venus 🧚

18 deaf, queer, liberal. undercover fairy ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[sadexpiredfairy]

venus’ masterlist!

my inbox is open!! accepting any requests according to the pitt & andrew cody for now!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

THE PITT

⚕️ ⋆˙⟡

————

⋆˖°.𖤓𐚁𓃗.°˖⋆

dennis whitaker

a little pick me up ~ D.W

just say so ~ D.W

📷 smau ~ D.W

————

⋆˚꩜｡.☘︎ ݁˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

frank langdon

wanna visit the eiffel tower? F.L + D.W

magic fingers ~ F.L

blue in the face ~ F.L

lucky me? ~ F.L

————

𓄀༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻♱

andrew cody

𝄞 blurb

clean freak

[stargirlultra]

Two of my favorite European actors 🤤 they are so fine like they're literally perfection I need to eat them so bad.

WHEN I SAY DOUBLE YOU SAY PENETRATION!!!!!

[someonesgettingturkied]

smosh duos as textposts!

[groovyangelkisses]

personally, i just love the idea of andrew’s girlfriend making him absolutely insatiable. he’s not very sexual by nature, and he’s always nervous to make the first move. but after 3 months of being with you— younger, bubbly, kind, you… he’s taking on a new form.

you could be standing with his brothers at a party, nodding along to a drunken story & noticing pope getting spacey and quieter than usual. so, as a comfort, you smile and grab his hand. poor thing doesn’t know it’s just supposed to be sweet in the moment, and he’s turning to you so quickly and leaning down to shove his tongue in your mouth.

naturally you’re surprised, gasping with a soft giggle, “andy!” to which he immediately pulls back with smacking lips, “‘m sorry.” it’s so genuine it breaks your heart, which then leads to you pulling him into his bedroom to suck him off.

or, you’re sitting on the beach watching him surf one morning. laid across your long tanning chair, happily waving at him in your little bikini as he comes back to join you. deran’s a little further behind, chatting with adrian about the tide, when andrew makes his way to you. he stands above you, broad shoulders nearly covering the warm sun as you look up at him.

“hi honey!”

but his eyes are completely locked in on the movement of your chest, and the drops of water sliding off of him and onto you. a big, meaty hand reaches down, pawing at your chest in a trance as you guffaw.

“andrew!” “can we go home now?” he tries, still squeezing at your tits and slowly bringing a hand to squeeze at his cock. amused, you quickly stretch your hand out to grab his wrist before he starts palming at himself on this very public beach.

“you don’t wanna surf a little more?” you try, though you love how needy he’s gotten. he scoffs like it’s the last thing in the world he’d want to do, as he sits on your chair with his back to you, “no.”

smiling and shaking your head in faux-exasperation, you lean back for a final few minutes of sun…. until you hear and feel him again. running his big hand up your leg and pouting. “andrew cody-“ “love this color on you, sweetheart. wish you’d wear it all the time.” totally in his own world.

you finally grant him reprieve, standing as his puppy eyes follow you. with a low “c’mon tiger let’s go,” he’s up and throwing you over his shoulder.

happily leading you to his truck. hopefully you can make it home in time, but as he clambers in the passenger seat underneath you, i don’t think he can make any promises….

[arewetooyoungforthatsblog]

The urge to lick those abs is unreal.

[toppdawgs]

brb i am not okay

[sadexpiredfairy]

courtney looked so good

[mermaidrobby]

Pope + text posts

[elgenerichoe]

an important distinction

[fangirl-dot-com]

hii can i request jack x reader who gets dolled up with her hair done cute and lipgloss is shining and the pittlings is looking at her like who is dr barbie and how does she have the time. with jack staring at her cutely:))<3

Lipgloss Kisses

summary: jack abbot's house was taken over by the color pink and oozes lip gloss out of the foundation.

tags: jack abbot x reader, fluff, cute vibes, pink, pink, pink, and more pink, jack actually has a staring problem, sunshine personified reader, pittlings, lippies galore, no large age gap (jack is 50/reader is 45), 18+ MDNI

notes: thank you nonnie for the request! this was such a fun thing to write :) for my readers if you'd like to join my permanent master list, please comment here! enjoy!

word count: 2.4 k

Jack wasn’t sure when he first noticed that his house had gone from macho-bachelor pad that obviously hadn’t seen a woman’s touch in years to a place that had something pink tucked in all its corners.

Ever since you’d moved in, pink was suddenly all that Jack saw. 

Your pink towels were always fluffy and warm next to his hanging-by-a-thread navy ones on the bathroom rack. Your pink slippers sat dutifully next to his crutches while the two of you were working the night shift; you up in pedes, him down in the third layer of hell. Your pink hair ties scattered in various places: his bedside table, his side of the sink, one in the shower, a few in his vehicle, and he swears he stepped on one in his garage. 

However, no matter how many pink hair ties he saw in his dreams, nothing could have prepared him for your actual addiction: lip gloss. 

As a man, Jack thought that you’d maybe have two or three. One to go in your makeup bag and one to go in your purse and one to leave in your locker at work. 

Oh, boy, was he wrong—dead wrong. 

If he thought you had too many hair ties and too many earrings and too many claw clips that he always had to remind you to take out of your hair before a drive, their number (combined) held no candle to how many lip glosses you had. 

It felt like every trip to the store ended a new lip gloss added to the cart. And that didn’t even compare to the ones you bought online. Jack’s head went dizzy with the, what he felt to be innumerable, list of brands that you swore was better than the last. 

Rhode, Kylie Cosmetics, Summer Fridays, Glossier, Refy, Dior (Jack did like that one because he knew you used his card for that), Clinique, NYX, Eadem: the list went on longer than a receipt from CVS. 

Jack didn’t know how you could keep up with all of them. One minute you were yacking his ear off about the newest sparkly nude shade while the next you were raving about a deep berry shade that would match your dress for the next medical gala. And then in two days, a new box would show up with your name on it, and he could only bet that the four cardboard walls held a brand-new lip gloss. When he thought about it, he wasn’t even sure he’d ever seen you finish one push tube before ordering a new one. 

But that really never mattered; he didn’t care what you bought with your money as long as he got to take care of everything else you needed. 

One time when he asked why you bought so many, you had simply told him that buying a new lip gloss felt like a reward. Whether you got one after a good night with lots of cases with happy results or after a bad shift where the world just felt impossible, you could always find a smidge of joy in buying something pretty to put on your lips. 

Jack understood a little too well. While he didn’t spend his free time scouring the shelves for a new plumping formula that held the smallest of shimmers, he found that same smidge of joy in spending time with you and slowly learning that down time didn’t mean he had to fill it with adrenaline-rushing activities. 

Now, even if the only downside to your lippie addiction was that your bank account went down by almost $25 each purchase, there were a lot of upsides to it as well. One of Jack’s favorites being that you’d get to test each of them out . . . on him. 

Jack became the heart eye emoji every time you swiped the same gloopy-looking lip gloss across your lips. His hazel eyes tracked the back-and-forth motion, and most times he’d run his tongue across his own lips in preparation for what came next. Your lips, now glossy and catching the light in whatever shade you’d gotten, would stretch into a smile as you looked at him expectedly. He never failed to look away, face sometimes leaning in inch by inch before you even finished applying the gloss. 

“Calm down, boy,” you’d said, nose scrunching at his eagerness. “You’ll get your kiss in a minute.” 

“I’m being calm,” he replied cooly like he wasn’t a breath away from your face, eyes taking in each freckle and smile line on your face. If he inhaled deep enough and if your gloss came scented or flavored, he’d be able to smell it on your lips. “You’re just so pretty.” 

“You’re such a flirt.” 

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his cheeks before pulling him into a kiss. Jack never minded the feeling of the gloss transferring over to his lips. He remembers how his late-wife’s favorite wine-red matte lipstick would always leave a few prints behind and even on his teeth depending on how long he stayed connected to his lips. But now it seemed as though glosses were more popular than lip stick, and Jack would die happily with his lips between your smooth ones. 

His lips would move languidly across yours like he was savoring the feeling. His hands would also rise and hold your face so you couldn’t escape the onslaught of his kisses. And the few times that the gloss was indeed flavored, he’d make sure to finish with a swipe of his tongue to the point a string of saliva would connect your lips together before your giggles started sounding off at the sight of his lips covered in sparkles or stained dark pink. 

A boy would hate the fact, but Jack was a man, and he wore the color with pride. 

_______________________

“Brother, you got a little something, riigghhttt there,” Robby drew out while poking Jack in the cheek before handing it over his friend. “Second thought, I think it’s doing something to bring out the rosiness of your cheeks.” 

Jack smacked his hand away. “Knock it off. I thought you’d be out of here by now?” 

Robby shook his head and chuckled. “You should know by now that I haven’t left on time in years.” He leaned against the nurses’ station. “Is that a new color? Pretty sure we saw this shade two weeks ago.” 

“Can’t ever have enough shades,” Jack repeated from the multiple times you had told him the same. “But yeah, it’s a new one. There was a summer drop, and you know how she gets.” 

And he did after witnessing the near meltdown of the 2025 Rhode summer launch that you thought you had missed out on before Jack casually mentioned he’d been able to get every single product while Robby sat in the chair chuckling the entire time. 

“Did you say summer drop?” Victoria’s voice suddenly sounded, pitch a bit too loud for someone coming down after twelve straight hours of traumas after traumas. 

The corner of Jack’s lips twitched into a smirk. “My partner’s very into those. Between the two of us, we spent a minimum of $400 just to get that damned towel.” 

And it wasn’t even pink Jack thought. But a summer drop was a summer drop. 

Victoria’s jaw dropped. “Wait, are you talking about the Rhode drop?” 

“Yeah. Next week’s the popup in New England, and thankfully it happens on my day off.  I don’t want to think what would happen if we failed to get a hoodie.” 

“Damn, Dr. Abbot,” she said, jaw dropping slightly. “I didn’t expect you to be someone so into makeup.” 

Jack looked up from the tablet in his hands with furrowed brows. “Huh?” 

Because to Jack, anything you were into swiftly became everything he was into. By himself, he didn’t have a lot of interests outside of the ER and some yoga he did in the mornings. You’d brought a fresh air to his life with your hot Pilates on the weekends and your farmers markets and movie watching and book reading that included matching Kindles. So for Victoria to be confused as to why he knew exactly when the next Rhode pop-up would be, his chest flared with a feeling of invalidation. 

Victoria must have picked up on his inner turmoil by the face he was making because she quickly backtracked. “Oh, uh, that wasn’t meant to be a negative thing, Dr. Abbot. I just mean that a lot of guys really aren’t into something like that. So it’s kind of refreshing to see.” 

“I see.” Jack turned back to the tablet. “It’s a good thing I’m not being piled in with the rest of the male population.” 

“So,” Victoria began again, now looking like she wanted to delve into Jack’s personal life. “I’m guessing your girlfriend likes lip gloss?” 

Robby answered for her with a large smile. “You have no idea.” 

“Who has no idea?” Trinity asked on her way out. However, she paused and smirked at the sight of the glossy kiss-shaped splotch on Jack’s cheek that he hadn’t wiped off. “Ooooo, Dr. Abbot, you got something—” 

“Thank you, Santos,” Jack gruffly said. “I’m very well aware that I have something on my cheek. And I’d prefer that everyone stopped pointing it out. If I wanted it gone, I would have wiped it off when I noticed it before I got out of my car.” 

Jack paused. He’d said too much, and he knew that Victoria and Trinity caught on it.

“Wait,” Trinity said, “does your girlfriend come to work with you? Does she work in the Pitt?” 

Victoria looked around with wide eyes like she’d be able to find something hidden in plain sight. “Is she here?”  

“I wonder if she knows Dr. Barbie. She also likes lip gloss.” 

Robby looked over at Jack knowingly. 

The two girls, despite their excitedness, had made a few errors. 

Jack had said partner, and they clung to the idea that he had a girlfriend. But if the absolute rock of a diamond he put on your finger followed by that thin band had anything to say about it, you were far from being woman who deserved the juvenile title of girlfriend. Plus, much to contrary belief and your affinity for all thinks pink, you were only five years his junior. He absolutely loved the way you now wore your hair with gray licking at your roots. 

Second mistake was automatically thinking you worked in the Pitt. Even if you’d worked in an ER well before meeting Jack, you’d shuffled departments around until you ended up specializing in pediatrics to help your reign in your small bouts of baby fever after deciding that children weren’t something you ultimately wanted in life. 

Yet, that didn’t mean you weren’t unknown in the Pitt. To his knowledge, the younger kids had started calling you Dr. Barbie because of the number of pink scrubs you wore into work. 

See, just another bit of pink that Jack welcomed into your shared home. 

They knew you were married, often opting to let your ring flash as you walked through. So the idea of Jack having a girlfriend while you had a full husband meant that they didn’t make the connection. 

Well, that was until the elevator dinged and you stepped out, pinks scrubs, hair falling in those beautiful curls you got with an over-night curler, and, most importantly, lips shining with your first gloss of the day. 

“Dr. Barbie is so pretty,” Victoria mentioned almost dreamily. “Her time management must be insane if she manages to look so good all the time.” 

Trinity hummed in agreement. “If she wasn’t married, I’d be in line in a heartbeat.” 

Despite their comments, Jack smiled as he watched your eyes scan the room until they landed on him, and a bright smile plastered onto your face once you started making your way over to the nurses’ station. 

“Jack!” you called. “Just the man I was looking for.” You stopped right in front of him, mouth open to continue whatever you were saying, but you stopped, cocked your head, and narrowed your eyes. You clicked your tongue and stepped forward as you licked a finger. “Honey, you should have told me I left that on your cheek.”

It was as if all else faded into the background, and Jack quickly dodged your finger. “Hey!”

“Jack, just stay still for one second.” 

He caught your outstretched hand. “Knock it off.” 

“I can’t let you go the entire night walking around with Macadamia Butter lip gloss on your face.” You managed to get your hand free and gently wipe the kiss mark off. “There.” You watched Jack’s face fall. “Don’t pout.” 

He sneered playfully. “I’m not pouting.” 

He was definitely pouting. 

You warmly smiled at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll just come down later and refresh it, yeah?” 

Jack hummed lowly before he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips in the middle of the emergency department not caring who saw. He ran a quick tongue across his lips after he pulled back. “Is that the hot cocoa one?” 

Your smiled turned into a bashful one. “I’ve turned you into a lip gloss connoisseur.” 

“It’s not like you have over twenty in the house plus the extra five in the truck along with the seven you keep in your locker—” 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you giggled right as your pager went off. “Looks like I’m being called away. I’ll see you later?” 

He nodded and smirked down at you. “I’ll see you later for my reapplication.” 

You turned away and yelled over your shoulder. “Fig sauce is going to look great on you!” 

Once you were out of sight on the elevator, Jack turned around to see the shocked faces of Victoria and Trinity. His chest puffed out just a bit, knowing he had shown them at what a good husband he was. 

“Fig sauce,” Robby chuckled. “Man, you’re so whipped. I’ll see you in twelve for my reapplication, Dr. Abbot,” he teased while walking away. 

Jack couldn’t help but laugh softly until he remembered that Robby wasn’t the only member of his audience. He eyed the two women carefully. 

“I’ll get you each three glosses from whatever brand in return for your silence.” 

Oh, yeah, Jack Abbot was indeed a lip gloss connoisseur. 

But he wouldn’t have it any other way.  

🏷️ permanent tags: @dumb-fawkin-bitch @nofinnn2 @books-thingys-andstuff @nyxmoretti @glitterquadricorn @itzpixiebabe @xoxoloverb @macbaetwo @cerberus101 @thorfemmes @goddess-of-spring @staygoldsquatchling02 @obi-wansgirl @phantom-101 @fly-me-away @xblackcatx @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @aoi-warrior @keepingitundercover @sofianotvergara @shawnhatosysrightbicep @straykids1011 @vicky066 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @sepidehmoafiglazer @multiversalfandomwriter222 @bellamys-girl1 @violet1661 @damoclesdarling @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @fancyvoidtragedy @hoffmanfan13 @lostfallenangelsblog @teenwolfbitches28 @isuckcigbuds @kaorisakamotofan @alexaplayldr @mszeitxt @darknessofhell666-blog-blog @yapeez @riseabovethorns-blog @thedivinegirlyp0p @valentine1047 @sl33ping-sir3n @toxicwasteee @chanelwidag @cloudrisens @ravenwtfbro @ra-ven-124 @rainaris-ac

[puppiegracie]

being a wide eyed three blueberries tall med student (and intern) vs looking up at dr robby

[dude-who-likes-dudes]

I cannot be trusted as a little spoon I WILL be grinding my ass into your crotch

[weaponised--soul]

[lostalioth]

i need all three of them so bad…i’m going insane over these photos…they look so good, their hair, the outfits UGHHHH

[sadexpiredfairy]

they all look so goddamn good

[pinkandblueblurbs]

being petty and a lil mad at robby so you offer to rub his back after work and really digging into those knots and pressure points as hard as you can <3 helpful and hurtful

18+ mdni as always this got away from me!! i love this idea!!! i need to ragebait this old man with my dramatic tendencies!!

he’s letting out little huffs and soft groans of pleasure but then you really go in on a knot in his shoulder and he winces and sucks in through his teeth… he’s a stubborn ass, hell bent on being mr tough guy, so it takes a solid 3 minutes of your rough treatment for him to finally acknowledge it— “Ach— jesus, hon, ease up.”

“You’re tight.” You grit out, and just from the way it sounds he can picture the little expression that’s on your face— brows furrowed, jaw set, teeth clenched, lips pouted.

Robby huffs out a laugh. “You mad at me, sweetheart? That what this is?”

That only sets you off more. He doesn’t even know. You grind your knuckles into his shoulder blade, hard enough that you may as well by trying to dig right through his skin to get to the muscle.

“Fucking hell!” Robby’s forehead drops to the pillow and he tries to angle himself away from your touch. “Shit, kid, is this still about dessert last night?”

“No.” Yes. You put all your weight on the heel of your hand and press hard against his lat.

Robby hisses then shakes his head with an exasperated laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You said I ‘shouldn’t have any.”

“Because you’d end up with an upset stomach and whine about it all night. We went over this.”

“You hate me.”

“Kid,” Robby groans and starts to shift, and you lift your weight off his hips just enough for him to roll onto his back under you. He meets your eye with a serious expression. “I don’t give a fuck if you have dessert.” He chuckles wryly, “Hell, I’d love for you to have dessert every single night. Whenever you want. But you’ll always eat some rich, creamy pasta dish, or something spicy, then overdo it with ice cream, and you know what happens?”

You just glare at him and cross your arms, and Robby scrunches up his face in a dramatic display of faux pain. His hands come down to cup his stomach, and his voice lilts “Robby, I don’t feel good.” He mimics your voice in a high-pitched rasp. “Owww, Robby, my tummy hurts.”

You’re working really hard not to smile, and Robby can tell. He lets a grin form on his own face.

“Tell me I’m wrong, brat.”

“Fuck you,” you have to mumble it softly, because if you gave it any more juice a laugh would come out with it. Robby pokes your side, chuckling as you squirm away.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

[slow--spark]

*cares aggressively*

[its-feminine-intuition]

It’s Getting To Me, Embarrassingly - Frank Langdon x Robinavitch!Reader

Warnings: perv!frank, male masturbation (Frank jerks off to your photos), also angst? because frank is a dick and yells at reader. nothing else i can think of but lmk if i missed anything!

Synopsis: everyone in the pitt seems to coddle you, and frank can’t figure out why. jealousy leads him to snap at you, and a late night stalk gives him answers he never expected.

Word count: 2.3k

Truthfully, Frank hadn't meant to take issue with you. If anyone doubted that, they could rig him up to a lie detector for all he cared.

You were a relatively new addition to the Emergency Department; clever, attentive, kind - the sort of person that anyone would be grateful to have training under them. Frank knew this, and he knew that it was unfair for him to dislike you.

In fact, the first hour of your shared shift had been fine - enjoyable even. You both cracked jokes, sharing stories about peculiar mentors that you had encountered in the past. Frank even offered you some of his hard-earned wisdom; things that he wished he had known as an MS3.

Then he had led you into various operating rooms, detailing the cases and procedures to you with a hand on the small of your back. It made your skin flush, but he didn't notice, taking your silence for rapt attention - something that was rare in students these days.

Throughout his residency, Frank had met countless students that were simply jumping hoops and leaping hurdles, just going through the motions to reach that fabled paycheck at the end of their placements. (He took small pleasure in knowing that the wages would most likely disappoint them; residents were always the ones to get underpaid.) Hell, he had even seen doctors that were entirely the same: only in it for the money.

However, it was quickly apparent that you were different.

There was something in the way you spoke to patients, how you advocated for their best interests. It was clear that you had a passion for helping people, and that you were seeking fulfilment from this career, rather than a hefty sum of money. Frank thought it was an admirable quality, but in spite of this, he still found himself at his wit's end by midday - barely able to tolerate you.

As reflected by hundreds of studies, it has been proven that asking questions is an important part of the learning process. However, it would seem that none of these researchers had ever met you, with your endless stream of inquiries. Seriously, Frank felt like he was being interrogated.

He would be elbow-deep in someone's body cavity and you would pipe up from beside him, sickly sweet voice asking something about the technique he was using. They weren't even stupid questions, too, that's what really bothered him.

The first time, Frank had foolishly tried to offer a response. You watched as his incisors sank deep into his lower lip, gaze never faltering as he struggled to conjure an answer. He had stammered uselessly until Robby stepped in to (semi)-end his suffering, heckling him from the corner of the room, "Focus on the patient Langdon - there'll be plenty of time to look confused later."

There had been a resounding laughter at that remark, so Frank decided it was best to ignore your queries from there on out to avoid any further humiliation. Still, he couldn't understand what was causing these vacancies in his mind. It could possibly be attributed to the focus that each procedure demanded from him, or the way that you stood too close, letting your perfume dizzy him.

Nonetheless, you continue asking questions. It shouldn't bother him, (you're here to learn, after all) but it does, because now you direct them at Robby instead.

Robby, who explains concepts to you with a lot more warmth and patience than he ever had with Frank - or anyone for that matter. Despite his best efforts to shake off any lingering jealousy, he couldn't help but wonder why you received such special treatment.

That wasn't his breaking point, though.

No, that came about two weeks in.

In Frank's defence, it had already been an exhausting day: the shift was running over by at least an hour; he hadn't found an opportunity to eat since that morning; and you had just decided to revive an annoying habit that Frank thought you had finally moved past.

Evidently not, as you begin every contribution to the case with a “Well, my dad said that…” or a “My dad showed me a journal that said…”

It wasn't to say that he doubted your dad's knowledge - whoever he was - but Frank wanted to hear from you. He wasn’t just asking these questions because he felt like it, he genuinely wanted your input. Although it wasn’t something he would admit easily, you had offered him a different perspective on more than one occasion. Your advice was valuable to him.

So maybe, just maybe, when you opened your mouth to say, “I think I remember my dad telling me about this,” he snapped, looking up at you from where he stood bent over the patient.

“If I wanted your dad’s opinion, don’t you think I would be asking him instead?” he begins, leaning towards you on his forearms. You tried to hold his gaze, not letting him intimidate you as his eyes darkened, becoming more pointed and accusatory as his voice rose, “All day you’ve been leaning on him like a crutch. I don’t know who he is - fuck, I don’t even care - but if you want to be a doctor, you have to think for yourself.”

The nurses had immediately gone silent, busying themselves with trivial distractions. You could hear Princess fiddling with her gloves from across the room, and Langdon’s ragged breath breaking through the silence. You thought he was finished, but a vein fired off in his neck as if to prove you wrong.

“Have you ever heard a resident quoting their dad as a source of medical information?” he paused, watching as you shook your head, letting his hair fall into his eyes as he mimicked your movement, “No, of course you haven’t. We’ve spent years attending lectures and studying medical journals, you know, the reliable, legitimate resources?”

Frank sucked in a deep breath as he prepared to continue, but the vitals monitor began to beep, interrupting him. Instead, he just threw you a look, one that said ‘do better,’ before turning his attention back to the patient.

Fortunately, this altercation hadn’t been mentioned again. He still felt guilty about it, taking a bad day and pent up desire out on you. The divorce hadn’t been easy, especially when you were tormenting him every day; you must have been the only person to look so good in scrubs.

The thought had been weighing on Frank's mind - a constant thrum since you were assigned to his watchful eye. 

Who were you? What was it that seemed to make everyone fawn around you?

He had seen it on multiple occasions: Dana insisting you take a lunch break, even when the ER was hectic and you were decidedly not hungry; Perlah bringing back all sorts of souvenirs for you whenever she went abroad; but most obviously, the way Robby nurtured you. It was shameless favouritism, and Frank wanted to know what was causing it.

So, one night when sleep refused to find him, he turned to Instagram. 

Truthfully, he was shocked that he fought the urge for so long. A little impressed, actually. Nonetheless, he has always been an inquisitive soul, and the curiosity mixed with the jealousy (although Frank wouldn't call it that - perhaps just a healthy bit of competitive spirt among peers?) had become too much to bear.

The mattress squealed as he rolled to face his end table, arm reaching out and guided to his phone by the moonlight. It laid in a bed of its own - one of those electromagnetic chargers, a useless purchase born from a 20% discount - but it was in a far deeper slumber than Frank had any hope of finding. It was selfish, but if Frank couldn’t sleep, then neither could his phone. He yanked it from the bay and shuffled up against his pillows.

His touch woke the device, a photo of his dog coming to fill the screen, and the brightness filling his room. He winced, hurriedly stabbing at the control centre to dim the display. 

God, this would wreak havoc on his eyes.

After he gave himself a moment to push away the optical static, he headed straight to Instagram. The home page showed a woman wielding a giant bowl of salad, the subtitles flaunting her nutritious recipe. He stared aimlessly as she began chopping up various vegetables, unsure of where to begin his search. 

Look, cyber stalking - or any type of stalking - was new territory for him. Besides, Frank had really boxed himself into a corner here. 

For the entirety of your placement, he had deliberately avoided any small talk with you. It was a strange form of self-preservation, because Frank hated nothing more than being wrong. He knew that if he spoke to you, his dislike would quickly feel unjustified, and that was something he just couldn’t handle. The logic was primitive, but it had served him fairly well until then, as he realised that he didn’t know your surname.

Nonetheless, he remained hopeful and decided to start his search in the most obvious place, fingers typing your name into the search bar. The results began appearing, but a quick skim told him that he would need to wisen up, as the list only showed him a handful of random influencers who happened to share your name.

He readjusted himself on his bed, bringing the screen closer to his face as he pondered his next move. He felt like a detective as he compiled a mental web of everyone you know, plotting a route to your account.

Frank also felt like a total creep.

Well, what you don’t know won’t hurt you, he reasoned, exiling the guilt like had so many thoughts over the past month. Some of them - like how he wondered what your mouth might feel like - were persistent, and he had to pushing them away in some strange Sisyphean feat. 

He shook his head, resetting himself. Then he was back into action, fingers taking him to his profile and sifting through his followers to find Mel. He recognised her account immediately, the colorful profile picture of her and Becca catching his eye. Clicking on it, a strange sort of flow seemed to consume him, and he suddenly found himself on a roll. Frank scrolled through her page to find Whitaker, and from there, Trinity – your close friend.

Whenever he saw the two of you whispering at work, it felt like a conspiracy against him. He was always worried that he would open his locker to find rotting food in there, or gum plastered to the inside, but deep down he knew you were too nice to do something like that. He couldn’t fathom why, but even after he had shouted at you, you remained friendly with him. Everyone knew that he couldn’t say the same for Trinity.

Ready to continue the search, a digit remained hovering over the screen, but it instinctively tucked itself away as he found what he needed: a photo of the pair of you on a girls’ night out. You’re both leant on a sticky bar giggling to one another, and even Frank could admit that it was a cute photo - he wasn’t blind.

So, he sent out a silent prayer that you were tagged, then pressed tentatively on the thumbnail. 

It almost felt like fate as the little grey widget popped up, and he didn’t even read your username, thumb eclipsing it as he pressed with desperate haste. If there was a God, he was looking down on Frank kindly because by some miracle, your account was public - dumb, but convenient, Frank mused.

From there, it was like someone had released the hounds. He wasted no time scrolling through your extensive post history: a trip to the Maldives, some photos of your various meals, and a photo dump of you almost exclusively in bikinis.

Look, he knew he shouldn’t.

But his free hand was already pushing into his boxers, and his dick was already half hard.

Besides, if he had already exercised all of his worst impulses, what was one more? It wasn’t like you would find out.

That was all the convincing he needed, fingers coming to wrap around the shaft as he groaned. He had denied himself this for too long.

Then, he continued his exploration - cock in one hand, phone in the other. He flicked through the slideshows, smearing his precum around the tip as he looked at your lips, shiny and pouting. God, what would they feel like wrapped around his dick? A question for the ages.

He was stroking the shaft when the next slide took him by surprise: a photo of you from behind, bikini practically wedged between your cheeks. His hand sped up, that sound of skin against skin filling the room as he raced to match the thoughts that were speeding through his mind. Your skin looked so soft, and God - your ass was perfect. How had he not done this sooner?

Frank began to lose himself in the pleasure, imagining the way you would sound beneath him, sweet and encouraging. Breathless as he would bend your knees over his shoulders, pace harsh and unforgiving - punishment for the way you had embarrassed him.

What really finished him off, though, was thinking about how you would sound as you came, all coos and whimpers, drunk on his cock. It was almost instantaneous, Frank cumming alongside the imaginary you he created, his load spurting onto his phone.

In the midst of his orgasm, he scrolls one more post, searching for something to ride out his high to. He thought he had struck gold, only to end eye-to-eye with his boss, who was now coated in a sheen of Frank’s cum.

Post-coitus had never been so short, as Frank leapt from the bed and waddled to the bathroom, wiping his screen clean with a towel. It was only then that he noticed your username, and that he had accidentally hit the follow button.

@yn_robinavitch2003

Fuck.

thank you so much for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed!!! my asks are shamelessly open, so please send in any requests!

A/N: based on this gorgeous ask, sorry it took so long but thank you so much for the request, i hope this isn’t dull or ooc! part two is coming and it won’t take so long this time i promise 💕 also i haven’t proofread, i’ll do that in the morning!

dividers are by @pixopix

[puppiegracie]

he looks so childlike when trying not to cry :/

[sadexpiredfairy]

me when i’m writing a fic based off these faces ☹️☹️

[sammy-bryant]

SHAWN HATOSY & SCARLETT JOHANSSON What Goes Around… Comes Around

[sadexpiredfairy]

oh i’m wet