no but sending jack nude pictures of yourself while he’s on shift?? him literally having to rub one out in the hospital bathrooms cause his wife keeps sending him the most outrageous pictures of herself
you're toast.
you suspect it the second you send the photo, and you know for certain after seeing the read receipt pop up on your phone. no response. not even an annoyed scold through text for you to cut it out.
just a read 5:46 am, answering the question of whether he's seen them or not. the three pictures you sent him... the second of the bunch a shot of you hugging your chest and just barely covering where your nipples sit pebbled at attention.
you only feel a little bad hitting send but being off tonight means missing him. and missing him means dealing with the ache between your legs he's usually there to take care of. to make matters worse, your fingers don't do anything, even when you close your eyes and pretend they're his.
the third picture is the meanest, you'll admit. a capture of said fingers, slick and shining with the mess of juice gathering along your slit. but you're wet and desperate and searing with something only jack can expel.
you wake a few hours after the sleep hijacks your attempt of waiting up for your husband to open-mouthed kisses across your chest. it's particularly the tugging of one of your nipples between two sharp rolls of teeth that have you gasping back into consciousness.
blinking open your eyes, you find jack already staring back at you. he growls into your tit, giving it one more suck before yanking his mouth away.
he stares at you for a long second, gaze dark with something that makes your heart skip a beat.
"...hi," you rasp out, voice slightly weak from sleep but also because of the way jack shifts to rest on his elbows and hang over you with a clenched jaw. "how was work?"
a gulp bobs your throat when you count at least seven seconds go by before he finally answers.
"do you have... any idea what you fucking do to me?"
your ability to answer is completely snatched away by the depths of his voice. low yet steady as he asks you, lowering to cage you in further. he's so close that his breath fans across your chin, and you don't dare look away from him.
"you know..." the words pepper out of jack through a grin-less chuckle, and pairs with a nudging of the head into the heat of your slit. he's already naked, you finally realize, and there's a lethargy to the way he pushes himself inside you that forces your eyes lids to flutter. "i think you do, actually. i think there is not one doubt in your mind that sending shit like that to me while i'm at work fucks me up so bad that I can't remember one of the nurses' names."
"'m sorry," you whine, legs moving to wrap around when his hips meet yours. a shiver ripples throughout your body when he nudges deeper, sinking so deeply that he's pinning you against the mattress now. "i just–fuck–i just missed you."
jack lets his weight hang heavy, and you pant at how full you feel. his cock sits thick and snug inside you, throbbing better than you imagined during the hours prior. he shifts purposefully, his eyes still cemented to the way your face contorts as the veins across his shaft ripple against your walls.
"i missed you, too, gorgeous," jack coos, moving the hands you don't realize you've planted on his chest to pin them at the sides of your head. his hips rear back barely before rutting hard to plunge himself back into you as deep as you'll let him.
you cry out out a choked moan, entire body jolting at the force behind the thrust.
"but i also gotta make you pay for getting me all chubbed up during my shift. had me fucking aching for five goddamn hours. you're lucky it was an easy night, too. gave me a chance to sneak away for a bathroom break," jack whispers, voice edging with more anticipation than irritation.
tightening his grip around your wrists, jack starts to fuck you at a furious pace. he bucks, channeling all the energy he pent up while trying not to come in his scrubs during the drive home behind every thrusts of his hips. he huffs out a breath with every rut, grunting at the way you squeezing around him.
he only lets go of your wrist so he can fully collapse against you, one of his hands grabbing at your chin so the only thing you can see is him.
"you come, and i stop," he states roughly, and you whine in protest.
"but–" you try, and jack shushes you with a sloppy kiss. his tongue bullies into your mouth, lapping against yours with a fever you just barely match.
"but nothing," he declares between the deep snog, hips pausing so he can take a breath. "you sent me, what? three pictures? so that means i get to edge you three times."
"jack–"
"might make it four" he thinks. "cause that last one was just rude, baby."
rumors always start somewhere - and the one about you and a certain attending started somewhere between a whispered confession and myrna overhearing you.
☆ no man's land | @butyoudidthis4what
there's a shooting where you work. jack is at the ed when the dispatch comes in and is terrified when he can't get in touch with you.
☆ edge of the dark | @thepencilnerd
what starts as quiet pining after too many long shifts becomes something heavier, messier, softer - until the only place it makes sense is in the dark.
☆ this city doesn't forget | @abbotjack
you weren't supposed to see him again. not like this. not in this dress, not in this city, not with his last name still catching in your throat. but pittsburgh remembers what you tried to bury.
☆ you, me, and the empty space between us | @mercvry-glow
jack abbot talks the reader off of the ledge.
☆ just a walk-in | @abbotsanatomy
jack's worst nightmare is you ending up in his er.
☆ bar fight | @tedmustache
a rough night leads the reader to the er, and jack's only priority is making sure she's okay.
☆ coffee swap | @tedmustache
it starts with coffee. then it becomes something more.
☆ safe and sound | @science-hoes
a stormy night in pittsburgh causes jack abbot to fall into a ptsd-induced psychosis episode, and the reader does everything in her power to bring them back.
☆ you say that like you care | @frombookstoretobookstore
after reader takes a punch to the face, abbot's emotions flare as he realizes he might care a little too much.
☆ overactive empathy | @lol-im-done
will a traumatic event force jack and the reader to confront their true feelings for each other or pull them apart forever?
☆ first thing | @stellamarielu
lazy mornings with jack are few and far between, but they always exceed your expectations.
☆ who you let in | @eddiesfaerie
jack has a soft spot. he didn't expect you to be the one to find it.
☆ you shouldn't be (down here with me) | @youvebeenlivingfictional
when you're almost shot at work, your body snaps into autopilot as your mind goes into overdrive. jack has always recognized parts of himself in you - he knows a mind teetering on the edge when he sees one.
☆ love me hard love me soft | @mercvry-glow
jack abbot isn't a soft man, but he'll learn for you.
☆ stop making this hurt | @mercvry-glow
you knew jack didn't want to go to pitt fest, instead suggesting you take a few of your girl friends on your day off. little does he know that decision leads to you experiencing the worst day of your life without him.
☆ valkyries and betting pools | @nocapesdahling
one of the most popular and secret betting pools is focused on what's going on with you and dr. abbot. meanwhile, you just want to figure out if the man you've had a crush on for months likes you back.
☆ someone new | @quickestgold
after witnessing the fallout from jack's failed marriage, dana and robby have been skeptical of his new relationship. but when a freak accident forces them to see the depth of jack's feelings, their perspectives shift.
☆ don't make me someone you can't have | @abbotjack
the fallout didn't start the day of pitt fest - it started when you told jack abbot how you felt and he told you he didn't want you.
☆ say it first | @quickestgold
jack has grown used to the emptiness in his heart, a quiet companion that has kept him safe for too long. but when you finally speak your truth, he realizes the hardest battles aren't fought on the field or in the chaos of the er, but in the silence between two hearts longing for each other.
michael 'robby' robinavitch
☆ companionship | @asxgard
he’s not sure how he got here, perhaps it’s the aching loneliness or the overwhelming stress. you’re there because it seems like easy money and you have a pushy friend. all in all, it’s a good deal — he gets the companionship he’s after, no strings, and you get your utility bills paid on time. it’s pretty simple, easy, until your arrangement bleeds into something a bit more…complicated.
☆ lead the way | @traumaone
after over a year of pining over robby, reader gets into a relationship to try and get over him, and gets cheated on. robby comes to the rescue.
☆ booked for one | @abbotjack
a black tie charity gala in chicago. one bed. months of tension. and a storm that forces both of you to stop pretending.
☆ glasses be damned | @thepencilnerd
lazy sunday mornings. you in his shirt. him wearing - glasses? what could be better?
☆ drunk confessions | @thepencilnerd
you're out drinking with your colleagues. robby's not there - until he is.
☆ sticky-notes and leftovers | @thepencilnerd
a glimpse into your daily notions with robby after moving in.
☆ sweet nothings | @thebestandworstdayofjune
you own a bakery down the street from ptmh, and dr. robby is one of your favorite customers.
☆ peace | @xximperioxx
the reader comforts robby after a hard shift (she talks him off the ledge).
☆ work crush | @xximperioxx
the reader has a crush on robby. spoiler alert: it's reciprocated.
☆ doctor's orders | @tedmustache
when one rough day pushes things to a breaking point, unspoken feelings come dangerously close to the surface.
☆ the right moment is you | @cherriready
robby didn't mean to propose today. not during a long shift, not without a plan, and definitely not in front of the er. but when he saw her, he saw the rest of his life. no speeches. no perfect moment. just her. always her.
just thinking about what jack abbot can do with his hands… so big and dexterous… mhmm
jack abbot x female reader drabble nsfw 18+ mdni
Him with one hand around your throat, the other in-between your legs. Two thick fingers curled into you while he holds your jaw steady under his thumb.
“Keep your eyes on me baby.”
His stare is intense— almost calculated. The wrinkle between his brows highlighted by his focus on your pleasure.
Eye contact.
Jacks thrives off of it. He craves the mutual respect and shared vulnerability that’s exchanged between stares. It shows understanding and admiration. A major key in effective communication.
“C’mon, look at me.” His grip on your throat grows firm, and there’s a familiar sharpness swimming in his voice through its steadfast delivery. It was the same tone he used when he was determined to get his way. Only now, with you on his bed and his fingers working you toward your second orgasm of the night, his command held a unique softness— one of obsessed devotion.
“I wanna see how pretty you look when you soak my fingers.”
You're straining to keep your eyes open, little whimpers falling from your lips and your head nodding in unspoken submission.
His hum of approval is low and guttural as he nods his head to mirror yours.
“Yeah? That feel good? Right there?” Teetering with sadism, his questions mock the desperation of your pussy squeezing his fingers.
His digits move deliberately, testing the weight of your eyelids. Your stare is heavy; eyes dazed and threatening to close, but completely fixed on jack.
The pressure builds like a strand of tension pulling tight in your abdomen. The burn of its stretch intensifying with every drawal of his fingers.
Two knuckles deep he works you open. His grip on your neck is genlte, just tight enough to remind you to keep watching him.
“That’s it baby. Fuck- let me have it.”
Back arching, your body pushes further into his touch, melting into his grasp. His hands hold your body, fingers getting lost at the delicate skin of your neck and the warm invitation of your walls pulling him even deeper— clenching.
A knowing smirk settles on his lips, but his eyes never lose their focus; carefully tracking the way your brows knit together and your lips part, body tensing.
“Oh- there it is. Good girl.”
Tembling, you fall in line with his words, coming hard. Relief floods his gaze while you pulse around his fingers. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let up. He keeps the same pace, plunging deep into you, curving his fingertips until you’re bringing your hand to wrap around his forearm.
“Jack.” It’s a breathless whine. An attempt to tell him you’ve had enough, that he can stop. But he doesn’t.
“You can do it baby.”
Ruthless, he ticks his head to the side, his hand still holding loosely at your neck.
“I’ve got you.” His voice falters, not by mistake, but in reassurance. He knows your body in ways you don’t, knows just how much you can handle. And the look in your eyes when he has you right at the edge of your limit— that’s his salvation.
“Give me a little more. C’mon, you can take it.”
He’s on a mission, determined to watch your eyes fight against rolling back in your head. The writhing desperation of your body in his hands is driving him into near predatory madness with your pleasure as his prize.
“Let it out.” It’s a command delivered in the rasp of his low groan, one that you follow blindly— helplessly.
Your grip on his forearm tightens, fingertips pressing into muscle as your body stills. Pressure snaps as your release floods through you. Somehow, your eyes stay on his as your mouth parts, and strangled whines push past your lips while you gush around his fingers.
His stare is laced with greed, eyes only leaving yours for a moment to look down at his fingers still slowly pushing into you.
“Look at that.” Through a stare of depraved approval, he watches your mess coat his fingers. His hand at your throat eases, thumb rubbing softly over your jaw in a gentle moment of affection.
"Knew you had it in you." Spoken with a sincere gaze and a quick smirk, Jack's playful words ring in your ears as your chest heaves and your mind stumbles through a fog, the only thing guiding you is the rhythmic stroke of his thumb on your skin.
summary: lazy mornings with jack are few and far between, but they always exceed your expectations or jack topping you from the bottom while you ride him first thing in the morning!
content: nsfw, 18+ mdni, literally nothing but smut, established relationship of some sort (let your imaginations run wild), p in v sex, dirty talk bc of course, excessive use of the nickname baby, jack being a veryyy lowkey pleasure dom
word count: 1.1k
author’s note: i’m a firm believer that our dear dr. abbot has a filthy mouth, so of course i had to write something nasty for him. the lack of smut for that smug son of a bitch is criminal. also i am convinced that he would call you baby in bed, but only in bed. i dont think he’d be one for pet names, but something about him being all pussy drunk and calling you baby through low raspy groans. yeah. that is all… enjoy!
“You havin’ fun up there?” Jack’s voice was peppered with self-righteous teasing. His words melted into the air through a lazy drawl as you straddled his lap, his dick buried deep between your legs.
Fifteen minutes ago, you were both fast asleep, bodies intertwined under his linen sheets.
You stirred awake in each other's arms, a tangled mess of limbs in the soft yellow hues of morning light that fought through the blinds. Slow sensual touches on bare skin led to your body on top of his. Feeling the familiar stretch as you sunk down on him, you took your time rolling your hips and coaxing quiet grunts from the man below you before either of you could even think about getting out of bed for the day.
It was rare for you to have an upper hand in the bedroom. When it came to Jack, dominance was his territory, the power associated with it fed his ego. It was uncommon to catch him in a moment of vulnerability, but sometimes you found him trading his strong willed attitude for a more docile demeanor. It often appeared when he was preoccupied or overcome with the need for relief, giving into the soft comfort of your hands on his body. He had to be just needy enough to willingly let take the lead, and even then, he could never fully submit.
He used his words in retaliation.
Maybe his rigid frame would melt under your touch, or his inhibitions would fall to the side at the sound of your pathetic little moans, but he would always rely on his words to remind you who was really in charge.
“Nice and slow just like that.” The deep rasp of his voice echoed between your bodies; his instruction still laced with sleep.
A smirk peeked through his slumber worn expression, fingertips resting at the flesh of your waist as your body pressed into his.
His head fell back into the pillow, eyes threatening to close, and you could feel his fingers hug harder into your skin with each rock of your hips.
“There you go.” He held you, trying his best to let you set the pace, but desperately wanting to tighten his grip and drag you along his body— rough and impulsive.
Your fucked-out stare scanning him from above was the only thing keeping him in check.
Your pleading eyes begged for control. They practically oozed with desperation as you rode him. It was enough to make his grasp soften as he surrendered to your desire, watching as you used him to please yourself. Used him. His dick pulsed at the notion.
Jack was addicted to you, mind numbingly obsessed with the soft gasps that fell from your lips every time you came. He swore those sounds alone could give him a buzz unlike any drug. Some nights, he’d make you finish on his fingers so many times he’d lose count. He needed to make you feel good— wanted to watch the way your body reacted to his touch. It held a different kind of control, witnessing you give yourself over to him with your back arched and your head thrown back.
“Show me how you want it baby.” His voice was attentive as he fed into your delusion of power.
You were grinding into him. Your movements bordering on pitiful with your palm flat against his chest as you held yourself upright. Little whimpers of surrender made their way from your chest with each pass of your hips over his, angling yourself just right so that his tip brushed against the perfect spot with every movement.
Fluttering shut in the inevitable anticipation of release; your eyes left his. You were basking in the warmth of his hands on your bare body; one of them trailing up your torso, the pads of his fingertips tracing into your skin, higher and higher until,
“Eyes on me.” Delicately, he held the nape of your neck, forcing your stare back on his as he pulled you closer to him.
You dumbly nodded your head. Handing him back an ounce of authority as you followed his command through a hooded gaze.
“Look at you. So goddamn pretty for me.”
Your jaw went slack at his words, mouth slightly open and brows knit together as the pressure building in your abdomen threatened its release.
He could feel each greedy response of your body— could sense your impending orgasm with every clench of your thighs, and he was done letting you take the reins.
His hips snapped up to meet yours. Thrusts moving in tandem with each grind of your hips.
“Shit- you feel too fuckin’ good.” Profanities spilled from his throat at the satisfaction of having full control.
He was holding onto your hips and fucking into you from below. The tensing of your body and the sweet moans dripping from your tongue only adding to his pleasure. You were his. He needed it— craved the promise of your devotion in the breathless praise of his name on your lips.
“Come on baby let me have it.” Growling out in a low moan, he all but begged you to finish for him— finish on him. Pushing you right over the edge with just a few simple words and the persuasive quality of his voice.
Your walls hugged tight in obedience, a string of whines leaving your throat as you came undone around him.
“There she is.” His statement of recognition seeped with affection while his grip on your hips remained unrelenting.
The high of your release persisted as Jack’s thrusts kept purpose, his hands on your body holding you steady.
“Got another one for me?” A sadistic warmth took over his voice, and he drove into you harder. The question obviously rhetorical as he made sure to hit the spot that made you clench around him.
The day began around you as gentle sunlight filled the room, but neither of you had a single thought of getting out of bed anytime soon.
Cute lil quirk that's totally not making me spiral
Abbot seeking out eye contact which is probably a result of his military training. "I'm going to make sure you heard me and you will register it" but there's something so special about it being primarily used in times of reassurance.
NOW I also can't stop imagining that he's got you laid down on your back, hovering over you. either gentle: "eyes on me. lemme see those pretty eyes" or rough "look at me" as he grabs your jaw, holding your face still as he looks deep into your eyes
ALSO imagine in the fluffy sense him coming home after a long night just needing to hold you. you naturally wake up as he crawls into bed as he wraps you into his arms. resting his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes, just trying to ground himself. taking himself away from the darkness and chaos of the world.
18+ MDNI—warning : dominant!jack, slow burn, public sex (on-call room/supply closet), praise kink, overstimulation, restraint/control, emotional repression, soft but possessive aftercare, rough sex with emotional weight. It's all smut so read at your own risk!
a/n : I fear I went a little too feral with this because why is this like 3,500 words. Also all of these are just my opinion! Maybe I'll do one for Robby next idk. But if you enjoyed this perhaps consider giving me a follow so you can stay up to date on newer stuff!
♡ A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Jack doesn’t say much after sex—he never has. But that doesn’t mean he leaves you hanging.
He moves like muscle memory: wipes you down with slow, practiced hands; helps you into his T-shirt without breaking eye contact; presses a kiss to your knee like it wasn’t just shaking against his shoulder minutes ago. His hands tremble a little, sometimes—not from the sex, but from the way you look at him after. Like you see through all of it.
And when you fall asleep against him, spine curved to fit his body, he doesn’t move. Not for hours. Not even when his arm goes numb. He just lies there, heartbeat still ragged, staring at the ceiling like he’s waiting for the world to end.
But when he does finally breathe—deep and full, like it hurts—he buries his face in your hair and says the one thing he never lets himself say out loud.
“Don’t go.”
You’re already asleep.
He’s glad.
Because if you heard him? He’d never be able to pretend it didn’t mean everything.
♡ B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
His : His arms. Thick-veined, corded with muscle, scarred from combat and trauma and living too many lives. When he wraps them around you, it feels like armor.
Yours : Your hips. He grips them when he’s losing it, when he’s fucking you deep and saying your name like a warning. He’d die with his mouth on that soft skin just above your hipbone.
♡ C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Jack doesn’t just cum—he surrenders. He tries to hold back (he always does), but when it hits, it’s like a dam breaking. His whole body tenses. His voice breaks. He spills deep, possessive, groaning into your mouth or your cunt like he needs to be inside you to survive. There’s always a pause afterward—like he’s shocked by how much he needed it.
♡ D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
He has a photo of you—nothing explicit. Just you in his bed, back turned, bare shoulders peeking out from the sheets, sunlight catching the curve of your spine. You were still asleep when he took it.
He told himself it was just the light. Just the moment.
But that photo? He looks at it more than he should. Especially on the nights where he’s on call and his body aches . He opens it, zooms in—not even to jerk off. Just to breathe. To remind himself there’s softness waiting for him somewhere.
But sometimes, after a night that’s been too long and a shift that took too much, he’ll sit on the edge of his bed, phone in one hand, the other wrapped tight around his cock. And he’ll stare at that photo, jaw clenched, thinking about how warm your body felt under his palms, how you sighed when he kissed the back of your neck.
You’ll never know about it. He’ll never show you. It’s not porn. It’s not even explicit.
But it’s the dirtiest thing he owns.
Because it’s real. And it’s you.
♡ E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Jack knows bodies. Intimately. Years of military life, adrenaline-fueled hookups, flings that burned fast and left no ashes. He knows how to make someone come hard, fast, and quiet. He knows pressure points, pace, rhythm. He knows what makes a body break—but not what makes one stay.
And then came you. And suddenly, none of that mattered. He learns you.
Because this isn’t just sex anymore—it’s a goddamn reckoning. Jack touches you like he’s afraid it might be the last time. Kisses you like he doesn’t know how to stop. Every time he fucks you, it’s a war between instinct and emotion. Between everything he knows and everything he’s terrified to feel. He’s experienced, yes. But with you? He’s learning all over again.
♡ F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
You, facedown, pinned under his weight, your legs spread, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck. Not choking—just anchoring. He likes knowing you’re there, fully his, every inch of him pressed to every inch of you. But he also loves when you ride him—loves watching your body take him, he is so greedy when it comes to you.
♡ G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Not in the moment. Jack is intense. Serious. But afterward, when your cheek is on his chest and your fingers are tracing the scar near his ribs? He softens. He smirks. Says things like “Didn’t know you could make that noise” just to watch your face burn.
♡ H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Jack keeps it neat. Always has. Military habit. Something about order, control—even in the most private parts of himself. It’s never been about looks; it’s about function. Clean. Trimmed. Routine. No fuss.
But it’s not bare. Never has been. That’s not him. And after you told him—quietly, shyly, your fingertips brushing his lower stomach—that you liked it, the way it felt against your thighs, the way it looked when you were on your knees? He started letting it grow just a little longer.
Not much. Just enough for you to feel it when you're grinding down on him, slick and panting, your body flush to his. Just enough that when you tug his pants down and your fingers slip into the waistband, they brush coarse hair and your breath catches.
He noticed that sound.
Didn’t say anything. Just… didn’t trim as short next time.
It’s a quiet thing. A choice he makes without ever acknowledging it. Jack wouldn’t tell you that your preferences have changed his habits—but they have. And he likes the way your eyes drop when he undresses, the way your touch lingers there.
It’s one more thing that belongs to you. Even if you’ll never hear him say it.
♡ I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Jack doesn’t do soft—at least, not like other men do. He doesn’t light candles or lay rose petals on the bed. But he holds your face in both hands after sex like he’s trying to memorize it. He strokes your lower back long after you’ve stopped trembling. And when he pushes into you slow, deep, deliberate, with his forehead pressed against yours, he says your name like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. He kisses you. Slow. Starved. Like a man who knows exactly how far he's fallen but refuses to stop.
♡ J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
He doesn’t do it often—not because he doesn’t want to, but because he can’t. Not when you’re not there. Not when all it does is remind him of what he’s missing.
But when he does? It’s always in the dark. After a shift. Alone. With your scent still lingering in his sheets and his body aching like hell. He pulls your shirt from under his pillow—the one you left after staying over, the one you said he could keep. He fumbles for it one-handed, already hard, already leaking. He buries his face in the cotton and groans against it like he’s ashamed of how much he needs you.
♡ K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Jack doesn’t talk about what he likes. He shows it. Quiet control. Firm hands. A mouth that worships. He loves being in charge—not because he wants to own you, but because he wants to take care of you.
His biggest kink? Obedience, but only when you choose it. When you’re writhing beneath him, wrists pinned, whispering “Please, Jack” like he’s the only one who can give you what you need.
Also? Praise. He doesn’t say it often, but when you clench around him and cry out and break, he grits his teeth and growls it into your neck :
“That’s it. You take me so fucking well.”
“Good girl. Just like that.”
You come harder when he says it. And he knows it.
♡ L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Jack wants you at his place. Always has.
His apartment isn’t flashy, but it’s his. Clean. Controlled. Quiet. And the bedroom? That’s where he lets go—not of control, but of everything else. That’s where he fucks you like it’s the only time he’ll ever get to. Where he strips you bare one piece at a time, lays you out on his dark sheets, and takes his time learning every inch of you all over again. Pressing you into the mattress with the kind of weight that makes you gasp, slides into you so deep and slow it feels like your spine lights up.
“My bed. My rules. My fuckin’ girl.”
And when he makes you come—back arched, his name bitten into your tongue—he kisses you like it’s the only thing that’s ever made sense.
That’s how he prefers it.
But sometimes? He can’t wait.
You know that look in his eye—the one that says I need you now. The one that burns across the ER. The one that makes you pause in the stairwell because he’s following too close, and you know what’s coming.
→ The on-call room
He locks the door behind you like he’s done it before. No words. Just hands. Rough. Skilled. Urgent. He lifts you onto the cot, pushes your scrub pants down, and slides his fingers between your thighs while your back hits the pillow.
“Already wet for me?” he whispers, voice dark and quiet, body crowding yours.
You nod, breathless. He kisses you like he’s starving and fucks you like he’s trying to keep you there forever. One hand over your mouth, the other gripping your thigh to keep you open, filled, silent.
But you’re not silent. Not when he whispers, “You gonna come for me, sweetheart? Just like that?”
You always do.
→ The supply closet
It’s tighter. Dirtier. The fluorescent lights hum above your head as he shoves boxes aside, pulls you into the corner, and pushes you against the shelving. His knee presses between your thighs, spreading you open. His mouth crashes into yours like a mistake he’ll make a thousand times over.
He hikes your leg up and thrusts in without preamble. You both groan. You’re still in your coat. His ID badge brushes your chest every time he slams into you. It’s ridiculous. It’s filthy. It’s perfect.
“Gotta be quick,” he pants, forehead to yours.
You claw at his back. You come with your eyes rolling and your voice cracking.
And when he pulls out, kisses you fast, and adjusts your scrubs for you? You swear he almost smiles.
♡ M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
You. Always you.
The way you say his name like it’s a dare. The little sigh you make when you stretch first thing in the morning. The curve of your waist when you’re standing in scrubs and not even trying. He notices everything, even if he pretends not to.
But what really undoes him? When you touch him without needing anything. Just… because you want to. Your fingers grazing his jaw. Your mouth on his shoulder. Your hand slipping into his lap during a silent moment.
“You want something?” he’ll ask, low.
You’ll just smile.
“Just you.”
And that’s it. That’s all it takes.
♡ N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Jack draws hard lines. Nothing humiliating. No hardcore degradation. No making you feel small—he’s seen enough of that in the world and he won’t recreate it in the one place that’s supposed to feel safe.
Another limit? Emotionless sex. He’s done it before. He’s lived in it. He won’t go back.
With you, it has to mean something. Every time.
♡ O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He eats pussy like it’s the first thing he’s tasted in days. Slow at first—just his tongue flicking softly against your clit, building you up. He likes to tease, to wait for your thighs to shake and your hips to roll up into his mouth before he gives in.
But once you’re begging? He gets filthy. Hands pinning your thighs wide, tongue fucking you until you scream his name. And when you come? He groans like it’s his orgasm too.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Give it to me. I’ve got you.”
He loves how wrecked you get. How sensitive. How breathless.
And he doesn’t stop after one.
♡ P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Jack doesn’t fuck like a man in a hurry.
He takes his time—too much time sometimes. Because when you spread your thighs for him, when your hands reach for his body like you need it to live? He doesn’t rush. He watches. Studies. Breathes through it like he's grounding himself in the moment.
That first thrust is slow. Deep. Intentional. His forehead touches yours as he pushes all the way in, until your breath hitches and your fingers curl against his back.
“There you go,” he murmurs, voice low and ragged.
“Nice and full, huh? I’ve got you.”
He pulls out just as slow. Watches your face. Feels your cunt clench around nothing.
Then he does it again. And again.
And again.
He keeps that pace—not teasing, not soft. Just controlled, the kind of fucking that makes your thighs shake long before you come. He’s punishing in how patient he can be. Like he knows exactly how close you are, and chooses to keep you right there—hovering on the edge, dizzy, begging.
“You want it faster?” he asks, breath warm against your cheek.
“Then say it. Say you need me.”
And when you do—when the words finally break out of your throat—his hands grip your hips harder. He pulls out halfway and slams back in so fast and deep your back arches off the bed.
That’s when you see it. The crack in him.
Because when Jack loses control, he loses it all the way. His rhythm turns punishing. Relentless. That perfect control unravels in a blur of heat and friction and need. He presses you down into the mattress, fucking you with his whole body, like he’s trying to anchor himself inside you.
You moan. Sob. Shake.
He doesn’t stop.
Not until your voice is raw and your body is wrecked and he’s buried deep, groaning into your neck.
♡ Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Jack doesn’t chase quickies—but he doesn’t pretend he doesn’t think about them either. Not when you look at him like that.
Not when your palm rests on his chest for a second too long while passing in the hall. Not when you whisper something filthy against his neck just before rounds, smile innocent, and walk away.
He holds it together better than most—years of training, war, ER chaos. But you? You’re the thing he can’t regulate. And every so often, when the tension coils too tight and the shift won’t give him space to breathe, he takes what he needs.
He’s careful about it. Deliberate. And it’s fast—but not careless.
♡ R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Jack calculates risk like breathing—it’s instinct, wired into him from years of surviving things most people can’t imagine. He doesn’t leap into anything he can’t control.
But you? You make him want to.
He won’t take dumb risks—but if the room’s empty, the door locks, and your body’s on his mind all shift long? He’ll fuck you up against that wall with one hand over your mouth and the other gripping your thigh like he’s daring you to say stop.
♡ S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Jack lasts long. He wants to feel everything. Wants to see how many times he can make you come before he even thinks about finishing.
He can edge himself for what feels like forever, holding back even as his arms tremble from restraint. If you beg? If you plead? He’ll give in—but it’s never just once. He’ll take you again, slower. Or rougher. Or with your legs trembling and your voice breaking as you say his name like it’s the only one you know.
“You done?” he’ll ask, lips brushing your jaw,
“Or do you want one more?”
Spoiler : it’s always one more.
♡ T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Jack never went in for toys. Not because he’s opposed—but because he never needed them. He knows your body. He knows what works. His fingers. His mouth. His cock? That’s always been enough.
But when you brought a small vibrator into bed one night—nothing dramatic, just something quiet and simple—he didn’t blink. Just watched you lay back, already flushed, already wet, the toy pressed between your thighs while you looked up at him.
He didn’t say anything.
Just took it from your hand. Gently. Calmly. Pressed it back to your clit while he slid his fingers inside you and watched. Watched your body respond. Watched your eyes flutter. Watched you break apart.
“That’s it.”
His voice low, steady.
“Stay right there.”
He didn’t tease. Didn’t narrate. Just kept his eyes on you and held the toy in place while you came, legs shaking, breath stuttering.
Now? It lives in his nightstand. Just one. That’s all he needs.
He only pulls it out when he wants to take his time. When he wants to hold you down, watch you tremble, keep you on edge for so long that by the time he finally fucks you, you’re already half undone.
♡ U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Jack is brutal.
Not with his words—but with his restraint. With how long he can edge you. How calmly he can keep his voice as your hips grind against him, slick and desperate, and he still doesn’t give you what you want.
“Not yet.”
“Hold still.”
“You wanted this—now take it.”
He doesn’t tease to humiliate—he teases because he loves watching you need him. Watching you squirm. Watching you crack.
And when you finally come?
He leans in, mouth at your ear, and whispers :
“Told you I’d get you there.”
♡ V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Jack’s not loud—but he’s not silent either.
He breathes heavy through his nose. Grits his teeth when you moan his name. Curses under his breath when you tighten around him and drag your nails down his back. “Fuck. Just like that.”
He groans—low, deep, like it’s being pulled out of his chest. Sometimes? He growls your name into your neck right as he comes, rough and almost pained.
♡ W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Jack keeps a spare toothbrush for you at his place. He pretends it’s not a big deal.
He also bought new sheets after the first night you stayed over, because he remembered you said his were stiff and too clinical. The new ones? Dark. Soft. Worn-in. The first time you curled up in them, naked and flushed from three rounds, he just watched you for a second and quietly said :
“These work better, huh?”
You never asked him to change a thing.
He just does. Quietly.
Because you’re not a fling. You’re home.
♡ X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Thick. Heavy. Cut. Not absurdly big, but enough to stretch you open and make you feel it for hours.
Veiny. Warm. You can see it pressed against his thigh when he’s rock hard and pacing across the bedroom trying to hold it together. You’ve touched it over his jeans before, and he hissed through his teeth and growled, “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”
The first time you saw it? You went quiet.
“You okay?” he asked, cocky but concerned.
You just nodded and whispered, “Yeah. I just... need a minute.”
He smirked.
♡ Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Jack has a high sex drive—but he’s disciplined. He won’t beg. He won’t whine. He’ll just sit there, quiet and still, his cock hard in his jeans, watching you stretch in a way that drives him insane.
But when you give him the slightest sign?
When you reach for him first, or whisper that you need him, or crawl into his lap? He’s on you in seconds.
And when he’s had you once? It’s never enough. He’ll take you again. Slower. Rougher. Messier.
♡ Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Jack doesn’t fall asleep after sex. Not right away. Maybe not for a while.
His body stays there—solid, warm, wrapped around yours like armor—but his mind? Still on. Still pacing. Still waiting for the next thing to go wrong.
He’s not used to staying. Not used to being held. Not used to feeling safe enough to let his eyes fall shut.
So he watches you instead. Lets his fingers trace the length of your spine, barely there. Memorizes the shape of your body where it melts into his. Listens to your breathing like it’s his new heart rate.
And when you shift against him, soft and sleepy, murmuring something only half-formed?
He exhales, slow. Anchors you closer. Not possessive—protective.
“I’ve got you,” he says. Quiet. Almost to himself.
Eventually—if your weight stays against his chest, and the room stays dark and still—he’ll fall asleep.
pairing: jack abbot x fem!reader
wordcount: 2,800
warnings: age gap (28 and 49), some innuendos, it’s pretty sfw! this isn't beta'd.
author's note: i’m so obsessed with this silver fox…someone run me over in pittsburgh between the hours of 8PM and 8AM pls! here's the template btw!
A for Admiration What Do They Absolutely Adore About You?
Jack admires your drive. He adores seeing you excel at your field. Whenever you’re passionately rambling on about something, he’s all ears (with actual hearts in his eyes). He’s so proud of your every achievement. Even when you fail, he’s proud of your ability to recover with so much grace.
He’s never necessarily been a proud man, but he can't help but puff his chest up a little more when he watches you do practically anything. Knowing you're all his is enough to turn him into one arrogant fucker.
B for Body What Is Their Favorite Part Of Your Body?
Your hair. He likes to grab ahold of it, and not necessarily in a sexual way. It grounds him. The scent of your grocery store shampoo, mixed with that specific perfume smell that never really leaves your hair, brings him down to earth.
He likes to nose at the strands in the early morning, before getting out of bed, with his arms still wrapped around you. It reminds him you’re really there. The scent your hair leaves behind on his pillow is one he cherishes for days after you sleep over.
bonus: This might seem cheesy, but I definitely think your eyes are a big thing for him. He'd stare into them for hours. Even if you aren't staring back, he just likes to be the first to know exactly how you're feeling. And staring into your eyes is the closest he'll ever get to reading your mind. Plus, they're just so uniquely you, in a way he can't explain but certainly shows every day.
C for Cuddling How Do They Like To Cuddle? Little Spoon or Big Spoon?
His chest pressed all the way against your back, with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. Only way. He’ll hook a leg over yours if he’s feeling really cuddley.
I think he just likes feeling like you're the only thing there is for a few moments. When he's got his arms wrapped around you, there's nothing else on his mind. The world goes quiet for a while, and he can really zero in on something as little as your every breath, or your every heartbeat, as he rests his palm on your chest.
D for Dates What Does Their Ideal Date With You Look Like?
Your dates are almost always simple. Indian food on the couch. Listening to albums all the way through on his record player, as you enjoy each other’s company. Cooking a meal after work. Playing a game of chess on the board you forgot you owned, which he found under your bed.
He does go all out on special occasions, though. Your birthday, anniversaries, the like. I honestly think he might forget to plan something ahead of time sometimes, but he'd still make something work that day. He's an emergency guy. He'll always be able to pull something together, even if he just has an hour. And he has.
E for Emotions How Do They Express Emotion Around You?
This guy’s so emotionally constipated he needs an enema (medical joke). You are probably the enema! That's a compliment.
He definitely just needs a good push in the right direction. He'll try to deny his feelings for you in the beginning, on account of the age difference, and his glaringly obvious issues with self worth. Eventually, he'll figure it out. He'll let himself feel it, if you help him. He has a lot to unlearn.
A few years into your relationship, he doesn't deny himself any of his emotions around you. You know when he's sad versus happy or if he's had a good day at work versus a very shitty one. It's mainly because he expresses himself better around you, but also because you've learnt all of his cues and quirks. You’re probably the only person he lets see all of him, the good and the bad.
F for Family Do They Want One? If They Do, When?
He’s never really seen a family for himself in the books. If it happens, it happens. He wouldn't ask you to get an abortion or anything like that (or shame you for your decision to get one, obviously), but it'd definitely take a lot for him to open up to the idea. It’d take a lot for him to want it.
Not that he'd be a bad father. On the contrary, I think he'd be so, so gentle and nurturing and loving, in his own way.
He wouldn't like how a family affects his job (bc let's be real, of course it does), but it's just a learning curve he'll get over. He'll deal with needing to change his shifts, or the whole being more on edge than before, whenever he sees children in the ER, but it won't be easy.
G for Gifts How Do They Feel About Gift Giving? What Are Their Habits With Gifts?
He feels gifts should always be sentimental. If they don’t have sentimental value, he doesn’t see the point. This doesn’t mean he wouldn’t buy you anything expensive. He’d definitely buy that hair thing you mentioned, because it’d make your mornings so much easier. He’d buy that ring you eyed in the jewelry store window, as you walked arm in arm at night.
He's just meticulous about the gifts he chooses. And he buys you things at the most random times. He doesn't believe gifts should be exclusive to holidays or special occasions.
It's a habit you learn from him. Anytime something nice reminds you of him, you buy it. And you know he'll do the same.
H for Holding Hands When/How Do They Like To Hold Hands?
Interlocking fingers is reserved for intimate moments in bed or in the kitchen as you sit on the counter, watching him cook dinner.
Every now and again, he'll brush his fingers against yours in passing. It’s all he’ll let himself do in public. It's enough. It steadies your breathing and reminds him you'll always be there. It's become a habit you both cherish.
I for Injury How Would They Act If You Got Hurt?
He deals with all kinds of injuries every single day. If it's something minor, like a fall, he'll still be on edge initially. Until he checks you from head to toe to ensure you're completely fine. Then, he'll crack a little smile and help you up and into his arms for slightly closer observation.
A serious injury is a whole other story. There's a complete shift in his demeanor. It's almost like he's reverted back to his military training. He doesn't let himself feel it in the moment. He focuses solely on your well-being and making sure you're receiving the best care possible.
When it's all over, and he’s safely behind the walls of your apartment, he completely breaks down. You can see him pay closer attention to you, too. He does it for a few days after, until it gets annoying and you beg him to stop baby-ing you. The wording might throw him off, but he backs off when you promise you're fine.
J for Jokes Do They Like To Joke Around With Or Prank You? How?
He may come off as an intense guy, but he is SO unserious. He has an unhinged energy about him that I'm 100% sure makes for the best jokes ever.
When he's off the clock, he's almost unrecognizable with how extremely his energy shifts. He's still broody, but very funny. Maybe it's just because you like him so much, you can never know.
K for Kisses How Do The Like To Kiss You?
Jack kisses like he’s been starved of it. He consumes. His hands everywhere, his mouth pressed to yours until your lips are bruised. His kisses are always an all-consuming experience.
He hasn't always been this way. He's had partners before, he's always been able to control himself in the moment. All of that carefully curated control somehow just dissipates when your lips are on his.
He doesn't usually lean in for a kiss in public. I don't see him being big on PDA. If he's desperate, he'd love a quick peck until he can actually have the real thing for as long as he needs. It’s just what he prefers.
L for Love Language How Do They Show They Love You?
Acts of service, words of affirmation, and physical touch! In that order.
Little, subtle touches throughout the day keep him afloat. Every touch, no matter how small, is a little gesture he pours his entire being into. He'd be lying if he said each brush against your arm or hand on your shoulder doesn't make him want more, but he couldn't live without any of it.
He's not great with his words. He can't write you poems or monologue about how much he loves you. So, he does the next best thing. He praises you. Constantly and consistently. "You look gorgeous," "You nailed that," and "You're doing so great," are regular phrases in his daily vocabulary for you. You've heard them so often, they're embedded in your psyche. That’s exactly his goal. He wants to say these things so often you really, truly believe them. Because he sure as hell does.
The place he truly finds himself in your relationship is when he's doing things for you. His time is valuable, and he loves spending it on making you happy. He makes your coffee in the morning. He cleans out your apartment when you're too busy to take care of it. He takes care of you when you're sick (obvi). Or gives you head.
He spends all day taking care of people, so the fact that he's more than willing to do it all over again when he gets home isn't just any small thing. Every action is meaningful and intentional. I mean, he's literally a universal giver (O-), need I say more? It's in his blood.
M for Memory Favorite Memory Together?
Hands down, the moment he realized he wanted to marry you. Ironically, it wasn't anything romantic. You were both out on a coffee date, when a kid started choking on a piece of candy. You flawlessly performed the Heimlich Maneuver, as he talked you through it.
The way you carried yourself, the way you didn't hesitate to help, the way you stayed calm through it all and listened to his every order, trusting him completely. It reminded him of all of the reasons he loves you. He couldn't have chosen anyone better to spend the rest of his life with.
A close second is probably the one time you took a warm bath together at a hotel in Aspen, overlooking the snowy mountains. Can you blame him? Moment like that only happens once, especially with your incredibly busy schedules.
N for Nightmare What Is Their Worst Fear?
You ending up in his ER.
In any context, but mainly you ending up in his ER and then needing to be wheeled out for surgery. He'd be completely helpless. Your life would be in someone else's hands. He hates the thought of it.
O for Oddity What Is One Quirk They Have?
SO MANY QUIRKS. This man is a vet. The things he's learned are very difficult to unlearn. Working in the ER really reinforces all of these habits, too.
He eats so quickly, you think he'd choke, if he wasn't so simultaneously careful. It's like he's expecting to be called away to care for a dying patient at any moment. Even if you're just sitting at the dinner table at home with a nice, home-cooked meal. He can't help but scarf it down so quick it's gone before you're even half way done with yours.
On that same note, he sleeps anywhere and everywhere. He's catching Zzzs no matter what. He can sleep with the TV on at full volume. Or in the car on the way somewhere. He can sleep with the curtains fully pulled back and the sun shining in his eyes. It's impressive, truly. It's a survival tactic, though. It isn't sustainable. You have to pull him away from it. Whenever you’re around, you close the curtains or turn off the TV. You hold him close and make sure he's comfortable. Sometimes he thinks you've ruined him, because he's begun to find it a lot more difficult to sleep right away after a shift, without you there.
P for Pet Names What Do They Like To Call You?
Jack's never been a pet name kind of man. It's weird, because it just seems like they slip out of his mouth, before he can help it, whenever he's around you. He calls you honey, because you're so sweet it makes his teeth ache. He calls you gorgeous, because you are and it makes his head spin.
Q for Quality Time How Do They Like To Spend Time With You?
In the most mediocre ways possible. Privately.
Doing laundry at home, cooking up a recipe you found online, cuddling in bed. He likes the domesticity of it all. Plus, he doesn't get a lot of time with you. So when he does, he wants you all to himself.
R for Rhythm What Song Reminds You Of Them?
No comment.
It isn't even necessarily a good song. You probably just came across it one day on TikTok and sent it to him to get his reaction. He probably gives you shit for it constantly. But he’s well aware of how hot you find the age gap, don't need a song to prove it.
S for Secrets How Open Are They With You?
Very open! No filter. It took time for him to get there, but he sees you as his second half, truly. There's virtually nothing he'd keep from you.
He doesn't like to talk a lot about his job in great detail, though. He doesn't want to upset you. It wouldn't be a secret, but he wouldn't bring any of it up unprovoked.
T for Time How Long Does It Take You To Get Together?
A long time. He had some issues to overcome before he could fully embrace a relationship with you. He still made it very clear he was into you, he just wasn't sure he'd be able to commit, so he didn't want to lead you on.
Jack might've also felt like a creep, being with someone so much younger. He has friends with kids as old as you. He weirded himself out thinking about things like that, but every time he looked at you he was met with the reality that you are, without a doubt, a grown woman. Gorgeous. And grown. Eventually, he got over it. After a lot of encouragement from you.
U for Upset How Do They Act When You’re Upset With Them?
He GROVELS. He loves you. You know this, without a shadow of a doubt.
He's just afraid you might stay upset with him long enough to forget it. He can't lose you. So, he lets go of any pride and dignity he has left and grovels better than anyone has ever groveled. It always works.
V for Vaunt What Are They Proud Of? Do They Like To Show You Off?
YES! He constantly tells you how proud he is of you. You think you could just wake up and roll over onto your side, and he'd give you endless praises for your technique.
He definitely loves showing you off. He's confident in the fact that you both belong exclusively to each other, so he doesn't mind letting people see it too. He's just private with his gestures. It's a vulnerability thing. PDA just doesn't feel good to him.
W for Warrior How Do They Feel About You Fighting? Would They Fight For You? Beside You? Etc.
If it comes down to it, and you're assaulted on the job or something, he's ready to fight. He logically doesn't want to be violent towards anyone, but it'd just be instinctual in the moment. He's more focused on caring for you and making sure you're alright afterwards.
X for X-Ray How Well Are They Able To Read You?
Very well. He's taken the time to learn your habits, your cues, and your body. There's just this unspoken language that flows between you. Both of you can communicate so much with just your eyes, or your subtle touches.
He can point out even the smallest changes in your demeanor, and predict your mood changes very successfully. That isn't the most impressive part, though. The fact that he can take you from crying hysterically to smiling in under ten minutes is.
Y for Yes How Would They Propose To You?
Very casually. Probably in a spur-of-the-moment type of way.
He'd probably blurt the question out during dinner one day. Or while you're in bed, sharing a cigarette.
He uses the moment to gauge your reaction and then plans something sentimental and big for later. He thinks it should feel a little more official. You find it endearing that he asked before he even bought a ring.
Z for Zen What Makes Them Feel Calm?
Your voice. He's so glad you're always a phone call away. You've gotten him through a great deal of panic attacks over the phone. He's fallen asleep listening to you talk about your day on the couch one too many times.
You always know what to say. Your voice always has this calm and collected cadence to it, which leaves him amazed. It's a direct contrast to his time in the ER. He needs it more than he could ever tell you.
author's note: i apologize for the medical jokes. please forgive me.
feeling very infatuated with the way jack abbot must view bodies so medically but so passionately... he loves the human body, he knows how it works. knows what makes it break, what makes it feel good. i know he gets medial and perfectionist about it when he's alone..... with you.....
