A/N: To feed my obsession, I am now watching Southland and I'm still obsessed.
Warnings: Allusion to shooting, death. Semi-adultery.
Summary: Sammy has a tough day on the job. Can he find solace with you?
"You dating Lady Cop?" Juanito points his chin at you.
"Detective Y/L/N. She's a detective, and no, I'm married." Sammy watched you maneuver around your car.
"Detective, right..." The young boy laughed. "You think she'd let me call her? You know, in the future."
"No." Sammy said matter-of-factly.
"Come on! I read. I'm charming." He smiled slyly at Sammy.
You made eye contact with Juanito and motioned for him to come talk to you. Sammy watched as the boy made his way to you.
"Listen, I know Sammy is pretty corny and very white knight-ish," you paused, "but he's right."
Juanito rolls his eyes. Sammy sees the way you look at him though, like you know what he's feeling. He isn't sure how, but you do.
"Hey, we all have choices, good and bad. Positive and negative."
"Rich people have choices." He scoffed.
"We all have have choices. You are very smart, and it's important that you try to use that for good, not evil."
"So I should join the explorers?"
"Hell no. Who would want to hang out with those losers?" You smiled back at him. "But, you should try to go to school and keep reading. You have a lot of potential to be something. Something better than anyone could imagine."
"You know... I might need a mentor. Someone who gets me." He looked up at you through his lashes, giving you puppy dog eyes. "Maybe I could call you? If I need help."
You smirked. You reached into your jacket and pulled out a card. "Here. Don't abuse it, okay?"
Sammy couldn't hear your conversation, but he watched you smile warmly at the boy. You chuckled and then bent down, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
Sammy didn't know how the day was going to end, but he certainly did not foresee arresting the young boy he cared about, nor coming home to find Tammi had been robbed of her computer and camera.
He couldn't deal with everything all at once, so he left. He left and found his way to your door. Knocking gently, he heard your steps towards the door. Deadbolt undone and you before him.
"You okay, Sammy?" You looked him up and down to check for wounds. "Sammy?"
"Can I come in?" He didn't make eye contact.
You stepped aside and let him in. When you closed the door, he turned around suddenly. His eyes finally met yours, and he stepped closer. You backed up against the door.
"Sammy," your breath barely a whisper.
His nose brushed against yours and ghosted his lips over yours before making contact. At first, his lips are gentle, light. As you kiss him back, he begins to become more forceful, searching, needy, desperate.
Your mind comes back to you, and you realize the gravity of what you're doing.
You break the kiss. "Stop," your hands pressed to his chest. "Sammy." You press your forehead to his.
"I just... I need you." He holds your face in his hands, thumbs passing over your cheekbones. "I want you."
"Where does your wife think you are?" Your eyes search his.
He pulls away from you, frustrated.
"Sammy, I... I want you," you breathe, "but not like this. I don't want to be another cliche." He doesn't respond. "You can stay here tonight. I just... we have to keeps things..."
"Friendly." He looks down at his wedding ring. He sighs, knowing you're right.
A/N: I'm a mess. I need the Quinn app to release his episode(s) now. For the time being, I'll just keep imagining him guiding me in my kitchen.
Jack makes eye contact across the bar. He watches as you wrap your tongue gently around the straw dancing in your drink. He's had one too many whiskeys, forgetting that he's your attending. He's supposed to be mentoring you, not fantasizing about being between your lips.
Worship me
Make you believe
I'm what you need
So beg, darlin', please
He knows it's wrong, but he can't stop thinking about you. It started as innocent, simply smelling your perfume lingering, hearing your laughter carrying through the air, admiring the way your brows pushed together when you were focused.
Now, that's not enough. He needs more. He needs you.
Baby, don't lie
It's okay that you crave me
Your eyes on my body, you're shaking
Get high on me for you're forsaken
He moves towards the bar, eyes focused on you. You're smiling at someone else, holding the straw gingerly between your fingers, and sucking mindlessly.
He stands behind you, his warmth immediate, and goosebumps rise on your skin. He turns towards you, his nose ghosting over your neck, his lips tickling the shell of your ear. He whispers your name.
Pretty when you say my name like that
Feel your lips trace down my neck
Darlin', don't say nothing, just breathe
He's got you pushed up against your door, finally in the privacy of your home, where he can worship you properly. He has your hands pinned above your head, barely grazing you as your noses touch, lips so close you can almost taste him.
He presses his lips to you, hungry, begging for access with his tongue. You break the kiss and place your forehead against his. He releases your hands, and you place them on his shoulders.
"Knees." There's no question from your lips. He groans as you watch him lower himself.
Pretty when you're looking up like that
Pray but Heaven won't let you back
Good on your knees
You undo your pants and slide them down your legs until they pool at your feet. His eyes turn dark, his tongue darts to wet his lips. He places soft kisses to your stomach, just above your underwear. He steadies himself by placing his hands on your hips and hooking his fingers under the hem of the only layer between him and what he really wants.
Slowly, he pulls down revealing his prize. He can see how aroused you are, dripping, puffy, and needy.
His tongue finds the spot where you need him most. You run your hands through his curls, gripping at the back, when he groans from the pressure.
"So good for me, Jack." You moan his name, head hitting the door, eyes rolling back. You've thought about this for so long. His lips, his mouth, his tongue.
Whisper, give me your life
Yeah, we're both sinners
Your body is close, your tongue lingers
You feed me the taste of your fingers
He slips a strong finger into your heat. It's sinful the way he's making you feel, but there is no guilt. No, this feels right, good, necessary.
He coaxes an orgasm from you sooner than you would've liked. He's drowning in you, and there's nowhere else he'd rather be. He looks up at you through his lashes, begging for your praise.
"So pretty looking up like that." You're breathless. "Is this what you need?"
He groans into you. You tug on his hair and signal for him to stand back up.
"Beg, darling. Please." You place a hand on the back of his neck.
"Please, please. I crave you." He places wet kisses on your neck towards your collarbone.
There's no time to make it to your bedroom. The couch will have to do. Neither of you can wait.
You step out of your pants and undergarments. Pushing him towards the sofa. He takes the hint, as you start undoing his belt, pushing his pants and boxers down just enough to reveal his own arousal.
He's big and standing at attention. You pass your thumb over his leaking head and watch his head roll back. You lift his shirt off, exposing freckled skin over tight muscles. You've dreamed about those biceps holding you.
"Sit." You lightly push his shoulder. You remove your own shirt, causing him to growl at you.
You climb on top of him, using his shoulders to steady yourself over him. You run him over slick center before pushing him in. The sounds leaving your mouths are animalistic.
"Yeah," he breathes, "yeah."
You're gliding up and down on him, chasing another orgasm.
"You're going to finish inside me, okay, Jack?" You look him in his eyes. "You're going to fill me up like I know you've imagined."
His head rolls back to your sofa. He's groaning like you've never heard before. "Okay," he whimpers.
"I'm close, Jack." He doesn't respond. "Are you listening?" You pull his hair.
"Yes, yes." He places his hands on your hips.
"That's right. Cum for me, Jack." You pick up speed. "Right now." You whisper into his ear.
He's never seen stars like that before. His hearing goes. He can't see or hear, but he feels like he's reached ecstasy. He can feel you grip him like a vice and milk him for everything he has. It's been months of him imagining this, and he never would've have pictured the way you look right now.
You dismount and walk to your kitchen. He watches as your ass jiggles, swaying away from him. He hates that you've left, but god, if you don't look downright delicious right now.
You return with a glass of water.
"I knew you could worship me, Jack." You climb into his lap, placing the lip of the glass to his lips. He gulps the water down, missing the taste of you as it coats his mouth.
A/N: To feed my obsession, I am now watching Southland and I'm still obsessed.
Warnings: Allusion to shooting, death. Semi-adultery.
Summary: Sammy has a tough day on the job. Can he find solace with you?
"You dating Lady Cop?" Juanito points his chin at you.
"Detective Y/L/N. She's a detective, and no, I'm married." Sammy watched you maneuver around your car.
"Detective, right..." The young boy laughed. "You think she'd let me call her? You know, in the future."
"No." Sammy said matter-of-factly.
"Come on! I read. I'm charming." He smiled slyly at Sammy.
You made eye contact with Juanito and motioned for him to come talk to you. Sammy watched as the boy made his way to you.
"Listen, I know Sammy is pretty corny and very white knight-ish," you paused, "but he's right."
Juanito rolls his eyes. Sammy sees the way you look at him though, like you know what he's feeling. He isn't sure how, but you do.
"Hey, we all have choices, good and bad. Positive and negative."
"Rich people have choices." He scoffed.
"We all have have choices. You are very smart, and it's important that you try to use that for good, not evil."
"So I should join the explorers?"
"Hell no. Who would want to hang out with those losers?" You smiled back at him. "But, you should try to go to school and keep reading. You have a lot of potential to be something. Something better than anyone could imagine."
"You know... I might need a mentor. Someone who gets me." He looked up at you through his lashes, giving you puppy dog eyes. "Maybe I could call you? If I need help."
You smirked. You reached into your jacket and pulled out a card. "Here. Don't abuse it, okay?"
Sammy couldn't hear your conversation, but he watched you smile warmly at the boy. You chuckled and then bent down, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
Sammy didn't know how the day was going to end, but he certainly did not foresee arresting the young boy he cared about, nor coming home to find Tammi had been robbed of her computer and camera.
He couldn't deal with everything all at once, so he left. He left and found his way to your door. Knocking gently, he heard your steps towards the door. Deadbolt undone and you before him.
"You okay, Sammy?" You looked him up and down to check for wounds. "Sammy?"
"Can I come in?" He didn't make eye contact.
You stepped aside and let him in. When you closed the door, he turned around suddenly. His eyes finally met yours, and he stepped closer. You backed up against the door.
"Sammy," your breath barely a whisper.
His nose brushed against yours and ghosted his lips over yours before making contact. At first, his lips are gentle, light. As you kiss him back, he begins to become more forceful, searching, needy, desperate.
Your mind comes back to you, and you realize the gravity of what you're doing.
You break the kiss. "Stop," your hands pressed to his chest. "Sammy." You press your forehead to his.
"I just... I need you." He holds your face in his hands, thumbs passing over your cheekbones. "I want you."
"Where does your wife think you are?" Your eyes search his.
He pulls away from you, frustrated.
"Sammy, I... I want you," you breathe, "but not like this. I don't want to be another cliche." He doesn't respond. "You can stay here tonight. I just... we have to keeps things..."
"Friendly." He looks down at his wedding ring. He sighs, knowing you're right.
A/N: I'm a mess. I need the Quinn app to release his episode(s) now. For the time being, I'll just keep imagining him guiding me in my kitchen.
Jack makes eye contact across the bar. He watches as you wrap your tongue gently around the straw dancing in your drink. He's had one too many whiskeys, forgetting that he's your attending. He's supposed to be mentoring you, not fantasizing about being between your lips.
Worship me
Make you believe
I'm what you need
So beg, darlin', please
He knows it's wrong, but he can't stop thinking about you. It started as innocent, simply smelling your perfume lingering, hearing your laughter carrying through the air, admiring the way your brows pushed together when you were focused.
Now, that's not enough. He needs more. He needs you.
Baby, don't lie
It's okay that you crave me
Your eyes on my body, you're shaking
Get high on me for you're forsaken
He moves towards the bar, eyes focused on you. You're smiling at someone else, holding the straw gingerly between your fingers, and sucking mindlessly.
He stands behind you, his warmth immediate, and goosebumps rise on your skin. He turns towards you, his nose ghosting over your neck, his lips tickling the shell of your ear. He whispers your name.
Pretty when you say my name like that
Feel your lips trace down my neck
Darlin', don't say nothing, just breathe
He's got you pushed up against your door, finally in the privacy of your home, where he can worship you properly. He has your hands pinned above your head, barely grazing you as your noses touch, lips so close you can almost taste him.
He presses his lips to you, hungry, begging for access with his tongue. You break the kiss and place your forehead against his. He releases your hands, and you place them on his shoulders.
"Knees." There's no question from your lips. He groans as you watch him lower himself.
Pretty when you're looking up like that
Pray but Heaven won't let you back
Good on your knees
You undo your pants and slide them down your legs until they pool at your feet. His eyes turn dark, his tongue darts to wet his lips. He places soft kisses to your stomach, just above your underwear. He steadies himself by placing his hands on your hips and hooking his fingers under the hem of the only layer between him and what he really wants.
Slowly, he pulls down revealing his prize. He can see how aroused you are, dripping, puffy, and needy.
His tongue finds the spot where you need him most. You run your hands through his curls, gripping at the back, when he groans from the pressure.
"So good for me, Jack." You moan his name, head hitting the door, eyes rolling back. You've thought about this for so long. His lips, his mouth, his tongue.
Whisper, give me your life
Yeah, we're both sinners
Your body is close, your tongue lingers
You feed me the taste of your fingers
He slips a strong finger into your heat. It's sinful the way he's making you feel, but there is no guilt. No, this feels right, good, necessary.
He coaxes an orgasm from you sooner than you would've liked. He's drowning in you, and there's nowhere else he'd rather be. He looks up at you through his lashes, begging for your praise.
"So pretty looking up like that." You're breathless. "Is this what you need?"
He groans into you. You tug on his hair and signal for him to stand back up.
"Beg, darling. Please." You place a hand on the back of his neck.
"Please, please. I crave you." He places wet kisses on your neck towards your collarbone.
There's no time to make it to your bedroom. The couch will have to do. Neither of you can wait.
You step out of your pants and undergarments. Pushing him towards the sofa. He takes the hint, as you start undoing his belt, pushing his pants and boxers down just enough to reveal his own arousal.
He's big and standing at attention. You pass your thumb over his leaking head and watch his head roll back. You lift his shirt off, exposing freckled skin over tight muscles. You've dreamed about those biceps holding you.
"Sit." You lightly push his shoulder. You remove your own shirt, causing him to growl at you.
You climb on top of him, using his shoulders to steady yourself over him. You run him over slick center before pushing him in. The sounds leaving your mouths are animalistic.
"Yeah," he breathes, "yeah."
You're gliding up and down on him, chasing another orgasm.
"You're going to finish inside me, okay, Jack?" You look him in his eyes. "You're going to fill me up like I know you've imagined."
His head rolls back to your sofa. He's groaning like you've never heard before. "Okay," he whimpers.
"I'm close, Jack." He doesn't respond. "Are you listening?" You pull his hair.
"Yes, yes." He places his hands on your hips.
"That's right. Cum for me, Jack." You pick up speed. "Right now." You whisper into his ear.
He's never seen stars like that before. His hearing goes. He can't see or hear, but he feels like he's reached ecstasy. He can feel you grip him like a vice and milk him for everything he has. It's been months of him imagining this, and he never would've have pictured the way you look right now.
You dismount and walk to your kitchen. He watches as your ass jiggles, swaying away from him. He hates that you've left, but god, if you don't look downright delicious right now.
You return with a glass of water.
"I knew you could worship me, Jack." You climb into his lap, placing the lip of the glass to his lips. He gulps the water down, missing the taste of you as it coats his mouth.
A/N: I'm a mess. I need the Quinn app to release his episode(s) now. For the time being, I'll just keep imagining him guiding me in my kitchen.
Jack makes eye contact across the bar. He watches as you wrap your tongue gently around the straw dancing in your drink. He's had one too many whiskeys, forgetting that he's your attending. He's supposed to be mentoring you, not fantasizing about being between your lips.
Worship me
Make you believe
I'm what you need
So beg, darlin', please
He knows it's wrong, but he can't stop thinking about you. It started as innocent, simply smelling your perfume lingering, hearing your laughter carrying through the air, admiring the way your brows pushed together when you were focused.
Now, that's not enough. He needs more. He needs you.
Baby, don't lie
It's okay that you crave me
Your eyes on my body, you're shaking
Get high on me for you're forsaken
He moves towards the bar, eyes focused on you. You're smiling at someone else, holding the straw gingerly between your fingers, and sucking mindlessly.
He stands behind you, his warmth immediate, and goosebumps rise on your skin. He turns towards you, his nose ghosting over your neck, his lips tickling the shell of your ear. He whispers your name.
Pretty when you say my name like that
Feel your lips trace down my neck
Darlin', don't say nothing, just breathe
He's got you pushed up against your door, finally in the privacy of your home, where he can worship you properly. He has your hands pinned above your head, barely grazing you as your noses touch, lips so close you can almost taste him.
He presses his lips to you, hungry, begging for access with his tongue. You break the kiss and place your forehead against his. He releases your hands, and you place them on his shoulders.
"Knees." There's no question from your lips. He groans as you watch him lower himself.
Pretty when you're looking up like that
Pray but Heaven won't let you back
Good on your knees
You undo your pants and slide them down your legs until they pool at your feet. His eyes turn dark, his tongue darts to wet his lips. He places soft kisses to your stomach, just above your underwear. He steadies himself by placing his hands on your hips and hooking his fingers under the hem of the only layer between him and what he really wants.
Slowly, he pulls down revealing his prize. He can see how aroused you are, dripping, puffy, and needy.
His tongue finds the spot where you need him most. You run your hands through his curls, gripping at the back, when he groans from the pressure.
"So good for me, Jack." You moan his name, head hitting the door, eyes rolling back. You've thought about this for so long. His lips, his mouth, his tongue.
Whisper, give me your life
Yeah, we're both sinners
Your body is close, your tongue lingers
You feed me the taste of your fingers
He slips a strong finger into your heat. It's sinful the way he's making you feel, but there is no guilt. No, this feels right, good, necessary.
He coaxes an orgasm from you sooner than you would've liked. He's drowning in you, and there's nowhere else he'd rather be. He looks up at you through his lashes, begging for your praise.
"So pretty looking up like that." You're breathless. "Is this what you need?"
He groans into you. You tug on his hair and signal for him to stand back up.
"Beg, darling. Please." You place a hand on the back of his neck.
"Please, please. I crave you." He places wet kisses on your neck towards your collarbone.
There's no time to make it to your bedroom. The couch will have to do. Neither of you can wait.
You step out of your pants and undergarments. Pushing him towards the sofa. He takes the hint, as you start undoing his belt, pushing his pants and boxers down just enough to reveal his own arousal.
He's big and standing at attention. You pass your thumb over his leaking head and watch his head roll back. You lift his shirt off, exposing freckled skin over tight muscles. You've dreamed about those biceps holding you.
"Sit." You lightly push his shoulder. You remove your own shirt, causing him to growl at you.
You climb on top of him, using his shoulders to steady yourself over him. You run him over slick center before pushing him in. The sounds leaving your mouths are animalistic.
"Yeah," he breathes, "yeah."
You're gliding up and down on him, chasing another orgasm.
"You're going to finish inside me, okay, Jack?" You look him in his eyes. "You're going to fill me up like I know you've imagined."
His head rolls back to your sofa. He's groaning like you've never heard before. "Okay," he whimpers.
"I'm close, Jack." He doesn't respond. "Are you listening?" You pull his hair.
"Yes, yes." He places his hands on your hips.
"That's right. Cum for me, Jack." You pick up speed. "Right now." You whisper into his ear.
He's never seen stars like that before. His hearing goes. He can't see or hear, but he feels like he's reached ecstasy. He can feel you grip him like a vice and milk him for everything he has. It's been months of him imagining this, and he never would've have pictured the way you look right now.
You dismount and walk to your kitchen. He watches as your ass jiggles, swaying away from him. He hates that you've left, but god, if you don't look downright delicious right now.
You return with a glass of water.
"I knew you could worship me, Jack." You climb into his lap, placing the lip of the glass to his lips. He gulps the water down, missing the taste of you as it coats his mouth.
Summary: You suffer a code “Hula Hoop.” Jack checks on you.
TW: assault, blood, stitches, fluff.
A/N: I can’t with this man. His body language is quite literally the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I just finished Animal Kingdom, 10/10 highly recommend.
It happened quickly. It feels like a blur. So much so, when someone asks what happened, you can’t explain. It was so normal and then, it wasn’t.
You entered the patient’s room to do an assessment, explaining everything as you did. Something switched. The room felt thick and charged, the hair standing up on your neck. It comes with experience - your body can learn to pick up on the smallest shifts, animal instinct kicking back in after being deemed unnecessary by evolution.
The patient is out of the bed, pressed against you, pinned against the wall. He’s angry, at what, you aren’t sure. Not that it matters right now.
You try to shove him off, twisting your body to get your arms free, but to no avail. He’s growling, animalistic at you. You try to think of any possible way to get yourself free and manage to find one.
You reel your head back as much as you can in your position, which isn’t a lot, and smack your forehead against his face with a loud crash.
He finally releases you, and you dash for the door, blood spilling from your face.
“Hula hoop!” You rasp out, body flailing as you try to escape.
“Robby! Hula hoop!” Dana screams as she makes her way to you. She scoops you up and away. Her hands on your shoulders, shuttling you into a room.
“Hey, talk to me,” she tries to pull your hands from your face.
“I’m fine. Just bleeding.” You tilt your head back.
“Here.” She hands you a towel. She begins prepping supplies. “I’m going to grab an attending.”
“Dana, I’m fine. Just…”
She had already left the room. You sigh in disbelief. This was not how you saw your day going.
“Hey, Slugger.” Jack enters the room. You chuckle slightly.
“Don’t make me laugh.” You groan.
“Let’s check this out.” He removes the towel from your back and pulls air between his teeth. “Yeah, we’re gonna have to do surgery.”
“What!” You flinch at the pain.
“I’m kidding.” Jack begins dabbing at the blood on your face.
“Ass.” You lean back, trying to relax.
“Dana, I got this, if you need to get back.” Jack threw over his shoulder.
“You good, kid?” She leans up to make eye contact.
“Yeah. Thanks, mama bear.” You sigh. Dana exits at your weak smile.
“Alright, let’s numb you up.” Jack pull a needle from the tray. “You have a nasty gash on your forehead.”
“You should see the other guy.” You wince.
“You know, you’re kind of hot like this.” He says casually, as if it wasn’t a loaded statement.
You chuckle, eyes still closed. “What? Covered in blood?”
“No. Strong, unflinchingly so. And powerful.” He worked methodically on your stitches. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I think it’s the adrenaline. Probably hit me later that he could’ve seriously hurt me.”
“This isn’t serious?”
“Technically, I hurt myself. On his big dumb skull.”
You felt the environment shift again. This time to a serious note rather than a violent one like before.
“You gonna press charges?” He spoke softly, asking even though you knew what he wanted to hear.
“Oh, hell yeah.” You scoffed.
“Good girl.” He smiled gently.
“Jack, don’t you dare. Not right now.”
“I mean it. You’re a badass.”
“With a head wound to match.”
“You’re set. Do I need to go over aftercare with you?”
“Nope. I got it.” You swing your legs over the bed.
“Go get your things and go home.”
“Jack, I’m fine.” You wave him off.
“You were attacked by a patient and suffered a head wound. You’re lucky I don’t send you for a CT scan.” He placed his hands on your shoulders. “Please. Please go home. For me.” He bowed his head slightly, giving you those puppy dog eyes you couldn’t resist.
“Okay.” You relented.
He turned towards the door. “I’ll come check on you later, okay?”
You finally got to look at your face. Black eyes already developing, red, puffy skin where Jack expertly stitched you back together.
Summary: Pope gets you alone, but you aren’t threatened by him. No, instead, you call his bluff.
Warnings: implied smut, NSFW
A/N: can’t stop listening to to this song and dreaming about him.
He closed the door behind him. He looked at you determined, focused, intent. The party outside raged on. No one would notice your absence, at least for now.
“I heard something about you.” You pick at your cuticle nonchalantly.
“Oh yeah?” He stepped closer, the gap between you shrinking. “What’s that?”
“I was in your wet dream… driving in my car.” You whispered, breath hot as it fanned across his face. “What makes you think you’re good enough to think about me…” you reach between you, pulling on his jeans to bring him closer, “when you’re touching yourself?”
His breath hitches. He loves when you’re dominant. His brain finally shuts off, and all he can focus on is you.
“Answer me: what makes you think you you’re good enough?” You whisper against his jaw, nuzzling slightly against his stubble.
His brain isn’t functioning. You’re torturing him by touching lightly, slowly, tickling him. “I… uh… fuuuck.”
“So obscene. Gonna make a girl blush.” You pushed him on to the bed and started to shimmy off pants. You ran your nails down his bare thighs, strong, sturdy, and you can’t help but nip at them.
“Baby…” his voice strangled, yearning, begging for more.
Pope Headcanon where he wants to be on the phone with you while you’re at work.
You constantly have one earbud in, and people think you’re listening to music. Instead, Pope gets a glance into your daily life.
Occasionally, he’ll say he doesn’t like someone or how often people come talk to you.
“Baby, it’s literally my job to talk to people.” You giggle quietly.
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it. Can’t wait to meet that Jim guy.” He says sarcastically.
People might think it’s controlling. Secretly, you love listening to his daily life as well. Getting to hear him tinker around the house, casually grunting.
Summary: You treat yourself to a massage once a month to relax. Jack is slightly jealous you don’t ask him.
A/N: I guess I need Jack Abbot to bring me out of retirement (a little). Inspired by my own love of massages. Done on mobile, so I apologize for the formatting 🫣
As you pack your bag to head to your massage appointment, Jack enters the dining room.
You can feel him hovering when he says, “Are you sure I can’t provide you the relaxation you need?”
You chuckle, “Jack, you don’t have the purest intentions when you offer me a massage.” You turn around to place your hands on his chest. “I appreciate the offer though.”
“Can I at least pay for it?”
“Jack, that really isn’t necessary.”
He scoops you into his arms. “I want my baby to feel taken care of. Here.” He hands you his credit card.
“Well, if you insist,” plucking the card from between his fingers. You place a playful kiss on his cheek. “I’ll see you after your shift.”
————————————————————————-
Later, as Jack is preparing for the hand off of day shift to night shift, Robby pats his shoulder.
“No y/n tonight?” He pretends to look around.
Jack looks up from his computer, “Nah. It’s massage day. They’ll be in tomorrow.”
“Oooooo, a massage! Fancy,” Dr. Langdon chimes in.
“Jack, are you not offering to massage your girl?” Dr. Ellis jokingly asks.
“Oh, I did.” He shrugs. “She said my intentions aren’t ’pure,’ whatever that means.”
Robby stifles a laugh. “Why does that not surprise me?”
“Um, I don’t get it,” Whitaker looks around innocently. Ellis leans over and whispers something into his ear. “Oh! Haha, right,” he laughs nervously.
“What do you mean ‘right?’” Jack questions.
“You know… I, uh” Whitaker stumbles.
“Are you saying you want to massage, y/n?” Jack leans towards the quivering doctor.
“What?! No! I just…”
“Oh, so you wouldn’t massage y/n if they were your partner?” Jack pushes.
“No, I would! They deserve it!”
Jack moves from behind the desk and says quietly, “You’d be so lucky.”
With that and a chuckle, Jack heads to his first patient of the night, hoping his less than pure intentions come into play when he arrives home to you tomorrow.
Summary: You treat yourself to a massage once a month to relax. Jack is slightly jealous you don’t ask him.
A/N: I guess I need Jack Abbot to bring me out of retirement (a little). Inspired by my own love of massages. Done on mobile, so I apologize for the formatting 🫣
As you pack your bag to head to your massage appointment, Jack enters the dining room.
You can feel him hovering when he says, “Are you sure I can’t provide you the relaxation you need?”
You chuckle, “Jack, you don’t have the purest intentions when you offer me a massage.” You turn around to place your hands on his chest. “I appreciate the offer though.”
“Can I at least pay for it?”
“Jack, that really isn’t necessary.”
He scoops you into his arms. “I want my baby to feel taken care of. Here.” He hands you his credit card.
“Well, if you insist,” plucking the card from between his fingers. You place a playful kiss on his cheek. “I’ll see you after your shift.”
————————————————————————-
Later, as Jack is preparing for the hand off of day shift to night shift, Robby pats his shoulder.
“No y/n tonight?” He pretends to look around.
Jack looks up from his computer, “Nah. It’s massage day. They’ll be in tomorrow.”
“Oooooo, a massage! Fancy,” Dr. Langdon chimes in.
“Jack, are you not offering to massage your girl?” Dr. Ellis jokingly asks.
“Oh, I did.” He shrugs. “She said my intentions aren’t ’pure,’ whatever that means.”
Robby stifles a laugh. “Why does that not surprise me?”
“Um, I don’t get it,” Whitaker looks around innocently. Ellis leans over and whispers something into his ear. “Oh! Haha, right,” he laughs nervously.
“What do you mean ‘right?’” Jack questions.
“You know… I, uh” Whitaker stumbles.
“Are you saying you want to massage, y/n?” Jack leans towards the quivering doctor.
“What?! No! I just…”
“Oh, so you wouldn’t massage y/n if they were your partner?” Jack pushes.
“No, I would! They deserve it!”
Jack moves from behind the desk and says quietly, “You’d be so lucky.”
With that and a chuckle, Jack heads to his first patient of the night, hoping his less than pure intentions come into play when he arrives home to you tomorrow.
hey! idk if ur taking requests or if ur even an active blog anymore but i like the idea of zack being the teacher to the reader (grad student) and things getting steamy..
I had goals to be active this break, but alas, I was not no will add this to the list though!
Maybe I’ll get a spark of inspiration on my last day of break.
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