[umnitsa]

Masterlist!

Ok, I'm doing this now because the more I write, the harder it's gonna be to do it later! XD I have more things on the slab, some great, some silly! <3

Assume everything that I write is impossibly dirty. <3

Alexei Shostakov (Red Guardian) x Reader

The Wolf and The Hare - 1, 2, 3 “I just got out of the shower, I can’t dance. What if my towel falls off?” - Alexei “How long have you been standing there?” - Alexei I have a lot of energy! - Alexei Drunk Hot

Headcanons: Naughty Pictures Romantic Sex First time and After sex snack Silly Sex

Santa Claus (Violent Night) x Reader

Come Christmas Morning Santa has had enough of Christmas Headcanons: Birthday sexy

David Harbour Jr. x Reader

It's all very confusing - with David Harbour Jr. Already in progress! - 1

Hopper x Reader

Under the Moonlight “I’ll give you a massage.” - Hopper “I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.” - Hopper Come and get your love

Headcanons: Something they’re shy about asking for and sex that sent you to the ER First time, after sex snack and Romantic sex Car sex

Pornstar!JimHopper Solo You should mess with Jim - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Mayor Kline x Reader

Headcanons:

Oral Little dirty headcanons for Mayor Kline More dirty headcanons for Mayor Kline Masturbation making out headcanon tipsy sex headcanon

[favorite-characters]

𝕋𝕙𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕓𝕠𝕝𝕥𝕤*

David Harbour as 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐨𝐯 • 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧

[pastelclownkitty]

MY OVARIES!!!!!!

[foralteregos]

Our*

[pastelclownkitty]

THEYRE COMMUNIZING MY FUCKING OVARIES!!!!!!!!

[foralteregos]

Our*

[pastelclownkitty]

GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY FUCKING OVARIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[foralteregos]

Our*

[pastelclownkitty]

I DO NOT CONSENT TO YOU COMMUNIZING MY FUCKING OVARIES!!!!!!

[foralteregos]

Our*

[pastelclownkitty]

yeah no i dont care if i have 121 followers youre not doing that to me

[i-give-you-a-fish]

You get a Common Clownfish

Amphiprion ocellaris

[pastelclownkitty]

you know what. i may be getting jumped by tumblrians but at least i have my clownfish. its me and you against the world buddy

[levil0vesyou]

Our clownfish

[pastelclownkitty]

I CANT HAVE ANYTHING IN THIS FUCKIBG WORLD

[fangirl-dot-com]

Thinking about Abbot x Ortho surgeon no bullshit reader I KNOOOOW that man has a competency kink. Seeing you come down from the OR ordering everyone around. Yea that gets him hard. Idk I’m just such a sucker for Baddie Careerwoman x some guy

The Natural Predator

summary: brendon park swam through the pitt with beady eyes and a blood lust. however, after he overstepped his territory, he finds out that there's a bigger fish in the water who's more than willing to put him in his place. and jack abbot loves nothing more than to watch his wife take down her prey.

tags: jack abbot x ortho!wife!reader, no large age gap (41/50), jack has a major competence kink, medical inaccuracies (making up some bullshit), way too much ocean imagery used, ED? we don't know her, jack is getting hard in the trauma room (hashtag praise kink), smut (fingering, dry humping, cumming in pants), 18+ NSFW MDNI

notes: thank you @in-ky for this request! this was yummy yummy to write and I hope it's up to your expectations! taglist is at the bottom, enjoy!

word count: 3.9k

The Pitt acted like the sea. 

Busy hours and waning slow periods were the waves. Patients, nurses, and doctors walked as though they were fish, constantly swimming through the hoards of schools and catastrophes, not needing to keep their head above water because that's exactly where they thrived. They found purpose in bobbing and floating and flicking their tails to get from one room to another. It had its obstacles, seaweed hoards of poles and monitors and gurneys, but when night came, the Pitt settled into lapping motions instead of crashing roars. 

However, the calmer waters meant it was primed for the bigger fish to swim cleanly, jaws chomping at whoever dared to get in their current. 

Known to all, the Pitt had a few big fish to worry about. Victoria knew to steer clear of her mother, Dr. Shamsi, and her biting words. When Garcia got called down, Dennis turned heel and hid in triage (safety in numbers). Even Robby, the very top of the pecking order in the emergency department, vanished when he caught the hint of Gloria coming down the elevator. 

Yet, like all oceans, some fish weren't lucky enough to swim away fast enough. In all instances, everyone never wanted to get caught by the PTMC's very own great white: Brendon Park. 

"Look alive, Santos, we got an incoming," Jack stated as he passed the sleepy-looking R2, fresh from pulling the first half of her second night rotation. 

Trinity blinked wearily before pushing up from the table. She'd been seated during a lull in waves that seemed to always happen between the hours of 1 and 3 am. Jack had warned that things got weird after the sun went down, but most she'd seen was a puking toddler and a man who came in complaining of sleep issues. 

"What do we have?" she asked after finding a place next to the older attending. "And please tell me it's interesting, cause so far I haven't seen the weirdest or wildest cases come through. I'd hate to see that your little pep talk is full of errors." 

Jack barked out a laugh. "Trust me; it only gets weirder from here." 

"Don't jinx us, please," Ellis joined in, stopping on Jack's unoccupied side. 

"Those don't exist!" Shen called out as he rounded a corner before disappearing back into a room. 

Trinity's jaw popped as she yawned. "I need something fast paced or I'm going to fall asleep standing up." 

"We can always have you organize the third storage room. I don't think it's been redone since I started here," Jack mentioned. 

"So, like, way back in the medieval era?" 

Parker raised her eyebrows and smirked at the brunette. "Ooo-hoo-hoo, Abbot you set yourself up for that one." 

Jack rolled his eyes. "Try the third dynasty. Pretty sure I saw a rat go in there once and it never left." 

"I'll take standing up, thank you." 

"Incoming trauma goes straight into room 1," Lena announced. 

The sliding doors to the ambulance bay brought a gust of cool wind before offering a patient and two paramedics to the small group of doctors. On the gurney laid a man in his thirties whose face had gone ashen, eyes not even visible. 

"We got a thirty-two-year old male. Partial traumatic amputation, left lower extremity at the mid femur. Clean cut considering he was run over by roadside milling equipment approximately twenty-two minutes ago. Significant blood loss on scene," one of the paramedics said once they got within ear range. "Detached extremity is here. Packaged separately and wrapped in saline gauze, double bagged, transported on ice but not in direct contact." 

Trinity noted the bag that sat near the patient's remaining foot. It reminded her of one of those goldfish bags you got for winning a fair game. 

Jack stepped forward and grabbed the side of the gurney, helping roll the man straight into Trauma Room 1. Behind him, he heard the normal sounds of gloves snapping on before both Trinity and Parker joined him. 

"On my count," he ordered. "One, two, three—" He grunted under the weight of the man as they slid him over onto the bed. 

"The tourniquet was applied high and tight to the left thigh around 7 minutes after the accent. One CAT failed, second CAT secured on the way over. Hemorrhage controlled after the second application," the second paramedic stated while he began to wheel the gurney away. 

Jack looked over the man. "What's his pressure?" 

"Last manual was eighty-four over fifty. Heart rate one-forty-eight. Respiratory thirty-two. Sp-Oxygen ninety-four percent on fifteen liters non-rebreather. GCS fourteen. Lost consciousness on the way over." 

"Fluids?" 

"Minimal crystalloids. Two-fifty LR. We started whole blood—one unit in progress. One gram TXA given over ten minutes." 

Jack smiled and nodded. "Excellent." 

Trinity leaned over the man with her stethoscope already off and bell pressing into his chest. "Airway's intact. Breath sounds equal bilaterally." 

"Femoral pulse right side weak," Parker called out, two fingers pressed into the man's right upper thigh before moving up to his wrist. "Radial's thready." 

"Pressure's seventy-eight over forty-six," Mateo called out near the head of the bed. 

"He's hemorrhagic until proven otherwise," Jack breathed, hands moving to gently pull back what was left of the man's pant legs. "Let's cut the tourniquet down enough for me to visualize." 

"Dr. Abbot, you think they'd just cauterize the leg back in your day?" Trinity bit with a smirk. 

"Nah," he argued, "they'd just wrap it and pray infection didn't set in before harvest." 

Parker snipped slowly at the tourniquet, and blood instantly welled through the mess of flesh and bone. 

"Back up and tighten it," Jack said, halting Parker from going any further. "That's arterial, and can someone page ortho? This looks like it'd be right up their alley." 

"Please tell me Park's not on shift tonight," Trinity muttered, already walking over to the red phone mounted on the wall. 

"Well, if you hear the Jaws theme song when they put you on hold, you'll know." 

While Trinity talked with upstairs, Jack and Parker did their best to pack the stump as much as possible, combat gauze soaking up red as fast as they put it on. 

It couldn't have been more than five minutes later when the hiss of the trauma room's doors filled the air, the automatic sensor holding long enough for whoever to slip through. Jack's heart beat wildly as he held the gauze, trying not to think about his own experience of being on the receiving end of the painful pressure. 

"What do you have for me, Abbot?" 

If the room could have groaned, it would have caused ripples by the sheer sound, because, of course, Brendon Park just had to be the one to swim through. Trinity glanced up at him, eyes tracking the way he immediately hovered over their work like a shark coasting around its prey. 

"Partial traumatic amputation to his left leg. Whatever machine he got under cut clean through his femur. Leg was bagged on site, and blood flow is slightly waning under the gauze and consistent pressure." 

Park didn't seem all that impressed, and his eye brow raised when he spotted the fair-fish bag full of amputated leg sitting on a tray to the side. He narrow eyed the way Jack's hands almost wrapped completely around the stump, gloves speckled with blood that managed to seep through. 

"You're going to damage the vessels if you hold on that hard," he muttered. "Thought you attendings knew better." 

Jack fought the urge to roll his eyes. "The pressure is what's keeping this man from bleeding out. But by all means, I can lighten up if you want to play Legos and 'click the leg back in place' on a dead body." 

"You're the ones who paged me," he bit, teeth chomping around the word. "Unfortunately we can't all be surgeons, or maybe this ER would know how to perfectly pack a partial traumatic amputation." 

"Now, now, let's play nice, Park," a new voice joined over the hiss of the trauma doors. "Without the ER, we wouldn't be standing here now would we?" 

Now, Jack's heart beat wildly for a different reason. In a small glance, his eyes settled on the familiar figure of the Pitt's stand-in night shift Orthopedic Surgeon when Walsh had the shift off. 

"Oh, boy," Parker whispered beside him. She nudged Trinity slightly, body twisting so she could be near the R2's ear. "You asked for wild, and, well, it's about to get wild." 

Trinity barely processed her words as she fixated on the woman who just walked in. She couldn't note how put together she looked with her hair tucked neatly, gray roots peaking through a very expensive looking hair dye. Her white coat was crisp, and Trinity could only guess that it had been tailored with the way it hugged perfectly at her shoulders and waist. If she let herself, Trinity would be drooling, yet, the glimmer of a pair of rings that could probably pay off her entire student debt held her back from sputtering out some illy planned pick-up line. 

"Nice of you to join us," Park gritted out, clearly not happy with the new addition. "But I had this handled. 

You hummed lowly while you looked over the leg yourself and the hands around it. "Sure you did if by having it handled you meant berating Dr. Abbot and his more than capable team." 

"His pressure is way off, and if he keeps it up, the leg isn't going to be able to attach back perfectl—" 

"Aht, aht, aht," you tutted like talking to a child. "You're done talking, because obviously you can't tell the right amount of pressure from the wrong." 

You stepped closer to the bed and leaned over the railing, never hovering but making sure your presence was noted. 

"If you'd taken a breath and took the chance to actually look at the patient instead of wondering if he could be another gold start to your chart," you stated calmly, "you'd find that Dr. Abbot is currently keeping the femoral artery at around—" You leaned in closer to see just how tightly Jack's fingers held the gauze in place. "—250 to 300 mmHgs of the standard pressure needed." 

Jack had to keep himself from blushing under your praise and keep concentrating on, just as you said, the needed standard pressure. He guessed that Park would back off, however, the bigger man wasn't one to ever give up the last word. 

"No offense—" 

"None taken," you slyly interrupted. 

Park huffed, visibly irritated the more he stood there. "But clearly, they should have paged me the moment this man was wheeled in instead of trying to play hero and cut off the bleeding." He crossed his arms and puffed his chest. "They're not surgeons; they're—" 

You held up a hand. "I'll stop you right there, Brendon. Yes, they might not have the specialty experience we both have, but they are more than equipped and competent to handle a partial traumatic amputation." Your lip crinkled in a small sneer. "Dr. Abbot is also more knowledgeable about this type of injury than the both of us, or do I have to remind you that he's lived through something like this." 

Elation bloomed in the pit of your stomach as you watched Park swallow thickly, but you were far from done. 

"And, as someone who volunteers as a S.W.A.T medic after spending countless hours down here, Dr. Abbot has undergone thousands of hours of medical, tactical, and physical training. His muscles are earned through hard work, unlike the ones you like to boast on your Instagram after doing a few sit ups and curls to increase the blood flow of your arms that are more for aesthetics than actual strength." 

Jack was hard.

He was so incredibly hard, cock already pushing against the front of his scrub pants. He just prayed that Parker and Trinity would continue looking at you with stars in their eyes and not down at his . . . predicament. 

Without moving, you held out your hand, palm up towards the ceiling. "Can someone hand me the case tablet? I'm taking over this, and I will personally be scrubbing in myself." 

Park blanched at that, body finally squirming under your unwavering eyes. "You can't—" 

"I can't . . . what, exactly? Take over a case while I am currently your superior as the chief orthopedic attending on call?" you shot back while your fingers curled around the tablet Mateo handed over. "Because that's exactly what I'm doing." You glanced down at the screen before looking back up into Park's dark, blue eyes. “You're more than welcome to observe, Dr. Park, but please, never insult me or any of PTMC's doctors ever again, or I will make sure that you're stuck wrapping soft tissue sprains for months." 

You turned around with a smile on your face, demeanor completely the opposite of what you'd just shown. "Thank you three for making sure this man didn't bleed out on the spot. We'll prep an operating theater and get him transferred up shortly. Best of luck for the rest of the night." 

Your steps were light as you walked away, however you couldn't help but let out an Hoo-Ahh! over your shoulder. 

Jack watched in deep satisfaction that Park didn't even attempt to say anything else, choosing to walk away while he still held the ability to operate in the future. The mechanical doors hissed and closed off the room from the rest of the Pitt. 

Only the monitors kept beeping continually, filling the otherwise silent room. Jack tilted his head down and closed his eyes while he took a deep breath. 

After a moment, Trinity was the first to speak. "Who the fuck was that? I think my world's been rocked." 

Jack looked back up, hazel eyes trained in the direction that you disappeared off into. He swallowed the pooling saliva down in one gulp before answering. "My wife." 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The surgical cap tied tightly around your forehead itched, hair underneath poking and being pulled an at odd angle as a result of your haste to put it on. Park had overstepped, and you needed to show him that he wasn't the biggest fish in the Pitt's ocean, because that title belonged to you. 

Jack would probably laugh at it all later due to your enjoyment of underwater documentaries and fascination with orcas, especially with how they hunted and preyed upon sharks. You'd seen the way he had tried to not look at you for very long down in the trauma room. The thought of him being embarrassed quickly passed through your mind before you shook your head. 

He was never one to be ashamed of being your husband, often boasting at the fact that he put a ring on your finger before anyone else could. He loved you fierce and hard but also soft and sweet, so him looking away had to be because he was focused on making sure the man didn't bleed out before you could get his leg put back together with ease. 

The hall to the surgical room was empty as you stripped from your gown and gloves and pushed them down into the nearest hazard bin. Your footsteps echoed while you walked toward the elevator, wanting to go back down and at least give Parker and Dr. Santos the good news. However, the moment you passed by one of the empty recovery rooms, a hand reached out, grabbed hold of your arm and tugged you in. 

"What the fuck!" you shouted, voice coming out in a screech. 

To your right, the door shut, and the motion-sensor lights flickered on, revealing the person who had yanked you. You sighed in relief. 

"Hi," Jack whispered, pinning you to the wall, chest pressed against yours. 

"Jack, what the hell are you doing up here?" you hissed. "I always come down to give you the update." 

He said nothing and tucked his face into your neck. His lips lightly grazed your pulse point before his tongue peeked out and ran hotly along your jaw. Your hands instantly flew up and sunk deep into his greying curls. 

"Jack?" you questioned again. "Wha-what are you doing?" 

"Just loving on my wife," he muttered, teeth now gently nipping at your skin. "Can't a husband do that?" 

You barked out a laugh that quickly turned into a moan as he sucked harshly. "I mean, he can. But normally he doesn't until after we get home." 

Jack's neediness sent questions washing through your body as he slotted his thick thigh between your legs. Another moan punched out at the feeling, your scrub material bunching in delicious pressure against your heat. 

"Jack," you breathily sighed. "Baby, we have work; we can wait and pick this up later." 

"Can't," he bit, lips and teeth still attacking whatever inch of your neck he could reach. "Can't wait. Been hard since you left." 

"Since I left?" you echoed, mind spinning until it clicked. "Wait, Jack—" 

He hummed in an answer. 

"Don't tell me you got hard because I told off Park in the ER." 

Jack stilled against you and sighed heavily. "Is it really surprising that I'm turned on because my incredibly hot wife knocked asshole Park the Shark down a couple of pegs while simultaneously singing my praises?" 

He pulled back enough that your eyes met his, the hazel hues already swimming with heat. Internally, you battled the pros and cons of having letting Jack continue, but obviously the pros definitely outweighed the cons, and he noticed the moment all fight drained out of you. 

"Fine," you gave in, "but you need to hurry before either you or I get paged, and you're left with blue balls for another four hours." 

"Hurry is my middle name," he quipped, facing going back in to mauling your neck. 

You rolled your eyes. "No it's Waynefucking jeez.," the comeback dying into a moan half-way up your throat. 

Jack's right hand rested against the length of your throat while his left danced along the waistline of your pants, fingers teasingly dipping below and toying with the hem of your underwear. He drew another gasp from your lips when he pushed his thigh up higher, the muscle nesting against your core. Taking your open mouth to his advantage, his hot, slick tongue dipped deep between your teeth and licked around. His chest rumbled in a moan at the taste of you. 

While he kept your mouth distracted, his hand went further down your underwear, knuckles brushing against your navel until his fingertips found exactly what they were looking for. He couldn't help but groan at the feeling of your wet, sticky arousal already pooling between your folds. 

"You're already so fucking wet. How long have you been like this, sweetheart?" he panted after pulling back. "Did you like putting big ole Park in his place while your husband watched? Cause I enjoyed every minute of it." 

To show his enjoyment, Jack thrusted up against your stomach, his hardness evident through his own pants. Your eyes widened at the size of his bulge, cunt clenching with the thought of him putting it right into you. You whimpered loudly into the air, head tilted back to rest against the wall. 

His pointer finger circled around your throbbing clit in soft, minuscule motions and drew pleasured breaths from your lungs. When you started rocking back and forth, he reached a bit lower before sinking two fingers into your sopping, fluttering hole. The thick and sudden intrusion had you whining. 

"Jack! Ooh-ohh-oooohhh," you sputtered as the tips of both fingers found your sweet spot with experience swiftness. Stars dotted your vision, and your stomach and thighs tightened. "Feels good shiittt." 

"Yeah?" Jack asked as his hips continued thrusting up into your center, the band in his gut drawing tighter. He could practically feel the clenching of your cunt around his throbbing length when you tightened around his fingers. "You close, sweetheart?" 

You nodded. "C-close. So, so, so, so close; you're gonna make me cum." 

Your words had Jack whimpering against your neck, eyes pinching closed to not blow his load prematurely. He needed to make you cum before even thinking of letting go himself. 

He withdrew his hand in order to push your scrubs and underwear down, giving him more room to thrust his fingers upward while thumbing at your clit. Without the extra layer, your slick arousal dripped down his hand and spotted his dark scrubs. 

"There we goooo," he drew out, words raspy between his gasps. "Soaking my hand and my pants, sweetheart." 

You were getting close, and your hips canted harder to meet his fingers. Your inner thighs clenched around his hand, and a high-pitched whine squeezed between your teeth. 

"I'm gonna cum!" you keened. "Gonna-gonna-shitfuckfuckfuckfuck! Jack!" 

Your stomach flipped as your walls clamped down tightly around Jack's fingers. To draw out your high, he continued to circle your bundle of nerves and shallowly push in his fingers. He, however, didn't stop grinding against you, and while you were focused on feeling every hot dip of pleasure from climax, Jack grunted twice before his hips stilled and his cum spilled from his leaking tip into his boxers, soaking though to stain his scrubs. 

You sighed dreamily and held Jack's wrist to stop his motions, your core becoming too sensitive for him to continue. Your chest heaved against Jack's, and he leaned back into languidly kiss at your mouth. 

"Never," you managed to get out between kisses. "Never thought my husband would have a competency kink. Learn something new every day." 

"Like I said: it was hot," he said. 

You smirked when he finally met his eyes. "Hot enough to make you cum in your pants, I guess. What are your doctors going to think when you go back down in different color scrubs than you had on before?" 

Jack laughed loudly. "I think Trinity will be too distracted because you are definitely her type, and it won't be the worst thing Ellis has ever seen." 

Heat flooded your cheeks at the remembering of the one time Parker caught you and Jack actually fucking in an on call room. She teased the two of you for months after you promised to help her out with getting a shot at a surgical fellowship. 

Once your pants were back in place, you smooshed close back into Jack's chest, cheek squished against his pec while his hands rubbed up and down your back in slow motions. Aftercare in a recovery room could never be the same as snuggles in bed, but Jack would be damned if he let you go without a little post-coital hugging and kissing.

You had just gotten his lips back on yours when the pager at his side buzzed to life. He pulled back with a groan.

"Duty calls."

"Duty always has the worst timing," you grumbled. "See you in four hours and then round two at home?"

Jack smirked and tapped the side of your ass. "Maybe I'll make sure Park comes back down so you can yell at him again."

You snorted, hand coming up to slap at your nose. "Your foreplay preferences are so weird. Maybe I should yell at you. I think you'd like that, Dr. Abbot."

With that, you slipped out the door and back into the empty hallway, leaving Jack in yet another blushy mess and length twitching at the thought of you talking down at him like you did for Park.

Round two was indeed going to be interesting.

🏷️ 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 @sl33ping-sir3n @toxicwasteee @chanelwidag @cloudrisens @ravenwtfbro @ra-ven-124 @rainaris-ac @glamorizethechaos

[favorite-characters]

𝕋𝕙𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕓𝕠𝕝𝕥𝕤*

David Harbour as 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐨𝐯 • 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧

[lostalioth]

(smut) dbf! jack abbot- this is lowkey a wild ask so it's completely up to you if you want to write it or not but... like soft smut where reader is scared of pelvic floor exams. asked jack about pain with penetration and he said he'd examine them if they wanted that. time passes before reader finally agrees, jack coming over to their apartment- let's just say it ends with stubble burns against their thighs.

✶ match box 06 — 3k follower event.ᐟ

✦. ─ cw: dbf!jack abbot x younger fem!reader, 3.2k wc, fluff, smut, medical inaccuracies, nicknames [kid, sweetheart, honey], inappropriate physical pelvic exam turned oral, prob missed some.

— I LOVE WILD ASKS please never ever be afraid to send ‘em i really loved this one. 

As you had gotten older, you allowed your yearly pelvic exam to come and go. Sometimes you would get the courage to make the appointment and tell yourself this year you’re gonna do it. You’re gonna face the music, anxiety be damned and go get checked out. Then as it inched closer and closer to the date you chicken out and cancel.

 

You were beyond scared of getting one. You knew exactly why too, losing your virginity had not been nearly as fun as all your friends made it out to be, sex hurt. When you told your girlfriends this they looked at you a little funny and asked maybe he didn’t do it right, it wasn’t exactly supposed to be painful, not the whole time anyway. So you did a few experiments of your own, cause maybe they were right and the guy just i don’t know did it wrong?

You bought a toy, a not too big but average to smaller sized dildo, online as going in store was too much to handle. And one night when your college roommates were out, you tried using it but it hurt just the same, you even tired just using your fingers but that wasn’t much better. From then on for years, you avoided sex as much as you could. All subsequent boyfriends who managed to persuade you into it just told you it'd be “Much better with me trust me baby” and it never really was. 

When you bring it up to one of your friends again, they point something out that you had been trying to avoid thinking of. “Hey, isn't one of your dads friends a doctor or something? Why haven’t you asked him about it?” oh that guy. Yeah the one you are kinda a little too attracted to who’s not just your fathers friend but his best friend, who makes your brain short circuit each time he calls you sweetheart? That one. Yeah you’d rather not talk about how sex is painful to the older man, who is the closest person to your father. You just might have to though if you ever wanna actually enjoy sex in your life. 

When you see Jack a few days later for your dads weekly dinner night he hosts, you manage to pull him away telling your dad it’s private girly medical related questions, he shuts up shortly after that. 

“What's up kid you okay?” Jack asks, concern evident in his voice. You rarely asked him anything medical and he was a bit worried you’re about to ask him how long is it normal for a woman to go without getting her period. “How…” you squeak out. Oh god here it comes. Before you start again you clear your throat. “How um common is, you know pain during sex…” the word sex leaves your lips in a meek and quiet tone, Jack tries his best not to chuckle as to not embarrass you further, but he’s happy it's not the question he was expecting. “Pretty common kid, at least the first time” he explains calmly, his casual demeanor easing your anxiety only a bit. “And how about every time?”

The idea of you having sex multiple times shouldn't be making Jack's chest ache the way it is, you’re a young beautiful girl after all, he tries telling himself it’s only cause it’s apparently painful and he cares for you. This time he straightens up a bit, “if the guys aren’t being rough, it's less common, it shouldn’t be every time” he watches as your eyes go a little wide and shake your head no in response to the first half of his statement. “Have you had an exam lately kid?” This is a purely professional question so it shouldn’t feel as dirty as it does coming out of his mouth.

“I um normally cancel them” Jack can only sigh out in a bit of frustration. “You should really get them regularly sweetheart” he misses the way your thighs lightly squeeze together at the use of the nickname. “I’m scared s’ all, anything going um inside hurts and doctors offices only make me more nervous” you explain. He smooths a hand over your hair, sympathy lacing his voice. “it’s okay i don’t mean to make you feel bad about it kid i swear” “How-” he stops himself, his eyebrows furrowing as if he was debating something in his head. “What?” you prompt, trying your hardest to not buckle at the knees from the way he’s practically petting your head. Physical touch is a quite rare thing between you too minus a few hugs on birthdays or pats on the back. “How about I give you one?’ oh sweet jesus that sounds wrong. He clears his throat, his face a little flush now at his own words but he doesn’t backtrack. “I’m a doctor, that you know, so it’s less scary” “No appointment needed if that makes you more comfortable” as you are processing his words he continues on. “I could do it at your apartment, where ever you feel most comfortable”

  

Your throat shouldn't feel as dry as it does, but the idea of Jack examining your pussy makes your head spin and slick settle between your legs a little. Maybe you should just see a regular random doctor, not one you have a wildly inappropriate crush on. You leave him with a small “Thank you, I'll think about it” and run off with the excuse of using the bathroom. You leave before Jack that night without much of any goodbye to him, he tries not to dwell on it, he really hopes he didn’t upset you.

You however dwell for days on Jack’s suggestion. Without the underlying nerves you feel because of being attracted to him, it is a good idea. You’d feel far more comfortable, maybe too comfortable being examined by him rather than a doctor you hardly know. You don’t bring it up to anyone as you’re too embarrassed but you think about it for days. When you get a reminder for the last gyno appointment you were brave enough to make, you cancel it without another thought and text Jack. 

All he does is thumbs up your message but for the next few hours you are anxious as all hell while waiting for him to knock on your door. You had given yourself the time both to calm down but also clean your apartment. Even though he was literally coming over to give you a vaginal exam and wouldn't care what your place looked like, you wanted it to be neat. Even if this was going to be probably the weirdest event in your life to date.

You are startled out of your train of thought by a knock at the door, you glance at the clock — 3pm exactly. Damn older men and their punctuality or was it a doctor thing? Shaking your head you nervously make your way to open the door, greeting Jack with a little awkward wave. He chuckles softly, the sound calming you as you step back from the open door to invite him in. “It’ll be alright, i’ll be gentle kid” his voice runs over your skin leaving behind goosebumps. You don’t know what you’re more nervous over, the expected pain of the actual examination or, the idea of Jack's hands on you, his fingers in you. 

Without wasting much time Jack settled into a semi professional but still comforting balance as he puts down the small bag of stuff he needs on the floor of your living room. You appreciate his effectiveness, as he tells you to sit on your couch facing him. You listen and watch as he sits on top of your coffee table. “This will be a little awkward because we are here and not a hospital, so I don't have a few things sweetheart” he starts to explain. “The no gown won’t be too hard, you have a skirt on so if you could just take off your underwear i can have access without-” he paused a moment as if thinking “leaving you too indisposed” the way he snaps a pair of blue latex gloves on shouldn’t be making as wet as it is, fuck. 

“Can-” you stutter out, your face hot but he seems to pick up on what you’re asking, nodding softly he turns his head away to give you some semblance of privacy. Bunching up your skirt you hook your fingers into the waistband of your slightly soaked panties and pull them down your legs. You kick them under the coffee table so they’re out of sight and tap Jack on the shoulder, he shakes his head softly at your shyness before turning to face you again. 

“Put your feet up either side of me on the table, won’t be the same as stirrups but close enough” tugging at the end of your skirt to cover yourself a bit more you do as he says and place your feet up flat on the low table. He adjusts them slightly, grabbing your foot one at a time and slides them a bit so they are more half off not so far back. “Scooh more to the edge of the couch kid, lean back ‘n tilt your hips up a lil more f’ me” the way you listen so well to Jack has him smiling softly at you and muttering out a small “Atta girl” 

He pressed lightly around on your abdomen through your shirt and skirt, eyes glued to your face gauging your reactions. “No pain or tenderness when I do this, right?” when you shake your head no he stops. “My hand is gonna go under your skirt for a second okay?” your face grows hotter and you nod, your voice has yet to find you again but so far nods are an effective enough communication with him. He reaches down between your legs but only presses around again, this time he is much closer to your pussy but he remains on the outside, pressing over the mound of it and on your pubic bone. “No pain?” Once again your head shakes side to side. His hand pulls away, your eyes follow his movements as he reaches down to grab a small bottle out of his bag.

He holds it but doesn’t do anything with it yet, his eyes find yours again “This next part i have to put my fingers inside, that okay sweetheart?” you gulp softly, nodding yes slowly as your nervousness grows again. “That’s the part that us- usually hurts” you explain in a small voice. It’s Jack's turn to nod now, "Penetration?” you let out a ‘mhm’ in agreeance as he squeezes the clear substance onto his pointer finger. “This is lube to make it easier and I’ll go slow, only one finger” his other hand reaches around your leg to touch the back of your calf, rubbing soothing lines up and down the muscle. “If you’re relaxed it might not be as painful” he explains, waiting on your go ahead before reaching down under your skirt once again. 

Pushing his lube coated index finger through your folds the tip of it finds your entrance, he gauges your face, when you nod again he proceeds by pushing it inside. 

Your sharp intake of air makes him stop once only the first bend of his finger is inside. “Come on, relax f’ me sweetheart” his low honey dipped voice makes your body go a bit lax, he inches his finger forward again and when you show no sign of pain he goes all the way til it's completely inside. “How’s that kid?” he sounds as breathless as you feel but you try to ignore it. “A little pain” you squeak out. “Give it a second, relax and it might go away”

“Don’t know how to relax more” you whine out, the sound going straight down Jack’s spine and up again, he shivers a bit and wills it away before it travels further south. “I’m gonna try something…do you trust me sweetheart?” you’re already nodding again in response before he fully finishes his question. 

Bringing his thumb up he parts the lips of your pussy til it finds your clit. You gasp out and slightly scare him, “That hurt?” “No no m’ sorry surprised me is all” you mumble out, biting your lip to hold in any more noises from getting free, like an accidental moan. Jesus christ why did you think this was a good idea again? If you had to bet you’d say you were soaking his gloved finger, even with the sting you felt from it inside, it felt good at the same time. You never even reached this type of feeling with your own fingers.

His thumb on your clit presses down lightly and starts rubbing in circles, you let out a small little sigh that makes Jack smirk a bit. “There you go honey, come on” “Un-tense your shoulders” your body listens almost instantaneously “Good girl” you can’t help the whimper that comes out at his words, he doesn’t say anything in response. “Feel any better?” he prompts, his eyes remain on your face, no matter how bad he wants to peek under your skirt to watch the way your little bud twitches under his touch. “Mhmm a bit” you answer softly, trying to push away the odd feeling bubbling up in the pit of your stomach. 

“Can I put in another finger, we’ll see how that feels?” he whispers, he definitely has enough information that he thinks he knows what’s wrong already but you don’t need to know that. “Yeah” you pant out, shaking your head a little too eagerly, if Jack notices he doesn’t say a word. With ease his middle slips in alongside his pointer, his thumb still circling your clit. “No pain honey?” the motion of your head once again answers his question. “Wanna try something else…can I move my fingers sweetheart?” 

“Please” you plead, head to fuzzy to care how desperate you sound. Slowly pulling his fingers back he watches your face as he pistons them back in, repeating the motion. “That feel good?” “Mhm no pain, fuck! feels really good” you whine out, your hips now bucking up against his fingers. He speeds up, still waiting to see if it hurts or if you stop him. “Jack” you moan out, his cock throbs in response. 

“Yeah kid?” “Need- Mm” you cut yourself off, pinching your lips in a line and tilting your head back. “Nuh-uh come on honey, tell me what ya’ need” he prompts, curling his fingers up to hit a different spot inside you that has you letting out a pornographic noise you didn’t know you were even capable of. “Need-” you huff out, before he stops you “Look at me when you say it, come on kid” “Use your words”

Lifting your head you look into Jack’s eyes, his breath hitches at the sight of your glazed over lust filled eyes, batting your eyelashes you start again. “Need more” you sob. His stomach just about hurts now from how hard he is in his jeans that feels all too tight. “Yeah? What more honey? Another finger or something else?” he asks, consciences be damned he’s not gonna leave you hanging even if your old man would fucking kill him if he ever found out about this. “Somethin’ else please” you whine, not even knowing what more you want. Jack however seems to when he takes his free hand off your calf and lifts your skirt, his head ducking under it. His fingers don’t stop positioning in and out of your slick cunt even if you squeal a bit at his motion. The noise morphes into a moan, your body melting into the couch when his warm tongue pokes out and makes contact with your pussy, licking at your pussy. “Still feel good kid?” he mumbles out, before his thumb leaves your bundle of nerves only to be replaced by his mouth as he sucks at it. 

“Yeah- Yeah feels s’ good” you breathe out, letting go of your skirt, he grabs at your one leg, lifting your foot off the table placing it over his shoulder, prompting you to do the same with your other before his fingers slip out of your pussy. 

You whine at the loss, “Jackkk” making him chuckle softly against you. “Hang on sweetheart” he coos as he uses both hands to grab at your hips, pulling you up and half way off the couch to get you closer to his mouth, lapping at you hard splitting your folds with his pointed tongue before sucking at your clit. “Ah- Ahhh ooh fuck” you wail out, your hands frantic to steady yourself. One finding purchase on his shoulder before sliding down his back under his shirt where your nails scratch at his skin. The other holding on for dear life to the edge of your couch cushion, your legs tighten a bit around his head. 

“Holy shit” you whisper out in breathless disbelief, the odd feeling from before coming back to quickly build in the pit of your stomach. Jack's large hands cupping your waist squeeze at your flesh, as he shakes his head side to side a little, flattening his tongue against you. Your thighs burn a bit at the friction of his stubbly face rubbing against them. He moves back to harshly sucking at your clit, your pussy and his mouth coated in his spit as he practically slurps at your juices.

“Huu- shit” “Wait wait! Jack- mhm feels like m’ gonna pee” you try pushing at his head to stop him, even if you desperately didn’t want his mouth off you. That feeling in your stomach was teetering on the edge. “Ya’ don’t have to pee sweetheart, that’s a orgasm you feel” he grumbles out, the explain making your hand ease up from pushing instead it rakes through his curls “S’ okay cum for me kid” 

“Promse s’ okay” you whine out, staring down at his head between your legs. “Yeah, you can do it” “cum f’ me it’s okay honey” "Promise it’ll feel good, no pain” his reassure is all you need to let your high wash over you, legs shaking on his shoulders, “There we go, fuck” he moans out. Your back arching as you cum on his tongue with a loud wanton moan filling your apartment coupled with his praise, “Atta girl, sweetheart” “Such a good girl f’ me” he laps at your cum. “Taste so fucking sweet, like i knew ya’ would” he mumbles out, that one you think was meant more for himself.  

Managing to reluctantly pull his head from between your soft thighs, Jack used his hold on your hips to place your body back onto the couch. You stare at him wide eyed when you notice his face all wet, covered in you. “Got somethin’ on my face kid?” you nod meekly. He chuckles and pinches at the collar of his shirt to bring it up and wipe at his mouth. “No pain after?” he asks. “No, never done that before” you whisper out, flicking your head down to where your skirt now covered your puffy but satisfied pussy. 

“Just needed an older man huh sweetheart, help ya’ relax a little and the pain melts away” he states, reaching down to rub at your knee. “Fucking little boys” he tsks but your eyes are glued to the large bulge in between his thick thighs. You’d have to be extra relaxed to take that monster on…

— would the position jack eats you out in, be at all comfortable for that old man's back? fuck no and lowkey it’s a hard to physically imagine it but jack’s strong s’ fineeeee i got a little too lost in sauce when writing clearly oops…this was also only like half proofread.

[romantic-insomniac]

this was actually.... i have no words

[bodeckerhedron]

NOAH WYLE as JOHN CARTER

➤• ER (1994-2009)

[sammroo167]

[selena-soto]

[opulentpeony]

mr. and mrs. abbot - assassin!pope x assassin!reader 

word count: 5.2k warnings: dead dove: do not eat, femme fatale!reader, extremely dubious consent (bc would either of you consented if you had known the other was also an assassin? oop-), “jack abbot” doesn't exist bc he's actually pope's fake identity!, he calls you “honey” and you call him “sir”, gun violence, murder, blood and gore, established relationship, deception, mutual pining, angst (with a happy ending!), domestic fluff, praise kink, mild brat taming, dom/sub dynamics, unprotected sex, breeding kink, squirting, spit kink, edging, fingerfucking, bondage, gun play (but tamer than usual lol!), choking, pope makes a lot of bad jokes (he's silly and in love!), it's actually lowkey mushy cutesy bc I just am in that kind of mood lately!  summary: you are an assassin but your husband thinks you're just a corporate executive. your husband is an assassin but you think he's just a doctor.  so what happens when you find out your husband's real identity and he finds out yours because your companies want you to kill each other? 

a/n: i came up with this after seeing mr. and mrs. smith while browsing tv and i just had to write it! 

hope it's a sick(ly sweet) read ♡ 

“Mrs. Abbot?” The pharmacist waves their hand in front of your face. “Are you feeling alright?”

You're staring down at your phone right now. At the bounty your company just set out on your burner. 

For a man named Andrew Cody. 

Better known by his call sign “Pope”. 

Who looks exactly like your husband Jack…

“Hmm?” You glance up from your phone, remembering for a moment where you are. “Oh, right. Sorry, just got a business text. A little distracted.” 

A clever excuse, like always, given your formal attire and the fact that you do actually work for a Fortune 500 company. You look like any corporate executive would if they were in line for a prescription at a pharmacy. Definitely not like an assassin for hire staring at a kill order…

“Do you need me to explain the medication to you before I sign off on it?” They show you the bottle of sleeping pills you always take on the nights Jack isn't home. 

Because it's always hard for you to sleep when he's not there next to you… 

“No, I'm alright.” You tell them and they nod, handing you the medication once they've signed off on it. 

You take it out of the paper bag when you get to your car and stuff the pill bottle into your glove box. 

You can't possibly take those now.

Not when you have no idea who your husband is…

So, you call your handler. “Who is this guy?”

“Competition.” The robotic voice on the other end answers. 

“Last known?” 

“Oceanside, CA.” 

You and Jack are a long way from there. On the complete opposite coast…

“Time frame?” 

“ASAP.” So, that's why it was sent to you…

You have the highest record of kills done in the shortest amount of time. Always so efficient. You knew it would bite you in the ass one day… 

“I'm retired, though.” 

“You're the only one capable of doing this within the desired time frame.” 

“Why?” You know they're not going to answer but you ask anyway, clarifying, “what's the rush?” 

“We have intel he is planning to kill one of our own.”

You wonder who it can be. 

Because you would've never guessed that it would be you.

Pope stares down, much like you had earlier, in disbelief at the photo on his screen. 

That's you, his wife, on his burner beneath the bounty just sent to him. 

But that isn't the name you gave him. 

Call sign “Pearl”. 

Because you excel under pressure. 

A top assassin. Clean kills. Perfect record. 

Just like Pope… 

“Jack?” Robby tries to glance over Pope's shoulder but he shoves his phone in his locker and shuts it before Robby can see anything. “Alright, keep your secrets.”

“My wife just sent something I shouldn't open at work.” Pope lies through his teeth but Robby always believes it. 

Since Pope talks about you all the time at work. He loves you, after all. 

He loves being a doctor, too. 

He hates being an assassin. He had quit when the two of you got married. 

So, why is he getting sent a bounty now? 

“She's a high priority target.” Pope's handler tells him when he calls after his night shift. Call sign “Smurf”. “We need her dealt with, so we need our best.” 

“Why the urgency?” Pope wants to know. 

Smurf replies, “we have intel she's after one of our own.”

He wonders who it could be. 

Because he'll never guess that you, his pretty wife waiting for him at home, are supposed to be going after him. 

You've been sitting at the dining table, nursing a glass of wine, since you got home from the pharmacy. 

You haven't eaten. 

You couldn't sleep. 

You can't even stomach the wine that's sitting untouched on the table. 

You keep thinking about your husband Jack. 

But you know that's not his real name. 

Andrew is his real name. Though, everyone in the world of hitmen calls him Pope. 

The ever elusive Pope. An elite assassin who has been out of commission for years now. 

Around the same time the two of you got married…the same time you retired too…

You blink back more tears because you're trying to convince yourself that the foolish thoughts in your head can't possibly be true. 

That maybe he quit killing people because he's actually in love with you. 

Like you're in love with him. 

Fuck. You know that can't be true. 

Pope is known to be heartless. Ruthless. A born killer. The best of the best at torturing his targets for information.

Nothing like the man you married, Jack Abbot.

Decorated veteran. Emergency medicine doctor. Caring, kind, loving husband of yours… 

How much of that was real? 

And how much of it was a cover?

Does he know…who you are? 

There's no way. And if he did, what's the goal of playing the long game? 

If he wanted you dead, why would he go through all the extra hoops of taking you out on dates? Marrying you? Making love to you? 

Because he loves you. Your mind tries to feed you delusions.

You are delusional…because you can't find it in you to kill him. 

Even though you have to, before it gets reassigned and someone else does. 

And they won't be so merciful…

“Honey?” You hear your husband's voice call out to you. 

Is it really morning already?

“What's wrong?” Pope sees the untouched wine glass and your puffy eyes. 

So, you make something up quickly. “The pharmacy didn't have any pills left in stock to fill my prescription. Couldn't sleep without them.”

Couldn't sleep without him. You hate that you love sleeping next to Jack—Pope. 

His name is Pope. Jack doesn't exist. 

The man you love was just a cover…

For what? You might never find out. 

“Come on, let's go to bed. I'll go get your pills for you after a nap.” He puts his hand out for you to take. 

And you take it without hesitation. Force of habit. 

Pope doesn't notice anything off about you, which is good. He is used to you not sleeping well without your pills. You get bad nightmares if you sleep unmedicated. 

That's why you like sleeping next to him. You never get nightmares for some reason. Probably because his warmth comforts you. 

The thought of feeling his skin cold because you had to kill him makes you want to throw up… 

You actually do throw up, right into the toilet in the bathroom. Pope gently holds back your hair, helping you with a light shoulder rub. 

“Are you alright, honey?” Now Pope is worried. 

Because the two of you were trying for a baby. And if you're pregnant right now…with his child…how is he possibly supposed to kill you? 

“No, I'm not alright.” You wipe the tears that are dripping down your face uncontrollably. “I'm scared.” 

“About what?” He kneels down next to you. “Talk to me.” 

You look him in the eyes, in those beautiful hazel eyes you fell in love with, and you want to tell him the truth. 

That you're supposed to kill him. 

Before he kills you. 

But instead, you tell him, “that you won't want to kiss me now, after I just threw up.” 

The concern on Pope's face washes away, replaced by a chuckle. “I'd kiss you no matter what.” 

“Yeah?” You look at his lips. “Are you sure?” 

He leans in to prove it, kissing you. And you kiss him back. 

You do more than just that. You pull him against you, wanting his body flush with yours. 

“Let's get ready for bed first.” He smiles at your eagerness. “Then I'll help you fall asleep like always.” 

Your skin heats up from his words and he nuzzles your nose while holding back an amused chuckle, liking how flustered you look.

It's hard for him to believe his adorable wife is an assassin. One of the best in the business too. 

And yet here you are, your hand holding onto his so nervously as he walks the two of you to bed after you both washed up and brushed your teeth. 

Who is the real you? 

The one who is looking up at him all bashful the moment he climbs on top of you in bed? 

Or the stone cold killer Pearl that he has heard echoes about slashing her way through target after target without a shred of fear? 

Does it matter right now when you pull him down to kiss you, lacing your fingers in his soft curls and grinding your hips up against his? 

“Someone's being impatient.” Pope nips at your bottom lip, drawing out a whimper from your lips. 

“Please, sir.” You beg of him because you need to feel your husband's body against yours right now. “Please touch me.” 

“How do you want me to touch you?” His hands slide under your shirt, lifting it up over your chest so he can see your lovely breasts. 

“Make me cum, sir.” You want to remember this feeling, in case you never get to experience it again. 

“Lift your arms up.” Pope instructs and you listen, letting him tug your shirt up over your head. 

But he doesn't pull it off. He instead ties your wrists to the headboard, securing them in place there. 

“What's your safe word, honey?” 

“Your name.” 

“That's right. Do you remember why?” He asks as he kisses down the length of your body starting from the arms he just bound. 

You swallow back gulps of air before his lips hover over yours and you breathe, “because I only get to call you “sir” in bed.” 

“Good girl.” He leans down, sealing his lips around yours, trapping the moan that wants to escape when you feel his hand slipping between your legs. “Do you still want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, sir.” You tug at your restraints when you feel his fingers graze your clit. So lightly, so purposefully weak to get you wriggling for more. “Please.” 

“My wife is so needy tonight. I love it.” He really does love you so much. 

That's why in bed, he doesn't want you calling out some fake name he made up. When you call Pope “sir”, he knows you're talking to him and not the fictional persona of Jack Abbot he created to be free from the world of assassination. 

It's hard for him to think that you've been hiding the same secret as he has been all this time. 

Is that why you told him you like being called “honey”? So you could enjoy his attention without the constant reminder of your fake identity? 

What would you do if he called out your real name right now? 

You're restrained. You wouldn't be able to do anything to him. Though, if you are Pearl, then he's sure you could get out of the loose knot he made with your shirt. 

Why does that thought make his cock twitch? The sight of you showing him how skilled you truly are at your work. You have to be skilled to hide this well. 

It would be betraying your trust, though, to use this vulnerable moment of yours for more than just sex and pleasure. 

You trust Pope, maybe not fully but definitely in bed. You've given this part to him. He knows that well. 

You wouldn't show this side of you to just anyone, the side so desperate to cum on his fingers that your hips are grinding against his hand now that he's stripped you completely naked.

Would you be this eager if you knew that he's supposed to kill you? 

Maybe you wouldn't care. 

You just want to cum. 

His spoiled wife, who he takes great care of. 

“Beg for it, honey.” He pins you down to the bed by your lower belly, stopping you from squirming so much. 

“Please make me cum, sir.” You plead with him and nearly cum when he spits so harshly on your clit. 

“Be specific.” Pope wants to see what you ask for today. 

“Please make me cum on your fingers, sir.” You feel so empty inside. 

Your heart aches and you want to have him inside of you any way you can.

“Are you going to be a good girl and cum hard for me?” He asks as he slips a finger inside of you for just a second before popping it back out, pulling a whine from your lips. 

“Yes, sir.” You definitely will. 

“Let's see it.” Pope dips two fingers inside of you then and curls them, grinding them right up against that spot that has your body trembling all over. He keeps thrusting them right there, reveling in how tight you're squeezing his fingers as he fucks you with them. 

He knows you're about to cum because you're looking at him with those pleading eyes of yours. You don't want him to stop. 

He always stops though. Because he likes seeing you on the edge of an orgasm, panting, reeling from getting so close before his fingers slow completely. 

“Please, sir.” You don't know how much more you can beg for him to make you cum. 

Pope likes torturing you. It's what he's good at. Always has been and he takes a lot of pleasure from it. From seeing you so helpless and in need of his assistance.

“Tell me you love me.” He doesn't know why that's what he asks in this moment. Usually he asks you to tell him something filthy, to leak out a dark desire of yours he'd be happy to fulfill. 

But right now, all he wants to hear is your beautiful voice telling him, “I love you.” 

“I love you too, honey.” He says, then drives his fingers back inside of you without warning. 

You cum instantly, the sheer force of his sudden movements causing you to squirt uncontrollably. You're gasping for air and crying out because he won't slow down. He just keeps fucking you with his fingers until you're squirting like a fountain for him, drenching the sheets with your orgasms.

“Oh god, sir, I can't—” You dig your nails into the fabric of the shirt binding your wrists when Pope leans down to seal his lips on your aching clit. “Wait, stop, I'm going to cum again if you—”

You cum so hard that your eyes roll back and you can't seem to pull enough air into your lungs with every heavy breath. Pope slides his fingers out of you, licking them clean while he stares down at the sight of you so thoroughly dazed. 

He strips off his clothes then, and that's when you ask him, “will you please untie me, sir?” 

And he's tempted to tell you to do it yourself. 

You can, of course, but in this scene, you've relinquished control to him. You've let him restrain you, so you aren't going to undo them yourself unless you absolutely have to. 

Should he give you a reason to? 

Should he wrap his hands around your neck and squeeze just to see if you're afraid of him enough to show your true self?

His body moves before he can think his actions through. 

Pope sinks his cock into you, filling you up completely before his hands wrap around your neck. Your eyes widen when you feel him tighten his grip around your neck. 

Tighter than he's ever choked you before.

Pounding into you with his cock rougher than he ever has before too. 

“Say my name.” He keeps squeezing more and more, ramming his cock into you harder and harder, trying to scare you. “Do it.” 

The wires are crossed in your head. You don't know what to think or what to do. 

So much pleasure is flooding your system but there's a backnote of genuine fear. 

That maybe Pope is trying to kill you. 

Would he? 

Should you let him? 

If you did, then you wouldn't have to kill him. 

Then your last memory could be him fucking you like this. 

That's not a bad way to go. 

Especially not when you're cumming your brains out on his cock, feeling so lightheaded from the lack of air, your mind spinning from cumming so much over and over again. 

“Say it!” He shouts at you, shaking you by your neck. “Make me stop. Don't let me…”

You lock eyes with him and it's only when you see the tears building in corners of his eyes that you have to put a stop to this. 

Not for your sake, but for his. 

So, you slip out of the fabric tied around your wrists with ease then you reach up, cupping Pope's face before meeting his shocked gaze with your eyes as you call out his name, “Andrew.”

He blinks at you, the grip around your neck stilling completely, no longer actively squeezing. Tears drip down his face and you can feel them hitting your own face. Though, maybe some of those are your tears. 

“You were going to let me kill you.” He lets go of your neck entirely, holding himself up at either side of your head now. “Why?” 

“Because they want me to kill you.” You don't need to explain much else. “And I can't do that to you. I love you, Andrew. Even if you don't—”

“I love you too.” He says, followed by your real name. 

And despite all the orgasms you've had, nothing could compare to the pleasure of hearing your real name come out of his lips after being told that he loves you. 

“I wouldn't have killed you.” He swears to you. “I would've let you kill me if you had to.” 

“Till death do us part.” You pull him in for a kiss then, like you're making that vow again. 

Only this time, as your real self. 

“Death will have to wait.” His words are so warm on your lips that your heart skips a beat. “Because I finally get to hear my wife call out my name while I'm fucking her. I'm not dying today.” 

You chuckle, smacking him on the chest, “Andrew!”

He smiles back at you, nuzzling your nose so affectionately before kissing you. 

You meet his hips halfway as he starts to roll them against yours, fucking you nice and slow. Making love to you, like always. 

Making you laugh like always. “Are you really Pearl?”

“Are we seriously talking about this while you're fucking me?” You gasp when he buries his cock as deep as he can and then lays all of his weight on you, trapping you beneath him. “Andrew!” 

“Fuck, you sound so good screaming my name.” He gives you a kiss on the cheek and you glare at him when he pulls away. “Answer the question.” 

“Yes.” You answer then yelp when he thrusts his cock inside of you all of a sudden.

“Yes what?” He smirks at how annoyed you look. 

So there is a side of you he hasn't gotten to enjoy fully yet. The little brat hidden beneath the usual submissive. 

“We are not doing this!” You shove at him so he pins your arms down with his hands. “Stop it!” 

“You're good at pretending, honey.” Because if the stories are true, you definitely can get out of his grip right now.

Pope wants to see it. See you in action. 

You huff through gritted teeth. “I am not doing this with you, Pope.”

Oh, now you've pissed him off. 

Pope slips out of you completely and before you can stop him, he opens the secret compartment he built into his bedside table and pulls out his revolver. 

Then, he shoots you. 

You narrowly avoid it, your reflexes kicking in immediately so you can dodge it, rolling off the bed and to your feet in an instant. 

He laughs so hard that you want to punch his teeth out. “So you are as good as they say.”

“Fuck you, you just shot at me, you motherfucker!” You press your hand against the nearby wall, activating the biometric lock that opens up the hidden compartment you made and pull out your glock. 

Then, you shoot him. 

And Pope narrowly avoids it, before firing another shot at you that you dodge with ease so you fire back at him quickly.

Clipping his arm. 

You suddenly feel a weight sink in your stomach at the sight of the thin line of blood that darts across his bicep. But that uneasy feeling washes away when you hear Pope chuckle so happily.

“Nice shot, honey!” He tells you before he fires another round and you almost get clipped in the ear. “Hey, stand still. I need to even the score.”

“What are we doing right now?!” This has to be the strangest foreplay ever! 

“Having fun. And getting some practice in.” He says before shooting at you again, this time by your feet, hoping to nick your ankle but you're too slippery. “Looks like my wife doesn't need the exercise though. Good reflexes.”

“I will shoot your fucking cock off if you don't stop whatever the hell this is!” You shout at him before he aims another bullet at you. “Andrew!” 

“You wouldn't dare shoot my cock. You'd miss it if it was gone.” He smiles so mischievously at you that you are actually tempted to shoot him there. 

“I don't miss your leg.” You say then instantly regret it because you feel like that might've been too harsh, given the prosthetic he has.

Until Pope starts laughing again and goes, “that's why you won't take out the one hanging between my legs, right?” 

“Oh my god!” You groan at the horrid joke. “Who the fuck did I marry? Have you always been this irritating!”

“Pretty much.” He nods with a shrug. 

So you shoot his gun out of his hand. 

Pope is actually startled by that, his revolver dropping to the ground. 

Right before you pin him down to the ground in his distraction.

You point the gun to his head then tell him, “I always knew I'd be better than you.”

“Oh yeah?” Pope suddenly grabs you and pushes you down onto your back, then shoves his cock into you in a single smooth stroke. “I always knew you had it bad for my cock.” 

“I will fucking shoot you!” You point your gun at him as he rolls his hips, grinding the tip of his cock deep where you like it. “Stop it!”

“You'll have to shoot me if you want me to stop fucking you.” He digs his fingers into your hips for leverage before he starts pounding his cock into you at a pace that has your back arching and your orgasm building too quickly. “That's it honey, cum for me.” 

“Andrew, you can't—” You literally have a gun trained on him and he's fucking you right now?!

“I can't what? Fuck my wife? Watch me.” He slips his hand between your legs and rubs your clit while he finds the right angle to drill his cock into you until you're cumming all over him. 

You toss your gun aside, not wanting to accidentally shoot him, as your orgasm shoots through you in intense waves of pleasure that has you pulling him in for needy kisses. He smiles so beautifully against your lips as he kisses you back.

“Tell me you want my cum, honey.” He massages your lower belly with his palm while his fingers play with your clit and his cock pounds you into the ground. “Tell me you want to have my baby.” 

And it's like you snap right back into that submissive space in your head because you nod and tell him, “please, I want to have your baby. I want your cum, sir.” 

“Good girl.” He gives you the sweetest kiss on the forehead before saying your name and telling you, “I love you so much.” 

“I love you too, Andrew.” You pull him back for a kiss, pleasure surging through you as you cum again. 

That's enough for Pope to cum, when he feels you tightening up from your orgasm, milking his cock dry. You lay your forehead against his, breathing heavy as he fills you with so much of his release.

“What do you usually say after you've gotten my cum deep inside of you?” Pope nudges your nose, waiting for your response. 

“Thank you, sir.” You tell him, grinning when he grins back at you. “You are so lucky I love you.” 

“I am lucky, because you definitely would've been able to kill me before I could kill you.” Pope can tell your reflexes are much better than his. 

“We should get that cleaned up.” You point to the slight cut from the bullet. 

“I'll be fine.” He waves off your concern, since it's not even bleeding anymore. “In case you forgot, I am actually a doctor.” 

“How does an assassin have time for medical school?” You raise an eyebrow at that.

For you, it was easy to forge an impressive resume to land you an incredibly easy corporate executive job where all you do is answer emails all day. 

Pope actually went to medical school and served in the military. 

All under his fake identity, Jack Abbot. 

“How do you think I paid for medical school?” He laughs at his own joke and then laughs some more when he sees you glaring at him. “You are so cute, honey.” 

Before you can say something back in retaliation, Pope kisses you with so much affection that you melt in his arms. 

The two of you lay there on the ground, kissing until he's soft. Then, you both take a nice shower together, which really ends up with you riding him in his shower chair until the two of you cum again together, and then get redressed for bed after swapping out the sheets.

“There's bullet holes in our walls.” You gesture at all the work that will need to be redone. “How are we supposed to explain that to a contractor?”

“We have lots of fun in the bedroom?” Pope chuckles when he sees how annoyed you are with his antics. “What? It's true—”

The doorbell rings, cutting him off mid-sentence. 

Pope rolls over to his bedside table, grabbing his security tablet so he can check who's at the door. 

It's the police…

“A neighbor probably called when they heard the gunshots.” You hold back a groan. “What are we going to say?”

“Misfire?” Pope says with a shrug. “I'll just say my silly wife wanted me to show her how to shoot and you accidentally pulled the trigger.” 

“I can accidentally shoot off your balls. Don't test me.” You shove at him. “You go answer them. I'm staying here where it's cozy.”

Pope hands you the security tablet and then gets up to go to the door. He tells the officers the explanation but they want to step inside to look around, which Pope allows. 

Though, his eyes drift to the two cops that walk into the house once their backs are turned to him. He doesn't recognize either of them from the local police force and since he does SWAT work every now and then, he should have at least seen them once or twice. 

They wouldn't send newbies out to check on gunfire. 

And those guns they have holstered aren't police-issued…

Fuck. Pope can't tell if they've figured out that he knows yet. 

So, he slowly walks over to the bookshelf by the living room television, where he has a gun. 

But before he can fire a shot, a bullet flies through the air. 

And one of the cops drops dead. 

Then, Pope shoots the other one down before that one has a chance to react to you killing their partner. 

He walks over to meet you as you both stare down at the dead bodies. Then, you each take a body to check for a burner. 

“How'd you know they weren't real cops?” Pope finds the burner phone on his dead cop’s body, seeing the bounty for you and him on the screen with your current house address listed for last known.

You pull out your dead cop's burner along with some keys then say, “no cop car outside. But a very nice getaway vehicle.”

“Want to take a ride, honey?” Pope puts his hand out for you to give him the keys. “You got a go bag?” 

“Of course I have a fucking go bag.” You want to beat him up for even asking. You know he's just messing with you, though. “I have one made for the two of us too.” 

“Really?” Pope finds that oddly sweet. 

“In case my life ever caught up to yours.” You wanted to make sure that wherever you had to hide, he could come with. 

“What are our new identities then?” 

You go to unseal one of the floorboards in the living room and pull out the go bags. They're filled with untraceable cash and other necessities like weapons and new identities. 

You pull out Pope's new driver's license and hand it to him. He looks at it and goes, “seriously? You couldn't pick a better name than “Titus”?”

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes at him, throwing the heavier go bag at him. “Go pack the car, Mr. Danforth.” 

“Maybe I should have you call me “mister” instead of “sir” from now on, Mrs. Danforth.” He says with a smirk on his face, swinging the bag over his shoulder with ease before putting his hand out for you to take. “Ready to run away together?” 

You let out a light chuckle then nod. “Yes, sir.”

“So we're keeping the “sir”. I'll allow it.” Pope leans over, giving you a loving kiss on the temple. 

The two of you start packing the car but then you remember the pills so you quickly go and grab them from your car. Pope furrows his brows at you. 

“You got them already? Why didn't you take them last night?”

“You know why.” You shove them in your go bag. 

“Tell me.” He makes you stop your fussing.

“Andrew, we have people after us, who wants us dead. Can we talk about this in the car?” He really has such poor timing sometimes!

“I promise I wouldn't have killed you. Even if they tried to make me, I wouldn't. I love you, truly.” He says your name too, just to confirm it, giving you the reassurance you didn't know you needed to hear. “Come here.” 

Pope pulls you into his arms, giving you a warm hug that you gladly accept. 

“Till death do us part.” He tells you before lifting your chin up to look at him. “And I promise you won't need those pills for a while. I'll make sure you sleep real good from now on.” 

You glare at him, knowing what he's insinuating and when he laughs, you giggle with him before leaning in for a kiss. 

“Now let's go make sure the world knows not to fuck with Mr. and Mrs. Danforth.” Pope says against your lips before giving you another loving kiss. 

You're certain they won't once they realize the two of you are a pair.

Because why would any assassin risk going head to head with you and Pope? 

It'll surely be a death sentence for them, and a lot of fun for you two. 

a/n: aw, this one turned out so much more fun than I originally planned! I will say that I hope this version of pope sort of makes sense as like a blend between him and jack, since technically he is jack too! I thought it would be fun to explore the idea that pope created the persona of jack abbot as a cover and then grew to love being jack! and now he's titus hehe ~

I decided to keep this one short and sweet. I was originally going to write the whole backstory of how they met, etc, but sometimes I like leaving things up to the imagination, I find that more fun and it allows for a little more wiggle room for any future installments! 

hope you enjoyed the read ♡

[permanent-fire-hazard]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

This is the final part/epilogue of no homo Rabbot

Jack feels a little ridiculous.

He's on his hands and knees, staring at a blank wall while his dick swings stupidly below him. In the back of his mind, he knows he should be doing something. Anything. Arching his back, moaning, asking for more, but all he can think about is this new, wet intrusion.

God, Robby makes this look easy and a lot more fun.

"Is that good?" Robby asks. He wiggles his two fingers around, and Jack's jaw clenches. "How does that feel?"

It kinda feels like he's taking a shit in Robby's hand, but that's not a very sexy thought, so he keeps it to himself. "Uh... I don't know."

Robby's fingers slip out of him. God, that did not feel sexy at all. Jack's face scrunches foolishly, and he's infinitely grateful that Robby can't see him from this angle.

"Lay on your back."

Fuck. Jack straightens out his face and looks behind him. "You said it was easier like this."

"Yeah, but I feel like I'll have a better time adjusting if I can see your face." Robby kisses the base of his spine. "I promise I won't let it hurt."

Jack sighs and turns over. His dick slaps against his stomach, and humiliatingly, has started to soften. There's more blood in his face than his cock right now. "Sorry," he mumbles.

Robby shakes his head and places a familiar around Jack's length, pumping with a practiced rhythm. He always makes everything look so simple; Jack would be jealous if he weren't so enamored.

"I think it's mostly my fault," Robby says. "I don't know what I'm doing. Never really been on this end of things."

A thin grin slides onto Jack's face. "Me neither." Robby knows that, but Jack likes when they learn things together.

The kiss Robby gives him in return starts out sweet but quickly turns to sloppy desperation. Not that it makes a difference to Jack; Robby's kiss is mind-melting no matter what.

Robby pulls away and mumbles against Jack's lips, "One more try, okay?"

Jack nods and makes himself comfortable. As much as he can anyway, his jaw clenches again as soon as his back is flat on the mattress, and he grips the pillow under his head like a lifeline.

"You have to relax."

"I am," Jack's voice strains. Robby looks at him, unimpressed. "Okay, fine. Give me a second."

He takes a few deep breaths, but they don't help much. Robby nipping at the inside of his thighs, however, is very effective. It doesn't take long before Jack is moaning and wiggling under the touch, and while he's distracted, Robby slips two wet fingers back inside.

"Shit," Jack gasps. It isn't any different from this position, but Robby working teasing licks up his dick helps.

Robby takes the tip in his mouth just as he curls his fingers causing Jack's grip on the pillow to tighten. "Oh, fuck."

Robby releases him with a smile. "That better?"

"Yeah," Jack says. Robby does it again, and Jack's shoulders roll instinctively. The full sensation is odd, but less miserable like this. "Way better."

Despite his answer, Robby frowns. "I don't think I've found it."

"Found what?"

"Your prostate."

"My what?"

"Do you not know what it is?"

"No, I do," Jack fidgets. Although he's only heard "prostate" in reference to an unfortunate unit in his Anatomy course and as something men in their 50s have to get checked for cancer. "But I don't see what that has to do with this."

A cute pout forms on Robby's face. "You hit mine all the time."

A shallow laugh ripples through Jack's chest. "My dick is bigger than yours."

Robby sticks his tongue out. It makes Jack laugh again. "You're no monster," he says. "And if you actually paid attention in class, you'd know it's not that deep inside."

"Well, it feels like you're scratching my fucking stomach," Jack groans.

A cute giggle erupts from Robby. "That's just because you're not used to it. Oh, wait." He flips his hand over, and for the first time, Jack does arch. "I didn't adjust my angle."

"Okay, well, I think I only have a couple more minutes of this left in me— Fuck!" A sharp bolt of pleasure shoots through him.

Robby perks up and presses the spot again. The pleasure is back, but more. There's a tingling running through Jack's veins; his dick throbs and spurts needy strings of pre cum onto his stomach. "Oh, fuck. Oh, Jesus."

"That's it," Robby says proudly. "I fucking got it."

Jack's can barely hear him over the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. "I— Oh, fuck—"

"Don't fight it," Robby advises. "Just let me and your body do the work."

Jack nods for far too long. The room is swimming around him; all he knows is Robby and the electricity buzzing under his skin. Every press of Robby's fingers takes Jack farther into mindlessness. His hips jolt and purr like he's orgasming, but it's only building. He's never felt anything like this before.

A gentle kiss to the inside of his knee is all it takes for Jack to crash over the edge. He sprays so far it hits his chin, and he shudders like an earthquake for what feels like an eternity.

Robby works him through it, slowly lessening the pressure before pulling out entirely. He crawls up, pressing kisses across Jack's sternum on the way, and licks the release off his face. "Told you it was good."

Jack's nodding again. His mind is still missing for the most part, but he has enough sense to usher Robby farther upward.

"I'm fine," Robby insists. "Don't worry about me."

Trouble is, worrying about Robby has become one of Jack's favorite things. He tugs at his hips until Robby is kneeling over his head, heavy leaking cock perfectly in place for Jack to take in his mouth.

He still hasn't been able to master taking Robby's entire length, but he's getting better every day. Robby hums content above him, and that's good enough for Jack.

Swallowing what Robby gives him is still a struggle, but one Jack is happy to take on. He takes what he can and licks the edges of his mouth to make sure none of it goes to waste.

"You're getting good at that," Robby sighs. He makes himself comfortable at Jack's side, throwing his arm and leg over him completely and tucking his nose into the crook of Jack's neck.

Jack pulls him closer, pressing a gentle kiss in Robby's soft hair. "I try."

"You succeed," he sighs. "How did that feel?"

Vulnerable, terrifying, wonderful. Just like Robby.

Jack kisses him deep and slow as a thank you. "Good, we can do it again sometime, but I think I prefer taking care of you."

"Oh," Robby laughs. "I wasn't offering to give anything up."

Jack laughs too. He pulls Robby impossibly closer, and together, they rest.

[permanent-fire-hazard]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Part 6 of No Homo Rabbot

Jack assumed he would be enjoying a nice lunch with two of his buddies, but thirty seconds into their conversation, his blood runs cold.

“I swear to God, Greenway was looking at me weird.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s gay,” Ben argues. “Maybe he just realized how fucking ugly you are.”

Sam shakes his head. “I’m telling you man, it felt weird.”

“Who cares if he is? It’s not like he tried to kiss you.”

“I would’ve beat the shit out of him,” Sam murmurs into his drink.

“Why do you care so much? You secretly a homo?”

“You fucking wish. Maybe you are; fighting at the front lines for them.”

Jack stuffs half his burger into his mouth at once. It’s overcooked and tasteless. He’s been spending more time in his head than in the real world recently, but now they have his full attention, though he’s pretending otherwise.

“I’m just saying, they aren’t bothering anybody.”

"I wouldn't mind them if they weren't bothering anybody," Sam says. "Do what you want on your own time, but I don't need to see it."

"Whatever, man."

"What do you think, Jack?"

Jack chugs his drink, but the dryness in his mouth doesn't go away. "Don't give a fuck."

"Exactly," Ben says.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Alright, fine. You two queers like sucking dick; I guess that's your business. Just keep me out of it."

Ben laughs, and Jack forces the rest of his food down.

Later, he lies in his bed feeling queasy. He's on his stomach with his head half buried in his pillow, looking out the small window, wondering if anyone can see him from the ground. The afternoon sun streams in and bakes his naked shoulders. The door opens and closes behind him.

"That's a nice view to come home to," Robby jokes. He's wearing those tempting little shorts again; selfishly, Jack wishes he wouldn't wear them in public. Robby places a gentle hand on Jack's back and jerks his head toward him. "May I?"

They've never done anything in Jack's bed before, but he can't move and needs Robby's touch, so they'll have to. Jack nods, and Robby makes himself comfortable, barricading Jack against the mattress with his thighs.

Robby trails his lips up the length of Jack’s spine, sending tender shivers through him. The tension in his muscles leaks with each kiss, and soon a calming tingle expands through his whole body as Robby nips at the base of his curls.

"Did you ever do anything with a guy... before?" Jack asks.

Robby hums in his ear. He rests his arms on Jack's shoulders and presses his cheek into his curls. "My friend's brother kissed me once. I didn't know him that well; he was fourteen, I was twelve. He pulled away before I could kiss back and then begged me not to tell anyone. I wouldn't have; I knew better than that, but how scared he was scared me, and I didn't consider touching another guy after that."

He takes a deep breath and continues, "Until I started college. You know, everyone talks about college like it's total freedom and self-discovery, so I thought, why not try again?" Jack can feel Robby's heart pounding against his back. "I went to a few parties, but it wasn't until March that I actually got signals from another guy. He took me outside, and we were making out in this dark corner when some other people came out..."

A shallow laugh vibrates against Jack. "He beat the shit out of me," Robby says. "I don't know if he knew them, or if they even saw us before that, but it didn't matter. He was shouting that I came onto him and called me all sorts of names. I left with a black eye and a busted lip. Didn't go to class for a week afterward because I was fucking embarrassed."

He presses a soft, deliberate kiss to the crook of Jack's neck. "And then I met you."

Sharp tears prick Jack's eyes. He rolls over; it isn't easy with Robby still looming over him, but Jack doesn't want him to move for anything.

Robby's pretty face drops. "What's wrong?"

Jack pinches the bridge of his nose and forces the tears away. "I wish people wouldn't treat you like that," he croaks. As if he's not one of them. Like he isn't exactly like every other man who has ever hurt Robby, or used him for his pretty face and openness.

Robby blinks, confused. "It's okay," he says. He cups Jack's jaw with his hand and brushes his thumb over his cheek. "I'm okay."

Jack breathes in a harsh sniff. "You deserve better."

Robby leans back on his heels. Stunningly beautiful, as always. He looks around the room, as if this shitty little dorm could give him an answer, then he looks down at Jack and shrugs. "I like where I'm at."

Jack surges forward and takes Robby's mouth in his own.

His lips are soft and inviting, exactly how Jack dreamed they would be. Robby's hands retake their place on his jaw, and he sighs softly. He's so perfect, and Jack is greedily tainting him, pulling Robby closer with an arm wrapped tight around his middle and a hand tangled in his hair. Jack needs this to last forever; he might die when it's over.

But it's a good thing, so it must come to an end.

When they do separate, Jack doesn't dare open his eyes. He tries to commit every touch and tingle to memory before he has to come back to reality.

"I think," Robby whispers against his lips. "You need a nap."

Jack can't speak; hearing his own voice will break the veil, so he nods and slowly lies back against the mattress. His arm is still hooked around Robby, who follows without complaint.

They lie nose to nose on Jack's pillow. In a moment of weakness, Jack opens his eyes to check that Robby is real. He is. He's staring back with a small closed mouth smile that nearly knocks Jack out. His thundering heart threatens to leap out of his chest.

Robby presses a light kiss to between his eyebrows. "Sleep," he mumbles.

Despite his pound heart, Jack does.

When he wakes, the sun has started to set, and the room is drenched in a rich orange. Robby is propped up on one elbow, playing connect-the-dots with the freckles on Jack's chest.

"You don't have to stay," Jack says, his voice cracks pathetically.

Robby's head snaps in his direction. A funny smile slides to one half of his face. "I kinda live here, so..."

"I'm a waste of time."

Robby's eyes flicker over his face. Cautiously, he lowers himself and places a gentle kiss on Jack's lips. He pulls away and studies carefully, as Jack licks his lips in an attempt to keep anything Robby gives him. Delicate crinkles form at the corners of Robby's eyes. "Doesn't seem like a waste to me," he says and leans back down.

Jack doesn't know how long he spends kissing Robby; it could have been years, and it wouldn't be enough. They undress each other lazily, more focused on keeping their mouths within an inch of each other at all times.

Robby's tongue is silky and soothing in a way Jack didn't know was possible. He cherishes it as he opens Robby up and slips inside.

"Oh, fuck," he sighs. He's not sure why it's more intense this time compared to all the others. It's as if Jack is losing his virginity again.

"That's it," Robby whispers. He twists his fingers in Jack's curls and reconnects their mouths. "Just like that."

Jack wonders what Robby's first time was like. Has he ever fucked a woman? Did he meet a man at the club, or was it that desperate night when Jack invited himself into his bed for the first time? He can't think of a single scenario where Robby is treated with the gentleness he deserves. It makes him sick.

He wraps a tentative hand around Robby's dick and pumps it slowly in time with his thrusts. Their lips detach as Robby's head tilts back with a content moan; Jack chases him immediately. Robby is more addictive than any shitty beer.

Robby's orgasm takes them both by surprise. He shoots farther than Jack has ever seen before and arches his back with need, calling Jack's name into his own mouth.

Jack's hips slow to a stop, but Robby claws at his back. "Keep going," he says. Then they're kissing again, and Jack has no choice but to obey.

When Jack releases it's as if he's glowing from the inside out. He's too dizzy to hate himself.

"That was good," Robby mutters against his lips. "That was really good."

Jack nods foolishly and collapses with Robby in his arms, still sticky and disgusting, but neither of them care. There are a hundred places Jack should be rather than here, but there is nowhere else he wants to be.

For the second time that day, they fall asleep tangled together in Jack's bed, and for the first time since they met, Jack feels safe.

Final part

[ao3-shenanigans]

What does the dead dove tag mean?

Wonderful question!

“Dead Dove” comes from this scene in Arrested Development wherein the character Michel Bluth opens a brown paper bag that reads: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. He looks inside and sees what is in fact, a dead dove. The then says: “Well, I don’t know what I expected.”

In fandom, the tag has come to mean: “pay extra attention to the tags!” And/or “this fic is what it says on the tin!”.

So if, for example, a fic includes the tags: Body Horror, Gore, and Violence along with the Dead Dove: Do Not Eat tag, the author is saying “Hey I’m not joking about these tags! Read at your own discretion!”

The tag acts as an honest intensifier to whatever tags are already in the work, as the author using it wants to give a double warning for their content, that it may be triggering and that the reader should proceed with caution.

One fic tagged with Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, also includes the tags: Seriously, this fic deals with some serious and disturbing content matter, mind the tags

Thanks for asking and happy reading!

[bibliomorgan]

One thing I do before reading fanfics on AO3 is use the filters to exclude tags for things I know I find disturbing.

The "Dead Dove" tag (extreme/disturbing content) is one of them.

I also make sure to research the original work and the fandom I’m getting into: Resident Evil Village (the game and the entire franchise) always features body horror, gore, and dead bodies—things I’m not at all comfortable with—so I use the filter to exclude them. "Yandere" or possessive characters also trigger me; so, I use the exclusion filter again. If I decide to "eat the dove" (consume the extreme content) the fic offers, I know the responsibility for opening that damn paper bag was mine.

You see, reading and writing fanfic is also a crucial way to discover and understand ourselves—as little human beings with our own thoughts and feelings. I’ve read plenty of horror fanfics to figure out what I can’t handle (serial killers, for instance) and to process the material without having horrible nightmares afterward. The responsibility is mine, too.

"Oh, but the authors should be blamed for not tagging things correctly!!!!!" — No, no, no! Don't come at me with that moralizing rhetoric. If you’re writing or reading fanfiction, there are rules you need to understand before diving into anything on the Internet. Being cautious is the most important thing, and besides—YOU HAVE THE DAMN RIGHT TO CLOSE THE TAB!

You can always close the tab! Seriously!

I’m autistic, I have some difficulties with communication and comprehension, and I’ve been reading and writing fanfic since I was 13 (I’m from the FanFiction.net generation). From the very beginning, I knew there would be fics I wouldn't be able to read. Many incredible authors gave this kind of warning long before the tagging system existed—others didn't—and the lesson was: I can, damn it, just close the tab if it’s too much for me.

Remember, folks: some forms of mainstream media DO NOT allow you that autonomy of choice. And if you’re part of the LGBT+ audience that watched TV shows or movies, you know how certain writing choices can ruin an entire story arc you were invested in, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. Before you go "blaming" people who don't know how—or don't want—to use the "Dead Dove" tag (for explicit/disturbing content), please, please, PLEASE know what you're getting yourself into.

Here speaks your non-binary grandparent: "Back in my fanfiction days, there was no AO3, no tagging system, no warnings about mental health or content; hell, we even had to read everything in ENGLISH! And I’m not even an English speaker!"

Less censorship, more awareness. Be kind to our community, because, as far as we know, damn capitalism hasn't managed to sink its claws into the way we built our fandom—yet.

[cuprohastes]

About ten, fifteen years ago I wrote a story about a guy living in a Capitalist dystopia. His walls, furniture, and tableware are all covered in smart displays. Basically animated wallpaper. It's sold as being able to turn your room or objects into anything - A nice forest view, outer space, a fantasy realm... but the companies that run this stuff keep sneaking ads in.

It gets so bad he's always being woken up by adverts that offer insomnia cures and better bedding that play when he tries to sleep.

So he buys the ad-free tier, and it's great... for a few months. And then he starts getting adverts from 'premium partners'. So he goes up a level... and the same thing happens.

So he jailbreaks his wallpaper and sends all the ad servers to 0.0.0.0 and voila... he can sleep.

Until this SWAT team blows his door off and drag him off to jail. The Ad companies are suing him for loss of revenue for the products he' notionally have bought if he'd watched their adverts, based on some weird 'The average consumer buys X products with an average value of Y' calculation.

The judge is like 'well I dun wanna annoy the sponsors' so he RICO's this guy's house and possessions and sends him to jail.

... which is a nice relaxed non-volent offender jail for the corporately disenfranchised. But because these people have no money... there's no ads and now he's happy because the only place he's free... is in prison.

Which at the time was a bit much and now it's like: Called it.

Elon's suing companies for not advertising because he's losing revenue. He's also cranking the price of Ad Free Twitter. Disney and Amazon play adverts on their paid service when services used to be free because of the adverts... and now you have to pay to watch the adverts or go up a couple of tiers.

And google's going around freaking out about ad-blockers.

[alexaloraetheris]

OP did it hurt when Apollo's dodgeball hit you and made you write that story?

[cherryhatter-deactivated2015072]

KICK THE CAN!

Let’s play the biggest game of kick the can on the internet.

To kick the can, reblog it. I wanna see how long this can go on for.

[visibun]

the oldest reblogs for this post that i can find are from january 2nd of 2013. this can has been getting kicked around tumblr for almost 13½ years now

[drtanner]

And yet somehow this is my first time kicking it!

[raccoonmilf]

Chat, is it considered “abusive roommate behavior” to release a raccoon into the living space after you have asked your roommate for months to please clean up their messes (they do not pay any of the mortgage)

[raccoonmilf]

For context, when I used to live alone I would do something called “Princess Time” where I would do an initial sweep (to remove any significant hazards) and then I would release a raccoon into the living area and clean. This helped because I would 1) feel like a princess and 2) the raccoon would bring attention to things my ADHD brain had decided to ignore and I’d quickly clean that stuff up.

So like, if I’m expected to clean the house now, I will be doing it in the way that is most effective for me. And anything that has not been cleaned up after months of having sit-down talks and sending reminders and being promised things will change, might be deemed “trash” by the trash panda and thrown away.

[raccoonmilf]

We haven’t done since we moved into the house, because I didn’t want to cause my roommate or their cats destress or have their things destroyed by a raccoon

[raccoonmilf]

I am a raccoon biologist and one of the few people in the state allowed to take in captive bred raccoons that had been possessed illegally. The raccoon in the photos is Moonshine, but she is currently at the animal sanctuary where I work as I had been quarantining multiple new intakes from an abuse case. I still have two males (Rum Tum Tugger and Electra) left in my home enclosure as we are getting them neutered and then hopefully sending them to an AZA accredited zoo.

I wanna make things very clear that underneath all the whimsy, I am a trained professional.

[raccoonmilf]

Those vibes are likely because I’m the original creator of Dashcon and my personality has not changed since 2012 lmao

[fipindustries]

[filmnoirsbian]

I love getting unaccompanied minors (kids flying alone) who so clearly just. Don't want to be here lol. Sometimes I get to know a little of their story, like their parents are divorced, or a family member died and they're heading to the funeral, but usually they just don't want to talk about it and that's fine. But I always treat the flight like it's a challenge to make them smile. I offer them snacks and soda but that's never enough, that's whatever, they could get those from an airport vending machine. Chump change. So then I tell the worst jokes. Just the most embarrassing, kindergarten teacher, annoying dad jokes you can think of. And those always get a groan, or a "Seriously??" And that's my in! Now I can say "Why, what's your idea of a good joke? No, come on hotshot, make your best joke, let's see it." And they hem and they haw but of course they eventually tell me their very best joke because kids are little competitive comedy goldmines. And it's always super funny, so I laugh, and that's where they slip up. Because you know what you almost always do when your joke successfully makes someone laugh? You smile. And I'm like. Gotcha. Rookie move. Now you're going to end up having a good time in spite of yourself. I win.

[filmnoirsbian]

Did this with an 11yo u.m. today and he said "What did the ghost say to the other ghost?" And I said "What?" "Nothing. Ghosts aren't real."

[filmnoirsbian]

I'm literally a flight attendant, offering snacks and drinks is my job

[this-is-a-name-dont-worry]

gshsjb