content. mdni. | virginity loss, daddy kink, p in v, missionary, gojo & nanami can maybe hear everything, praise, clit rubbing, etc
based on this request! // written for @cutestgirllyyyuu
a/n: eekkk idk how I feel about this but !!! I initially wrote this as they do it while gojo and nanami are asleep nearby like right there but idk
the apartment was overflowing with testosterone today unfortunately. toji had his friends, nanami and gojo, over to watch some boxing fight.
your boyfriend had insisted you sit by him while you do homework, not wanting to be apart despite the difference in activities. it wasn’t much of a problem for the most part, especially because it allowed you to snuggle up next to him while figuring out complicated equations.
but, being in the presence of his friends made things a little difficult.
you were so shy—as in cheeks always uncontrollably flushing and words only able to come out in awkward mumbles in response to teasing comments they threw at you.
usually you could deal with them commenting on your shyness but today, they’d struck a nerve.
it was late at night now and toji had went to the bathroom which left you with the two men. you kept your gaze stuck to the grid paper on your lap, avoiding their gazes like usual.
still, you couldn’t help but strain to hear their mumbled conversation. gojo who was clearly a little drunk from one too many beers, nudged nanami and gestured towards you.
“think toji even gets close in bed? she seems kinda cold.. in that way, y’know.” he rambled in what you were sure he thought was a whisper. it was in fact much louder than a whisper.
a drunk nanami lightly slapped the back of gojo’s head but it was clear he was stifling his own laughter. “don’t say that. she’s just shy, maybe she doesn’t even wanna lose it with toji.” he mumbled back, taking a swig of his beer.
the conversation died at the hands of another being brought up. you went back to your homework but the comments still lingered in the back of your mind.
after a while, toji finally returned and came back to his seat beside you. upon looking up, you noticed that gojo and nanami were both passed out on the other couch.
you set your pencil down and glanced up at toji who was already looking at you.
“‘ji.. do you think I’m cold to you?” you asked quietly, avoiding being too loud since the others were asleep.
he raised an eyebrow at the random question while his fingers reached down to brush your hair back. “‘course not, baby.”
you thought for a moment and set your homework on the table before leaning over to press your lips to his.
he responded enthusiastically, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue into your warm mouth. the bitter flavor of beer and the familiar taste of toji coated your mouth. the kiss grew desperate quickly from mutual hunger and when you pulled back for air, his gaze was all molten desire.
“what do ya need tonight sweet girl? my fingers or my mouth?” his whisper was hushed, an attempt to stay quiet for the sleeping men.
you smiled innocently but mischief glinted in your hungry eyes. “need something else..” you whispered back a bit shyly and his pupils dilated impossibly with desire.
“what do you mean?” he breathed as you leaned forward to whisper against his parted lips.
“need you inside.. wanna go all the way.” pink bloomed in your cheeks.
when he pulled back to look at you, it was clear his self-control was hanging on by the thinnest thread. still, he tried to appear serious and made sure you were okay—definitely taken aback.
“you sure, sweetheart? we can hold off if you’re not ready. it’s okay.” he reassured in a hushed whisper.
gojo and nanami hadn’t moved a muscle, still in a heavy drunken sleep.
you pouted and nodded, “need you, I don’t wanna wait anymore.” your voice was soft as shyness lingered beneath each word.
a muscle in his jaw twitched a few times and he quickly stood, easily lifting you up in his arms like a bride. the soft mattress sunk a little as he laid you down after entering the room.
“you sure baby?” he asked again but his voice was so obviously filled with desperate need. with a quick nod, your starving eyes watched him undress.
within seconds, toji was hovering over you and his lips were on yours. the kiss was rushed, teeth clashing together and tongues colliding. your lips were wet with spit as he pulled away to press hot open-mouthed kisses to the skin of your neck instead.
“should tell me to stop baby. fuck, don’t know if daddy can hold back.” he rasped lowly, pressing his hips down into yours so his hard bulge was flush against your cunt.
you shook your head as a breathy moan escaped. lifting your hips, you rocked against him with desperation. “don’t hold back. need you so bad daddy.. please.” you whispered shakily.
“gonna be real slow at first, baby.” he promised and wrapped his fingers around his veiny base, nudging your nearly dripping lips. you nodded and stared down at the dirty sight.
he parted your lips with the leaky tip and very slowly eased it inside. “feel okay?” he breathed out, a bead of sweat sliding down his temple.
it was clear that he was seconds from snapping, so close to finally stuffing you.
“feels good. deeper toji.” you encouraged after adjusting, giving him the green light.
he blew out a small breath and pushed in further slowly, watching your face to check for signs of discomfort. instead he just saw a lust-filled expression, captivated by the scene playing out in front of you.
the unfamiliar pressure made your stomach cave with nerves and anticipation. “still okay?” he muttered, voice strained.
you nodded shyly and parted your legs a little more for him. “go all the way..”
he grunted and gripped onto your thigh tightly before slowly pushing each hard inch inside. the stretch was dizzying—it felt like you were being split apart. there was an unmistakable ache, which he was aware of from the slight furrow to your brows.
he hummed lowly and brought rough fingers to your clit, rubbing the swollen nub. “relax f’me sweet girl, it’ll feel better.” he drawled, staring at you darkly.
you nodded, eyes growing hazier at the dual pressure on both your clit and inside of you. the discomfort faded away gradually and was replaced by brain-melting pleasure.
“feels — ngh — better now daddy.” you mumbled, already cockdumb from him bottoming out.
he groaned and slid out halfway before filling you back up quickly while maintaining eye-contact. the look on your face as he fucked you drove him close to insanity.
a soft moan spilled from your lips, no doubt passing through the thin walls.
“so fucking tight.. can barely move.” he panted, pressing his thumb against your clit as he continued his slow thrusts.
you arched off the bed slightly at the unfamiliar rush of pleasure coursing through your entire body.
“mmfh—daddy, harder. don’t stop please.” you begged between breathy moans, fingers curling into the sheets beneath you.
toji breathed hard and complied with the request, turning each thrust harder.
you cried out loudly and instinctively covered your mouth with a shaky hand, remembering the two of you weren’t home alone.
he smiled darkly and took your hand, pinning it down beside your head as his hips slammed against yours. “let ‘em hear daddy tearing you apart for the first time.” he breathed out, earning a soft whimper in response from you.
from there, toji was no longer gentle. he physically couldn’t be. his hips snapped forward roughly as he nearly tore you apart.
the obscene sounds of skin slapping together and loud uncontrolled whimpers flooded the sex-hazed room.
there was no doubting the fact that his friends could wake up and hear you guys at any given moment—if they hadn’t already. the dirty idea only heightened the experience for you both.
toji circled your swollen clit as his cock continued sliding in and out of your slick walls. he caught your moans in his mouth, kissing you and messily sucking on your tongue.
“nngh—so close, daddy!” you cried out shakily as your lips broke apart.
he pinched at your clit harshly while continuously nudging the deepest part of you with his leaking tip. “come on daddy’s cock, baby. let — hah — go for me.” he encouraged in between a rough grunt.
you lifted off the bed with a guttural moan, hand weakly pushing at his abdomen as overwhelming pleasure struck you over and over. your reactions to coming undone made him fall apart just as quick.
he bit down hard on the crook of your neck as he came, squirting his seed deep inside of you. you breathed hard and were nearly shaking from the high, pussy twitching helplessly around his softening cock.
“did so good for daddy, sweetheart.” he whispered, pressing fluttery kisses to the skin his teeth hard carved into.
you were a boneless mess on the bed, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and pure bliss.
“such a good girl, took me so well.” he praised in between gentle kisses to your forehead and cheeks.
he scooped you up into his arms and pulled you in from behind, keeping his cock nestled deep inside of you. you drifted off quickly from his soothing touch and soft praise, limp in his arms.
effortlessly, your older boyfriend flips your position so you’re on all fours —practically throwing you around like a ragdoll, gripping your hips tightly.
"arch that back for me, baby. atta girl," he rasps, pushing his dick back into your sopping cunt. he delivers a sharp smack to your ass as he does, bottoming out inside of you again.
you moan as he re enters, "mnn—so deep." toji smirks in response, planting one foot on the mattress, knee in line with your lower back. "think this is deep, doll?"
that’s all he says before setting a relentless pace once more, cock hitting the deepest, most delicious parts of you that you can’t reach on your own.
"fuuuckk, such a pretty view every time," he says, voice low and slightly breathy — eyes locked onto the sight of your ass rippling from the contact.
you grip the sheets below you, knees almost bucking from the force of your boyfriend’s thrusts. "ohmygod—right there," you mewl, second orgasm approaching.
"right there, huh? gonna cum on my dick again?" toji groans, heavy balls slapping against your skin.
you nod, pressing your face into the soft pillows beneath you, creamy white rings forming at the thick base of toji’s cock.
"that’s my girl, sound so pretty while i’m wreckin’ this tight pussy."
his filthy encouragement has your entire body tensing, pussy fluttering desperately around every thick, veiny inch of his dick.
barely breaking a sweat, he fucks you through it, slowing his thrusts just enough so he can look down at the mess you’ve made on him.
only he sees something he wasn’t expecting… blood.
"y’okay, princess? anythin’ hurt?" he asks, soothing the skin on your hips with his thumbs.
you whine needily, silently begging for more despite your recent orgasm. "keep going, please—don’t s-stop."
toji rocks forwards a few times, gauging your reactions, unsure as to whether he should mention his recent discovery.
he picks up the pace again, the blood allowing him to slide in and out of you even more easily — the sight making his dick throb with need.
you wanted him to continue, oblivious to the situation, the need to be filled by toji’s load clouding your thoughts. he wasn’t about to ruin this for you by mentioning it. it’s not as if a man like toji was even the slightest amount bothered by a little blood, anyway.
so he keeps moving, snapping his hips forward, low groans escaping him the more he nears his own peak. "gonna—hah—fill this pussy up, feel so damn good, baby."
true to his word, toji snaps, thick, warm spurts of cum flooding your cunt. his thrusts slow again as he comes down, hips stuttering slightly as he empties every last drop inside of you.
leaning in, he presses a tender hiss the small of your back, then pulls out completely. you lay there, boneless and satisfied, rolling onto your back.
then, you open your eyes, seeing the surprising mess you’d made on toji’s dick.
seeing your mortified expression, toji cuts in, reassuring you before you can begin apologising or dying from humiliation. "s’okay, sweetheart. i don’t care."
he gets off the bed, taking you in his arms before carrying you bridal style to the bathroom to clean you up. "don’t start apologising, y’hear me?"
you nod, feeling fresh blood trickle down the inside of your thigh along with your boyfriend’s cum.
"why didn’t you mention it? you could’ve told me-" you say, being set down on the bathroom counter as toji flicks the shower on.
"don’t see what good that would’ve done. you were enjoyin’ yourself, ain’t gonna ruin that over a little blood," he responds, completely unphased.
you smile softly as toji steps between your legs, capturing your lips in a reassuring kiss.
⚚✈︎ CHAPTER TAGS: SMUT 18+ MDNI! smut, age difference, jack taking control (duh), cunnilingus, he eats you out while he masturbates, making out, fluff, angst, reader is a flight attendant.
⚚✈︎ CHAPTER SUMMARY: He convinced you to stay with him... for the time being.
AO3 | Wattpad | Spotify Playlist | The Long Way Home Masterlist
Jack blinked his eyes awake, and the first thing he saw was you.
You were sleeping on your side facing him, wrapped comfortably in the sheets. Your robe had slipped open just enough to offer him a breathtaking view of your cleavage, the soft, inviting sight calling out to him.
Jack decided he could get used to that view.
He called your name. You hummed and snuggled closer, but didn't open your eyes.
Slowly, deliberately, he wrapped an arm around you, drawing you flush against his chest.
He leaned down, pressing a feather light kiss to your cheek. Then another, each one more deliberate than the last, tracing a path toward the sensitive column of your throat.
As his lips brushed against your neck, he felt the subtle shift in your breathing. You still didn’t open your eyes, but you reacted with a small, involuntary sound escaping your throat as you leaned into his touch. Then came something that made his heart stutter: the unmistakable curve of a smile spreading across your lips.
"You're dangerous, you know that?" he murmured against your skin, his voice a gravelly whisper. He tugged your robe a little more. “I thought I took this off.”
His fingers found the silk of your robe where it had slipped, and slowly, agonizingly so, he began to draw it further down. He wanted to see you. He wanted to feel the full expanse of your skin against his own without any barriers between them.
As the fabric slid off your shoulder, revealing the pale, flawless curve of your collarbone, Jack felt his breath catch.
You opened your eyes then, and after a brief eye contact, Jack kissed your lips. Slowly at first, then roughly.
Breaking the kiss, he didn't pull away to create distance; instead, he began a slow, deliberate descent. His mouth left yours, trailing hot, wet kisses along the column of your throat, savoring the way your pulse hammered against his lips like a trapped bird. He moved downward with agonizing patience, his breath hot against your skin, leaving a path of fire in his wake.
The deliberate patience of his descent ended abruptly as Jack slipped beneath the heavy cocoon of the sheets.
He moved with the efficiency of a man who knew exactly what needed to be done, his hands finding the waistband of your panties. With one decisive, possessive tug, he stripped the barrier away, tossing the fabric aside.
Then, he was there.
Jack came face to face with you, his breath hot and ragged as he hovered inches away from your most intimate self.
And he had to admit, you have a pretty cunt.
In the confined space beneath the sheets, your scent was overwhelmingly sweet, musky, and achingly arousing.
"Beautiful," he rasped, the hot breath making you shudder.
The sight of you so exposed, so wet, and so utterly vulnerable to his whims sent a fresh jolt of electricity through his veins. He couldn't resist any longer. He leaned forward, his tongue darting out to taste the first drop of your arousal, a single, deliberate stroke that made your legs tremble and your voice break in a desperate, muffled cry.
Jack understood the power of anticipation better than most. He knew that while his hunger was ravenous, the most exquisite pleasure came from the slow build, the deliberate torment of waiting for the very thing you craved. He wouldn't rush to claim you; he would make you beg for it.
Leaning closer, he began to worship you with maddening patience. His lips pressed against your outer lips in soft, tentative kisses each one lighter than the last, almost teasing. He treated you like something precious, something sacred, his mouth moving in slow, circular motions that barely grazed your sensitive flesh. The contact was gentle, almost hesitant, but it served to heighten every nerve ending in your body until you felt like you might shatter from the simple touch.
Then, he changed tactics.
He pulled back just enough to hover his mouth directly over you without making contact. Then, he began to blow hot, steady streams of breath against your swollen folds. Each breath was deliberate, fanning across your most sensitive areas, making your muscles twitch involuntarily. He watched the way your thighs trembled, the way your hips bucked upward in a silent plea for more pressure, more contact, more of him.
"You're so sensitive," he whispered, his breath ghosting over your clit. "I can feel you shaking."
He continued the torment, alternating between the lightest, most feather soft kisses on your outer lips and those hot, humid gusts of air that made you whimper.
Jack was a man who prided himself on discipline. He had intended to make this a game of endurance, to draw out the torment until you were sobbing his name, begging for the release only he could provide. But as the scent of your arousal filled his lungs and the sound of your broken whimpers echoed beneath the sheets, his restraint shattered like glass.
The clinical detachment he usually used to govern his impulses evaporated, replaced by something far more primal.
With a guttural sound that was half groan, half growl, Jack abandoned the slow, careful kisses. He dove in, his mouth claiming you with a sudden, ferocious hunger. He wasn't just kissing you anymore, he was feasting.
The act itself turned him on that he had to hold your thigh with one hand. His other hand just had to relieve his own pain.
He started stroking himself while he tasted you.
His tongue became broad and insistent, sweeping over your swollen folds with devastating pressure. He found your clit with unerring accuracy, swirling around it with a relentless, rhythmic intensity that drove the air from your lungs. He drank you in, his mouth working over you with a desperate, starving energy, tasting every drop of your sweetness as if it were the only thing keeping him alive.
"God," he growled against your flesh, his words muffled but his intent unmistakable. "You taste like heaven."
He didn't stop, didn't slow down. He pushed deeper, his tongue probing and flicking with a maddening combination of speed and power.
He reveled in the way you moan, the way you squirm, and the way your hand held onto his graying hair.
He began to dart his tongue in and out of your entrance, mimicking the thrusting motion he knew you craved.
"Fuck, you're so sweet," he rasped against your skin, the words vibrating directly into your flesh.
He could feel your hips bucking against his face, your small frame shuddering as you tried to meet his tongue with your own movements. Your wetness was everywhere now, coating his lips and chin, making every slide of his tongue smoother, faster, more intense.
His hand moved faster, stroking himself harder as he felt his own climax nearing. His tongue was desperate to give you the same result.
It started as a low tremor deep in your belly before exploding into a full body convulsion. As Jack's tongue maintained its relentless, punishing rhythm against your clit, the tension that had been building reached its breaking point. Your hips bucked violently off the mattress, your back arching so sharply that your spine felt like it might snap under the sheer force of the pleasure.
"Jack oh god, Jack!" you screamed, your voice cracking into something raw and primal.
The climax hit you like a tidal wave, a cascade of white hot electricity that started at your core and radiated outward to your fingertips and toes.
And at the same time, Jack came into his own hand.
He stayed there long after the last tremor subsided, his mouth still pressed against you as your breathing gradually slowed from panicked gasps to shallow, shaky inhalations.
When he got out from under the sheets, he saw your flushed face looking straight at him.
“You’re good at that,” you said.
He chuckled. “I’ll do more of that at home.”
+++
The campaign to get you out of the hotel started the second Jack woke up for the second time that afternoon. He was entirely determined to convince you to ditch your hotel room altogether and move back into his house, and the ensuing debate went exactly as he had anticipated.
First, you flatly refused, citing your need for independence and your stubborn rule about not crowding people. Then, Jack insisted, flashing his most persuasive, authoritative doctor smile. You doubled down, pointing out the logistics. Jack really insisted, bringing out his best tactical negotiation skills, until you finally relented after he offered a strategic middle ground.
The compromise was simple, though entirely shocking to his system: you would stay at his place, but you were going to drive him to and from his shifts at the hospital in his own truck.
Frankly, Jack had never had a woman drive him around. Never. It wasn't that he didn’t support modern, independent women—he was just a traditional, old-school gentleman who instinctively took the keys. But he agreed to the terms anyway, fully plotting to casually take over the driver's seat whenever he could get away with it later.
He helped you pack your bags, chuckling softly as he zipped it closed. He couldn't resist teasing you about the fact that you had only lasted a grand total of two days in the hotel before ending up right back in his bedroom.
Jack honestly couldn't picture you handling his massive, heavy-duty truck at first, but when you pulled out of the hotel parking lot, you proved to be a surprisingly excellent driver, heels and all. You handled the vehicle with a calm, practiced precision that he supposed came from years of navigating chaotic airline logistics.
That evening, you smoothly dropped him off right at the PTMC ambulance bay for his night shift. Jack Abbot spent the next twelve hours practically on top of his game, operating in an infuriatingly good mood. It certainly helped that the ER was unusually quiet, with very few critical traumas rolling through the doors, allowing him to coast through his duties with a rare peace of mind.
When he finally clocked off the following morning, he took a detour past the clinic supply cabinets and discretely snagged a fresh handful of condoms, tucking them safely into his pocket just in case.
Dana, the veteran charge nurse who had just arrived for her day shift, caught him red-handed. She leaned against the central desk, crossing her arms with a slow, knowing smirk.
“You planning for a busy morning, hun?” she asked, her voice carrying just enough to make the nearby residents turn their heads.
Jack didn't even blink. He just offered Dana a smooth, unbothered wink, patted the pocket of his scrubs, and waved the entire nursing station off as he strolled toward the automatic glass doors of the ER.
He didn't have to wait long. Exactly one minute later, his massive heavy-duty truck rumbled up to the curb of the ambulance bay, stopping with perfect precision. The second the door clicked shut, the sterile, heavy chaos of the hospital vanished, replaced by the warm hum of the heater and the faint, grounding scent of jasmine.
“Mornin,” he murmured, leaning over the center console to claim a soft, lingering greeting kiss before you could even shift the truck into drive.
+++
A lot of things can happen in the span of a few weeks.
The biggest milestone came when Jack finally met your sister, Polly. She was younger than him but older than you, newly married, and currently in the hormonal, anxious stages of early pregnancy. Because of that, she had a pretty extensive list of health-related inquiries, treating Jack less like a prospective brother-in-law and more like a top-tier medical hotline. Jack, to his credit, answered every single one of her frantic obstetric questions happily, completely winning her over by the time the appetizers arrived.
Your brother-in-law, Alan, was a completely different story. He was roughly Jack’s age, highly successful in corporate finance, and carried himself with an obnoxious, self-important air. Jack decided within ten minutes that he didn't really care for the guy, mostly because Alan barely let the women speak, constantly cutting Polly off to steer the conversation back to himself.
“This relationship is going pretty fast,” Alan noted over his steak, his eyes dropping pointedly to where Jack’s hand was resting on your knee under the table. It was a passive-aggressive jab, and Jack immediately felt you stiffen beside him. “You know you could always just stay in our guest room while you deal with your work, right? No need to rush into things.”
Your family still didn’t know about the incident, and you had covered up your bruise with makeup perfectly.
“Jack is a complete gentleman, so you don’t have to worry,” you said, your customer-service voice slipping on like armor. “And he’s actually been incredibly helpful with my current… work, which I really appreciate.”
Alan chewed slowly, entirely missing the warning tone in your voice. “Truman is gonna be heartbroken when he hears about this.”
“And Truman is who?” Jack asked, raising a single, authoritative eyebrow. His tone was perfectly polite, but there was a dangerous, hard edge to his eyes.
“My younger brother,” Alan said with a dismissive shrug. “We set them up on a blind date the first week she came to Pittsburgh. Neither one of them told us what happened next, so we just assumed it went well—”
“That never happened and I never agreed to it,” you snapped, cutting Alan off with a sharp, icy finality. “I didn’t see it as a double date. It was a mandatory family dinner that your brother happened to crash. Besides, I had actual plans to get to that night. I was leaving early to meet Jack to pick something up.”
Jack’s lips twitched into a thoroughly satisfied smile. He leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass as he looked across the table at your brother-in-law.
“So it was that night?” Jack chuckled, deliberately pouring gasoline on the fire. “Right. You were wearing that really tight, dark cocktail dress. The whole ER was practically vibrating when you walked in. I nearly forgot how to read a chart.”
That shut them up remarkably fast. Alan’s mouth opened and closed like a landed fish, and Polly quickly cleared her throat, suddenly very interested in her sparkling water.
An hour later, the polite goodbyes were said, and the second the heavy doors of Jack's truck clicked shut, the stifling atmosphere vanished. You and Jack simultaneously burst into loud, echoes of laughter, the sheer ridiculousness of the dinner catching up to you as he pulled out of the restaurant parking lot.
You had many dates after that, if one could call going to the same diner every single morning for breakfast a date. He would get off his shift, you would pull the truck up to the ambulance bay, and twenty minutes later you’d be sitting across from each other in a vinyl booth, trading pieces of bacon before heading home to fall into bed. In no time at all, the two of you had a seamless, unshakeable routine.
His house quickly became something he hadn’t experienced in years: lived-in. There was no more overflowing laundry mountain, the kitchen actually smelled like food, and your presence filled the quiet, empty corners of the rooms. You spent your days buried under a mountain of legal documents. Ultimately, you decided you were going to sign the NDA, but you were pushing for a significantly higher payout—which was exactly what Jack had suggested from the start. His lawyer buddy had agreed it was a foolproof strategy. By the look of the latest drafts, you were looking at a hell of a lot of money without ever needing to set a single foot inside a courtroom.
Sometimes, when he came home, he would catch a glimpse of your blue notebook poking out from your bag. He even opened it again once while you were fast asleep, tracking the frantic, brilliant way your mind organized your life.
He found himself constantly wishing he had more time with you, however. The reality of his schedule was brutal; when the sun was up, he was usually dead to the world, asleep in the darkened bedroom while you spent your afternoons meeting with lawyers, calling the airline, doing research, or quietly looking into new job opportunities.
He slept next to you sometimes, which meant waking up at noon with cuddles and your heavenly scent.
You would make out with him on his days off—intense, breathless sessions that left him seeing stars—but it hadn’t gone any further than that first morning in the hotel room. Jack didn't mind the restraint, mostly because you had mentioned off-handedly during a quiet moment that you liked him a lot. You had looked him dead in the eye and told him you didn't want to rush this, hoping that by building a real foundation, it would last a lot longer that way.
That conversation naturally made him wonder about your past relationships. One rainy afternoon, you finally threw him a few bones. You told him you’d had a total of five boyfriends in your life. Three of them weren't serious at all—just standard, short-term standard fare. One had been serious, but you were too young back then; he was a cop, and the two of you ultimately had completely different ideas about what the future should look like. The other serious one had been a commercial pilot.
You didn't get into the messy details of why it ended, but you did casually mention that almost all of your exes shared a specific type: tall and muscular. Jack let out a loud, self-satisfied laugh when you said that, flexing his arms jokingly against the couch cushions.
In return, he opened up to you about his late wife. He shared a few rare, unguarded things about how he had met her and just how dangerously busy he had been back then—even more so than he was now. He admitted, with a quiet drop in his voice, how much guilt he still carried for not spending more time with her before she passed.
“I haven’t really dated since then,” he told you, his fingers mindlessly tracing the hem of your shirt. “I didn't even take the wedding ring off for the longest time. Never really wanted to. Until one day, I suddenly did.”
You tilted your head back to look up at him. “What triggered it?”
“I read something about letting go,” he murmured, a soft, incredibly tender smile breaking through his rugged features. “And somehow, reading those scribbles clicked the way none of my therapist’s expensive speeches ever could.”
He leaned down over the back of the couch, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips as you sat on the floor in front of him.
So yes, Jack Abbot truly didn’t mind that you wanted to take things slow, even though his physical desire for you was reaching a point of absolute insanity. In fact, he was incredibly glad. For the first time in his life, he felt like he was building something designed to last.
Plus, dry-humping with you was thoroughly satisfying. He wasn’t one to complain.
By the end of the month, the reality of your looming departure began to cast a quiet shadow over the house. You were planning to go back to Dallas. When he casually asked what your plan was for after the move, you smoothly brushed it off or skillfully changed the subject. But Jack didn't push.
He trusted what you had said about taking things slow and truly liking him. He trusted that you wouldn't just vanish and be gone from his life forever, no matter how tightly you guarded your immediate itinerary. No, you were too kind, too deeply woven into his days now, for that kind of careless exit.
He was thinking about this exact subject one night, running the logistics through his mind during a brief lull in the ER. It was getting incredibly close to the day you were supposed to officially sign the NDA and fly back home.
Suddenly, close to midnight, his routine was completely shattered.
Jack was tending to a patient inside one of the curtained cubicles, charting a minor laceration repair, when Dr. Ellis abruptly opened the door. She leaned in, a highly amused, knowing smirk plastered across her face.
“A gorgeous flight attendant, manicured from head to toe, is here to see you, Dr. Abbot,” Parker announced playfully.
Jack chuckled, a sudden warmth blooming in his chest. He quickly finished up with his patient, and walked out into the central nursing hub. When he rounded the corner, he stopped. There you were, standing right in the center of the chaotic ER hub, holding a massive box of Dunkin' Donuts and a tray of coffees. You were already completely surrounded by a small crowd of delighted night-shift nurses, residents, and even a couple of hospital security guards who were happily chatting you up.
“What are you doing here?” Jack asked, a broad smile breaking across his face as he walked up to you, completely ignoring his audience as he leaned in to plant a soft, lingering peck on your lips.
“Happy birthday,” you said, your eyes bright and mischievous.
Jack blinked, immediately checking his watch. The digital numbers ticked past midnight. Damn. He hadn't even realized it was his birthday. He was too old to remember things like that.
“I thought I might drop by, make sure I’m the absolute first one to say it to you,” you said softly. The sweetness of the gesture caught him entirely off guard, making him lean right back in to give you another appreciative peck.
“Get a room,” Shen interjected from the side, already sipping from a fresh, cold cup of premium coffee which Jack guessed you had strategically bought to bribe the staff.
You ignored the resident and opened the donut box, pointing a perfectly manicured finger inside. “I reserved this specific one for you.” It was the exact maple-glazed donut you’d discovered he liked during your morning diner runs, alongside a cup of actually good, non-hospital coffee of his own.
“Thank you,” Jack murmured, taking a slow sip of the brew. He looked at you, his chest tightening with an intensity that almost scared him. “Might actually be the best birthday ever.”
“I’ll go now,” you said, shifting your weight as you set the remaining boxes down on the nurses' counter. “I know you’re incredibly busy. I just thought I might drop by for a minute.”
“C’mon, Cinderella. I’ll walk you out,” he said, handing his coffee to a nearby nurse and wrapping a hand around the small of your back.
“Be quick, lovebirds. Traumas don't wait for romance,” Shen called out as you both started down the hallway.
Jack laughed over his shoulder, throwing a lazy middle finger back toward the desk as he saw most of his colleagues watching them walk out with genuine, happy grins. As they reached the sliding glass doors of the ambulance bay, his eyes dropped to your feet.
“You know, you didn’t have to wear those killer heels everywhere you go,” he noted dryly. “You’re at a hospital.”
“I didn’t exactly pack a full wardrobe for a month-long visit, doc,” you replied with a playful shrug.
Jack chuckled, but the casual reminder of your packing situation hit him like a physical pang. It brought him right back to the glaring, uncomfortable reality of the inevitability of your departure.
You were leaving for Dallas soon. The clock was ticking.
You stepped close into his space, cutting off his dark thoughts as you looped your arms around his neck. “Happy birthday again, old man,” you murmured, leaning up on your toes to give him a deep, beautiful kiss goodbye.
When you finally pulled away, your fingers lingered on the collar of his scrubs. “I’ll pick you up in a few hours when your shift ends. Have fun. Save lots of people.”
He wondered if you were planning on telling him when you would leave. If you were planning on telling him at all.
