Ah Fuck, Idk Why I'm Cryin???

MDNI • 18+ BLOG Lonah | 26 | chronically ill I write unhealthy shit so you can read unhealthy shit instead of actually doing unhealthy shit, because I myself AM an unhealthy piece of shit.

[lonahlennox]

✨🌙✨Masterlist✨🌙✨

Below the cut you can find all of my fics/headcannons/drabbles/etc 🤍

Fanfiction:

A Body Made For Struggle: Jack Abbot

Timid, temperamental, and treacherously lustful- all words that could be used to describe Shay Lawson, depending on who you'd ask. The trut

Pope Cody:

NSFW Pope Cody Headcannons (1/?)

NSFW Pope Cody Headcannons DD:DNE (2/?)

Jack Abbot:

Shut Your Mouth, Give Me Your Head (Smut) (x)

Fleeting (smut) (x)

Clayton Emerson:

NSFW Clayton Emerson Headcannons (1/?)

NSFW Clayton Emerson Headcannons (2/?)

Titus Danforth:

[doujinshi]

[filmetcs]

when did you get hot?

summary: you finally meet your dad's new best friend and he happens to be the doctor that treated you the night before. he looks a lot hotter when you meet him out of scrubs and in the dining room of your dad’s house.

pairings: dbf!jack abbot x younger!fem!reader

contains: smut 18+ minors dni!! age gap (reader is 24 and jack is 50), medical inaccuracies, drunk reader, dubcon (bcuz reader is drunk), unprotected sex, penetration (p in v), dirty talk, praise, dry humping, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, angel, baby), hints of dacryphilia, creampie, no aftercare, lowkey corny ending cuz i didnt know how to end it, also i fully believe jack talks you through it

word count: 3.2k

note: first part of the new series im writing inspired by mans best friend!! :D this is genuinely my first time writing explicit smut lol!! i’ve kinda avoided it because im not super confident in writing it but fuck it!!!! i’m doing it for this series!!!!

The bright lights of PTMC are a stark contrast to the dark sky outside. The paramedics roll you in feeling more embarrassment than pain,

“… Twenty four years old, bystanders saw her trip and fall. She’s got a deep laceration on her left forearm. Possible concussion as well.” the paramedic recites as a few doctors and nurses approach,

“I told them I was fine but they wouldn’t let me go unless I went to the hospital.” There's a tinge of irritation in your voice as the paramedics hand you off,

“Yeah, that’s what they all say until someone ends up seizing.” The paramedic settles you in a room. You hear your name recited by one of the doctors entering,

“I’m Doctor Abbot, mind if I take a look at that cut on your arm?” you hold your arm out as he starts unwrapping the bandages. The sight of your skin cut open makes you feel uneasy— maybe the paramedics were right and you did need to be taken to the ER. You quickly turn your head away the sight of your open forearm,

“You okay?” Jack asks as he tries to look at the wound,

“Yeah, just bad with blood and stuff.” you mumble. Jack understands when patients feel uneasy with the blood and gore of the ER, but in this case he was having trouble examining your shaking arm with the way you’ve turned. 

Jack calls Mateo over as he walks to the opposite side of the bed that you’re now facing. He pulls a chair up so the two of you are face to face,

“We’re going to administer some pain meds so we can clean the wound and stitch you back up, okay?” You nod at his statement,

“You’re not gonna pass out on me, are you?” he says with a small smirk forming on his face,

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Good, now keep your eyes on me.” you look up at him, maintaining eye contact while he nods at Mateo to proceed. You watch as his eyes flit between Mateo’s work and your eyes. There’s a sharp pain that shoots through your arm as the pain meds are administered. You wince and shut your eyes in pain,

“You’re doing so good. Hard part is done, just need to clean it up and put some stitches in. Just keep your eyes on me.” he says with a low voice. 

You keep your eyes on him, studying his face to distract yourself. His silver hair pairs so well with the deep wrinkles around his eyes and forehead that you can’t help but focus on. There’s something about him that looks incredibly familiar to you. He’s a complete stranger, yet it’s like you’ve met or seen him before somewhere. Jack catches you staring a bit too intently and smiles,

“How’d you fall anyways?” You sigh in embarrassment as you get taken out of your daydream,

“I wore these stupid new shoes. They’re a size too big and I think I cut my arm when I fell. Can't even return them anymore.” you frown as you ramble on. Jack chuckles lightly,

“Did you hit your head? Any nausea, dizziness or pain?” He asks as he pulls out a small flashlight, shining them at your pupils,

“I hit my head on the pavement but I only feel a little bit of pain. Nothing else.” You lightly tap where the pain is and Jack hums in acknowledgment. In the corner of his eye, Mateo nods and indicates that he’s finished up,

“I’m gonna order you a CT scan so we can double check nothing else is going on. Come back in two weeks to get the stitches removed.” Jack says as he stands up. Mateo has already left the room while Jack sticks around and adds the order to your chart,

“Thank you, Doctor Abbot.”

“Jack.” He corrects you quickly. 

“Jack.” You repeat. He likes the way you say his name, except he’s not sure when he’ll hear it again. 

⋆˚౨ৎ ⋆.˚ 

You were supposed to spend the next day resting. The stitches were still fresh and the last thing you wanted to do was end up in the ER again— except your best friend heard you came home for the Summer and all she wanted was to drag you out, catch up and get borderline blackout drunk. Part of you wanted to stay in and spend all night thinking of fake scenarios starring the night shift doctor you met the night before. 

You’ve never really had a thing for older men before. Friends of yours have had boyfriends twice their age and you never really understood why up until you saw Jack. By the time you were discharged, he was already busy in another room so you never had a chance to say thank you or maybe ask for his number. Would he have given it to you? Was that something he did with other patients? Every ‘what if’ ran through your mind at the thought of him. The possibility of a nearly fifty year old night shift doctor showing up at a bar with mostly twenty year olds was slim to none but you can’t help but imagine what it would’ve been like running into him. 

A knock on the door takes you out of your fantasy. Your dad’s head pops into your room as you get ready,

“Hey honey, I’ve got a friend over for dinner tonight. You don’t mind, do you?” you give your dad a smile,

“Not at all. I’m probably gonna head out soon.” your dad nods and the door shuts again.

It’s nice to hear your dad has a friend. When you left for college, part of you felt guilty for leaving your dad on his own. It had been just the two of you for so long until he called one day to tell you all about his new friend. They played golf together on their off days, ate at sports bars and you’re convinced your dad’s new interest in joining a SWAT team was inspired by his new friend. You had seen a few pictures here and there but he never specified any name or told you much details about the actual person. He usually just referred to him as “my buddy with the prosthetic leg”

Pittsburgh’s summers are hot and humid but you throw on a jacket anyways to cover the evidence of last night from your dad. As you head down the stairs, two voices are heard laughing in the dining room. As you round the corner, you’re face to face with the night shift attending who stitched you back together the night before. It finally clicked and you realized the reason he was so familiar yesterday night was because of all the pictures your dad has shown you. He’s got a clad black shirt on and camo pants.

Fuck me, was he this hot last night?

Jack stares back at you in just as much shock. You were wearing a tiny lavender coloured satin top that barely covered your chest and a skirt so short he swears he can see your ass poking out. In Jack's younger days it could be considered lingerie– he's not complaining though. 

“I don’t think you’ve had a chance to meet my daughter yet.” your dad says excitedly. Jack thinks about mentioning the run in at PTMC yesterday before you jump in,

“No, I don’t think so! But I’ve heard lots of good things.” you say with your hand reaching out. Jack shakes it gently but firmly, keeping his eyes on you the whole time,

“Jack.”

“Jack.” you repeat, similar to how he introduced himself yesterday,

“Isn’t it a bit warm outside for a jacket?” he asks with that same smirk he gave you the night before. Jack takes a quick sip of his beer before you jump back in,

“Saw it might rain.” You knew Jack was trying to discuss the obvious stitches on your arms but you were already prepared with an excuse. Between the two of you, there was obvious undeniable tension in the room— your dad has never been so oblivious,

“You sure? Didn’t look like it to me.” Jack retorts,

“Maybe you should check again,” You want to wipe the stupid, hot smirk off his face the longer this conversation goes on,

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta meet a friend.” you say waving to the two men and heading towards the door. Your dad smiles lovingly while Jack watches your hips sway as you walk back towards the front door. He was gonna be in a lot of trouble.

⋆˚౨ৎ ⋆.˚ 

Another drink goes down as you swing the glass back quickly. There’s a familiar burn in the back of your throat that has only gotten easier as the night has gone by. You sway your hips back and forth as the loud music fills the bar but your mind is constantly leading back to Jack. He was supposed to be someone you fantasized about for fun, knowing you’d never see him again. 

Jack was seated at your dad’s house with similar thoughts. He remembers staring at you and studying every part of your face, knowing that you were going to be discharged and never seen again. You were pretty and a distraction from the chaos of the night shift, someone that would live only in his head. 

You stumble out of the bar with the Uber app open. The tall buildings surrounding Pittsburgh are spinning as you try to steady yourself against a wall. You squint your eyes to focus on the app. Immediately, your eyes widen at the prices,

“A hundred dollars?!”

Some passersby look at you as you continue to stare at your phone in shock. Your dad has always been kind enough to pick you up if you needed and you were heavily debating on that now. It doesn’t hurt to ask though? 

You call your dad to see if he’s still awake. The phone rings a few times before he finally answers,

“Hello?” 

“Hey, sweetheart.” Jack says. You double check you’ve called the right person before responding,

“Jack? Where’s my dad?”

“Uh, he’s asleep on the couch. I was about to head out but saw you called. Figured it was an emergency and maybe you fell again.” you feel your eyes roll intuitively,

“Very funny. I was just calling to see if my dad could pick me up. Uber prices are insane right now.” 

“You can afford to go out but you can’t afford to get home?” Again, your eyes roll back intuitively as he continues teasing,

“I didn’t expect it to be a hundred dollars for a twenty minute drive! You know what, I’ll figure it out—” 

“No, I’ll come pick you up. Stay where you are.” Jack cuts you off,

“I don’t need your help, Jack!” He hangs up the phone without giving you a chance to say another word.

You debated on walking home or actually paying the Uber upcharge while waiting. If you were to walk home, it’s likely you’d end up back in the ER for falling over again. Paying for the uber on the other hand, didn’t seem like the worst option the more you thought about it. The regret of calling your dad was starting to settle in. Jack wasn’t supposed to answer but you couldn’t call him to stop what he was doing. By the time you decide to call an Uber, Jack pulls up to the bar in a silver truck. He waves you over and you jump in,

“Thanks for picking me up.” You say as you click your seatbelt on,

“Yeah, glad I saw your call. Not sure if your dad would’ve been able to help with how many drinks he had tonight.”

The car ride is short and quiet on the way back to your house. Jack makes small talk and asks about how your night went,

“I got to catch up with my best friend, dance a little bit, it was great.” You don’t mention how you also spent all night thinking about him.

The car pulls into the driveway and Jack pulls the keys out of the ignition. Neither of you move and it doesn’t look like anyone is planning to soon,

“Why didn’t you tell your dad about yesterday night?” Jack says as he breaks the silence,

“Didn’t need the lecture from him. Plus he probably would’ve made it a big deal for no reason,” You pout as you slouch back in your seat. Jack chuckles at the sight,

“Does my dad talk about me?” you ask.

“He does— A lot more than you realize,” You look at Jack in disbelief,

“I know you're going to NYU and you major in film. He talks about how you’re paying way too much to stay in a shoebox apartment there.” you huff at your dad’s choice of topics,

“Your dad sometimes talks about some of the guys you’re seeing there. Something about how they’re not good enough— y’know the usual dad talk.” Jack says,

“Good to know my secrets aren't safe with my own dad.” you mumble as you shake your head. There's a pause in conversation.

“You said earlier that you had heard a lot of good things about me.”Jack asks. You nod your head,

“Yeah my dad sent some pictures of you two watching the game and stuff while I was away at college. Seems like you two get along well. He didn’t mention how hot you were though.” Jack’s eyebrows raise at the last part— liquor has made you bold and stubborn. The car goes quiet again and neither of you have moved still,

“Lemme take a look at how your wound is healing,” You watch his eyes rake over your chest and down to your legs as you take your jacket off. Jack carefully grabs your wrist and pulls you close to examine. Your hands shake lightly as he analyzes your forearm,

“Looks good, It's healing perfectly.” He says lowly. You swallow nervously as Jack moves to flip your wrist back over, still holding your hand. His thumb draws small circles over the top of your hand, as if he’s thinking of his next move. He hesitantly brings your hand up to his lips, kissing it softly. 

Jack has no idea what’s gotten a hold of him. It was impulsive of him to kiss your hand but he wanted more so badly. You were his best friend’s daughter, someone half his age, someone who should be seeing other twenty something year olds. All the alarm bells in his head were going off and yet he wanted nothing more than to just kiss you there. 

He looks up at your eyes anticipating some sort of hesitant look or fear. Instead, he was met with a similar lustful look that was telling him not to stop. 

Jack brings your hand back up to his lips again and kisses your knuckles softly. He kisses the top of your hand before slowly moving his kisses up your arm. He can hear your shallow breath as he goes higher up your arm before stopping when he gets close to your shoulder. His face is inches apart from yours, he could kiss you right then and there,

“Tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want this.” His voice is extra gravelly as he holds back,

“If you stop, I’m gonna be so fucking mad at you.” you say shaking your head,

“You’re stubborn, you know that?” Jack says with a smirk,

“I think you like that.” you smile as you lean in first.

Your lips meet and Jack still hesitates. You grab the collar of his shirt and pull him closer, feeling him melt into your kiss finally. His hand reaches up to cup your cheek and pull you close towards him. The kiss becomes deeper and deeper before Jack pulls away and begins kissing down your neck with a similar ferocity. Jack notices your breathing getting heavier as he trails down your neck, stopping to bite lightly once he hears you whimper. He can’t help but let out a groan, feeling his pants tighten at the sounds you make,

“Backseat, now.” Jack orders. You quickly shuffle towards the backseat and he follows you behind. 

As he settles in the seat, you throw your leg over and straddle his lap. Jack pulls you back in for a kiss while you work to undo your top. His hands roam across your back, looking to help you pull it off. You grab at his shirt in an attempt to help him take it off in return. 

Jack feels dizzy as he feels your hips grind against him. You moan into his mouth as you grind harder, wanting more and more. Jack moves his hand towards your core, pulling your panties to the side to find you drenched,

“Fuck, baby— you’re soaked,” He runs his finger up and down your slit, spreading your arousal around,

“You get like this for all your dad’s friends? Hm?” you shake your head as your hips grind on his fingers,

“No? Just me? Say it.” Jack says with a mocking tone. He watches you get more flustered before you bury your head into his neck whimpering,

“Just you— only you,” Your breathing gets heavier as he draws small, slow circles on your clit,

“Needed someone older to take care of you, huh? Is that right?” You nod your head against his letting out a needy moan,

“More, Jack, wanna feel you…” 

“I know, pretty girl, I’ll give it to you. Be patient for me.” Jack fidgets with the zipper on his pants before pulling them down his thighs. His grip on your waist tightens as you sink down on his cock,

“Ah, fuck,” Jack groans, intoxicated with your warmth. Your breath gets heavier as your eyes roll back,

“Keep your eyes on me, angel.” he growls as he feels you tighten around him. You struggle to keep your eyes on him as you move up and down. Jack can’t get enough of how drunk you look on him,

“Jack— fuck— feels so good,” you moan,

“Lift your hips up a bit more for me,” Jack places his hands on the bottom of your ass to help support you. You drop back down, feeling him hit that spot perfectly,

“Fuck me.” you whine,

“Just like that baby, don’t stop,” Jack helps lift your ass up and down creating the perfect momentum,

“Tell me how good it feels.” he growls,

“So good, fuck, it feels s’good,” you babble,

“Please don’t stop, Jack, I’m gonna cum like this— fuck!” you feel your stomach tighten as you ride out your release,

“That’s my good girl, keep riding me just like that.” Jack says as you ride out your high. The way you look at him with glossy, tear filled eyes pushes him past the edge. He grips your ass tightly helping you bounce up and down, groaning loudly at how tight you feel around him,

“Baby, I’m gonna–” Jack lets out a rough grunt as he releases into you and fills you up. He moans deeply as he lays his forehead on your shoulder, pressing a small kiss on it. He looks up to find you smiling already as you pull out,

“I would’ve rather been in a bed for this.” Jack jokes as he tries to catch his breath,

“We can do that next time.”

“So there's a next time?” his eyebrows raise. You giggle as you jokingly hit his chest,

“That was just the start.”

[openmymouthandspit]

point of view. ⸝⸝ pope is clingy

you settled into bed with your book propped on your knees. the sheets were cool and soft. pope slid in right behind you, pressing his chest to your back and shifting until his cheek was flush against yours. his face nestled there, eyes scanning the same page you were on, breath tickling your skin. you turned the page slowly and he adjusted without a word, arms looped loosely around your middle, fingers resting still on your stomach.

the room was quiet except for the faint rustle of paper and the shared rhythm of your breathing. you kept reading, focused on the story, while his warmth seeped into you and his lashes brushed your cheek every so often when he blinked.

later at lunch you carried your plate to the table but pope was already seated, patting his thigh once. you slid onto his lap without comment, settling comfortably as his arms wrapped fully around your waist, hands clasped over your belly. he held you close, chin resting on your shoulder while you ate, fork moving steadily from plate to mouth.

his hold stayed firm but gentle, thumbs occasionally stroking small arcs over your shirt, never interrupting. you focused on each bite, chewing thoughtfully, the weight of him grounding and familiar behind you. he said nothing, just breathed evenly, content to keep you anchored there until the plate was empty.

afterward you moved to the living room for laundry. the couch was piled with clean clothes. you stood sorting and folding while pope sat on the edge of the cushion right behind you. his arms circled your body, hugging your hips, and he leaned forward until his head rested on the curve of your ass, cheek pressed softly against the fabric of your pants. you kept working, hands smoothing shirts and pairing socks with the practiced motions from you.

the ironing board was set up nearby and you shifted slightly to reach it, pressing wrinkles out of a blouse with steady sweeps of the iron. pope moved with you, arms never loosening, his head staying nestled there like it belonged, quiet and heavy in the best way. the scent of fresh laundry filled the air and the low hum of the iron was the only sound besides your occasional soft exhale.

he clung without speaking, simply holding on as you finished each piece, his presence warm and constant through every fold and press. and the whole afternoon passed like that, easy and close to you, his silent attachment making every ordinary task feel completely wrapped in him.

[slytherclaw1978]

he’s just so freckled and beautiful

i want to bring him a beer while he’s chilling in a chair by the pool listening to Craig yap about nonsense

[iwannab3adored]

pope who doesn’t understand how intimidating he can come across as. except he does ⋆˚꩜｡

pope was protective when it came to you.

how could he not be? there were so many creepy people in the world. people who wouldn’t think twice about hurting you. it was his job to make sure that you were safe, that you were looked after.

that’s why he followed you almost everywhere.

to the grocery store? sure, pope is right behind you carrying the basket.

to the park? he’ll bring his skateboard, maybe teach you a few tricks.

to the beach? pope already has the sunscreen, ready to reapply it so you don’t burn in the sun.

there really was no limit to where he’d follow you to.

sometimes he’d make himself known

other times he didn’t

that’s why it didn’t alarm you when he followed you to deran’s bar. it was his brother’s establishments anyway, that gave him one extra reason to be there.

you’d told him that he should go socialize, take a break from being your sworn protector. pope immediately contested it. he didn’t like anyone here but you, why should he bother? after a bit of back and forth he reluctantly left your side. he’d “try” and mingle with the other patrons.

really he just sat down and watched whatever game was on tv. nursing a beer and not talking to anyone.

at least you’d tried.

that’s when you noticed that you were the one struggling to interact with others as well.

you hadn’t expected how people seemingly avoided you. there was the off chance that someone waved hello or gave you a smile, but they never stayed long enough to chat.

until your friend, sarah, spotted you from a few feet away.

she’d embraced you tightly, both of you exchanging pleasantries. finally, someone you could talk to.

about 20 minutes into the conversation was when you’d admitted your quarrel with tonight.

“i don’t know what’s up with people today, but it seems like no one wants to be near me.” you weakly chuckled, stirring your half empty glass.

“yeah, well i don’t blame them.” sarah replied. your head perked up, ready to take offense.

“what? what’s that supposed to mean?”

she looked around as if you’d said something completely asinine.

“are you serious? with pope cody staring you down like that? he’s practically issued a public service announcement that he’ll attack anyone who comes close.” she let out a breathy laugh, downing what was left of her long island iced tea.

you just sat there, mouth slightly agape, eyebrows furrowed. she had to be kidding.

sarah casted her gaze behind you, a chill running up her spine.

Pope stared intently at her. his usual hardened gaze strong enough to kill. the beer in his hand gone warm under his grip.

“i mean, god, he looks like he’s gonna kill me just ‘cause im talking with you.”

“what?” you immediately whipped your head around, sending a glare pope’s way.

his gaze softened when he caught your eyes. though, it quickly dissipated into a look of guilt. similar to that of a dog’s.

“for fuck’s sake- would you give me a second?” before sarah could agree you were already getting up out of your seat.

you marched towards pope, your shoes clacking against the cement flooring. he straightened up, putting his beer off to the side. he was in trouble now.

“what’s your deal?” you spouted, crossing your arms in front of you.

“my deal?” he muttered.

“come on, pope, you know what i mean.”

pope only shrugged, mumbling that he didn’t know what you were talking about. he let his eyes drift away from yours. as if that would make him look any less conspicuous.

you rubbed your brow, a faint laugh leaving your throat.

“andrew, you can’t just death glare anyone who comes up to me. this was supposed to be a fun night for the both of us.”

“s’only making sure you were okay.” he said quietly, his mouth forming an annoyingly adorable pout as he looked up at you.

damn him and his stupid face, his stupid eyes, his stupid curls-

“i understand that, but i’m not gonna suddenly die from being more than 6 feet away from you.” you huffed.

“I know that.” pope replied, feeling more defensive of his position.

“do you?”

pope leaned back in his seat, growing more fidgety.

“do you want me to leave you alone?” he asked softly.

“what- no! andrew, absolutely not.” your voice softened. you loved having pope around, even if you knew his reputation preceded him. you just wish he didn’t make it so easy to live up to those expectations.

you looked around, a few eyes watching your interaction with pope. you sighed. leaning down to cup his shoulders with your hands.

“I just wish you wouldn’t death stare anyone who tries to come near me.”

pope’s eyes shifted between your own. he shrugged his shoulders.

“that’s just how i look.”

you couldn’t stop a small smile from breaking across your face.

“well could you try not to? for my sake?”

a moment passed before pope nodded. he hesitantly reached up, grasping your hand.

you sighed, dragging him up to his feet. you held his hand tighter, leading him to the exit.

“let’s just go home, yeah?”

pope leaned into your touch, rubbing his thumb across the top of your knuckles.

“hey! you didn’t pay for your drinks!” deran shouted from behind the counter.

“I’ll pay for it.” pope shouted back, holding the door open for you. his gaze stuck on your pretty face.

at the end of the day, you loved pope’s unconventional forms of affection.

a/n: i despise all the different tenses, also im chronically abusing the sentence slasher thingy

[abbotsdoll]

slightly longer version of this imagine ♡ nsfw mdni

pope has been out all day on a job for smurf, and he’s completely exhausted. he’s spent the whole day fighting and getting his hands dirty, and right now all he really wants is to be with his girl.

when he walks into your room, he finds you curled up in bed, already asleep. you look so soft, so pretty for him, he can’t help but crawl in next to you and kiss you awake. his lips trail along your neck and up to your ear, so he can whisper, “hey, baby, i’m home.”

it takes a few moments, but eventually you stir, your bleary eyes squinting at him as they focus. “oh… hi andy…” you tug him closer and close your eyes, already falling back asleep. “missed you…”

pope smiles, “yeah, missed you too, sweetheart.” he pulls the blankets away slowly to find you in just his t-shirt and a pair of thin panties. they’re already wet. “oh, you did miss me, didn’t you?”

you hide your face in his neck, “mhm…” while his hand trails up to your inner thighs. you let out a gasp and start to shut them but he murmurs, “no, baby, it’s okay. just wanna play a bit, yeah?” this just makes you more shy, but he pushes gently, “i’ll go slow, promise. just wanna feel you…”

you don’t stop him, so he plays with you a bit, just like he said he would. just gently rubbing over your panties, getting you ready for him.

by the time he’s undoing his belt and stepping out of his trousers, you’re face down on the bed, hugging his pillow, all sleepy and pliant the way he wanted you. so when he starts fucking into you from behind, you have no complaints, you’re right where you want to be.

[nervous-turtle]

Being bold with Jack Abbot | MDNI

3am and you're exhausted. You go to the break room in search of coffee only to find your favourite attending stood over the ancient machine making it's last protested gurgle.

"You look awful." You joked as you walked into the small room. He was slightly slumped over the counter, eyes shadowed by his dark circles.

"Thanks." He laughed, straightening his back. His eyes drifted over you for a second too long. "You on the other hand..." His smile deepened. "You look unfairly put together for three in the morning."

You poked your tongue out to lick your lips as you fell into a small giggle.

It's been like this for months. You and him being flirtatious, hovering over eachother for longer than needed, catching his eyes from accross the ER.

You stepped closer, brushing his shoulder to reach for a mug. You felt bold.

"You see these two fingers here?" You raise your left hand wiggling your ring and middle finger.

"Yes. Your digitus annularis and your digitus medius." Always the doctor you thought.

You leaned closer to him, resting your right hand just above his hip as you whispered in his ear,

"These are the fingers I pumped into my pussy..." your lips hovered above the shell of his ear, "...just before shift. Thinking of you."

His fingers circled your elbow before he'd even seemed to decide to move. Not rough but careful. As though he couldn't trust himself with anything firmer, pulling back so he could see your face. "Sweatheart. Careful now. I'm your senior."

His expression never wavered, but the breath he drew in wasn't steady. It caught somewhere in his chest before escaping in a measured exhale, the only crack in an otherwise practiced composure.

"That's the thing Dr. Abbot, that kinda does something for me." You bit your lower lip never breaking eye contact.

This was wrong. You are his staff, he has a duty of care over you. His breathing laboured and his eyes drifted to your lips, if only for a second, before snapping back to your eyes. He hoped you'd missed it. You didn't.

"This is highly inappropriate." His voice was low enough that only you could hear it. "I'm your attending." He repeated it as if reminding himself rather than you.

You drop your digits onto his lips, slowly moving them down onto his chin.

"Would you like me to stop Dr. Abbot?" You smirked at him.

He went still but found his lower jaw dropping ever so slighlty. Daring you. Inviting you in. You couldn't help the big grin pulling at your mouth and you brought your fingers to the tip of his tongue, the ones you please yourself with.

His tongue felt rigid but your fingers glided over it with ease, pushing in until his lips wrapped around your knuckles. You didn't notice when he had shut his eyes but he was fully under your control just waiting for you to try something else.

You slowly pulled your wrist back feeling his warm lips falter around your fingers, his tongue now placid around your fingertip. Slowly, you dipped them back in, pushing past his tongue until he reached your knuckles again and you heard the faintest moan catch in his throat. You pulled them out entirely now and watched his eyes open heavily.

He stared at you for a long moment, saying nothing. The silence stretched until it became its own answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough around the edges. "When this shift is over..." He swallowed once. "May I take you to breakfast?"

"Dr. Abbot, I would love to." You smile. "Oh but you might wanna take care of this before heading back out there."

Your fingertips brushed the front of his scrub trousers for the briefest moment before you stepped away, taking his coffee.

"You should probably compose yourself, Doctor." His gaze followed you to the door. "Wouldn't want anyone getting the wrong idea."

[takiimuncher]

Blowing Jack abbot after a stressful shift ( blurb 18+)

A/n : this might be ooc sorry guys😓 kind criticism is always welcomed

“ Come on baby keep going” jack groans as he tugs your hair tightly while you bobbled your head up and down sucking his cock, the sight of you between his legs on your knees bobbing your head up and down helping him destress after a horrible night shift at the pitt . The soft sounds of you sucking him echoed in the house he never been more grateful for you, you always help him destress after a bad day the pitt was full he dealt with some asshole patients making him get into a horrible mood until he came home to you with a big smile on your face while you finish cooking him breakfast “jackie i miss you” you said beaming with joy hugging him until you seen him tensed up with a certain look, thats when you knew so you lured him to the couch touching him “sweet heart not-“ “let me help you jackie”.

You looked so beautiful teary doe eye looking at him making sure he enjoyed and let take his stress out on your pretty mouth, hand moving up and down adding to the pleasure (also to get a bit left of his cock you couldn’t get) and most of all your mouth stuffed with his big cock. He pulls onto your hair harder and starts shoving more of him into your mouth as he’s about to finish earning a gag from you “daddy’s going to cum sweetheart” he groans as eventually he finishes in your mouth, looks down seeing you pull away mouth full of his cum “swallow “ he orders you and ofc you obeyed! You swallowed every single drop and licked some that were on your chin threatening to spill. You both stand up and jack pulls you into his arms while he kiss your forehead,

“ I love you sweetheart”

[robbyscoffee]

thoughts of rabbot walking in on you touching yourself. . . <3

masterlist ☕︎⋆.˚

content warnings .ᐟ SMUT. mdni! dom!rabbot, sub!reader, mean!robby, soft!jack, small fauxcest, daddy kink, use of pet names, use of a sex toy, masturbation, rabbot hint to reward and punishment 𓂃˖ ࣪⊹

when your boyfriends get held up in the ER—jack leaving for night shift and robby getting stuck with him after day—you can’t help but squirm waiting for their return. robby should have been here already and jack had just left, so you were completely alone in the house, and left to entertain yourself.

luckily for you, jack had bought you a little wand to help you when they were away. robby had been a little opposed to the idea at first but relented in favor of your puppy eyes and jack’s persuasion. that being said, you decided to take matters into your own hands by playing with your toy.

only you’d forgotten to ask for permission.

you weren’t too far into your solo session when the two of them entered the house. you hadn’t heard the sound of them discussing their patients or the latest work drama as you were too busy working your fingers inside your pussy, the wand buzzing against your aching clit.

“yeah, so gloria thinks—“ robby was saying as he pushed the door open to your bedroom, jack in tow. he cut himself off when he caught sight of you. “holy shit.”

“well, would you look at that,” jack smirked as he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms.

you paused instantly and covered yourself with the comforter, sitting up in bed with heated cheeks and messy hair. any effort to hide what you’d been doing was definitely futile now.

“robby! j- jack, i—“

“looks like someone’s misbehaving,” robby tsked as jack approached the bed. you automatically pulled the covers even tighter, shielding yourself from view. “told you not to get her that wand.”

“ah-ah, sweetheart, let daddy see,” jack chided.

you pouted at him but did as you were told, timidly pulling the covers down to reveal your weeping pussy, the wand slotted between your thighs.

“poor baby. got so needy without us, huh?” jack cooed. you nodded with a small whimper.

“oh, please,” robby practically scoffed. he walked up behind jack and stared at you, crossing his arms. “she knows better. don’t you, baby?”

“i—“

“don’t listen to your dad. he’s just pissed he had to stay late,” jack said, ever the softer of the two. “now, let’s get you taken care of, huh?”

robby chuckled, but it lacked real amusement. “yeah, right. how about punished?”

[robbyscoffee]

thoughts of going to sleep in the cutest nighties, which always makes for morning sex with jack <3

content warnings .ᐟ SMUT. mdni! dom!jack abbot, free use, use of pet names

masterlist ☕︎⋆.˚ | request guidelines

the way you’ll be making a pot of coffee after slipping out of bed, not wanting to wake jack after he’d finally gotten a day off, but he’ll be behind you with his hands in your hips, pressing his lips to your neck five minutes later.

“morning, baby,” he’d rasp, his hard cock pressing against your bottom through his thin pajama pants. like every other morning, you already saw where this was going.

“jack,” you whined with a giggle, pressing the button on the coffee machine to start its brewing. “it’s too early.”

“never too early, honey,” jack said. you didn’t have to turn to know he was already freeing his dick from his boxers, ready to repeat what was now your morning ritual. he pulled your nightgown up slowly to reveal the sweetest sight—no underwear.

“can’t expect me to behave when you dress like this, baby,” jack grunted. without another word, he’d slip inside your needy pussy and fill you to the brim, caging you in with his hands on either side of the counter. “now you have to take it.”

and as he’d start to rut deep inside you, ready to fuck you dizzy like always, it’d occur to you that the coffee might have to wait. . .

[angelabbot]

crybaby

pairing: jack abbot x fem!reader

content warning: 18+, MDNI. smut - dacryphilia, dry humping, dom!jack x sub!reader, reader is sleepy (it’s still completely consensual, she is begging for it), jack cums in his pants, i don’t think i missed anything! lmk if i did

a/n: ninth prompt ! prompt: dacryphilia, jack abbot. this one was more of a self indulgent than anything tbh. not proofread, lmk about any mistakes

masterlist | jack abbot masterlist

20 prompts for 100

you always seemed to get emotional whenever you were tired.

it wasn’t something you could control, you just felt teary when you got sleepy. it was one of jack’s favourite things about you.

you were lying in bed, cuddled up to jack’s side after a long shift. he knew the feeling of exhaustion and guilt after a particularly harsh shift all too well.

“you okay, baby?” he muttered as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

you sighed and pressed your head into his shoulder in response. “i’m fine. i just want you right now.”

jack blinked and shifted in surprise as he felt you begin to grind against his good leg. “what? sweetheart, you should sleep. we can do whatever else you want when you’re not so tired.” he gently tried to coax, only to be met with a whine and a sloppy kiss to his jaw.

“no, i need you now. i’ll sleep after.” you promised, fingers curling tightly against his sleep shirt as you rocked your hips back and forth in a steady pattern.

he didn’t protest. he knew once you set your mind on something that you wouldn’t stop until you got it.

jack dipped his head down to meet your lips, his hands reaching to guide your hips.

you moaned against his mouth as your clit throbbed, the friction was almost overwhelming when you were tired.

unfortunately for you, the way jack was holding and kissing you so intimately and letting you use his body to get yourself off, made you feel emotional. the pleasure and love that came from the way jack licked into your mouth made you tear up. you felt unbelievably silly when you realised it.

you pulled away with a gasp, quickly burying your head into his chest while you rutted against him.

“what’s wrong, sweetheart? too much?” jack cooed, gently running his fingers through your hair. “are you almost there?”

you barely registered his words as the tears fell down your cheek, soaking his shirt. you whimpered against his chest, hips stuttering in their rhythm.

jack immediately pulled your head from his chest, his eyes widening as he saw your wet cheeks and glistening eyes.

before he could even process it, a groan escaped his throat as his hips jerked forward, head falling back as he squeezed your waist.

“w- what? jack- did you just cum?” you asked in confusion, pressing a kiss to his cheek and wiping away your tears.

“shit, baby. i’m so sorry.” he panted as he met your eyes again, frowning at the fact that just happened. “i can’t remember the last time i- i came in my pants like that.”

you shook your head as he apologised, moving to lace your hand with his. “did me crying make you..?” you asked quietly, watching his face for a reaction.

jack nodded sheepishly, pulling you close to his body. “you just- you looked so pretty.”

[sugartalkingwrites]

you know how iphones have that feature that sync photos you've received and upload them to your photo album? well jack abbot certainly doesn't know how to turn it off. all i can think about is sending cleavage shots, teasing pictures that were only ever meant for him to see when he's in the confines of the ED bathroom trying not to rub one out there.

he is trying to show robby something about a motorcycle he saw the other day. slow swiping fingers on his screen as he tries his best to make out each image without pulling out his readers. he takes too long of a pause, a blown up photo of you in skimpy lingerie, spread across his bed leaving little to the imagination. jack doesn't rush to swipe away, having momentarily forgotten what he was doing.

"jack–" robby groans looking anywhere but the screen knowing this image will flash in his mind the next time he see's you.

"right! sorry... she looks great, doesn't she?" jack says looking over his shoulder at robby.

"not answering that, dr abbot."

[lonahlennox]

Honestly when did fandom shippers get soooo cocky???

[lonahlennox]

A lot of people are rb this with anti kingdon tags. Someone sent me an anon (which I’m refusing to answer) asking if I’m anti kingdon.

And just wanna state that I myself AM a kingdon shipper, but the point of this post was that the fandom is excruciatingly toxic whenever a person disagrees with their ships.

Shipping kingdon is valid! And so is not shipping it!! The whole point of ships is they are fans opinions on characters and sometimes it’s canon, sometimes not. The sheer amount of HATE Noah, the other showrunners, and actors are getting for not actively promoting it or agreeing with it is frankly ☝🏽🤨 weird as hell.

[lonahlennox]

Fleeting • Jack Abbot 70s AU (NSFW)

MDNI 18+

Summary: Mama always told you to find a good man, just like your daddy– kind, generous, with a silver tongue. She didn’t expect you to take that quite so literally.

-

Warnings: recreational drug use, alcohol consumption, smut, porn WITH plot, age gap: reader is mid twenties/ Jack is mid 40s, death of a parent, f reader, no race specified, no body size specified, oral f, fingering f, pinv, no protection, dubcon I guess?, pet names (baby, kid, little girl), no use of y/n, public sex/voyeur, pubic hair (it’s the 70s guys), praise, daddy issues but r doesn’t call him daddy, All characters are very OOC since this is literally an AU

-

A/N: guys I had so much fun writing this, please let me know if you liked it or would maybe like to see more AUs!!! Also you guys should see my search history while researching for this, it’s wild.

Word count idk y'all.

You couldn’t bear it, that small suffocating town that backed out onto the forest. The way everybody knew everybody, always sticking their noses in other people's business. Your mama begged you, pleaded with you not to leave. She always had her nose shoved deep into a magazine or played her crackling radio while washing dishes to listen to the news.

Marijuana: The kids aren’t all right!

Beware of Satanic Panic!

Are high waisted jeans turning your child against the lord?

It was all you ever heard, all she ever talked about whether that be at the dinner table or with the neighbours next door who were just as deranged as she was. You couldn’t wait until your 18th birthday, the day you could finally leave– but then your daddy got sick. A couple of years passed, and he seemed to improve, so at the ripe age of 20 you packed your bags and hit the road in the summer of ‘72

She threw a fit, screaming and crying and howling at your father to stop you. “She’s going to bring home a criminal!” She’d cry with a red face and swollen eyes. “Or one of those occult worshippers!”

Your father couldn’t stop you though, he knew that from the beginning. You were always a free spirit, like a wild horse who couldn’t be shut in a paddock for long. He knew the day would come when you’d escape the picket-fence hellscape your mother had created, and he was happy for you to. You had more guts than he did, that’s for sure, but the war would do that to a man.

In some aspects, you wish you had listened to your mother. What the world had to offer wasn’t all it had cracked up to be. Turns out sex, drugs, and rock and roll were only fun in the moment, the songs and magazine articles never talked about the morning after or the shame that would follow. That being said, it was an addictive lifestyle, epic highs and lows. Like a loop, so desperate to escape the sorrow you’d throw yourself back into the high just to feel euphoric again, but what goes up must come down.

You called when you could, wrote if you had the time, and even sent a photograph or two (which absolutely horrified her, she’d reply demanding to know where you were and who the fellows in the picture with you were). Four years had passed without going back, but she’d never stopped asking you to come home, to find a nice man just like your daddy and move back to get married and start a beautiful family. After staying with some friends in Upstate NY for a little while, you’d gotten a call from her. You expected it would be the same as usual, seven years of begging for your return– and it was, but this time you’d actually listen.

Your daddy was dead.

You’d packed immediately, wiped tears away constantly as you drove through the spring sunshine without a single rest stop until you finally returned home to Pittsburgh. Once you saw your mama, you didn’t let her go for hours, letting her sob into your arms for as long as she needed. For as long as you both needed.

Weeks turned into months, spring became late summer, and soon enough your tears started to dry. His funeral was beautiful and big, it really showed what a well-respected man he was. No wonder your mama wanted you to find someone just like him. She’d have a cow if you’d told her about the characters you’d been fraternising with. And if you’d admitted you lost your virginity to some seedy drummer backstage at one of his shows? She’d probably think you were infected with satanic panic and call an exorcist right away. Some details she didn’t need to know, or at least hear the words come out of your mouth. She didn’t recognise you barely after so many years, the sweet little brunette with two braids and frilly white socks who would pray every night at her bed was gone, and in her replacement was a grown woman with frizzy beach waves, skin-tight flare jeans, and shirts that she’d say were more indecent than underwear. But still, you were her little girl. And you came home, that’s what mattered most. You couldn’t leave her alone, not right now. Not in this great big house with nothing but the photos and memories of your daddy dancing with her in the kitchen.

You’d run into old friends from school, so many of them had never gotten out of this two-star town. Settled down fast, or started working a dead-end job. But there were a few, a few that remained as free as you were. One of them, a boy you only ever referred to as Whitaker, had caught you once outside the local grocers and invited you to a party that he and his housemate Trinity were throwing at their place. You didn’t remember Whitaker as much, a shy nerdy kid who treated Trinity like his big scary guard dog, but he’d changed. He wore a funky shirt that looked way too big for him, blue jeans, and had a cigarette hanging from his thin lips.

Hmm, a party could be fun.

You couldn’t dare tell your mama, she’d have a nervous breakdown that you were going out partying only a few months after your daddy’s death, and she hasn’t picked up her Quaaludes prescription yet so a shrill shriek and a whack over your head would be no question. Instead, you waited until she’d gone to bed, and slowly dressed yourself in a pair of shorts with a halter top and a leather patchwork jacket. You became a natural at sneaking out of her house as a teenager, still remembering which floorboards creaked and what window she’d always forget to latch shut. Before long you were enjoying the cool summer night air on your face as you walked to Whitaker and Trinity’s.

It really wasn’t that far, thankfully, and you could hear it far before you could see it. Voices and music were loud, and the visuals far exceeded your expectations. At 11pm, the party was in full swing, with drunks and hippies rolling around in the grass. The inside had a hazy lingering smoke in the air that gave everything a sort of dreamy effect, and the conversation pit was filled with people getting high or practically fucking each other as an orgy– you couldn’t actually tell.

You recognised some people from high school, but the majority were strangers. How the hell did so many cool people end up in this town? And how the hell did Dennis Whitaker know them? You assumed that since they lived together, they must’ve married each other, but you didn’t recall a ring on his finger. And judging by the state of affairs at this rather large get-together, well, it didn’t seem like a marital house by any means. You stepped outside the sliding back door, feeling positively hot boxed inside, and were finally met with the hosts.

“You made it,” Dennis slowly wobbled over to you, his eyes red and his smile was lazy. “Wasn’t sure we were cool enough for you.”

You glanced around, taking everything in from the orange lighting to the handsome men with dark curly chest hair and thick moustaches. “Seems pretty cool to me, Whitaker.”

Trinity comes up behind him, slinging an arm over his shoulder. “Shit, girl, I thought you died!” She laughs. “When Den here told me he invited you, was convinced he’d seen a ghost.”

“You thought I died?” You quirked a brow.

“Yeah, someone told me, uhhh I think it was Joy? From school. You remember Joy?” She asked and you nodded, the name rang a bell. “She's here tonight. Anyway, she told me you got in some car crash out at Vegas, like, last year.”

You scoff. “C’mon, you think a car crash could take me out?”

She just shrugs. “True, you’re probably gonna die like a true rockstar. 27 Club ain’t too far away.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You brush it off, not really wanting to think about death right now since grief had consumed you for the last few months. “Anyway, nice place. But how the hell do you two afford it?”

Trinity turns around to a tall man with dark Brown hair and a scruffy-looking beard walking over. “We don’t, this is Robby’s house.”

Robby looks up at his name being mentioned and smiles warmly as the cigarette hangs from his lips. He steps right beside Dennis, takes a drag, before sticking it in the smaller man’s mouth and greeting you. “I just let the kids stay here, keeps them out of trouble.”

Your eyes go wide at the sight of the grown man placing the cigarette between the lips of Dennis, who’s your age. “Oh, are you Whittakers' dad?” You ask innocently but Robby just chuckles, and Dennis blushes crimson.

“Yeah,” Robby smirks and pulls Dennis away, his hands resting on the smaller man’s waist. “Something like that.” He winks at Dennis and drags a hand down his front as they both walk away.

You turn to Trinity, who’s already staring at you with her hands planted firmly on her hips, she knows you understood that, and her whinging eyes are sizing you up. “You’re not a square, are you?”

“What? No, I don’t care.” You shove your hands in your pockets. “Love is love. And he must love Dennis a lot to let you both stay here for free.”

You see trinity visibly relax and she lifts her beer bottle to her lips for a swig. “Yeah, he’s a doctor. Doesn’t seem it, I know, but he’s rich. When Dennis told me they’d met I was…sceptical at first because of their age gap, but he was a true gentleman. And he took me with him so I can’t really fault him.”

You nod along. “Ain’t nothing wrong with a big age gap.”

She snorts. “Yeah, well. You get used to being around people older than you here. Most of the people here are Robby’s friends anyway.” She turns around and points to an older man who sits by the fire. “That’s Jack, they work together.”

He was…Jesus Christ. You swore you felt your panties get instantly wet at the sight of him, freckled skin illuminated by the orange licks of fire, reddish-Brown hair that was starting to grey, and plump lips with a joint hanging out of them, decorated with scruff. He almost reminded you of…

“And over there is Mel and Frank,” she points elsewhere, forcing you to drag your eyes away from the man at the fire. “And then that’s–” her voice trails off into a mumble in your head as your eyes drag back to the older man at the fire.

People around him were laughing, chatting, or swaying in their seats to the music, but her just sat. He was kinda slumped to the side, with his legs spread wide and a thick bulge right at his groin. The way he took a drag and let it blow out slowly was sensual, you could see the way it relaxed his body.

“And that’s it, at least for Robby’s coworkers.” Trinity’s voice took you away once again, and you shot her a smile. “So, have fun, and if you get too fucked up, you can crash here.” She shrugged and walked off to find Dennis and Robby.

You found yourself standing alone for a moment, you were far too sober for your liking, and something about being back in your hometown had you feeling all sorts of small. But as your eyes flicked back to the man at the fire, you noticed he was already staring at you. His eyes were trailing up your drew legs, lingering momentarily at your chest, before finally locking into eye contact with you. Perhaps it was the way he drank you in, the way his eyes almost twinkled at you (though that’s probably the fire reflecting in his glassy-high eyes, but something took over you and you found yourself taking calculated steps over to where he sat.

“This seat taken?” You ask lowly, he just shakes his head and gestures to the open chair next to him.

He holds out a dark brown bottle to you. “Beer?” He offers it, and you take it with a smile as your skin sticks to the seat below you.

“Thanks,” Your eyes trail down slightly to his wrinkled neck. “Trinity said you’re a friend of Robby’s?”

“Yeah, name’s Jack.” He props himself up more. “I work with the grumpy old bastard.”

“Didn’t seem so grumpy to me.”

“That’s because he’s high, with a night off to play with his favourite toy.” His voice penetrates my bones as he says the word ‘toy’.

You shrug and take a swig of your beer. “Looks like you’re high with a night off too.”

He smirks slightly. “Yet no one to play with.”

You lean over slightly, and pluck the joint from his lips, placing it in yours and taking a long drag. As you blow it out, you watch his chest expand as he inhales some of your smoke. “The night's still young.” Your smile grows wide, and he matches it, lifting the joint from your fingers to place it back in his own mouth.

“That it is.”

—

Hours seemed to go by of you and Jack just talking by the fire, but between the amount of beer you’ve drunk and cannabis you’ve smoked, time is skewed. As the substances relaxed you both, you found your bodies slumping more and more to the side, inching closer together. He was surprisingly open, he told you about Vietnam and how he lost his leg, why he became a doctor, and how he met Robby two decades ago. He also wasn’t shy about asking you questions, wanting to know everything about you and your life and genuinely seeming interested in your answers.

He was kind.

After his final joint was lit and shared between the two of you, the night had gotten very hazy. People were practically fucking each other in front of everyone, there were drugs neither of you had even heard of before being passed around like candy, and it was obvious this was a house for misfits. The ones who didn’t fully belong somewhere else, or who had something to hide. It was perfect for a person like you, and suddenly the idea of staying in this deadbeat town didn’t seem that bad anymore– there’s a safe haven now.

“How’s about a pick-me-up?” Jacks gruff voice croaked out and he held out a small plastic bag filled to the brim with white powder.

You felt your skin get warm, excitement brewing in you, and you nodded eagerly. Jack stood first, knocking over a few beer bottles that had been placed haphazardly on the grass below him, and held out his hand for you. When you grabbed it, you felt a tingle go through your spine, and he smiled at you as if he could feel it himself.

He wove you through the party, inside and past multiple people of any sort kissing and grinding on each other. He’d give nods and greetings to people he seemed to know, even sharing a few words with Robby who had Dennis straddling his lap in the conversation pit. By the time he’d kicked open the door to the avocado green bathroom, it looked like people were way ahead of us when it came to cocaine.

Traces of powder and rolled-up bills littered the sink, toilet, vanity, anything flat really. He locked the door behind us and started to pour out two thick lines right onto the counter.

He was definitely generous.

Once the lines were set, he pulled two separate hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and started rolling them up, passing one to me with hooded eyes that looked darker somehow in the bathroom lighting than out by the fire. As you held the bills to your noses, you both leant down and snorted the powder deeply, faces mere inches from one another. Jack rose first, seemingly faster at doing this than you and let out a groan as he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned slightly before wiping his nose with a chuckle. You finished soon after, smiling up at him with crinkled eyes.

You were practically pressed against him, and as Jack leant in you thought maybe he’d kiss you, but instead he stuck out his tongue and licked at the traces of powder around your nose. You felt the same sensation of wetness pool in your panties, and when he was done he didn’t even pull away.

“It’s good shit,” he grunted out. “You’ll be able to tell soon.”

“Looking forward to it, Jack.”

—

It was indeed very good coke, and Jack maintained his generosity by all too eagerly pouring out more lines for both of you every time your high would start to dip. The party continued to rage on for a few hours, and Jack (now influenced by the confidence drug) keenly introduced you more personally to his coworkers who seemed rather pleased to see their boss relax a little. You particularly enjoyed the company of Mel and Frank, as well as Yolanda when you could actually get a word out of her, though usually her mouth was occupied by Trinity’s.

The hours started to drag on, people were leaving or passed out around in various locations. But for you and Jack, you still felt on top of the world. The final line of coke really did wonders for you, finally instilling you with enough confidence to drag him down to the now unoccupied conversation pit as the party around you was no more.

Bedrooms were all taken, but no one would notice if you and Jack spent some one-on-one time in the conversation pit, everyone was too fucked up. He sat against the cushy sofa bench and instead of sitting next to him, you swung your legs over either side of his thick thighs and sat down right over his soft bulge. His hands immediately found your waist, nails digging into your skin, jacket long discarded now.

He looked up at you like you were the most powerful woman in the world, eyes tracing over your skin as if committing you to memory. You had one arm wrapped around his neck with your fingers tickling at the base of his hair, and the other was drawing slow lines up and down his chest that was slightly exposed from his half-unbuttoned shirt.

His lips were so close to yours, both mouths parted, just breathing each other and letting the warmth be the only thing touching you. Confidently, you started squirming on top of him, and felt his already large soft bulge grow harder– seems cocaine didn’t seem to affect him like most men. Good.

A strangled groan escaped his lips, but you swallowed it, finally planting your mouth on his. There is no asking for entrance, your tongues are already finding each other. Not fighting, but melting perfectly into each other, both attempting to taste every inch of the inside of each other's mouths. The bitter aftertaste of beer, the dryness from the weed, it was all so erotic to you.

His hands moved lower to your hips, pulling you down harder on top of him as you started grinding down on his hard erection. He helped guide your movements as his lips left yours and moved to your neck, kissing and biting all the while leaving a trail of hickies that you know will be a bitch to hide from your mother, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

One of his hands finds your ass, squeezing and spanking slightly over your shorts, while the other reaches for the tie in your halter neck and starts pulling at the bow until it unravels and falls, exposing your heavy breasts. He grips one, it fits perfectly in his big, rough hand, and then he pinches slightly at your nipple so it hardens before leaning you back slightly and taking the peak in his mouth, suckling at it.

You let out a moan, not even caring if anyone hears you, and let him lap at your sensitive breasts. He nibbles right on your nipples, making you help which of course brings a chuckle out of him but he doesn’t stop sucking until he’s content with how swollen he’s got it and releases it with a pop.

You’re convinced you’re so wet that you must be soaking all the way through your denim shorts. His rock-hard cock is perfect to grind over, but it’s not enough. Without letting you go, he slides from the sofa onto the shaggy carpet floor and lays you down. He removes his own shirt, revealing a scarred chest peppered with red and grey hair and you can’t help but drink him in– the party lighting still on and painting him a dark burnt rust colour.

You lift the rest of your halter top off as he makes work of your shorts, unbuttoning them and pulling them off with your panties in one swift movement. As soon as he locks eyes on your bush, you watch him shiver. His hands find your knees and he spreads you open nice and wide so he can see your glistening, puffy pussy from beneath your curls. Normally you’d be a bit more shy at being so exposed, both from being naked and in a public place, but the coke is making you brave.

The way he drinks you in is sinful, and he shifts himself to lie on his thick tummy, pushing the tip of his nose right into your bush and inhaling so deeply you’d think you had a line of coke hidden down there. He’s rutting his denim-clad bulge into the carpet now, and with a permission-seeking glance from him, he delves in.

You throw your head back instantly, the feeling of his warm mouth comforting in a way you didn’t realise you needed. You’d been eaten out plenty in your life, but this was different. Must be his age, he’s experienced. He licks a long stripe up your slit before latching his lips around your sensitive bud. Your hands find his curls and tug at them slightly as you start to grind onto his mouth, his suckling making your already puffy folds even more swollen.

“Mmmf,” he murmured into your cunt. “Taste s’fucken good, little girl.”

Your eyes roll back at his words, chest heaving as he works you perfectly with a tongue so perfect it may as well be made out of silver. He lapped at you like a thirsty dog, and the second two of his thick fingers prodded at your entrance, they were in you before you could register them. You gasped out loud and bucked up into his mouth forward as he thrust his digits into you, over and over and over, curling them up to his your most sensitive spot.

“Oh, fuck!” You cried out. “Jack, mmm, don’t stop!”

He chuckles against your clit, vibrating against it. “Such naughty words for a young lady,” you could almost feel him smirking against your folds.

“Please!” You cried out, feeling your stomach burn as you clenched your walls around his fingers. “Please, p-please, I’m so close!”

He starts licking at your clit again, and you swear you're seeing stars. Your cunt feels on fire, desperate for release but Jack remains patient, enjoying watching you squirm as you chase the high you crave so.

As soon as it snaps, your body almost convulses. Your juices are splashing out against the bottom of his chin, but he doesn’t ease up. He continues to eat and curls his strong fingers as you ride out your orgasm under his touch, pulling at his hair and scratching at his scalp while you try to stifle a moan, but fail miserably.

Once you settle, Jack slows his movements, and slowly lifts from your now very swollen cunt with an accomplished look in his face, your juices dripping from his scruffy chin. He doesn’t waste any time as you catch your breath, working at his belt buckle and unzipping his jeans to shove them down with his boxers.

His cock springs out, huge, veiny and uncut. The base of him is covered in a thick coating of grey-auburn, unruly curls. You stare in a bit of fear at the way it bobs, over you, casting an even larger shadow over your bare skin. You reach up to grip it, but he catches your wrist and pushes you back to lie down on the carpet while he crawls over you.

You can feel his hot tip graze over your entrance, teasing you evilly with each stroke through your sloppy holes. “You want it?” He hums in your ear.

“Y-yes, please! Please, don’t tease me.” He chuckles at your response.

“But you look so sweet like this, little girl.”

You squeeze your eyes shut in frustration, nails digging into his chest. “Jack, please!”

He kisses your neck and presses just the tip into your opening, the sting already setting in. “One more time, kid.” He grumbles in your ear. “Wanna hear it.”

“Oh, god!” You cry out, not caring about your volume anymore. “Please, fuck me, Jack!”

You feel him smirk against your ear, and then he’s pushing into you with a swift, harsh thrust. His cock kiss-punched your cervix as he bottoms out and for a quick, fleeting moment, he stills. The tip of his nose is brushing yours as you adjust, but as soon as you nod for him to continue, he’s unleashed. His thrusts resemble something of an animal, long, deep, hard, fast. He’s chasing his high now just as much as you were while he ate you like dessert.

Nothing could be heard except for your grunts and moans, heavy breathing in each other's ears. His lips attacked your neck while he pistoned into you over and over again.

“S-so fucken tight!” He growled in your ear like a wolf. “So- oh fuck- so mmmm warm and w-wet for me, baby.”

“Oh, Jack, fuck, sooo big!” You felt tears well up in your eyes as he continued to bully his fat, raw cock into your gummy walls.

“Taking me so well, kid! Mm– fuck!” He grunts and you can feel his thrusts getting sloppy. “Such a good girl.”

His praise enlightens something in you, it had been so long since your own father praised you, and now he’d never be able to again. But having Jack on top of you, panting and moaning as your body takes everything he’s giving you– well, it’s enough to satiate your itch.

“M’close!” He grunts. “W-where?!”

“On…on my–!” You don’t even get the words out before he’s pulling out of you and gripping his cock like a python, jerking himself harshly.

With one final tug, bringing his foreskin back, he shoots thick hot ropes of cum all over your belly. With every spurt of his seed, he’s roughly yanking his cock, whispering and moaning as his spill decorates your pretty body, milking his cock of every drop.

He looks dizzy as he takes a few big deep breaths, and then collapses on top of you with his head in the crook of your neck, not caring about his spend now squelching between you. Your fingers trace lazily on his back and he hums contentedly from the best sex you’ve ever had.

…

Yeah, you were staying.

Please consider reading my Jack Abbot fic, it’s smutty lol.

Timid, temperamental, and treacherously lustful- all words that could be used to describe Shay Lawson, depending on who you'd ask. The trut

[yesimfinewhydoyouask]

The Flannel

Jack Abbot x wife!reader

Description- What happens when Jack's wife returns from the bar bathroom and finds another woman with her hands on her husband

CW- reader is jealous as all hell, another character attempts infidelity, Jack has a damn good time, casual and not literal mention of violence, takes place in a bar, implied alcohol consumption

AN- This spawned into existence while I was waiting to pick up my gal from the dentist. It's by far the shortest thing I've ever written, but I usually struggle with length anyway (that's what she said)

You’d be an idiot if you thought it would never happen. That no one would ever see Jack Abbot, the handsome, muscular man with beautiful steady eyes and a heart you couldn’t help but trust the first time he smiled, and wish that they had him for themselves. 

You knew it happened, that people gave him a second glance when they passed him on the street, subtly looking him over head to toe and admiring the nice shape of him, the way he moved with quiet confidence, not taking up more space than he needed to make a show of himself like some did. He was handsome, he was attractive, he was beautiful and sexy and cute all rolled into one. You knew these things, and you knew others would too. How could they not?

That didn’t make it any easier to see as you returned from the bar bathroom. 

The woman was standing between your stool and Jack’s at the bartop, a hand resting lightly on his shoulder as she tossed her head back in a laugh. Her chocolate curls fell down to her shoulders, catching the dim bar lighting and shining like a rich sleek metal as it moved.

Something in your stomach twisted, something dark and ugly that you didn’t care to think about, filling you with an undeserved surge of anger. You wanted to smack her hand away from him, to yell in her face to back off. 

The black metal band on his finger was clear as day. You could see it from nearly across the room, glinting in the hanging lights where his weathered hand wrapped around his lowball tumbler. She must have been able to see it with how intently she gazed at him, drinking him in as if she’d never seen a man before. 

That made it all the worse. Accidents happened, a stumble turning into brushed shoulders that could be laughed off, but this, this, was purposeful. It was a choice she was making, to cozy up to Jack, to not look at his wedding band as if it would merely poof out of existence.

Fuck that.

You were storming over before you realized it.

Jack’s face lit up as he spotted you, still a few feet away.

“There’s my girl,” he greeted warmly. His arm was outstretched, welcoming you against his side, the spot by your stool still occupied by the pretty brunette woman who’d had her hands all over him.

“Hi, baby,” you said sweetly, stepping into his embrace and leaning even closer, one hand cupping his cheek to steady him as you kissed him deeply. He made a small sound of surprise in the back of his throat, but kissed you back without hesitation, his arm wrapping further around you to hold you close. His eyes were dark when you parted, a faint questioning look passing behind them as you grinned at him coyly, bottom lip caught between your teeth. 

“Making friends?” you asked lightly, settling yourself sideways on his lap, making sure to favor his good leg before you pressed one more kiss to his temple, your fingers combing through the thick curls at the back of his head. When you turned to face the woman, smiling overly sweetly at her, you felt a sick twinge of satisfaction to see the way her lips pursed together tightly.

“Sweetheart, this is Jessie,” Jack introduced, gesturing to the woman. His words lilted with faint humor, like he was watching his favorite reality show and the drama had just gotten good. “She was just complimenting my shirt.”

You laughed weakly. Of course she was. Just the thick flannel, surely it had nothing to do with the way he filled it out with his broad shoulders and thick, bulging biceps. 

“It looks like really good quality,” Jessie said, desperately trying to sound neutral. “What is it, cotton?”

Jack hummed, looking to you with a faint smirk. “I wouldn’t know,” he admitted. “This one bought it for me.” His arm tightened around you for a moment, giving you a slight squeeze. 

You frowned, your hand running up and down his chest to feel the fabric as you thought. She wasn’t wrong, it really was a good shirt. You’d always loved the soft feel of it under your hands when you ran your hands over his shoulders, sometimes bunching the fabric in your fists when he caught you off guard with an especially deep kiss. 

“I don’t remember.” You chuckled, giving her an easy smile. “Guess I’ll have to check later when he takes it off.”

Jessie nodded once in silent understanding, swallowing thickly before she picked up her drink from the counter. It was so close to the one you’d left Jack to look over for you that it had left a ring of condensation on the edge of the napkin you used as a coaster. 

“Right, well, I guess I’ll leave you to it,” she said, doing her best to paste on a cheerful smile to match her overly chipper tone. Her words sounded hollow, her finger tracing the rim of her glass as her eyes moved between you and Jack.

You only nodded, giving her an almost sympathetic smile to watch her go from your perch on Jack’s lap, fingers still twirling through his curls in a way you knew from countless hours curled up together that he loved. You picked up your own glass to sip, and Jack had to duck his head into the crook of your neck to muffle the sudden laugh he let slip at the way her eyes widened when she saw your wedding ring. 

A flicker of pride went through him, glad that even after so long together, he had made the right choice that day. Hours of designing had gone into your set of rings, months spent deliberating every curve of the band and cut of the stone before he finally showed you, wanting to make every detail perfect for you, to give you something as beautiful as you were that you would never want to take off. And you never did. 

“Have a good night, Jessie!” you called as she retreated. 

Jack gave you a warm look when she was out of earshot, dark hazel eyes trailing over your face like he wanted to catch every detail of it.

“You handled that mildly,” he drawled, amusement curling at the corner of his mouth. His eyes glimmered, the corners creasing the way they always did, bearing the weight of his hidden smile for him. 

You laughed, adjusting your position on his lap to wrap both arms behind his neck. 

“Careful, Jack,” you teased. “I might think you liked seeing me all possessive.”

He only hummed, the deep vibration carrying through his chest and into your side pressed against it, lifting one shoulder before letting it down into a small shrug. 

“You expect me to be upset to have you all over me, playing with my hair?” He gave you a cocky smirk, gaze lowering for just a moment to your lips before flicking back up. Your breath caught, and he noticed, head tilting slightly as he looked up at you through his lashes that had no business being so thick. 

“Thought for a moment you might smash a bottle over her head,” he continued, though his voice had dropped. His hand gripped your thigh, pulling you higher up his lap as he adjusted how he sat on the barstool. It couldn’t have been comfortable for him, but he was far from complaining. “That what you want, honey? Me having to stitch her up?”

The thought of his hands on her made you angry enough to bite your tongue. 

“That’s exactly why I didn’t,” you pointed out smugly, nestling even closer until the tip of your nose brushed the bridge of his. “I’d much rather keep you as my private doctor, Jack.”

He laughed through his nose, his unblinking gaze meeting yours without dropping. “I’ll be your anything, baby, but I don’t think I should be your doctor.”

You rolled your eyes, giving his scruffy cheek a kiss before fully melting against him, nuzzling into the side of his neck.

“Have it your way then. I’ll just make Robby my emergency contact.”

A sharp laugh left Jack before he could stop it. 

“Don’t even joke about that, sweetheart.”

[groovyangelkisses]

Happilymarried!Pope who makes everything a onesided competition on who treats their wife best. He just wants to brag how he kisses the ground u walk on because how are they criminals but Cath has to work at a bar??? Uh uh not Pope's wife, she's lapping up the sun by the pool in their house or busy spending his money around, not a care in the damn world hair done nails done in a cute lil car...his card has never graced the leather of his wallet cause its always in her purse

oh my gosh yes, absolutely. oh he's so husband ohhhh i'm sick!! i especially love this with ditzy, bimbo!reader <3 i got a little carried away but it's andrew so it fits! :)

everyone's at the house waiting for dinner to be made, just standing around and chatting. it's hot, bordering on nauseating humidity, and all andrew wants to do is see his pretty wife before dinner. he needs alone time, quiet time in his old room to just sit and gaze at you as you chatter.

but now? andrew's engaged in a mindless conversation with craig, hearing him drone on about his latest hook-up while he stands with his hands on his hips nervously. you're due at smurf's house at any minute, a promise you made as you laid out on the beachfront of your home, waving at andrew as he got in his truck to meet up with the boys earlier that day.

he couldn't stop himself from kissing you. he was 15 minutes late. big fuckin' deal. andrew's family knew he needed his "you time".

deran's cooking tonight, much to pope's chagrin, and the cody's are all a bit anxious to eat the food. "oh no i literally have the pizza place down the block on speed dial" j expresses in between sips of his beer, before deran angrily chimes in from inside the house "jokes on you, dickhead, i catered."

baz sits on a lounger with cath, holding her to his side as he talks to j about an upcoming job. she's sticky with bar-soda stains and exhausted with the sheer movement of a work ethic. staring down at her ring, she runs her thumb over the diamond, wondering how life could've been different. her eyes flicker over to the oldest cody, and she can remember a time when she'd always find him looking back at her. but that hasn't happened in a long time. her shoulders crack with resignation and envy.

a horn honking, a happy squeal from the driveway, and andrew's straightening up his miserable stance. the thick gummy sole of his jordans rub against the concrete as he, quite literally, walks away from craig mid conversation. "bro-" craig shrugs, turning to look at baz in confusion as baz smiles "his girls home bro, you lost him the second the tires pulled in the driveway." craig stomps into the house, but he's not really angry, never could be at pope, "fucker has super hearing, man"

andrew walks to the driveway, shoulders losing their hunch the closer he gets to your bubblegum pop music and toothy smile. it's hard for andrew to smile, he'd often tell you, late in the dark of your bedroom, "'it's like it hurts a bit. hurts my face, i guess" but right now? his smile is beaming; crooked, endearing teeth on display with a light flush. it's probably because his brothers are inside, he never liked smiling with his teeth before you.

"andy!!" you cheer, wide smile and bouncing in lightly between your left and right foot. andrew doesn't even slow his steps, just keeps trudging towards you until you're in his arms. one big hand hooked behind your head for a long, sloppy kiss. waaaay too much of a display for normal public settings. his breath hitches as your hands drag under his t-shirt, nails lightly scraping his sides.

breathing in through his nose, andrew pulls back to look down his nose at you, "missed you. where you been? how was shopping?" "good! really good andy, wanna see?" "later. lemme get a feel for you. missed you so much" with more kisses to your cheeks as he pushes the hair away from your eyes <3

when you go into the yard, you're smiling and waving at the cody's as you hang onto andrew's arm. your ring glistening in the reflection of the pool, cath can't help but swallow bitterly. andrew trails next to you, head fully turned to listen to you rant and rave about the latest sales and the cute clothing you bought for yourself and him. he looks like he could and would eat you whole at the nearest convenience. it's been years, and he still looks at you the same way.

at dinner, you sit on andrew's lap, legs swinging as you bring the fork to his mouth. craig can barely look but deran smiles into his food; it's nice to see pope happy (even if it is gross to witness at dinner). when his iced tea needs to be refilled, you lean forward over the table, his hand resting on the side of your ass to stabilize you. he's not comfy until the weight of his pretty wife is resting on his thighs.

later that night, when you are all cozy and chatting on the couch, you lift your feet into andrew's lap. he doesn't even bat an eye, moving like it's routine.... because it is. slipping off your lil platform flip flops, starting with a massage at your ankle, andrew massages your foot lovingly as he watches the conversations around him. "'s that good?" he speaks lowly to you, and you nod excitedly.

it's almost torture for cath to watch. she was on her feet for probably 9 hours today, and here you are: shiny toe ring, perfectly, freshly manicured toes. begging andrew for a massage, "think i twisted it after i ran out of victoria's secret." his voice sounds alien to her "'s no good baby, gotta watch your step, we talked about this" soooo husbandly and earnest.