless to deny both you and himself a taste, just a taste, he told himself.

His first kiss was hesitant, almost like he couldn't believe he was here again, tasting you like it was the first time. He kept his hands on your face, slipped his tongue into your mouth, thought that kissing you again felt like having his favorite dessert again after going years without. He knew this taste, this feeling, but having been denied it so long it felt like the voltage had been ramped up, every sound and sensation feeling brand new because of the intensity.

You had your hands in his hair, pulling at it as you whimpered into his mouth and ground your hips down onto his growing erection. Most of his time with you had been seared into his brain, but he had somehow forgotten how needy and desperate you had always seemed to be. You had always kissed and fucked like you thought it was the last time you would ever do it and it drove him insane every single time. So insane, in fact, he was starting to think he might cum—

There was a tapping on the glass of his window and the cabin of the car lit up with sudden light.

"Oh, fuck," You cursed and scrambled off him, rushing to pull your skirt down to cover yourself.

Oh fuck was right. A security officer for your complex was staring disappointingly into the car, gesturing for Jack to roll down the window. He sighed heavily before he complied and cleared his throat, "Evening, officer."

The officer gave Jack a bored look, "Do either of you live here?"

Mortified, you pulled your hands from your face and looked towards the officer, "Hey, Trey. Slow night?"

Jack fought a smirk at your attempt at a joke, covered it with a cough into his fist.

Trey sighed, "Think you'd mind moving the party inside so I don't have to call the cops?"

"Of course—" Jack started to say, but you cut him off.

"He was just leaving, actually," You said and began to climb out of the car, avoiding Jack's piercing stare, "Sorry, Trey. Won't happen again."

Jack watched through the windshield as you walked off with Trey, not even looking back at him. He debated following after you, ask you why the fuck you would just walk off like that after driving him nearly out of his damn mind.

In the end, he leaned his forehead against his steering wheel, counted to thirty and then backwards to zero, and then drove home.

NOVEMBER

It had been two and a half months since Jack had first met you, since he became absolutely enamored by every thing about you. The way there was constantly a pen somewhere on your person, be it in your hair, behind your ear, or between your teeth. How you smiled easily and everyone fell in love with you the second you opened your mouth. He didn't think you knew it, the power you had over people. But he saw it every time, the quick descent for even the most grumpy of visitors at the library. You'd have them laughing and smiling just a minute into a conversation. Much like how you had charmed him that first day.

Constantly, he found himself thinking, that's my girl. And, recently, with more frequency, I love you.

But he hadn't said it yet because he couldn't get past the gnawing feeling at the back of his mind that something was off. That you weren't in it the way he was. You gave him the sweet eyes you gave everyone else and he started wondering if he had just fallen in love with you the same way everyone else did. That there was nothing special or unique about it to you.

He had been confident after your first couple of dates, and then more so when you began staying the night or the weekend.

But you never stayed more than two nights in a row, even if he asked you to. He cleared a drawer out in his apartment, a shelf in his closet, but you kept living out of your duffel. You never left your toothbrush, even after he showed you where he kept his in the medicine cabinet, made space for yours. And they were little things, sure, things that maybe he would've ordinarily dismissed if it wasn't for the fact that he felt completely head over heels for you. And he wasn't sure how to be with you if you didn't feel the same.

And then, he had asked to meet your friends. He had asked you to come over for dinner over the phone and when you said you couldn't, that you had plans with friends, he asked about those plans.

"Oh," He said, trying to keep his tone casual, "Is it a girls only thing or are significant others going?" Because he knew enough about your friends, when you had talked about them, to know that most of them had long term partners.

You had admitted that it was an insecurity of yours, that you often felt like the only one without a partner.

"Uh, I think… I think partners were invited, yeah."

He let the silence fall, thought you would invite him yourself. But then second after second passed and he couldn't help it, "Okay… Do you think I could come along?"

He felt humiliated when you didn't immediately say yes, when he heard only static and your faint breaths for nearly a minute.

"Yeah, that would be… nice." You said finally.

"Look, I don't…" He ran a hand through his hair, "I won't come if you don't want me to."

"No, no, I want you to." You said quickly, "I do. I just, they can be… difficult sometimes. When I introduce them to someone new."

"Okay. I can handle it."

And he thought he could. But it was clear from the moment he sat at the table that they didn't want him there. That they thought he was just the flavor of the month and he'd be gone soon. Apparently, you did this whole thing often. Bringing new partners around. And again, he was left feeling like the connection he thought the two of you had wasn't all that special.

When he drove you home in silence that night, he saw you turn to him in his peripheral, "Is everything… okay?"

He wasn't sure if he was overreacting or not and probably, he should have just honestly communicated what he was feeling. But then he thought, why bother? In the grand scheme of things, you hadn't been seeing each other all that long. Why burden you with his emotional baggage? Why beg for you to love him the way he was trying to love you when you seemed so disinterested?

"Yeah, everything's fine." He glanced your way and smiled.

"Do you want to come upstairs?" You asked when he parked in front of your building.

He shook his head, "No, that's okay. I have some errands to run early tomorrow, I wouldn't want to wake you on your day off."

You watched him for a moment before nodding, "Yeah, okay."

You reached a hand up to cup his cheek, scratched at his stubble lightly, just the way he liked before kissing him. Jack savored it, the feeling of your mouth against his, the taste of your tongue in his mouth and your fingers running through his hair. He pulled away first, pressed a kiss to your forehead and gave you a slight smile, "Goodnight, kid."

He broke up with you less than two weeks later.

JANUARY

You were re-shelving some returned books that evening when you felt the presence of a patron nearby, staring at you, likely waiting for some sort of assistance. "I'll be with you in just a moment." You said, as you always did, to make sure they knew you knew they were there.

"Not a problem, I'm pretty patient."

You spun to see Jack standing there, leaning against a chair and smirking at you.

"What're you doing here?"

He shrugged, "I didn't know how else to get you to talk to me. I've been calling you for days."

Every time you saw him again, your stomach twisted painfully. After your brief lapse in judgment the other night, you had decided it would be best to just lock him out for good. You didn't want to hear what he had to say because how could he possibly justify all the hurt he had caused? There was nothing stopping him from doing it again once he got bored or when you did something to scare him off. Which was bound to happen, just as it had the first time.

"I thought you would get the hint." You said pointedly and walked around him to get to the trolley with returned books on it.

"I really just would like you to hear me out. Just for a couple of minutes, okay? And if you still want me to go, I'll go. You'll never hear from me again."

You threw up your hands in exasperation as you grabbed some books, "Fine. Be my guest."

"I broke up with you because I didn't think you liked me as much as I liked you."

Your hand froze still on the book you were re-shelving and you turned your head to look at him, "Bullshit." You spat.

He put a hand over his heart, "Honest. I had no idea you were in love with me."

You scoffed, "How could you—God, I could barely ever breathe around you because I liked you so much." The backs of your eyes burned, and you brought a hand to your chest, "It still feels like that, actually."

"You always had your foot halfway out the door—"

"That's not true—"

"I made room for you!" He was whisper shouting, conscious that they were in a library, "I made room for you in—in every corner of my life. I invited you to everything, I wanted to show you off everywhere we went. I wanted to be with you all the time, I was always asking, begging you to stay, and you never seemed to want to." He ran a hand through his hair, "You wouldn't even leave your toothbrush at my place."

You stared at him, dumbfounded, and then shook your head, "No… No, those were tests."

He frowned, not sure if he had heard you correctly, "What?"

Finally, you sighed and sat at an empty nearby table and Jack followed, "When… When you invited me to stay over for longer, or to… to leave my toothbrush, you were testing me to see if I was going to be a clingy girlfriend. And I wasn't. I always said no. I followed the rules."

He stared at you for a long time, taking in what you had said and softened his voice, "Baby, what rules?" He asked softly.

Your eyes were glassy and you pushed your palms into your eyes, "I have… rules that I follow at the beginning of every relationship so that… So that I don't seem as attached as I am."

He shook his head, "And why would you do something like that?"

You laughed humorlessly and looked up at the ceiling, as if to force the impending tears back in your eyes, "Do you know the feedback I always get when men inevitably leave me?" You sniffled and looked at him, "That I'm too clingy or needy. Or I want to move things along too fast and they want something more casual. That it freaks them out how into them I am and they just don't want to hurt me. That I said I love you too soon and it scared the shit out of them. And I liked, loved, you so much I was desperate to make sure that didn't happen with you."

You shook your head and looked down at your hands, "I guess I over corrected."

Suddenly, Jack was angry. Not at you, but at every man who had ever made you feel like you were too much.

"Hey, look at me," He said softly, waited for you to oblige him, "You should never ever feel like you have to dim your feelings or make yourself more palatable for anyone. And you absolutely do not have to do it for me."

You didn't seem like you believed him, so he went on, "The girl I fell in love with wears her heart on her sleeve and cares so damn much about everything. I knew who I wanted from the moment I saw you and it's the girl who organizes events to keep her community safe and walks into tables when someone flirts with her."

Finally, you laughed and looked up at him, "You mean that?"

"Yeah, I told you, you should walk into tables more often. I'm a sincere guy."

You laughed again and then hiccuped, "No, not that. When you said you love me?"

He leaned his forehead against yours, "Yes, I love you. And I want you to leave your toothbrush in my medicine cabinet."

You took in a shaky breath and closed your eyes, "Do you think me and my toothbrush could come over tonight?"

He cradled your cheek with his hand, stroked his thumb along your cheekbone, "It's an open invitation. Whenever you want for as long as you want."

You sighed and closed the distance between you, kissing him gently and slowly.

"You know, now that you've said this," You swallowed and opened your eyes, "That I can be as in love with you as I want and act like it, that you've unleashed a monster?"

He shook his head slowly, "If you're a monster, I'm a monster."

You snorted, "Very poor reference to The Notebook."

He faked offense, "I thought it was pretty romantic, actually. My point is…" He forced eye contact with you again, "You are with a man who has absolutely no shame showing how in love with you I am. And I am very in love with you. So, do your worst. You won't scare me off."

You bit your lip to hide your giddy smile, "The crazy thing is I think I actually believe you."

[persianmom]

me after ovulation

[kosmogrl]

get in loser we’re gonna try again despite it all

[ghettoprincesa]

[moldavite]

there's so much i don't know. how do i learn everything by tomorrow

[azaablue]

the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be apart of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.

[pyritecoin-deactivated20241130]

"oh you still use tumblr? can I see?" no. that's where I keep my demons

[rosierecs13]

𝜗𝜚 Dr Brendon Park / "Park the Shark" Recs 2

⭒ Masterpost ⭒ 05/24/2026

⭒ The Pitt

⭒ Part 01

Left A Mark On My Heart | @thefictionalmanswhxre

𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘰 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵

VERY Happily Married | @/thefictionalmanswhxre

𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘭𝘷𝘪𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦

Kitten and the Shark | @tumbleweedstillhaspanic

Dr. Brendon Park has well earned the nickname Park the Shark around PTMC. He’s no stranger to making the medical staff around him cower in fear and shed a tear or two. However, when his favorite nurse from the ED finds herself crying hidden away in the hallway, Dr. Park takes it upon himself to find the source of her sorrow and fix it for her. Y/N has earned her reputation as the sacrifice sent to go into any exam room anytime Park the Shark comes down to the ED for a consult. She’s not thrilled she seems to have earned his respect and she’d less thrilled when she overhears gossip his feeling for her go beyond professional respect. When he comes to her aid it hits her that maybe there’s more to Park the Shark than she’s previously assumed.

broken bones | @jadeittic

ending up in the hospital on her rare day off, arm in a cast after a student accident. what surprises everyone isn’t her injury, it’s the shark lingering, visibly concerned. around her, he isn’t intimidating. just tense, watchful, and oddly careful. why?

Affair? | @/jadeittic

the ER knows you’re married, pregnant, and hopelessly in love with your husband. so when brendon keeps hovering around you, everyone’s convinced you’re having an affair.

Dr. Brendon “The Shark” Park Masterlist | @rr-after-dark

Care Without Cruelty | @antisirkbitch

After a bad fall lands her in the ER, she comes face-to-face with the ex who shattered her self-worth during the darkest part of his addiction. But this time, she’s not alone—and when Park the Shark steps in, protective and unexpectedly soft, she finally gets to see what care without cruelty looks like.

Doctors, Depositions, & Desire | @novemberaster

The PTMC’s legal team hired you to represent several medical professionals, including Park, for a fraught med-mal case. You and Park were both stubborn, smart, and had to have the last word. And yet, the two of you were like magnets. 

dad!Park the Shark | @moonjellin

Protective!Park x Wife!Reader | @medusasfics

Idiots | @chiefdirector

You are such a good dad! | @/chiefdirector

Fairies | @/chiefdirector

Bite Me | @/chiefdirector

MELTING | @seewhoyouwanttosee

Whenever Brendon Park is pulled out of surgery for an emergency consult, the ER always holds its breath– only this time, he doesn’t wreak havoc. Could it be that you, the new, bright-eyed resident, has somehow managed to soften the shark’s bite?

imagine | @livfastdieyoung69

flirty!reader lays her eyes on park the shark for the first time

Drabble | @/livfastdieyoung69

flirty!reader continues her mission in trying to reel in park the shark. 

All Teeth. | @unigirl-writez

A new young talent comes to the PMTC and is almost immediately poached by ortho. Blunt, outspoken, overachieving, and stubborn she immediately catches the eye of the hospitals 'shark'.

Drabble | @uwulyn

brendon smells weird? pregnant with your fourth seems different from the last three. enjoying this?

his shark bait | @choasthriver12

ONE FISH, TWO FISH | @buffalokill

Look After you | @gemstone-roses

nurse reader ends up in the Pitt on her day off after urgent care can’t help. Park surprises everyone with his softness toward her.

And if your homesick | @/gemstone-roses

when reader is brought into the Pitt. Robby makes assumptions. Park is pissed

[ciciundercover]

me when i find other black girls on tumblr:

[tall]

[leclercsainzz]

may 5th, 2026

hello babes! i was wondering if you could give me some jack abbot fanfic recommendations, please 😭 i need more of him!!

𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 — 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐎𝐓

𝟭.) 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗛𝗔𝗩𝗘 𝗡𝗢 𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗔 || @geminiwritten

𝟮.) 𝗜𝗠𝗔𝗚𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗜𝗡’ 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗗 𝗕𝗬 𝗠𝗘 || @robbyology

𝟯.) 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗠𝗘 𝗕𝗟𝗨𝗘 || @docrobinavitch

𝟰.) 𝗠𝗬 𝗪𝗢(𝗠𝗔𝗡) 𝗢𝗡 𝗪𝗜𝗟𝗟𝗣𝗢𝗪𝗘𝗥 || @miserymorgue

𝟱.) 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗜𝗡 𝗦𝗢𝗠𝗘, 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗘 𝗦𝗢𝗠𝗘 || @lovebugism

↳ 𝟲.) 𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗬 𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗞

↳ 𝟳.) 𝗗𝗢𝗖𝗧𝗢𝗥 𝗕𝗔𝗥𝗞𝗘𝗥

↳ 𝟴.) 𝗧𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗕𝗨𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗠𝗘

𝟵.) 𝗦𝗨𝗚𝗔𝗥 𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 || @seewhoyouwanttosee

↳ 𝟭𝟬.) 𝗗𝗢𝗡’𝗧 𝗦𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗘

↳ 𝟭𝟭.) 𝗚𝗢 𝗚𝗢 𝗝𝗨𝗜𝗖𝗘

𝟭𝟮.) 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗙 𝗬𝗢𝗨 || @peachyparkerr

𝟭𝟯.) 𝗔𝗦 𝗜𝗡 𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗟𝗙𝗜𝗦𝗛 || @annsfics

𝟭𝟰.) 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗥𝗜𝗕𝗟𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗧𝗘 || @fromsil

𝟭𝟱.) 𝗖𝗥𝗔𝗦𝗛 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗦𝗘 (𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦) || @fxckingjo

𝟭𝟲.) 𝗕𝗘𝗗 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗠 || @spikedfearn

𝟭𝟳.) 𝗗𝗜𝗔𝗚𝗡𝗢𝗦𝗜𝗦: 𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗗 (𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦) || @s-writing-s

𝟭𝟴.) 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘’𝗦 𝗔 𝗛𝗢𝗥𝗦𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗦𝗘 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗛𝗢𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗧𝗔𝗟 || @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff

𝟭𝟵.) 𝗤𝗨𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗗 (𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦) || @itslowkeyatthenightshift

𝟮𝟬.) 𝗗𝗢𝗚’𝗦 𝗕𝗘𝗦𝗧 𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗗 || @of-apollo

↳ 𝟮𝟭.) 𝗕𝗨𝗗𝗗𝗬 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗪𝗦 𝗕𝗘𝗦𝗧

𝟮𝟮.) 𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗛 𝗔𝗧 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗥𝗜𝗦𝗘 || @romanticpursuit

𝟮𝟯.) 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗧 || @andrewmiinyard

— 𝗮 𝗳𝗲𝘄 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝘆 𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀. 𝗶’𝗹𝗹 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗯𝗮𝗯𝗹𝘆 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝘀 𝗶 𝗴𝗼, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗲:) 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼 𝗽𝗹𝘀 𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗽 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀, 𝗶 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲!!

[forestdeity]

fighting to the urge to ask “what do you honestly think about me and please provide as much detail as possible”

[catchymemes]

[timbllr]

via weheartit