all my writing is fiction, purely for entertainment purposes. my writing doesn't represent the people discussed here or anyone in real life. i do not use or support the use of ai.
(my likes, comments & follows are likely to come up as my other blog - @atropafemme)
𑁤 please do send me detailed asks/requests of any thoughts/suggests/comments you'd like to share!
i will mainly be writing about shawn hatosy characters but am open to hearing suggestions for other characters :3 !
also i LOVE the requested asks ive gotten in the past few days, believe me, i am crafting something. im just doing my best to get my shit together cause kitty is JOBLESS currently and it's not my fault. despite my delusions, sugar daddy jack is nowhere to be found to save me. we're gonna be okay though so fear not i'll be writing some more soon my loves.
just had the most delicious idea for a oneshot of brat!reader and brat tamer!jack asdagfhabaksbw im feeling so feral thinking about provoking him with constant "or what?" "and?" "no i don't think so-" im gonna SCREAM
this was a late night thought as i tossed and turned in bed and then it actually happened to me (partially)
MDNI 18+
—
crinkled sheets, restless thoughts, a single strand of hair on your back that you've suddenly become acutely aware of. all of the these things have historically robbed you of a peaceful night of sleep. tonight breeds a new issue– the cracking, popping of your knee. it was hard not to fixate on the sensation or the sound when you were aloe but now, in bed, with your slumbering boyfriend, the issue seemed to prevail. you attempted to ignore the intrusive thoughts that begged you to fixate on your knee popping, even more so on the why. why it popped so loudly with every bend and why was it bothering you so much now. it was likely crepitus but that knowledge was of no use to you at this moment. trying to stop the freight train of urge that insisted you pop your knee in bed, right now, was pointless. caving, trying to leave jack undisturbed as you swung your leg out from under the comfort, extending it up in the air and bringing it down to bend–
crack
"ooh, getting rusty on me now, honey?" jack asked. the room was dimly lit by the moonlight spilling in from the window, you could just make out his face enough to see his eyes were shut. he was clearly awake, for how long he had been was up for debate as a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.
"i know you're not talking, old man," you retorted, sighing with relief as you extended your leg out once more. knee bent again– pop
"oh, but i am, old lady," jack scoffed as you began to tuck yourself back beneath the comforter. old lady? so the old man thinks he's funny now.
rolling over, to lay closer beside him as he brought his arm around your waist, tugging you in. a grin on your face as you closed your eyes, one he would've known to be more weary of if his eye had been open.
"hmm? that so? how about you trying getting out of bed without groaning on the way up or just rolling over? or try not let your hip pop either when you straighten out?"
silence fell over the room.
"alright... you win. geez, baby, why you gotta swing that low?" he murmurs as he tucks his face into your neck, planting apology kisses on your cheek and jaw. "you hurting your old man's feelings now."
an amused hum emits from, turning your face to give him a kiss as you bring a soothing hand up to his chest. you swing your over his thigh, pressing into him, a small groan escapes jack when your hand rubs at his tummy beneath his shirt.
"m'sorry, honey, how can i make it up to you?" you whine with a faux pout. it's his turn to let out an amused hum in response.
"i can think of a few ways that involves that pretty little mouth of yours... but save it for the morning, get some sleep, honey."
sorry for being so offline lately BUT we hit 1k the other day!!! 🥳 currently i have a few things in the works, one of my current most prized idea full fic is called my fair lady
this will be a dr jack abbot x escort!reader, i'll be posting a sneak peek later ;)
at the beach, collecting sea shells for my altar. it's getting kinda cold now because it's so overcast. pope cody come save me and wrap me up in your zip up.
oh to be titus danforth a evil spoiled sugar baby girlfriend. sitting perched on his lap while family affairs are being conducted but you're not listening. head laying on his shoulder, a hand rubbing up and down his chest. you never interrupt but on occasion titus will break his focus away with a loving but firm slap to your ass or turning your face towards his to give you a filthy obnoxious kiss. his family grimaces in disgust at sight but he doesn't acknowledge them, just whisks you up in his arms to take you back to his bedroom to address the ache in his cock. accompanying titus around the golf course or the occasional hunt. you hate seeing him hunt animals, humans on the other hand... now that's a little more tolerable. so there you are riding beside him on the atv in a little black dress and knee high boots, stacked in jewelry and a fur coat. he tells you the coat is faux because he'd kick himself for making you said, truthfully it's real, his girl is not sporting fakes. what you know won't kill you? he could never make you cry, not when you look at him with so much adoration and squeal so supportively when he's successfully taken out someone with the hunting rifle in his hand. if he's feeling especially doting, he'll teach you how to fire his hunting rifle. he's picking you up and twirling you in his arms if you successfully take someone out. after that, he's not concerned about cleanup, instead he's already pulling up your dress and unbuckling his pants to take you up against the tree.
jack abbot who jokingly complains to his girl that she's gotta stop getting stiletto nails every time you get your nails done. he whines about how you keep clawing up his back like a feral cat attacking him. s'not your fault that he bullies your cunt with his fat cock every time he comes home from work? ( ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡)💢 fine, if it's such a problem, you'll just get short nails with dull tips.
he's coming home from work knowing you had just gotten a new set done the night before, the entire drive home he was thinking about the sweet way you'll cry when he's fucking you silly on the couch. the way your nails will drag down his back, leaving red welts and scratches in their wake, or the way they'll feel when you're dragging them through his hair. his smile fades when he looks down at freshly done round-tipped nails that are currently holding a book.
"what... what made you do something so... different, honey?"
"thought i'd try something new out for a bit.... what? you don't like? can't scratch you up anymore, baby!" you point out so proudly.
even as he's thrusting into you, all he's thinking about is how soon he can book your next manicure and what else he'll have to be buying you to make up for this. poor baby is even finding it hard to cum without your nails digging into his back when he hits the sweet spot that has you clenching around him so tightly. that's the last time he makes a complaint about how sharp your nails are, ever.
you know how iphones have that feature that sync photos you've received and upload them to your photo album? well jack abbot certainly doesn't know how to turn it off. all i can think about is sending cleavage shots, teasing pictures that were only ever meant for him to see when he's in the confines of the ED bathroom trying not to rub one out there.
he is trying to show robby something about a motorcycle he saw the other day. slow swiping fingers on his screen as he tries his best to make out each image without pulling out his readers. he takes too long of a pause, a blown up photo of you in skimpy lingerie, spread across his bed leaving little to the imagination. jack doesn't rush to swipe away, having momentarily forgotten what he was doing.
"jack–" robby groans looking anywhere but the screen knowing this image will flash in his mind the next time he see's you.
"right! sorry... she looks great, doesn't she?" jack says looking over his shoulder at robby.
being drunk and silly with your boyfriend jack abbot !!
had some tipsy jack talk with @mochapuppy and got to work!
! mdni ! smut below !
date night had been successful as always. the only hitch in your romantic plans was you getting accidentally wasted.
jack had insisted that the two of you could go to bed when you got home. that he wasn't expecting anything from you and didn't need anything besides you cuddling up in bed beside him.
but drunk you was persistent. you put on a tiny dress after all, did your makeup and wore a matching lacey set you knew he'd love. and by the time you pushed him onto the couch and dropped to your knees in front of him, he was already hard from your sloppy kisses and whispered dirty words in his ear. you couldn't just leave him hanging!
as you took his thick cock out of his boxers, you tried very hard to stay serious, even though everything got slightly fuzzy and realllyyy funny. so you decided not to look into your boyfriends eyes as you tried to suck his dick while shit faced.
you lean down to place a kiss to the head of him, then another. then another and another while giggling as you think about how cute his pink tip is. you hear him sigh impatiently and you blink up at him through bleary eyes. "s-sorry *hic* soryy jackie- 's jus sooo pretty."
he runs a hand through his silver curls before reaching down to try and haul you off your knees. his arms grip under your armpits like how a parent picks up a toddler. " 's alright baby you don't have to. lets just go to sleep alright?"
but you squirm out of his hold and firmly plant yourself on your knees. pouting all serious now. "no! i can do it *hic* promise!" after a second of scanning your face for doubt, jack nods and settles back into the couch when all he finds is determination.
you wrap your manicured hand around his pretty cock, a lopsided grin forms on your face when you hears jack's breath catch. you prop your elbow on one of his spread knees and rest your cheek against your fist as you stroke him way too slowly due to time meaning nothing to you in your buzzed state of mind.
you don't even realize you're eye lids drooping until jack thrusts up into your hand with a rough, "cmon baby." you jolt upright instantly, swallowing down a drunken yawn before forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand. sweetly saying "sorry jackie."
you bend forward to lick him, a long stripe from base to tip that has you smacking your lips with a "mmmm tastes good." jack huffs a laugh thats snuffed out by a groan when you take him in your mouth.
one languid suck of his length has you feeling dizzy. but not the usual kind of dizziness that blooms from pleasure, the intoxicated kind. when you bob back up the world spins, you mumble jacks name weakly before your hands shoot out to grab at his thick thighs.
he straightens instantly, cursing as he grips your biceps, hard cock still standing at attention inches from your face. "no more." he grunts with a grimace on his wrinkled face, looking like he's about to try and move you from your spot again.
but he's so hard! and you told him you wanted to do this. and you still do. you love making him feel good and getting drunk was not going to stop you from doing so. you start to whine and shimmy out of his hold. " 'm jus too dizzy. *hic* help me please?" your lower lip wobbles and tears brim at your waterline. jack gives you a doting smile and strokes your hair, not being able to say no to you. "course i can sweetheart."
thinking he's gonna fuck your face, you form an 'o' and go to take him back in your mouth. you squeak in surprise when jack grips your hair and gently tugs you back to look up at him. he chides "nuh uh baby. dont wan't you gettin' nauseous." before you can even argue he lays his thumb on your tongue and drags it outwards. "lemme do all the work. stick that tongue out. good girl- just like that."
you giggle at the praise, shifting on your knees so he has a better view of you all glossy eyed and pliant for him. jack takes himself in his vein covered hand and starts to leisurely stroke. watching him touch himself has your cheeks heating and thighs squirming. "jackiee" you whine, for nothing in particular.
but he just shakes his head as his movements speed up, grunting as he twists his wrist at the tip. "don't worry baby. just sit there and look pretty- fuck- y'so pretty sweetheart." after however long -you're so wasted you couldn't say- his jaw clenches and his thighs tense and you can tell he's getting close.
you see his aged face pinch as he squeezes the thick base with his hand while staring at you wide eyed for him. your hands start to feel real useless. so you reach out to grip his balls to help! he groans loudly as you start to massage them in your soft palm.
"fuck- just like that- doin so good-" his praises have you sober the tiniest bit, enough to lean forward and dribble some spit onto his glistening tip. jack throws his head back in a broken moan before gluing his blown out eyes back to yours. "gonna cum- tongue out f'me. now."
you obey him, instantly rewarded by the sound of jack cumming, groaning your name along with a string of lewd praises. "oooh fuck- fuck baby- so good. you're so good-" he tilts his hips forward as his hand jerks himself rapidly, his salty release spraying you from your extended tongue, to your smudged mascara covered cheeks, to the tip of your nose. he only collapses when you're entirely painted in his cum, slowly blinking down at you. his chuckle at your huge grin and sticky face is weak and satisfied.
you stick your tongue out to start to lick up his release but he stops you by successfully picking you up and dropping you on the couch. "leave it." he demands as he makes his way down your body to spread your legs with his large palms.
he tugs your panties to the side and sucks a hickey to your inner thigh after you nod at him as a yes, then rasps onto your skin, "want us to match by the time im done, baby."
I don’t smoke because I’m asthmatic <\3 but I think it’d be so hot if pope rolled you ur first blunt and talks you through it- when you inevitably hack up a lung inhaling wrong, he just slowly wipes your watery eyes w his thumb, saying “awe bunny, let’s try that again”
as a fellow asthmatic, i hear you. i still can't help myself to an occasional menthol on a girls night out or a hit of a blunt despite my airway cursing me out in a fit of coughs, but ALAS... we persist.
kinda ran with this so forgive but enjoy 😉
—
the sweltering heat of the day turned into a murky, thick mug. summers in california were undeniably the best, until you're met with the last month. a series of days and nights of thrashing around in bed with no cool breeze to be found. the humid air lay thick in the atmosphere, the only solace can be found in ac'd rooms or bodies of water. tonight, you sat on the edge of the pool, feet swishing through the water, hands braced on your sides. thoughts of slipping into the pool with clothes still on began to sound more enticing as every effort to cool down with just your feet dipped in the water made no avail.
the sound of the sliding glass door pulled you out of your thoughts, pope was making his way over, craig yapping about something that you didn't care enough to pick up on. craig ruffled your hair as he passed not breaking his rant as pope sat at the table pulling out a tray. craig handed him the bag of weed and rolling papers. you tilted your head, watching as pope rolled the blunt with meticulous efforts, dexterous fingers moving with such care.
before your mind could wonder to other places while looking at popes fingers, deran and j followed out of the house. eventually you caught on they were all talking about a job coming up soon, they were stressed about the execution of it, stakes were too high for there to be room for error. pope handed off the fresh rolled blunt. craig turned, kneeling beside you at the pool as he lit up the blunt, taking a few puffs before extending it to you.
"i'm good, thanks," voice soft as you shook your head no.
"you sure? it's good shit, i got it from renn," craig takes another puff as, holding smoke in.
"then definitely not," you mutter before standing up, growing tired of the water and drying off. renn, his coke supplier girlfriend, was at the bottom of your trustworthy list, just before smurf and baz.
pope sat back, watching the interaction, hands balled into fists as craig leers at you. he knew that craig always had a thing for you despite turning down every advance. deep down, craig knew his chances were slim but never zero. pope watched your every move as you stood up from lazily dangling your feet in the water. fighting every urge to just scoop you up and dry you off himself. eyes trailing up from your feet, to the plush of your thighs, watching your hips sway in the little black skirt. the peak of skin just above the waist band before disappearing under the cotton black tee where the fabric was clad against your chest. too often he felt like you were the closest he'd ever get to see heaven. you sat on one of the lounge chairs a bit away, watching j, craig, and deran share the blunt among themselves. when there was nothing left but a tiny bud, they found reasons to go their separate ways. now left alone in the backyard, your gaze fell on pope.
pope began to roll another blunt, you stood up making your way over. his ocd was unrelenting and the idea of sharing a blunt with 3 other people, family or not, made his skin crawl. you sat beside him, watching the way his fingers danced over the rolling paper until it was tight. bring it to his lips, the flame of the lighter lit his face up in an amber glow, freckles littered his cheeks and his eyes were a sweet honey. he inhaled as the tip burned cherry red, holding in his breath before exhaling away from you. his eyes glanced up at you as you perked up.
"can— can i?" you asked, gesturing to the blunt. his brows furrowed in confusion.
"i thought you don't smoke," it was more of a statement then a question.
"i don't... i mean i haven't tried," chewing on your bottom lip as he took another hit, blowing away from you again. no one should ever look as good as he did while smoking. "show me?"
he couldn't say no to you, ever. he quietly takes your hand, placing the blunt in your hand. his voice is low and rough as he instructs you, 'grab here, just like that, not too hard... good girl, bring it to your lips'. your stomach was doing back flips, questioning thoughts if he would talk you through sex the same way. the blunt is resting just on your lips, where his were just a minute before. the mere thought that this was the closest to having his lips on yours made you want to melt on the floor beneath you.
"you're gonna inhale, then try to hold it in, kay?" he waits for your nod.
closing your eyes, lips pursed around the blunt. inhaling, trying to hold— nope, not happening. the smoke came rushing out as you coughed, unable to catch a breath and sputtering for air. he takes the blunt from your hand, setting it down on the rolling tray, grabbing the water. he cracks the bottle open and rubs a hand on your back soothingly.
"you gotta breathe, angel, take the water. s'okay, you're okay," he's moving hair out of your face as you take the water. his fingers graze your cheek, finally coming down from the coughing fit, a warmth bloomed in your chest when he gave you a reassuring smile. well, the best he could do for a smile.
"m'sorry i don't know what happened. let me try again–" his hand is batting yours away from reaching the blunt.
"we'll try again but we're doing it my way," pope scoots back into the lounge chair. he picks up the blunt again, taking a few puffs before gesturing for you to come closer. you inch forward a bit, your thigh touching his knee. "you gotta get closer then that, angel."
"what do you mean– andrew!" his arm is wrapped around your waist as he brings you in, your body pressed on top of his. his grip is firm as you try to sit up, he finally allows you to situate yourself so you're straddling his lap.
"you're gonna inhale when i blow out the smoke, kay? i think this will be easier," his head is tilted back as he takes a drag. he can taste the cherry lip balm left over from your hit, he's looking at your lips wondering if it would taste the same or different if he tasted your lips instead. you can't help but to bite the inside of your cheek, the warmth of his hand as it rests on your hip, fingers teasing the sliver of skin peeking from your hem. you have to suppress the whine in your throat when he squeezes your hip.
pope sets the blunt down, bringing his hand to the back of your head and pulling you in. just before your lips could touch he pauses, then lets out the huff of smoke as you inhale. this time there's no coughing or gasping for air, your eyes drift close. your head feels light, almost dizzying but not quite. when your eyes open again, pope is so close to kissing you now, he's holding onto a sliver of self restraint.
"better? or maybe i can blow it at the same time we kiss, think it'll be better?" he murmurs lowly, his bulge now pressing into you, where you've relaxed in his lap and pressed yourself harder against him.
"i don't know, pope... guess there's only one way to find out."
jack abbot who says wildly inappropriate things at even more inappropriate times but only low enough for you to hear. he likes to watch your face turn in annoyance, eye twitching or a death glare. if he's really gone too far, he likes when you grab the back of his neck like a puppy being picked up by the scruff and as you mutter his name in a scolding tone. he thoroughly enjoys the way he gets under your skin and riles you up.
