Idea 4 Plz

Honestly the washing hands thing is so real LMAO

Jack abbot get in line imma fight you for our girl

FIND OUT

─ Dr. Samira Mohan x fem! reader || WC: 3.2k

SYNOPSIS: You and your friend, Samira Mohan, tread the line between friends & something else. During a night out, you both get a taste of what that something else might look like.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUT. Alcohol consumption (everything is consensual). Sort of Dom! Reader/Sub! Samira (both are switches & fems though). Girls kissing passionately! Nipple play. Dry Humping. Fingering. Dirty Talk. Flirting. Making out in the backseat of a cab. Samira has a crush on reader & vice versa. Samira & Reader are residents at The Pitt (R3s). Samira & Reader are close friends & around the same age (29). Touch deprived! Samira Mohan. Both Samira & Reader are bisexual.

A/N: I truly can't explain how this happened, but lets just say I locked in so hard I blacked out. I just want to love on Samira Mohan, so I did. MOVE JACK IT'S MY TURN! I also took some inspo from the scene in Black Swan where Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis kiss, lmao oops. I made both Samira & reader bi considering I'm bi so I could relate to it and I hope others are able to enagge with it as well! (I almost psyched myself out of posting this okay be nice). Proof read by moi. Reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. <3

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

If someone had predicted where the night took you both, you would’ve laughed in their face.

It was supposed to be a simple night out for drinks. Both you and Samira had finally gotten a couple of days off; more like you forced the girl from going back to The Pitt when they didn’t need any help. You always told her the same thing: “If you keep going at this rate, you’ll get grays before you hit 35, hun.” She would only roll her brown eyes at you, a cheeky dimple poking out on the side of her face as she laughed it off.

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, two close friends sharing quality time with one another after their workdays ended. That was how it started anyway, through brief conversations and minor interactions with the resident whenever your shifts aligned. You could see right through her, how her job was all she had, how all she knew was the chaos of the PTMC to match the havoc of her psyche. Albeit, her gorgeous smile and kind demeanor hid it well for the most part, at least when Robby wasn’t grilling her, but when you urged her to go home to prevent an adrenaline crash, she actually listened to you most times.

Samira would bring tea in advance during the mornings you worked together, repeatedly warning you that your heart would give out with all of the caffeine you consumed on a daily basis. You simply shrug at her and chug the liquid out of your thermos, watching her as you do. It'd make her grimace, grumble even, but you’d take it so long as you got something.

“You should listen to me, you know. Try some tea, it won’t kill you as quickly.” Samira lectured, trying to bribe you with using brown sugar instead of the agave sweetener she likes.

“I’m not letting you take my coffee away from me, sorry. We will just have to accept our differences.”

“Forgive me for caring about your health. Let’s just hope I’m in the room with you when you’re tachycardic.”

Lunch times were your favorite, often opting to sit outside with Samira for a breather, sharing bits and pieces of your meal together, whether it came from home or you ordered it in advance. At night, when it was time to call it a day and repeat the cycle the next morning, Samira would be there to walk with you back to your place, or you would take her to hers. You’d give each other a rundown of the day, of the chest tube you had to put in or the new case study Samira was looking into and finally got to use in practice.

These little moments always eased your nerves after dealing with so much intensity on a daily basis, and it only took a couple of late-night walks to realize you liked Samira’s company, and more so you wanted it outside of working hours. On one particularly hard shift and a relatively quiet stroll, you knew you didn’t want to be alone, and even with the reassuring squeeze on your shoulder, a part of you craved her calming presence to tether you to the Earth.

“You want to go out for a drink? I know a good bar nearby. They make good margaritas.”

She nodded silently, offering an understanding smile, and walked side by side with you the entire way to the bar, stayed with you for the rest of the night, and even rode in the cab back to your apartment. When you woke up with a hangover the next morning, you were surprised to find Samira hovering above you, wiping your forehead with a cool compress, soothing the throbbing in your temples before the wave of nausea hit you.

“Wanted to make sure you were okay. You went a bit hard last night.”

The rest was history.

Tonight, she took your advice and said yes to your invitation for drinks at a club downtown, another location you had mentioned to her a while ago. Samira, ever the overthinker, came by your place to get ready, bringing a bag with some outfit choices, seeking out your input. She didn’t say anything when you told her to wear the halter top and mini skirt, coming towards her to hike her skirt even higher and align her boobs closer to the center of her chest, giving them a push-up effect.

“You’re a pretty girl, Samira. You’ve got legs and a face that can start wars, use them. If you flirt with the bartender, maybe we’ll score and get ourselves some free drinks.”

You told her that with a playful smile and a slight twinkle in the corner of your eye, your dark lashes emphasizing the flare. Samira watched you finish the touch-ups on your makeup, the heeled boots and leather pants you wore did everything to sell a fantasy of you she got to witness firsthand. She’ll never admit to watching the way the curve of your ass looked in the stretchy material of your pants, or how the low neckline of your top revealed the little pieces of ink along your shoulder and arms that were usually hidden under your scrubs. She occupied herself with grabbing the rest of her belongings and throwing them in her purse, oblivious to how you eyed her from afar, re-applying the last bit of your lip gloss before calling the Uber.

At the club, it was another story entirely. You held her hand on your commute and reassuringly squeezed her wrist when you started to woo the bouncer, batting your lashes at him and brazenly puffing out your chest. It seemed to work when security let you both in, leading Samira further inside and ignoring the people who bitched outside about you two skipping the line.

Some flirting with the bartender and three cocktails later, you and Samira were on the dance floor, swaying your hips to the upbeat song filling the space around you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen your friend so relaxed, so free; inebriated yes, but enjoying herself nonetheless. Samira’s face was craned up to the sky, the bass of the beat thrumming through her entire being, rushing from the top of her head to the balls of her feet. Her hair bounced with the rest of her, loose waves spinning around with every bop of her head and twirl of her hips.

You followed her lead, holding her waist and guiding her movements from behind. She laughed at the feel of you, clutching your wrist and bringing your hand to the middle of her lower body, keeping her in place while you synchronized the circular gyration of your bodies. Meshing to her back, she could feel you pressing up behind her. Tossing her head back over your shoulder, she granted you a whiff of her perfume, giggling in her ear in the process, teasing her with the ghost of a bite on the side of her neck.

Samira pivots on her heel and turns to face you, smiling wide as she throws her arms over your shoulder and around your neck, your hands taking their natural place on her hips, beckoning her to you. She was all teeth and dimples as she rolled into you, dancing chest to chest, eyes on you and tuning everything else out. Neither of you cared for the other people in the space with you, honing in on the way she felt in your hands, the material of her skirt, the open back of her halter top, the ease with which she danced with you under the dim lighting.

Closing the gap between you, whatever was left of it, her nose grazed the tip of yours, barely tasting the vodka on her breath. You watched her face, how her gaze drifted from your eyes to your mouth and rapidly returned back up. It was subtle; you’d almost miss it if you blinked too fast, and thankfully your strict attention made sure you caught it.

“I’m having so much fucking fun.” God, she was drunk, you think anyway from the way there was more black than brown in her eyes. To you, she’s never looked prettier, smiling without a care in the world under bright shades of pink and purple.

“I bet. That’s the liquor talking.” Placing a hand on her back, you sensed the faint shiver that washed over her. “You got a couple of eyes on you, sweetie. Think these guys want a dance.”

“I’d rather not, thank you very much.” She didn’t even bother to acknowledge the men in question who had been eyeing her up and down all night, opting to keep her regard on you the entire time. “I very much prefer dancing with you.”

Pride bloomed in your chest, fighting the urge to steal a kiss right then and there. You held off, your hands treading dangerously close to her lower spine, sneaking towards the waistband of her skirt.

“Good, that means I don’t need to worry about you scurrying off with a stranger and leaving me behind.” Samira laughs hard then, loud enough to filter through the music in the club. You savored the scene in front of you, taking her in as if she hung the moon and the stars, as if she were that.

Must’ve been the tequila catching up with you.

“Trust me, that’s not happening.” Her knuckles rasp along your jaw, the tip of a nail poking your chin and skimming your bottom lip, pulling away to move a loose curl behind your ear. “I couldn’t leave you behind, that’s a federal crime.”

You sure fucking hoped that was the case.

It was about 2 am when you and Samira called it a night, heading to your place and resting into one another in the backseat, tumbling into bits of cackles as your sense of direction remained skewed from the alcohol still coursing through your veins. Her head rested against your shoulder, your hand on her thigh to keep her nearby, absentmindedly painting circles into her soft brown skin. Her head lifts to look at you, doing your best to ignore the way the haze in her eyes sends a surge of warmth through your body.

“What?”

“Nothing…” Her voice trails off, leaning more into you in the backseat.

“If you have something on your mind, Samira, you can tell me. Probably the best time considering I’m seeing two of you right now so I won’t remember.” You both giggle again, the sound ringing in your ears with her sudden close proximity.

“Just wanted to say I had a lot of fun is all.” She beams shyly at you, breathing heavier in your direction and placing a hand on your side to keep her from sinking into the cushion of the seat.

“Yeah?” You quirk your face in amusement, the corner of your lips curling upwards at her eager nod.

“Yeah.” Her forehead is against yours, beaming almost to herself, boldly glancing at the shiny gloss still on your lips.

“You’re so silly,” shaking your head, your goofy expression was mirrored by an intoxicated Samira Mohan, both ends of her mouth flexing with a chuckle.

“Your fault. I forgot how many shots we had.”

“It was two big ones, but shit, I might be wrong I lost count.”

The bubble of comfort you found yourselves in extended beyond the backseat of the Uber, the hand on your side wandered up to stroke your forearm aimlessly, focusing on the tattoo on your bicep. Samira hums at the feel of your skin, following the intricate lines the ink left behind, trying to learn the story behind it and the patience you needed to endure the needle piercing into your flesh over and over again. It was strangely intimate, close enough to feel her light exhales on the side of your cheek and her heart pounding in her ribs.

“Samira.”

“Hm?”

“If you want something, tell me before I think I’m reading this wrong.” Taking a hand to the back of her neck, your thumb caressed her nape, causing her to bite her lower lip.

“I think…I want you to kiss me.” Her big brown eyes were glazed over when she met your gaze, the sight alone sending your heart racing.

“You think?” God, you could hear your pulse in your ears, or was that your second heartbeat? “Gotta be better than that.”

“Please, just kiss me.”

Fucking finally.

Tilting forward, your lips mesh together like you’ve been dreaming about all night. The kiss was messy, clumsy even as Samira’s brain caught up with the rest of her, slithering her tongue along your bottom lip to ask for permission to taste more of you. Opening your mouth, your tongue quickly found hers, swirling around it while holding her face with a hand on her jaw. She sighs happily against you, her exhale landing on your top lip while attempting to bring herself closer to you, sitting with one of her thighs between yours.

The Uber came to a stop in front of your apartment complex, forcing you to part from her with an embarrassed grin. You reiterate a hasty thank you and take Samira’s hand with a coy smirk, speed walking into the lobby of your building to catch the next elevator up. Swiftly grabbing your keys for the front door and unlocking it as fast as you could, you shut the door behind you as Samira kicked her heels off and tugged you forward for another kiss.

“Hold on, hold on. Let me…fuck…wash my hands.” She was busy staining your cheeks with her lipstick, touching any part of you she could get her hands on.

“Mood killer,” she jokingly muttered over your lips, landing a few kisses down the column of your throat and biting at the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulder.

“Old habits die hard. Plus, do you know how nasty clubs are? You’re supposed to be the smart one here, darling.”

Smooching her pout, you were able to peel off your boots along the way to the kitchen, rinsing off your hands with Samira next to you doing the same. Impatient as ever, she dragged you to the couch once the paper towel flew out of your grip, sitting you down and crawling into your lap with your arm wrapping around her waist. She practically climbs over you, needy lips finding yours again and humming at the feel of you, her palms riding up your chest and landing on your shoulders before running through your hair.

A moan punches out of her, instinctively shifting her hips over your thighs as her skirt rides up her body, revealing more of her to your greedy hands. Littering kisses down her neck, you went to undo the knot of her halter top, jerking the material down to expose her breasts to your eager sight. Kissing along her collarbone and sternum, she arches towards you, presenting more of herself without shame. Deciding to provoke her a bit more, your lips glide over the swells of her breasts, grinning at her unsteady exhales, a sign that she was anxiously lusting for more with every smooch you give her.

“Stop teasing me.” She almost sounded like she was on the verge of tears, desperation laced in her tone the more you dragged this out.

“Can’t I have a little fun with you?” You quipped, eyes widening a bit when she took one of your hands and placed it on her ass cheek under her skirt, guiding you over the thong she wore underneath.

“Touch me.” She damn near growled against your lips, a hunger unfamiliar to her overriding her senses.

“Yeah? You need me to make it better, Samira?” She nods, gasping the second your free hand reaches up from between her inner thigh to stroke her cunt through her panties, marveling at the wetness already soaking through the cotton. “Need me to touch you right here, hm?”

“Fuck, yes, please,” she cried out, bucking her hips to grind into your hand, bumping into your fingertips at the right angle that would give her aching clit more of that delicious friction.

Not wasting another second to toy with her, you plucked her thong to the side and gravitated to her slick pearl, the first contact of your fingers against her forced a whine out of Samira as she closed her eyes and deepened the curve in her back. She didn’t care how desperate she sounded, her whimpers and breathless keens turning your living room into a choir for you to enjoy, reveling in every mewl she willingly offered you. Rubbing circles over her clit, her hips bucked into your hand, oblivious to your lips inclining back to her breasts, wrapping around one of her nipples.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Samira clutched at your head, keeping you in place as your tongue flicked over her saliva-covered breasts, clenching around nothing with her arousal dripping down your fingers.

You don’t think you’ve ever heard her curse so much before, groaning around her perky nipple and nipping at it lightly, moving to give the other neglected breast equal attention. Keeping your thumb on her sensitive nub, you plunged a digit inside her, noting the loud moan turned to a whine when you burrowed another, curling them to the roof of her entrance.

“How does that feel, pretty girl?” You mumbled, grasping her hip to keep her steady above you, keeping your eyes on her the entire time.

“So good, so damn good.” She was lost in the pleasure, stars fired under her eyelids as she fucked your hand, chasing her own pleasure. “God…I’m going to cum.”

“Yeah?” You upped your ministrations, pressing your thumb harder against her clit and pumping your fingers with more force. “Come for me, ‘Mira. Want to feel you around me. Just let go, baby.”

A few more drives of your fingers and Samira’s cunt tightened around your digits as she fell into release, crying into your mouth when you snatched another bruising kiss, swallowing all of her little noises for yourself. She came much faster than you both anticipated, but you didn’t mind, not when she slumped against you and struggled to catch her breath. Her head rose to peer at you chuckling below her, slipping your soaked fingers out of her twitching entrance and clasping her shaking thigh.

“What’s so funny?” Samira blinks slowly at you, cupping both of your cheeks and holding your face in her palms.

“Just didn’t think you’d sound like that. You’re loud.”

“Shut up.” Heat creeps up to her face and you laugh harder, squeezing her ass affectionately.

“I don’t mind.” You kiss her slowly once more, biting her bottom lip playfully and coaxing a huff out of her. “Kinda want to see just how loud you can get, if you’re up for it.”

Samira was never one to back down from a challenge, humming in competitive intrigue. A lone finger moves over the neckline of your top, tracing over the lining that still kept the rest of your body hidden from her curious eyes. Tugging at the side of your top, she stares down at you, smirking as the same ravishing throb she felt before beats between her legs.

“Show me what you got.”

It was going to be a long night.

©️ ovaryacted 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Mood:

Happy black history month and fuck trump

PEDRO PASCAL as GENERAL ACACIUS Gladiator II (2024) dir. Ridley Scott

Family surprise birthdays are the best.

if there’s one thing about jack abbot, it’s that he’s going to mock you during sex… though never done out of cruelty or with any malicious intent. if fact, the two of you don’t even think of it as such—mocking.

his words are more of a… provocative ribbing that he knows will flood your mind with a haze. a haze you’re comfortable with floating in, that fills you full, right into a world-bending breaking point.

you’re both on your sides, facing and pressing against each other. substituting oxygen with your panting huffs, jack inhales your moans with sloppy, spit-slick kisses. he feels you shiver in his arms when he slips himself back inside, resettling your leg over his hip to push as far into your pussy as you’ll let him.

jack smirks to himself, his palm moving to splay against the cheek of your ass and yank you closer. he grunts through a sudden exhale at the new angle, commencing a roll of his waist that causes a gasp to burn your lungs.

“fuck, jack,” your mewl, voice weak and wobbly. “ah—ah, ‘s so deep…”

“is it? s’it nice and deep, baby?” he mumbles at your lips, copying your desperate nod and small yeahs with an expression of pity you can tell is fake. “wonder ‘f i can get any deeper...”

you aren’t given a chance to wonder the same before jack is gripping your ass with a stronger squeeze. his tender thrusts adjust into a sharp, sturdy pounding that jerks his balls back and forth against your pussy.

leaking around his thickness, you hand reaches behind to clench the sheet beneath you. it’s the only thing you can manage, the rest of your mind a sweet mush.

“t-too much.” you can barley talk, air escaping your body faster than you can replace it. “it’s too much, feels too good.”

jack doesn’t let up, cock throbbing and pumping hard into your heat. his bottom lip pokes out, just barely, matching your blissed out expression.

“oh, ‘too much, it’s too much’,” he recites, drawing out the words in a teasing tone you wouldn’t tolerate from anyone else. “i don’t think so, baby. shit, you’re doing so good. takin’ my cock all nice and pretty.”

you crumble against jack but he holds you steady. lips smushed into his neck, you smear it messy with the spit drooling from slurred, open-mouthed mumbles. 

“you’re so big,” you stammer, vision going blurry at the wet squelch that sounds whenever he rears out of you, and subsequent groan that jumps from jack when he slicks back inside your creaming hole. 

“ooh, i‘m so big?” jack keeps his pace steady through the witty responses, and you can’t yourself from meeting his thrusts with your own grind. you don’t have to see him to feel the grin quirking the corners of his mouth. “hm? maybe i should pull out, give you a break—”

“no. no,” you whine over the rocking of the bed, clutching his as if he’s truly considering slipping his cock out and leaving you empty and cold. “no, don’t stop. gonna come again…”

the words flip a switch in jacks brain and he fucks you the hardest he has all night. foot planting into the bed, he sounds with deep coos at your uncontrollable cries he forces out of you.

it’s disgusting, the way you’ve coated his member in a velvety mixture of your juices. dripping down, it even collects against his sack, glossing him and making his eyes roll.

“gimme that cum, baby. just like last time, squirt it all out for me.”

you body goes numb yet feels like it’s imploding all at once. jack watches the way you shiver in his grasp, clenching around his swollen cock as you gush messily. he fucks you through it, the liquid spurting to wet his stomach and balls.

“that’s it,” he chokes out, inching dangerously close to his own finish. it only takes a few more pulses of your peak to finally clutch his own, plunging feverishly until he’s balls deep inside you. “f-fuck, yeah, right there.”

jack breaks. groaning into the side of your face and latching onto you while comes, the inescapable bliss makes his entire body twitch with harsh trembles.

“holy fuck, i’m still goin,” jack almost growls, air caught in his throat at the continuous ropes of cum he spills into you. the both of you are still heaving and coming as he leaks out of you. your lips puffy and swollen, and a sticky mess. it goes on for so long that jack ends up laughing through his moans, stomach sore from all the clenching.

it takes a few more minutes for your bodies to finally melt into tangled piles of limbs, the warm residue of your climax swimming nicely in your belly.

“you still with me, gorgeous?”

the only response you can muster is a sleepy mm-mm, and he gives you an equally-exhausted laugh. you only find the strength to peel open your eyes when a soft hand cradles your chin to tilt your head.

eyelids fluttering, you stare at him in a lost, fuzzy daze. thumb stroking your cheek, jack blinks sleepily at you before planting a soft kiss on the corner of your lips.

“i’m right here,” he promises, words certain but still far away when they reach your ears. “right here, baby. need you to come back for me, okay?”

a whine seeps from your lips. it’s not a defiance but you’re not obliging him either. you’re just… still in orbit, where you are the sun and jack’s the earth just before a dawn; as usual, he’ll push past the incoming fatigue, and wait for the otherworldly, ingrained tug that will eventually pull you back to him.

“right here…”

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

Me mueroooooo

Y’all…I’m gonna kill myself oh my fucking god. He looks so good. I’m gonna throw up. IM GONNA THROW UP.

pedro pedro pedro

Ayo Edebiri via deemakeupart on Instagram — February 22, 2025

I need a mutual to let me brain rot about a very specific idea I have for Jack Abbot x doctor!reader. An outline of events, if you will.

I can’t get this out of my head:

Jack sees the shock on your face before he hears the words he had just said to you.

When had the wind been this defeaning? Or was it the silence?

“J-Jack…you don’t…don’t say th-”

“I’d do it with you. Have kids.” He said again, more definitely this time. More concrete. More real. He thinks about all the time he’s spent alone, of the kind of life he could’ve had had things been different. How you’re a different person, a different doctor, more fierce in every way when a child patient comes through those doors.

And fuck, if it doesn’t make his heart squeeze when he thinks what that can be like with you.

“We don’t have to get married.” He says, eyes watching how your throat constricts and your lips wobbles, tears threatening to free fall again.

His face leans in closer to yours, how it normally does whenever he’s seen you doubt yourself and willed every bit of confidence in you.

“But I want this for you, I want this with you. That asshole down there made you feel like you had to choose one thing and give up another, but you don’t have to give up anything with me. You can have it all, and I want to make that happen for you, if that’s what you want.”

Lord knows he’d rather chew sand than let himself be this vulnerable again.

But with you, he didn’t have to be afraid of anything at all.

It's the same picture