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the man said with a pointed tone, his lips now tilted into that subtle smile; knowing well what was stirring your filthy mind.
soon, as he walked passed, his fingers then grazed the inside of your palm. readers still sitting on the crook of his nose. eyes glinting with that ever assessing gaze—the sight of it enough to have your thighs now pressing into a tight line.
“where else would i be looking?”
you mused from behind, following him close as you watched him roll his sleeves and crease them into his elbows; fingers flexing at his sides as he went to oversee a medical student’s case.
but between the two of you, it was evident that his mind was not fixed on the presentation or the student’s suggested course of treatment.
not when he nodded and crossed his arms, glancing over his shoulder to meet your gaze.
“good.” he replied to the student before walking off, shoulders somewhat tensed as he murmured,
“bathroom in five.”
with a calloused palm, he cupped your heated cunt; mouth pressed into the divot of your neck,
“so fucking needy, aren’t you?”
the man chuckled, watching as your hips moved back and forth in an almost see saw fashion. the bottom half of your scrubs now pooling below your knees.
his index then pressed into the new line between your sopping folds, gliding the digit to tease rather than please.
“wants to be filled, don’t she?” his teeth nipped at the bottom of your ear, the lobe now caught between his lips as he suckled on the skin just to hear you whine.
with the same finger, he pulled the soaking layer aside and pressed the tip into your entrance, circling the ring before pushing it inside.
and at that, your eyes fluttered as you pleaded and keened,
“ro-robby, wa-wait—!”
your voice weakened then, knowing that even the smallest noise could be heard outside if someone was inclined to.
but that didn’t stop your attending from adding another finger inside your willing cunt,
“not my name, sweet pea,” he rumbled into the underside of your ear, licking a thin strip along the bony curve, “—try again.”
soon, his fingers crooked and curved, seeking that sweet little spot as he watched your chest heave from beneath the top of your scrubs. your skin along your cheeks and neck were now flushed, lashes fluttering as you whispered,
“da-daddy, please..”
your hands then grasped at his shoulders, curling at the fabric of his jacket as you pulled him closer. wanting more of what he was willing to give.
“please what? use those big girl words.” he hummed, slamming the heel of his palm square into your clit, knowing well that it would force a sudden breath from out of your lungs.
“fu-fuck!” you nearly shouted before his other hand sailed across and covered your mouth.
your vision nearly blurred then, his palm drenched with slick now dribbling down his wrist.
“n-need more, daddy… fingers not enough…”
and at the slight pout of your bottom lip, the older man tilted his head, angling his fingers as it straightened to press into the inside of your walls.
“yeah?” michael said with a knowing smile, watching as your lips opened with an inaudible moan, “needs something inside, doesn’t she?”
nodding, you whispered back as best as you can, “y-yeah! inside, please, inside..!”
with that, his hand then withdraw from your cunt,
“turn around then, baby, hands on the wall.”
and as you did as you were told, spreading your legs for him to see the mess in between, you heard him undo the drawstring to his scrubs. watched him palm the now prominent bulge under the cloth.
but before he could take out that engorged cock from beneath his briefs, the older man first removed his readers and tucked them into the corner pocket of his scrubs.
”let’s make this quick.”
pictures were taken from @poisoned-green-apple’s post.
brendon park would be into a gentle face slapping — not smacking!! — these little taps to make sure you’re listening, not too drunk on a date night and you’re talking, or when your blissfully fucked out, he’d give you a firm tap tap with his hand on your cheek;
“what’s your colour angel? come on, if you don’t say anything i’m taking it as a ‘red’ and we’re gonna stop.”
“g- green,” you mumble after hesitating.
“yeah? green? good girl.” he grunts out as he thrusts into you deep. “almost over and then i’ll let you cum. gonna be a good girl and count with me? three… two… what’s after two angel? that’s right, one.”
CW: parental neglect, struggles with self care, bad living enviornment, (black) mold, extreme illness, self neglect, disorientation, non sexual nudity, doesnt have to be read as romantic
WC: 3.1k
MASTERLIST
Part 1 - Part 2 - part 3
AN: keep yourself safe out-there, spreading more "jack abbot has a savior complex" propaganda as if its not 100% cannon
You were okay. It was a mantra you recited every single day as you shut the door of your shitty studio apartment with leaky faucets and cracks in the drywall. The same thing you’d recited since moving away from a home that never treated you well, from parents who couldn't give a damn about you.
It was a familiar rhythm, pure independence. Although over time you’d realised that it teetered a line dangerously close to isolation.
Were you ashamed of your living situation? The everpresent slight grease of your hair? The acne that littered your skin? Yes. Of course, which is why your hair was always in a slicked back updo and the only skill you’d developed was makeup, which even now you weren’t great at.
The bright side of working in an ER as a socially inept nurse, nobody really cared what you looked like, as long as no one died under your care you could go home happy.
“Are you coming to the lake with us? You don’t have to swim or anything- just gonna have a kinda picnic thing…” Ellis prodded as you finished off some charting.
“Uh…i don’t know…” there was several layers:
You had no idea how to swim
You had no idea how to shave, usually it only ended up in cuts and in-growns
It would require socialising with a large group of people
“I don’t really like the lake…” you’d force out the shitty excuse of not taking your eyes off the screen.
“Who doesn’t like the lake?” Shen sassed, taking a long sip of his iced coffee, mixing it by twirling his wrist. A pressure came down on your diaphragm, a seizing of panic as you fiddled with the drawstring of your scrubs.
“I’ve actually never been…” you looked up at Ellis through your lashes as her jaw dropped.
“Okay now we have to bring you-!” Ellis beamed as the discomfort washed over you in waves.
“I don’t know-” the words scratched out of your throat just as Abbot passed by.
“You hear that old man? Doe is coming down to the lake with us-!” There were many feelings you never really managed to identify, it took a while and a good few conversations with Javadi from the day shift to realise the stomach churning tingling you felt whenever you were around Abbot was actually a crush.
“Good to hear…” the nickname, Doe, was given for two reasons. The first being that no one actually knew your name for the first 2 months of your employment in the pitt. And at some point your introversion made it to the point that people were too afraid to scare you off by letting you know that none of them knew your real name. The second was because apparently your crush on Abbot was obvious to everyone except the two of you. Mostly because you looked like a deer in headlights any time he spoke to you.
You opened your mouth to respond only to deflate as words failed to escape you. The awkwardness choking out the small conversation. “I have a patient.” you quickly stood, the roll of the wheely chair filling the silence as you rushed off.
Jack let out a long sigh “I will never get a read on her…”.
………
“Lena?” you approached her during a lull, her eyes on her emails as you carefully lowered yourself to sit beside her.
“What's up sweetheart?” her affections made you slightly uneasy, yet you constantly seeked them.
“Can I ask you something and you do not ask…” you inhaled looking up “any questions…” your hands rubbed together in your lap. Lena turned to give you her full attention, fixing her glasses on the bridge of her nose.
“Shoot.”
At this point it would be easy enough to lie, make up some random question about death which she could surely give you a philosophical and mind blowing answer to. Somehow that was a more palatable concept than asking another woman how to shave in your 20s. “Why…” you looked up to the ceiling, “why when other people shave are their legs super soft and smooth and when I do it I always get bumps and rashes?” you couldn't look back at her.
“Sweetie, did your mom never teach you how to shave?” you couldn't stand the fact that it made you tear up as you nodded. Lena moved in closer to you lowering her voice so only you could hear “you do have a mom, or a sister or something?” shame barrelled through you as you saw the pity in her face.
“Nevermind it's stupid-” you pushed your body up to flee off to a patient you’ve checked on at least 10 times in one night.
“Doe-”
“I said nevermind-” your throat tightened as you rushed off through the bays.
…..
While being a nurse has taught you a lot about caring for other people, the same could not be said for your own selfcare. The slight scratch in your throat you had passed off as dryness hadn't disappeared with your sips of ice water during your shift. Sweat dripping down your back as you rushed around the ED, you’d decided you could put down to the AC being faulty. It was the dizziness and confusion that had broken the camel's back.
A trauma burst through the doors of the ED as you jumped up from your seat to help, the room span, but not like in movies, as if the floor beneath you teetered side to side, static and a loud high pitched squeal piercing through your brain. The decision to lower yourself slowly was something you put down to years of training.
“Doe?” Shen rotated his head, trying to scope you out as you clutched to the corner of the nursing bay, eyes scrunched shut, crouched into an asian squat. “Abbot-” he clicked his fingers at the older attending before redirecting him to you.
Jack dashed over, at least as quickly as his leg would allow him. He grunted as he kneeled with his good knee pressed to the floor. “Doe?” his hand gently brushed down your shoulder, only for you to flinch away. “What's going on?”
“I don't know…I don’t understand-” your voice sounded almost childish as you lowered yourself onto your ass, pressing your head against the nursing station. “It’s so warm in here…” you mumble. Jack’s eyebrows furrowed as he was comfy in his sweater.
“It’s…i don’t think…” he sighed gesturing over a wheelchair, “okay sweetheart…we’re gonna move you…”
“No no I wanna- i don’t know…what I want-” your eyes remained clenched shut starting to lose all grip of what was going on around you, whining as jack tried to lift you into the chair. “No- no-” you squirmed and resisted his grip, your hands landed on the wheelchair cushion pulling up into it.
“Let me help you,” Jack muttered, needing Mateo’s help to stand up. He pushed the chair into a bay. It sent pangs of sadness through him as you pushed at him as he tried to help you into the hospital med. “Let me take your temp-” your hand pushed against his chest as you whimpered. “I can’t treat you if you keep pushing at me-” the hurt was now audible.
“I don’t want help, i just wanna go home-” your stomach retched as fever invaded your brain.
“You need help-”
“NO!” The scream was raw as you pushed yourself back up into the bed. Jack groaned Mateo had to hold you down so you he could get his readings and put in an IV. By the time he stepped out of the case, he looked like it was his entire 12 hour shift.
You stirred around 7am, pushing yourself up to sit, sinuses blocked to the brim, a throbbing headache and fever clouding your mind. You gripped the IV pole and waddled out of the room, eyes fluttering around until silver curls floated back into your vision. “Back to bed with you…”
“no…I wanna go home…” you whispered. Growing up you’d almost never gotten sick yourself, even if you had it was a simple situation of confining yourself to your room for days with the exception of ratting around for any form of food in the shitty cabinets where near everything had grown mold.
“Look.” he ushered you, ducking into your vision. “If you want to go home, I have to go home with you, because you can’t be discharged alone right now.” you’d not realised he was already changed into his street clothes. “Do you understand me?”
You nodded “yeah…yeah…” you brushed off, returning into the room, changing into your normal clothes which had been put on the chair by your bedside. By the time you pulled on your pants you were so out of breath you’d flopped down against the bed again.
“Did it’s been a bit, i’m gonna come in…” he pushed the curtain back, sighing at the sorry sight in front of him before lifting you back up to sit and sitting on the chair. “Foot.” He pulled it up onto his thigh, grabbing one of your shoes and putting it on, tying the laces carefully. He repeated the action and pressed a hand against your forehead. “I’d prefer to keep you here until that pesky fever breaks.”
“No no no…” he couldn't help but smile at your mumble as he stood you against him carefully.
“How do you come to work?” he kept ducking into your vision to make sure you kept your focus as he brought you to the carpark.
“Walk…”
“Do you walk everyday?” It had been pouring down rain for the last few weeks giving him a slight clue as to how you might have gotten yourself this sick.
You nodded feverishly, "I don't know how to get a bus pass…” you explained as he put you into the car, his body pausing for a second at the words before moving to reassure you.
“I got your address from your chart. I'm gonna take you there okay?” you barely processed the words as you laid your cheek against the cold window, very much insulted by the morning sun. By the time he pulled up Jack already had a bad feeling, disapproving of the neighborhood you’d ended up in. He managed you up the stairs and held you up as you fumbled with the keys.
“I don’t want you to come in…” you explained, Jack's eyes narrowing as you blocked the entrance with your body.
“Why not sweetheart?”
“I’m not good…” it seemed like you wanted to finish the sentence as a wave of lightheadedness took over you.
“You are good…you are-” Jack had to basically carry your full body weight as he got through the door, the state of your apartment was horrific. Tissues scattered all over your sheets which had clearly not been changed in a while, the kitchen was filled with dirty dishes, the bathroom was grimy as if it hadn’t been cleaned properly since you’d moved in. His heart dropped into his ass seeing that this was how you lived.
The second his eyes caught on the mold in the top right corner above your bed it was lights for him. “Nope nope nope-” he lifted you at the legs, forcing you to become a koala around him. “You’re coming home with me- you will not live like this-”
“It’s not that bad…” you mumbled as he put you back into the car.
“Black mold.” he snapped at you, sending your recoiling into the chair as he buckled your seatbelt. “You are sick because there is black mold in your apartment and you didnt fix it- what is it why- WHY would you let yourself live like this-” he ranted as he slipped into the driver's seat. Big thick tears came streaming down your cheeks, hiccuping sobs escaping your lips. “No- please don’t- fuck” his fingers blanched around the steering wheel.
The full ride was a blur of your sobs and Abbot’s frustration with himself, not with you, never with you. But rather for not pressing to understand why you didn’t look after yourself, for not picking up on whatever reason it was for you to behave like this. Depression? Chronic pain?
….
Your eyes weakly cracked open, sinuses blocked but not enough to cut out the strength of the smell of detergent and cleanliness. You turned in the sheets, their comfort pillowing your sickness, yet you remained hyper aware of the fact you were probably ruining them. The second wave was realising you had woken up in a clean unfamiliar place, panic crushing your lungs as you carefully slipped out of bed. You gripped onto a vase which had been placed on your nightstand, weakly creeping into the hallway to see one Jack Abbot sat watching TV in the living room.
“Abbot?” you rubbed your eyes, churning in your stomach returning as you braced yourself against the wall. “Why are you here? Where am I?” Jack stood using his crutches as you moved over to you.
“What are you doing out of bed?” his voice was deeper than usual, giving away that he had just woken up. Your chest tightened, lungs burning as you struggled to get air. “You’re not…in trouble I just- you’re really sick sweetheart, you’re in my house because you passed out at work.”
“I want to go home-” you confessed as jack shook his head, moving you towards the couch.
“You’re not going back there…we’re gonna find you a new place, you can stay here for now.” you wanted to protest yet your brain short circuited as you looked around his tidy apartment. “It’s nice…huh?”
You nodded, fists rubbing over your eyes “it’s so…clean” you sighed, “i was gonna ruin your sheets…”
“Why?”
“Because I'm all sweaty and dirty…and I don’t…I don’t know…” you groaned as the fever dulled your filter. “You’re clean…”
“You want to shower?” Jack tried to clarify but you only gave him a confused face before nodding. “Do you need help?” you sighed before nodding again. He pulled on his leg just to get to the bathroom before sighing at how exactly he was going to execute this. You’d followed him in but just stood making no move to strip. “Sweetheart if i’m gonna help you shower you have to get naked…”
It took a couple minutes to strip the sweat soaked shirt and slacks from your body, Jack turned away while you did so. “How are you gonna help me? You questioned as Jack sat on his shower chair in his boxers and shirt.
“Well you’re gonna sit, which I think you need anyway…given your blood pressure is so low…” he led you into the walk-in shower which was decked out to be accessible for his leg. You lowered yourself onto the tiled floor. The cold water shocked your system when it hit your bare back eliciting a squeak “sorry honey…” the water warmed as he used one hand to undo your now messied updo. “Oh doll…” the hair was greasy to the touch, sending a shiver through Jack at the sight.
You started crying again as Jack wet your hair, needing you to give it a few minutes to soak, when he switched it off temporarily you went to stand. His large hand came down onto your shoulder pushing you back down to sit. “We aren’t done…” your mind buffered slightly when Jack went to pour shampoo into his hands, you couldn't help the little hum when his fingers started scrubbing into your scalp. His mind switched back into safe guarding “do you use shampoo when you shower?” Jack remembered not seeing any in the bathroom in your studio.
“My mom always told me that that's for fancy people.” With one little statement the clogs in Jack's brain sped up, piecing together the sloppiness of your living situation, your mess and incapability to look after your own body when ill.
“Well she's wrong…” Jack’s hand petted your shoulder as he tipped your head back, “close your eyes.” he washed the suds out of your hair “so I always shampoo my hair twice…” he lathered up his hands before massaging back into your scalp. He repeated the process of washing it out before putting a new bottle in front of your face. “This is a conditioner, it makes your hair more hydrated, I'm going to put it in your hair and leave it for a few minutes.” He did as he described, putting your hair up in a shower cap.
“Okay I’m gonna let you do the bodywash yourself” he explained handing you the bottle as you stared at it, initially pouring a bit much of his extremely expensive body wash before he grabbed the bottle “thats enough doll.” he was glad as you managed to clean yourself as he rinsed you and the conditioner. “did your parents teach you basic life skills.” He didn't mean it to come out so cruelly.
“Um…my mom was sick…and my dad wasn’t around…so I just…looked after myself and then I…moved out…” it was the first time you’d ever explained your life “I just moved in and…my homes have always…looked like that…” Jack's eyes softened as they locked into every single word.
“Well we can’t have that happening anymore…” Jack stated decisively, handing you a fresh towel as you sat on his bathroom floor, using his crutches to move back into his room and grab fresh clothes.
“Huh?” you quickly dried off and dressed yourself as jack got you to sit in a stool by the sink, drying himself off and fitting back on the prosthesis. “I have some stuff…” you said, scarring at him moving in the mirror, “brushing my teeth, my hair…but stuff like shampoo is expensive, I never wanted to use other peoples stuff and steal.”
Jack didn’t reply, only ran the brush through your hair, it was far softer than you’d seen it in years, you weren't a dirty person, you never were you just weren’t quite sure how to take care of yourself. “Do you know how to cook?”
“Noodles” you joked a little. Only to be met with a very concerned abbot. “Sorry abbot.”
“Call me jack…roomie” he joked himself, a small smile on your face through the mirror.
“You’ve gotten yourself in quite the situation…” you leaned back, too fatigued from illness to care if it was appropriate to lean your head back against the slight pouch of Jack’s stomach.
“I certainly have…” he petted your hair down with a sigh.
mmm just thinking thoughts about how jack would handle women closer to his age flirting with him in public while reader is around… oop- because part of me thinks he’d be kind and accept a compliment but then the other half of me is like he also wouldn’t play about his girl and make it knownnn (assuming readers younger hehe im in my 20s so this is self indulgent)
oh i am SAT for this train of thought my love!!
having jack trail behind you in the grocery store as you shop for this weeks dinners. it being summer and hot as shit, he’s wearing cargo shorts that you bought for him. his prosthesis is on full display and a woman with similar wrinkles to him approaches him with a sickly sweet smile when he’s down the aisle from you.
she says something flirty about how handsome he is and how she bets he can still “do it all” even with one leg. jack falters for a second, not knowing what to respond to such a crude comment without you there, since you’re usually the one who’s up to date on dirty innuendos due to your youthfulness.
when the lady asks him how he stays active at “their age”, jack gestures behind him to where he prays you’re still standing.
“my girlfriend takes great care f’me. just loooves helpin’ me take this artificial limb off at the end of the day. and i always get on my knees for her as a thanks in return.”
he accompanies his blunt words with a conversation ending, sly ass smirk and the older lady’s lips part in shock at his brazen admission.
you see her scurry away by the time you waltz back over to him. “what was that about jackie?”
jack simply shrugs and throws an arm around you, not giving the woman another glance.
“she just wanted to know if something in the store was still in stock.” he places a kiss to your forehead before pushing the cart for you. “told her that it was sold out indefinitely.”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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summary you unknowingly cling to dean in your sleep!
content gn!reader, unestablished relationship, only one bed! dean is very in love and would like to share a bed with you every night forever. heaps of soft cuddling and sleepiness! use of sweetheart and angel.
masterlist ; requested
Dean is hot under the covers, because he had the decency to sleep in sweats instead of just boxers, and your fingertips are soft where they graze his bicep. The touch sends his arm thrumming. He's only sharing this knotted mattress since you'd been so insistent about him not taking the couch.
"Don't be ridiculous, sweetheart. C'mon. We can share."
And he loves you. Moderately or too much, he isn't sure, but enough to unfurl a sweet, figgy maroon over his cheeks when you look at him and smile pearled. He simply wasn't going to let you shift all night on those old, stained cushions while he took the bed.
You've been snoring. His lashes are mussed and the motel is dark, but with a faint sliver of gaudy streetlight from the window he can make out the curve of your cheek and parted lips. Another gentle purr falls from them. He finds himself wanting to press deep into the sound.
It's endearing and lovely and you'd be embarrassed.
He's staring. Is he a creep? So much drowsy, besotted fuzz has roiled his mind, he can't consider it for very long, but decides that he isn't. How could this one and only pure, tender thing he feels make him creepy? Doesn't seem right at all.
Your knee bumps his upper thigh and lazily cascades down to his knee until they both meet. Dean can't breathe; doesn't let himself, has to remain very still, though resisting to indulge is asking a lot from somebody this fond of you.
He whispers your name, and everything is quiet besides your unconscious rustling of sheets.
You're gravitating to his body. Delicate fingers mold the slope of his shoulder and trail lazily up until they reach the honeyed hair at the back of his neck, his skin pricks tiny bumps. Green eyes wide and wider when your face comes to his, nose so close.
He'd like to peck a kiss there. You're sleep-soft and pretty.
"Angel," he murmurs, knowing you aren't listening, and settles his hand onto the plush of your waist with such bravery. Your breath fans the subtle dip of his cupid's bow.
If given the chance to slow this forever, Dean would. Doesn't protest when your arms cling and cross over his back, squeezing tight. You pull him towards the crook of your neck and he follows obediently, allowing himself to meld and sniff and sink.
In the morning, he stirs more refreshed than he's ever been, needles in his heart as he sits and slides from the blankets, and doesn't mention anything when you blink awake.
wrote this at two in the morning i offer a big apology if that is obvious <3
😵💫 forcemasc 😵💫 with 😵💫 shane maguire 😵💫 him making you wear his clothes because well they just look better on you 😵💫😵💫 even though you’re drownin’ in them 😵💫 him telling you that you look real handsome in one of his shirts and pair of boxers 😵💫 makes him want to jump your bones 😵💫 nghh 😵💫 him teachin’ you how to shoot a gun with the greediest look in his eyes 😵💫 the way your brows furrow and how you grip the hell outta the handle of the gun he’s given you 😵💫 such a tough guy doin’ it all on your own 😵💫😵💫 and he’s tellin’ you to keep it because at the end of the day a man always needs his gun for whatever reason 😵💫😵💫😵💫 makin’ you guys fight or wrestle in the dirt and he’s tellin’ you to get him to stay down on the ground in anyway possible 😵💫😵💫 doesn’t matter if you have to use a knife or press your gun into his throat to keep him down 😵💫 as long as you do it and prove yourself 😵💫😵💫😵💫😵💫😵💫😵💫 the both of you tossing and turning as you throw punches at each other 😵💫 you clip his nose before he even gets the chance to throw one of his own punches and he’s huffin’ outta his nose like a big bad wolf as blood drips down over his lips and slides down his neck 🤤🤤🤤 you’re riding the high of getting a hit in and you’re throwing another punch into his jaw and he’s getting your ribs but you don’t go down 😵💫😵💫😵💫😵💫 you guys are sweaty and bloody and tired by the time you finally get him onto the ground 😵💫 his body heavy on top of yours and all that makes you do is tighten the rear naked choke you got on him 😵💫😵💫😵💫 arm tightening when he wriggles and he’s tapping out with a grunt and tellin’ you, “Buck up, boy, i’m down, i’m down.” 😵💫😵💫😵💫😵💫😵💫 and then he’s fucking you into the dirt the second he turns over 😵💫😵💫😵💫 legs forced apart as he pushes himself inside of ya 😵💫😵💫😵💫😵💫 slapping your dick as he fucks real roughly into your drooling cunt 😵💫😵💫😵💫 doesn’t care when you cry or whine that it’s too much because boys take what they’re given and don’t fuckin complain 😵💫😵💫 and he’s slappin you across the face as he spits in your mouth 😵💫 telling you he’ll train your throat to take a real cock next OKAY FUCK 😵💫😵💫😵💫😵💫😵💫 BAI IM GONNA JERK OFF NOW
ways that Frank is a soft dom outside of the bedroom
these are technically headcannons i guess idk?
🤍 Makes you eat your meals infront of him, even when he’s finished he’ll sit across you and eye you till you scrape your plate clean. And if you try to get up before that? “sit back down, finish it, ain’t been eating enough” and when you do clean it all off he’ll be picking your plate up with a “that’s my girl” kissed into the top of your head
🤍 He’ll reprimand you when you don’t promptly tell him when something is wrong with your car. It’s his duty to keep you safe, don’t you know that by now ?
🤍 When you start skipping your work outs or Pilates classes he’ll be the one booking it and driving you to the Pilates studio and waiting outside till your class is done or dragging you outside to even just go for a walk with him (and he hates walks)
🤍 When he can see you running on fumes and working yourself into the ground he’ll put your laptop on lockdown for the weekend - won’t tell you where it is “don’t ask cos I ain’t telling, we’re going to bed” he orders and there is no room for negotiation “Frank it’s 8:30” he looks at you and just sighs your name “get into bed, now”
🤍 There’s moments when you get so wrapped up in what it is that you’re doing that you start ignoring cues for regular bodily functions - much like you ignore the warning lights in your car. He’ll see the way your legs squirm together, he’s watched you guzzle down all the water in your bottle and for some unknown reason you’re ignoring your bursting bladder? He’ll be infront of you once he’s had enough of watching your feet dance and your thighs squirm “go pee” he says it like a command and it’s like your cloud of distraction lifts “oh yeah” you chirp before you run off to the bathroom (low-key piss kink but more on that later ha ha)
-
Do I do one about how he is also kinda subby outside the bedroom hehe 🤭
(Side note things the 100th piece of writing I’ve posted ! Yay but this also means I need to rearrange my masterlist oh no)
content warning: 18+, MDNI. smut - dacryphilia, dry humping, dom!jack x sub!reader, reader is sleepy (it’s still completely consensual, she is begging for it), jack cums in his pants, i don’t think i missed anything! lmk if i did
a/n: ninth prompt ! prompt: dacryphilia, jack abbot. this one was more of a self indulgent than anything tbh. not proofread, lmk about any mistakes
masterlist | jack abbot masterlist
20 prompts for 100
you always seemed to get emotional whenever you were tired.
it wasn’t something you could control, you just felt teary when you got sleepy. it was one of jack’s favourite things about you.
you were lying in bed, cuddled up to jack’s side after a long shift. he knew the feeling of exhaustion and guilt after a particularly harsh shift all too well.
“you okay, baby?” he muttered as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.
you sighed and pressed your head into his shoulder in response. “i’m fine. i just want you right now.”
jack blinked and shifted in surprise as he felt you begin to grind against his good leg. “what? sweetheart, you should sleep. we can do whatever else you want when you’re not so tired.” he gently tried to coax, only to be met with a whine and a sloppy kiss to his jaw.
“no, i need you now. i’ll sleep after.” you promised, fingers curling tightly against his sleep shirt as you rocked your hips back and forth in a steady pattern.
he didn’t protest. he knew once you set your mind on something that you wouldn’t stop until you got it.
jack dipped his head down to meet your lips, his hands reaching to guide your hips.
you moaned against his mouth as your clit throbbed, the friction was almost overwhelming when you were tired.
unfortunately for you, the way jack was holding and kissing you so intimately and letting you use his body to get yourself off, made you feel emotional. the pleasure and love that came from the way jack licked into your mouth made you tear up. you felt unbelievably silly when you realised it.
you pulled away with a gasp, quickly burying your head into his chest while you rutted against him.
“what’s wrong, sweetheart? too much?” jack cooed, gently running his fingers through your hair. “are you almost there?”
you barely registered his words as the tears fell down your cheek, soaking his shirt. you whimpered against his chest, hips stuttering in their rhythm.
jack immediately pulled your head from his chest, his eyes widening as he saw your wet cheeks and glistening eyes.
before he could even process it, a groan escaped his throat as his hips jerked forward, head falling back as he squeezed your waist.
“w- what? jack- did you just cum?” you asked in confusion, pressing a kiss to his cheek and wiping away your tears.
“shit, baby. i’m so sorry.” he panted as he met your eyes again, frowning at the fact that just happened. “i can’t remember the last time i- i came in my pants like that.”
you shook your head as he apologised, moving to lace your hand with his. “did me crying make you..?” you asked quietly, watching his face for a reaction.
jack nodded sheepishly, pulling you close to his body. “you just- you looked so pretty.”
'And I know I've been distant, I've been seeing other guys, you've been kissing other bitches, I think you should come and visit." –Raye, Five Stars Hotel
Summary: He wanted casual. But now he’s at your door, refusing to let anyone else touch what he still thinks is his.
The tension between you and Jack has been suffocating. It’s the kind of quiet misery where you both know exactly where the other is at any given second, even if you’re actively pretending the other person doesn't exist.
You’re stocking the trauma carts when you overhear two residents gossiping near the nurse's station.
"Did you see Abbot last night?" one whispers, chuckling. "Pretty sure he left with that blondie, half the bar saw him making out with her all night."
Your hands freeze on a package of sterile gauze. You knew Jack was single. You knew you were single. But hearing the confirmation that he’s already putting his hands and lips on someone else... doesn't feel good.
You slam the cart drawer shut, a little too loud, forcing the residents to scramble away guiltily.
You spend the next three hours being intentionally distant, throwing yourself into patient care, eyes down, refusing to look at Jack even when you have to pass him charts. He just watches you with frustrated eyes.
But the rumor mill works both ways.
Later in the shift, Jack is at the central desk, charting, when a paramedic walks by and slaps one of the male nurses on the back. "Hey, you know the new guy? Mark from day shift? He’s waiting outside. Said he’s picking up one of our nurses."
Jack’s pen snaps cleanly in his hand.
The ink bleeds onto the paper, matching the sudden violent surge of adrenaline spiking through his veins.
You’ve been seeing other guys.
_
[7:15 am] Abbot: did you already left?
[7:17 am] Abbot: can we talk?
[7:45 am] Abbot: stop ignoring me sweetheart
[8:15 am] Abbot: are you at home?
Three missed calls from Abbot
[8:40 am] Abbot: FINE
_
You were almost sleep when you get scared by a sudden aggressive knock at the door.
It’s barely 9 in the morning. You’re wearing an oversized t-shirt and your hair thrown into a messy bun. When you open the door, Jack is there.
"What do you want?" you blink, caught completely off guard.
He doesn't answer. He just steps right past you into your living room, his eyes scanning the space like he’s looking for evidence of someone else.
"Who were you with last night?" he demands, turning around to face you. His voice is low with jealousy. "Did the newbie pick you up today?"
"What?" You blink, incredulous, slamming the front door shut. "Who?"
"The new guy. Mark," Jack spits out the name, taking a step toward you. "I heard people talking in the bay. They said he was pulling up to the hospital to pick someone up. Did you leave with him? Are you fucking him now?"
A laugh cracks out of your chest. The absolute nerve of him to show up at your apartment demanding answers.
"Oh, I didn't know I had to report you who I sleep with," you snap, crossing your arms tightly over your chest.
"So you did fuck him."
"I can do whatever I want. I don't own you explanations. You told me this was getting too serious for you, and we needed to stop."
"And I've been losing my mind ever since," he growls, losing the last thread of his composure.
"Don't act like you’re some saint, Abbot. You think I didn't hear about your little stunt? The whole damn ER was talking about you making out with some blonde bitch."
The anger in his eyes only burns hotter. "That was nothing!"
"So you get to kiss other bitches, but the second you hear I'm sleeping with someone else, you crash my apartment?" your voice rises, the tears of anger you’ve been holding back all morning finally stinging your eyes. "I’m allowed to see other people, Jack! You wanted to try casual, then I can have a guy pull up for me!"
"No, you're not," he growls as he steps closer. "You're not allowed to let another guy touch you. You're not allowed to let him come over here."
"Don't you dare!" you yell, shoving his chest with your finger, but he doesn't budge. "You don't get to be jealous. You are not my boyfriend. You just want to fuck? Fine. But you don't own me."
"You don't get it, do you?" Jack roars back, his face inches from yours, his toxic possessiveness boiling over. "I've been dying inside watching you walk past me in the halls every single day acting like I'm a stranger. And the thought of some other guy in your bed, touching the skin that belongs to me? Makes me want to kill him for only look at you."
"I do not belong to you!" you scream.
"You do," he breathes fiercely, his control snapping entirely. "You fucking do."
Before you can yell back, Jack’s mouth crashes down onto yours.
The kiss is chaotic, fueled by the release of weeks of tension. His hands slide up to tangle into your hair, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss with hunger.
You try to fight it for a split second, but the moment his tongue forces its way past your lips, you completely shatter.
A moan escapes your throat and your hands grip the fabric of his jacket, pulling him into you as hard as you can. You kiss him back with the exact same toxic passion.
Jack groans and drives you backward. Your back hits the wall while you kiss in a frantic mess.
His heavy body pins you against the wall, one of his legs comes between yours, never breaking the kiss for a single second, and his hands slide down your body, digging into your waist through your thin tshirt, pulling your hips up flush against his.
The kiss turns wetter and deeper as Jack claims you all over again.
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pairing: rafe cameron x reader
cw: 1.1k wc, smut, light angst, truck sex, f!reader, light argument, p w/little plot, est. relationship, a little dirty talk
summary: cutting rafe off mid-sentence and hanging up on him was supposed to teach him a lesson—but all it did was bring his truck rolling up your driveway twenty minutes later.
“you’re playin’ with fire, you know that?” rafe’s voice is sharp through the phone speaker, his breath coming in hot, agitated huffs. you can practically hear him pacing the floor of his room, his frustration vibrating through the line as he tries to steamroll his way through the argument. but you’ve had enough. you’re tired of the back-and-forth, tired of his cocky attitude masking whatever he's actually feeling. right in the middle of him saying, “—and another thing, you don’t get to just tell me—” you tap the red button, cutting him off completely.
the sudden silence in your bedroom is deafening. be strong — you think to yourself, tossing the phone onto your bed. he needs to learn he can’t just talk over you.
not even twenty minutes pass before the low, aggressive rumble of a familiar engine echoes down your street. you peek through the blinds just in time to see his lifted truck roll up to the curb, the headlights cutting through the darkening twilight. a second later, your phone buzzes in your hand. you press it to your ear, but before you can even get a word out, rafe’s voice cuts in — low, gravelly, and entirely unbothered by the fact that you just cut him off. “come outside.” click.
he hangs up before you can even draw a breath to respond. you let out an exasperated sigh, but your heart is hammering against your ribs as you grab your keys and walk down the driveway. rafe is already leaning across the console, pushing the passenger door open for you. with his fresh buzz cut and that stupidly attractive, casual tilt to his shoulders, he looks entirely too smug. but the second you look down at the seat, your breath catches. resting right on the leather is a massive bouquet of your favorite flowers and a box of chocolates.
your chest swells, a tiny, secret spark of joy lighting up inside you, but you force your face into a stubborn frown. you pick them up, tossing them carelessly into the floorboards as you struggle to climb up into the high cab.
“i don’t want these stupid flowers, rafe,” you mutter, crossing your arms tightly over your chest and staring fixedly out the side window, refusing to look at him. “and i hate this stupid truck. it’s too high and i can’t even get in.”
rafe lets out a soft, amused scoff, putting the truck in drive and pulling away from the curb. the sun is setting over the marsh, painting the sky in deep streaks of orange and bruised purple. he reaches over, his large, warm hand dropping onto your knee, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate circle.
“yeah, i’m sure you hate it,” he murmurs, his tone dropping into that softer, teasing register he only ever uses when it’s just the two of you. he slides his hand higher up your thigh, his touch possessive but patient. “and you hate the flowers, too, right? that’s why you cant look at me, baby?”
“shut up, rafe.”
“c’mere,” he commands softly, his fingers hooking under your chin to gently but firmly pull your face toward him. those intense blue eyes lock onto yours, the smirk melting off his face into something real. “look, i’m sorry about earlier. i got heated. but you can’t just hang up on me, baby. it drives me crazy. y'gotta talk to me, okay?”
the vulnerability in his voice completely short-circuits your anger. you let out a shaky sigh, your crossed arms finally loosening as he guides you over the center console until you’re sitting sideways across his lap. the truck is still idling on a quiet, deserted dirt road by the water now, the engine a low hum beneath you.
“you’re unbelievably annoying,” you whisper, your fingers instinctively finding the rough, prickly hair of his buzz cut, tracing the back of his neck.
“i know,” he groans against your mouth, his hands locking onto your waist, lifting you just enough to shift your weight until you’re straddling him completely. his gaze is dark, heavy with an intense heat as he presses your hips down against his lap. the hard ridge of him strains against his jeans, grinding slow and deliberate right against your aching core. “you still mad at me? or are you gonna let your boy make it up to you?”
he doesn’t even wait for an answer. rafe buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. his calloused hands slide under your shirt, smoothing up your bare spine in heavy, warm strokes that make you arch into him with a broken whimper.
he growls softly against your skin, his thumbs flicking over your nipples through your bra until they tighten into needy peaks. “we're not fighting anymore, okay?” and just like that, the fight is completely forgotten, leaving you entirely under his thumb as the windows begin to fog in the heat of the quiet truck.
rafe’s mouth crashes against yours, hungry and demanding, like he’s been starving for you since the second you hung up on him. his hands slide straight under the hem of your sundress, shoving the soft fabric up around your waist in one rough motion. the cool night air brushes over your bare thighs as he yanks your panties to the side, not even bothering to take them off.
“fuck, baby,” he groans against your lips, voice wrecked. “been thinkin’ about this the whole damn drive over.”
he frees himself from his jeans, thick and hard, and drags the head of his dick through your slick pussy, teasing your clit until your hips jerk against him. before you can catch your breath, he grips your waist and sinks you down onto him in one smooth, deep thrust. the stretch pulls a broken moan from your throat. you clutch at his shoulders, the full length of him buried inside you, pulsing hot and heavy.
“rafe—” you whimper, already rocking against him. he gives you no time to adjust. his hands lock onto your hips under the bunched-up dress and he starts fucking you hard, guiding you up and down his length with possessive snaps of his hips. the truck rocks with every thrust, the windows completely fogged now.
“why do you talk to me like that when you know i’m the only one that can fuck you like this?” he growls against your ear, voice low and filthy as he drives into you deeper. “actin’ all mad, hangin’ up on me… but this pussy’s soakin’ my dick like you missed me bad, baby.”
you moan louder at his words, clenching around him as the pleasure spikes. rafe’s thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight, relentless circles while he keeps pounding up into you, the wet sound of skin on skin filling the cab.
“say it,” he demands, biting down on the side of your neck.
“i’missed you —fuck—rafe, i did, i promise,” you cry out, nails digging into his shoulders as you ride him faster. he fucks you through it, harder, until the coil inside you snaps. you come hard, thighs shaking, pulsing around his dick. rafe groans deep in his chest and follows right after, burying himself to the hilt as he spills hot inside you.
for a moment the only sounds are your ragged breathing and the low idle of the truck. rafe keeps you pressed against his chest, one hand stroking slowly up and down your back under the dress while the other stays possessively on your ass, still buried deep inside you.
“we good now, hmm?” he murmurs against your hair, voice softer but still edged with cocky satisfaction.
you smile into his neck, boneless and warm and completely his. “yeah, rafe. we’re good.”
thoughts of going to sleep in the cutest nighties, which always makes for morning sex with jack <3
content warnings .ᐟ SMUT. mdni! dom!jack abbot, free use, use of pet names
masterlist ☕︎⋆.˚ | request guidelines
the way you’ll be making a pot of coffee after slipping out of bed, not wanting to wake jack after he’d finally gotten a day off, but he’ll be behind you with his hands in your hips, pressing his lips to your neck five minutes later.
“morning, baby,” he’d rasp, his hard cock pressing against your bottom through his thin pajama pants. like every other morning, you already saw where this was going.
“jack,” you whined with a giggle, pressing the button on the coffee machine to start its brewing. “it’s too early.”
“never too early, honey,” jack said. you didn’t have to turn to know he was already freeing his dick from his boxers, ready to repeat what was now your morning ritual. he pulled your nightgown up slowly to reveal the sweetest sight—no underwear.
“can’t expect me to behave when you dress like this, baby,” jack grunted. without another word, he’d slip inside your needy pussy and fill you to the brim, caging you in with his hands on either side of the counter. “now you have to take it.”
and as he’d start to rut deep inside you, ready to fuck you dizzy like always, it’d occur to you that the coffee might have to wait. . .
⊹ 𝐈𝐓❜𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄. ── ⦂ minors are not allowed to interact.
ִ ⟡ 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓 ˖ beau arlen ⅋ f!reader. ❜ ࿐ ⊹ ׂ
🖊️ ❛ 𓂃 after a fight about wanting a baby, he fucks you in an abandoned barn to shut you up & finally give you what you want. content ♥︎ warnings. barn sex, dubious content, breeding kink, angry fucking, hair pulling, degrading, no aftercare, established relationship. semi-public sex.
the words still hang in the dusty air of the old barn, sharp and ugly. your voice, raw from screaming at him, and his, a low, frustrated growl that cut you deeper than any yell ever could.
“it’s not that simple!” he’d roared, his hands fisted at his sides. “i have a daughter, a teenager. i’ve done this already!”
“and you did a great job!” you’d sobbed back, tears streaming down your face, hot and angry. “why is it so terrifying to think about doing it with me, beau? am i not enough? is what we have not real enough for you?”
the argument had spiraled from there, ending with you storming out of the truck and finding refuge in this derelict barn, a place you’d both noted on your drive. he’d followed you, of course. he always followed.
now you’re backed against a large, round bale of hay, the scratchy stalks poking uncomfortably through your graphic baby tee. he’s stalking towards you, his handsome face a thunderous mask of anger and something else, something darker that makes your stomach clench. the fading light from the broken slats in the wall casts long shadows, making him look bigger, more menacing.
“you wanna know why?” he says, his voice dangerously low as he finally reaches you, bracketing you in with his arms, his hands slamming into the hay on either side of your body. the bale trembles from the force. “because this is what i want to do to you. i don’t want to share you. not with a job, not with your friends, and sure as hell not with a fucking baby.”
your breath hitches, a fresh wave of tears blurring your vision. “that’s not fair.”
“fair?” he scoffs, a bitter, humorless sound. he leans in closer, his heat washing over you, his scent filling your nose, all leather and cologne. he was a furious man right now. “you wanna talk about fair? you want a baby so bad?” he grabs your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there, and yanks you forward, grinding his already hard cock against your stomach through your jeans. “fine. i’ll give you my fucking baby.”
the words are a punch to the gut, but your body, your traitorous, needy body, responds instantly. a slick wetness pools between your legs. before you can protest, he’s spinning you around, shoving you forward so you’re bent over the hay bale. he doesn’t waste time with buttons. you hear the sound of the button on your jeans ripping as he tears them open, shoving them and your panties down your thighs in one rough, impatient motion.
the cool, dusty air hits your exposed skin, and you shiver, a blubbering, pathetic mess of tears and arousal. you’re crying from the hurt of his words, from the frustration of the fight, but you’re also arching your back, pushing your ass out for him.
he spits on his hand, the sound vulgar in the quiet barn, and coats his thick, hot length. he doesn’t give you any warning. he just grabs your hips and shoves himself inside you.
you moan loudly, the sound swallowed by the hay you’re pressed against. he’s so big, so thick, and he’s not being gentle. of course, he isn’t. he’s fucking you with all the anger and frustration from your fight, each thrust a jarring, deep slam that feels like it’s rearranging your insides. the hay scratches your cheek, your arms, but all you can feel is him, filling you, stretching you to accommodate his size. as if you hadn’t already done so countless times before.
“this is what you wanted, right?” he growls in your ear, his voice a ragged pant. he pulls your hair, yanking your head back. “you want to be bred? i’ll breed you, darlin’. i’ll fill y’so full of my cum y’won’t be able to walk straight.”
you sob, a broken, keening sound, as he pounds into you. he’s not just having sex with you for fun, no. he’s branding you, and you’re willingly taking all of it because you wanted this.
just when you think you can’t take any more, he pulls out, leaving you hollow and aching. you whimper, but he just lifts you, pushing you down onto your side on the hay bale. you’re a mess, snot and tears and slick covering you. he doesn’t seem to care.
he throws your top leg over his shoulder, hooking his arm under your thigh to hold you in place. it tilts your hips up, giving him deeper, more complete access. his beautiful green eyes are blown wide with lust, dark and feral as he looks down at you, at the way your pussy weeps for him.
he enters you again, and this time you can feel the difference. the anger is gone, burned away and replaced by a raw, consuming need. it’s slower, deeper, each thrust deliberate. he watches your face as he fucks you, watches the tears stream down to your temple and into your hair. he watches your ass jiggle every time he slams into you. you can feel his balls, heavy and swollen, slapping against you with each powerful thrust. the whole barn now smells like dust and sex and him.
“beau,” you gasp, your fingers digging into the rough hay. you’re close, so close, your whole body trembling on the edge of a precipice.
“i know, sweetheart,” he grunts, his control starting to fray. he picks up the pace, his hips slamming into yours with a wet, slapping sound that echoes off the wooden walls. he’s fucking you into the hay now, his eyes never leaving yours. “you’re gonna take it all for me. every last drop.”
at that your orgasm hits, a violent, all consuming wave that makes you scream his name. your vision whites out, your body convulsing around his cock. your climax sends him over the edge. with a guttural growl, he drives into you one last time, his hips bucking as he floods your womb with his hot, thick seed. he holds your leg tight, keeping you pinned as he empties himself completely inside you, groaning your name like a prayer and a curse.
he collapses on you, his weight pressing you into the scratchy hay, his ragged breaths hot against your bicep. still inside you, his cock throbbing softly. the argument isn’t over. nothing is solved. but as you lie there, a blubbering, sated mess in a dusty old barn, filled to the brim with him, you know one thing for sure.
he gave you what you wanted and you felt satisfied. because deep down? you know beau will do as you say, even if you piss him off like you did tonight.
𝓫efore 𝔂ou 𝓰o . . . potential comeback to my jackles era? teehee 🤭 who knows! + i know this was short, i’ve just been super duper busy & so much has happened in my personal life recently (good things!), so i havent really been in the writing mood <3
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content.ᐟ 18+, large legal age gap, sensitive reader, slightly mean shane, pet name (baby), dacryphilia, p in v, teasing
thinking about shane maguire and his crybaby!gf...
you're a naturally sensitive person, you can't help but tear up at little things, things others your age wouldn't even care about. like gas running low, scraping your knee, or any other minor inconvenience.
but you don't mind as much when you have a boyfriend to run off and complain to, when you can sob in his arms while he wipes your tears and kisses your head (begrudgingly).
so when you get a flat tire in the middle of the nowhere and he has to come pick you up, he's already expecting and preparing for the waterworks.
he finds you sobbing into your hands in the drivers seat of your car, looking up at him when he makes him way over to your rolled down window. "m'so stupid!" you cry, "i- i-" before you can call yourself another name or spiral even more, shane is grabbing your wrists and pulling them from your face firmly, "yer' not stupid, baby." he says firmly, helping you hop out of the car with a hand on the small of your back, and guiding you to the passenger seat of his old pickup truck.
right as he buckles your seatbelt for you, shuts your door for you, and climbs into the drivers side, you're sliding over on the bench seat to climb into his lap, burying your face into his neck with a trembling lip. he starts up the engine of the truck and starts to drive, letting you settle comfortably into his lap and cling onto him. he wraps a heavy arm around you, rolling his eyes at your pathetic little sniffles. "stop all that cryin', s'jus a flat tire" he drawls, giving your ass a little pat. it's his own, unique way of comforting you.
same goes for when you're upset after a long day at work, your boss being on your back from the moment you clocked in to the minute you clocked out with tears already brimming your eyes.
you made your way to shane's camp and found him sitting on a log carving a knife. he sees you and already knows you're in a mood again, so he just sighs deeply, sets his knife down, and opens his arms so you can cry all you want into his chest. it's nothing new for him.
you walk over with your lip trembling and tears finally falling from your glassy eyes as you climb onto him. "i hate my job" you complain, "boss s'so mean" you hiccup. he listens to your whining, rocking you soothingly in his lap as you ramble on and on with that shaky voice he hates so much. he interrupts you, "stop talkin' for a few, okay? sound like yer' throats bout to give out" he sighs, rubbing a heavy hand over his face and cradles you as you hiccup and sob into his now wet shirt.
there are times, however, when you're not crying from sadness or exhaustion, but from pleasure. he really doesn't mind when you cry like this.
when he's got you in a mating press, hips pressed flush against his and ankles up by your ears. "there ya' go" he coos. he huffs a laugh at the hot tears running down your flushed face, the sting of the position your in and the stretch of his thick cock being overwhelming.
he's pushing your calves further with warm palms splayed against them. "my little crybaby, huh?" he teases you, pulling another embarrassed sob from your sore throat. "sh-shane!" you're whining, clawing at his biceps, leaving red marks in your wake. "ohmygod– s'too much" you're crying out for him to slow down, but he just loved seeing those glistening tears falling from your eyes.
"no s'not." he says, his voice low and gravely. he leans down to kiss all over your damp skin, "yeah, that's my girl– cryin' just f'me" he almost sounds loving, like he isn't teasing you for once. "so sensitive" he reaches down to flick your clit, enjoying the way you twitch and sob harder, clinging to him like a lifeline.
what would stepdad dex be like with a cry baby reader…? like she cries when she’s happy, sad, angry, overwhelmed like literally anything can bring her to tears in an instant… i also just like to imagine him helping her calm down very soothingly when she’s overwhelmed for the simplest of reasons… i love stepdad dex
I think he would love that he’s the one she comes to everytime she’s about to break down!
like if you come home after not doing good on a final, stomping around the house trying to find dex :( tears threatening to fall down your face, “dad? are you home?” you’ll say, as clear as you could with your voice shaking until you stumble upon him in his room. and you just instantly let the waterworks break when you see dex.. padding over to him with a deep frown and just bawling.
dex is always so gentle with you when you’re like this, letting you get all comfy on his lap while you cry your heart out, hiccuping every so often while dexs kisses your forehead and coos out “aw I know sweetheart you’re okay, keep breathing like I taught you..” and he’ll make you look at him and practice your breathing, looking into your eyes as you breathe in and out slowly, your chest heaving up and down until your tears dry out.
dex repeats this same method with you at least twice a week, knowing you cry at everything and he also starts carrying tissues with him. but!! I also thinks he likes to see you cry sometimes..
blakekathryn
yousharknotpass
tangentwithtanner
