(smut) dbf! jack abbot- this is lowkey a wild ask so it's completely up to you if you want to write it or not but... like soft smut where reader is scared of pelvic floor exams. asked jack about pain with penetration and he said he'd examine them if they wanted that. time passes before reader finally agrees, jack coming over to their apartment- let's just say it ends with stubble burns against their thighs.
— I LOVE WILD ASKS please never ever be afraid to send ‘em i really loved this one.
As you had gotten older, you allowed your yearly pelvic exam to come and go. Sometimes you would get the courage to make the appointment and tell yourself this year you’re gonna do it. You’re gonna face the music, anxiety be damned and go get checked out. Then as it inched closer and closer to the date you chicken out and cancel.
You were beyond scared of getting one. You knew exactly why too, losing your virginity had not been nearly as fun as all your friends made it out to be, sex hurt. When you told your girlfriends this they looked at you a little funny and asked maybe he didn’t do it right, it wasn’t exactly supposed to be painful, not the whole time anyway. So you did a few experiments of your own, cause maybe they were right and the guy just i don’t know did it wrong?
You bought a toy, a not too big but average to smaller sized dildo, online as going in store was too much to handle. And one night when your college roommates were out, you tried using it but it hurt just the same, you even tired just using your fingers but that wasn’t much better. From then on for years, you avoided sex as much as you could. All subsequent boyfriends who managed to persuade you into it just told you it'd be “Much better with me trust me baby” and it never really was.
When you bring it up to one of your friends again, they point something out that you had been trying to avoid thinking of. “Hey, isn't one of your dads friends a doctor or something? Why haven’t you asked him about it?” oh that guy. Yeah the one you are kinda a little too attracted to who’s not just your fathers friend but his best friend, who makes your brain short circuit each time he calls you sweetheart? That one. Yeah you’d rather not talk about how sex is painful to the older man, who is the closest person to your father. You just might have to though if you ever wanna actually enjoy sex in your life.
When you see Jack a few days later for your dads weekly dinner night he hosts, you manage to pull him away telling your dad it’s private girly medical related questions, he shuts up shortly after that.
“What's up kid you okay?” Jack asks, concern evident in his voice. You rarely asked him anything medical and he was a bit worried you’re about to ask him how long is it normal for a woman to go without getting her period. “How…” you squeak out. Oh god here it comes. Before you start again you clear your throat. “How um common is, you know pain during sex…” the word sex leaves your lips in a meek and quiet tone, Jack tries his best not to chuckle as to not embarrass you further, but he’s happy it's not the question he was expecting. “Pretty common kid, at least the first time” he explains calmly, his casual demeanor easing your anxiety only a bit. “And how about every time?”
The idea of you having sex multiple times shouldn't be making Jack's chest ache the way it is, you’re a young beautiful girl after all, he tries telling himself it’s only cause it’s apparently painful and he cares for you. This time he straightens up a bit, “if the guys aren’t being rough, it's less common, it shouldn’t be every time” he watches as your eyes go a little wide and shake your head no in response to the first half of his statement. “Have you had an exam lately kid?” This is a purely professional question so it shouldn’t feel as dirty as it does coming out of his mouth.
“I um normally cancel them” Jack can only sigh out in a bit of frustration. “You should really get them regularly sweetheart” he misses the way your thighs lightly squeeze together at the use of the nickname. “I’m scared s’ all, anything going um inside hurts and doctors offices only make me more nervous” you explain. He smooths a hand over your hair, sympathy lacing his voice. “it’s okay i don’t mean to make you feel bad about it kid i swear” “How-” he stops himself, his eyebrows furrowing as if he was debating something in his head. “What?” you prompt, trying your hardest to not buckle at the knees from the way he’s practically petting your head. Physical touch is a quite rare thing between you too minus a few hugs on birthdays or pats on the back. “How about I give you one?’ oh sweet jesus that sounds wrong. He clears his throat, his face a little flush now at his own words but he doesn’t backtrack. “I’m a doctor, that you know, so it’s less scary” “No appointment needed if that makes you more comfortable” as you are processing his words he continues on. “I could do it at your apartment, where ever you feel most comfortable”
Your throat shouldn't feel as dry as it does, but the idea of Jack examining your pussy makes your head spin and slick settle between your legs a little. Maybe you should just see a regular random doctor, not one you have a wildly inappropriate crush on. You leave him with a small “Thank you, I'll think about it” and run off with the excuse of using the bathroom. You leave before Jack that night without much of any goodbye to him, he tries not to dwell on it, he really hopes he didn’t upset you.
You however dwell for days on Jack’s suggestion. Without the underlying nerves you feel because of being attracted to him, it is a good idea. You’d feel far more comfortable, maybe too comfortable being examined by him rather than a doctor you hardly know. You don’t bring it up to anyone as you’re too embarrassed but you think about it for days. When you get a reminder for the last gyno appointment you were brave enough to make, you cancel it without another thought and text Jack.
All he does is thumbs up your message but for the next few hours you are anxious as all hell while waiting for him to knock on your door. You had given yourself the time both to calm down but also clean your apartment. Even though he was literally coming over to give you a vaginal exam and wouldn't care what your place looked like, you wanted it to be neat. Even if this was going to be probably the weirdest event in your life to date.
You are startled out of your train of thought by a knock at the door, you glance at the clock — 3pm exactly. Damn older men and their punctuality or was it a doctor thing? Shaking your head you nervously make your way to open the door, greeting Jack with a little awkward wave. He chuckles softly, the sound calming you as you step back from the open door to invite him in. “It’ll be alright, i’ll be gentle kid” his voice runs over your skin leaving behind goosebumps. You don’t know what you’re more nervous over, the expected pain of the actual examination or, the idea of Jack's hands on you, his fingers in you.
Without wasting much time Jack settled into a semi professional but still comforting balance as he puts down the small bag of stuff he needs on the floor of your living room. You appreciate his effectiveness, as he tells you to sit on your couch facing him. You listen and watch as he sits on top of your coffee table. “This will be a little awkward because we are here and not a hospital, so I don't have a few things sweetheart” he starts to explain. “The no gown won’t be too hard, you have a skirt on so if you could just take off your underwear i can have access without-” he paused a moment as if thinking “leaving you too indisposed” the way he snaps a pair of blue latex gloves on shouldn’t be making as wet as it is, fuck.
“Can-” you stutter out, your face hot but he seems to pick up on what you’re asking, nodding softly he turns his head away to give you some semblance of privacy. Bunching up your skirt you hook your fingers into the waistband of your slightly soaked panties and pull them down your legs. You kick them under the coffee table so they’re out of sight and tap Jack on the shoulder, he shakes his head softly at your shyness before turning to face you again.
“Put your feet up either side of me on the table, won’t be the same as stirrups but close enough” tugging at the end of your skirt to cover yourself a bit more you do as he says and place your feet up flat on the low table. He adjusts them slightly, grabbing your foot one at a time and slides them a bit so they are more half off not so far back. “Scooh more to the edge of the couch kid, lean back ‘n tilt your hips up a lil more f’ me” the way you listen so well to Jack has him smiling softly at you and muttering out a small “Atta girl”
He pressed lightly around on your abdomen through your shirt and skirt, eyes glued to your face gauging your reactions. “No pain or tenderness when I do this, right?” when you shake your head no he stops. “My hand is gonna go under your skirt for a second okay?” your face grows hotter and you nod, your voice has yet to find you again but so far nods are an effective enough communication with him. He reaches down between your legs but only presses around again, this time he is much closer to your pussy but he remains on the outside, pressing over the mound of it and on your pubic bone. “No pain?” Once again your head shakes side to side. His hand pulls away, your eyes follow his movements as he reaches down to grab a small bottle out of his bag.
He holds it but doesn’t do anything with it yet, his eyes find yours again “This next part i have to put my fingers inside, that okay sweetheart?” you gulp softly, nodding yes slowly as your nervousness grows again. “That’s the part that us- usually hurts” you explain in a small voice. It’s Jack's turn to nod now, "Penetration?” you let out a ‘mhm’ in agreeance as he squeezes the clear substance onto his pointer finger. “This is lube to make it easier and I’ll go slow, only one finger” his other hand reaches around your leg to touch the back of your calf, rubbing soothing lines up and down the muscle. “If you’re relaxed it might not be as painful” he explains, waiting on your go ahead before reaching down under your skirt once again.
Pushing his lube coated index finger through your folds the tip of it finds your entrance, he gauges your face, when you nod again he proceeds by pushing it inside.
Your sharp intake of air makes him stop once only the first bend of his finger is inside. “Come on, relax f’ me sweetheart” his low honey dipped voice makes your body go a bit lax, he inches his finger forward again and when you show no sign of pain he goes all the way til it's completely inside. “How’s that kid?” he sounds as breathless as you feel but you try to ignore it. “A little pain” you squeak out. “Give it a second, relax and it might go away”
“Don’t know how to relax more” you whine out, the sound going straight down Jack’s spine and up again, he shivers a bit and wills it away before it travels further south. “I’m gonna try something…do you trust me sweetheart?” you’re already nodding again in response before he fully finishes his question.
Bringing his thumb up he parts the lips of your pussy til it finds your clit. You gasp out and slightly scare him, “That hurt?” “No no m’ sorry surprised me is all” you mumble out, biting your lip to hold in any more noises from getting free, like an accidental moan. Jesus christ why did you think this was a good idea again? If you had to bet you’d say you were soaking his gloved finger, even with the sting you felt from it inside, it felt good at the same time. You never even reached this type of feeling with your own fingers.
His thumb on your clit presses down lightly and starts rubbing in circles, you let out a small little sigh that makes Jack smirk a bit. “There you go honey, come on” “Un-tense your shoulders” your body listens almost instantaneously “Good girl” you can’t help the whimper that comes out at his words, he doesn’t say anything in response. “Feel any better?” he prompts, his eyes remain on your face, no matter how bad he wants to peek under your skirt to watch the way your little bud twitches under his touch. “Mhmm a bit” you answer softly, trying to push away the odd feeling bubbling up in the pit of your stomach.
“Can I put in another finger, we’ll see how that feels?” he whispers, he definitely has enough information that he thinks he knows what’s wrong already but you don’t need to know that. “Yeah” you pant out, shaking your head a little too eagerly, if Jack notices he doesn’t say a word. With ease his middle slips in alongside his pointer, his thumb still circling your clit. “No pain honey?” the motion of your head once again answers his question. “Wanna try something else…can I move my fingers sweetheart?”
“Please” you plead, head to fuzzy to care how desperate you sound. Slowly pulling his fingers back he watches your face as he pistons them back in, repeating the motion. “That feel good?” “Mhm no pain, fuck! feels really good” you whine out, your hips now bucking up against his fingers. He speeds up, still waiting to see if it hurts or if you stop him. “Jack” you moan out, his cock throbs in response.
“Yeah kid?” “Need- Mm” you cut yourself off, pinching your lips in a line and tilting your head back. “Nuh-uh come on honey, tell me what ya’ need” he prompts, curling his fingers up to hit a different spot inside you that has you letting out a pornographic noise you didn’t know you were even capable of. “Need-” you huff out, before he stops you “Look at me when you say it, come on kid” “Use your words”
Lifting your head you look into Jack’s eyes, his breath hitches at the sight of your glazed over lust filled eyes, batting your eyelashes you start again. “Need more” you sob. His stomach just about hurts now from how hard he is in his jeans that feels all too tight. “Yeah? What more honey? Another finger or something else?” he asks, consciences be damned he’s not gonna leave you hanging even if your old man would fucking kill him if he ever found out about this. “Somethin’ else please” you whine, not even knowing what more you want. Jack however seems to when he takes his free hand off your calf and lifts your skirt, his head ducking under it. His fingers don’t stop positioning in and out of your slick cunt even if you squeal a bit at his motion. The noise morphs into a moan, your body melting into the couch when his warm tongue pokes out and makes contact with your pussy, licking at your pussy. “Still feel good kid?” he mumbles out, before his thumb leaves your bundle of nerves only to be replaced by his mouth as he sucks at it.
“Yeah- Yeah feels s’ good” you breathe out, letting go of your skirt, he grabs at your one leg, lifting your foot off the table placing it over his shoulder, prompting you to do the same with your other before his fingers slip out of your pussy.
You whine at the loss, “Jackkk” making him chuckle softly against you. “Hang on sweetheart” he coos as he uses both hands to grab at your hips, pulling you up and half way off the couch to get you closer to his mouth, lapping at you hard splitting your folds with his pointed tongue before sucking at your clit. “Ah- Ahhh ooh fuck” you wail out, your hands frantic to steady yourself. One finding purchase on his shoulder before sliding down his back under his shirt where your nails scratch at his skin. The other holding on for dear life to the edge of your couch cushion, your legs tighten a bit around his head.
“Holy shit” you whisper out in breathless disbelief, the odd feeling from before coming back to quickly build in the pit of your stomach. Jack's large hands cupping your waist squeeze at your flesh, as he shakes his head side to side a little, flattening his tongue against you. Your thighs burn a bit at the friction of his stubbly face rubbing against them. He moves back to harshly sucking at your clit, your pussy and his mouth coated in his spit as he practically slurps at your juices.
“Huu- shit” “Wait wait! Jack- mhm feels like m’ gonna pee” you try pushing at his head to stop him, even if you desperately didn’t want his mouth off you. That feeling in your stomach was teetering on the edge. “Ya’ don’t have to pee sweetheart, that’s a orgasm you feel” he grumbles out, the explain making your hand ease up from pushing instead it rakes through his curls “S’ okay cum for me kid”
“Promse s’ okay” you whine out, staring down at his head between your legs. “Yeah, you can do it” “cum f’ me it’s okay honey” "Promise it’ll feel good, no pain” his reassure is all you need to let your high wash over you, legs shaking on his shoulders, “There we go, fuck” he moans out. Your back arching as you cum on his tongue with a loud wanton moan filling your apartment coupled with his praise, “Atta girl, sweetheart” “Such a good girl f’ me” he laps at your cum. “Taste so fucking sweet, like i knew ya’ would” he mumbles out, that one you think was meant more for himself.
Managing to reluctantly pull his head from between your soft thighs, Jack used his hold on your hips to place your body back onto the couch. You stare at him wide eyed when you notice his face all wet, covered in you. “Got somethin’ on my face kid?” you nod meekly. He chuckles and pinches at the collar of his shirt to bring it up and wipe at his mouth. “No pain after?” he asks. “No, never done that before” you whisper out, flicking your head down to where your skirt now covered your puffy but satisfied pussy.
“Just needed an older man huh sweetheart, help ya’ relax a little and the pain melts away” he states, reaching down to rub at your knee. “Fucking little boys” he tsks but your eyes are glued to the large bulge in between his thick thighs. You’d have to be extra relaxed to take that monster on…
— would the position jack eats you out in, be at all comfortable for that old man's back? fuck no and lowkey it’s a hard to physically imagine it but jack’s strong s’ fineeeee i got a little too lost in sauce when writing clearly oops…this was also only like half proofread.
summary ⠀♱ ⠀in the words of lana del rey, “i got sweet taste for men who are older…” or, two times jack abbot was mistaken for your father, and the one time he wasn’t.
pairing ⠀♱ dbf!jack abbot x fem!robinavitch!reader
warnings ⠀♱ big time age gap — reader is in her mid 20s, jack is in his early 50s. smut, overprotective robby, probably ooc jack and robby. way too many instances of jack and reader getting mistaken for a father/daughter duo — usage of the nickname ‘daddy’ (only during sex), jack is insecure about his age, mentions of jack’s leg, jack takes viagra, BIG DICK JACK !!! reader works at the hospital with her dad and daddy, small brendon park threesome idea sneak 🙂↕️
a/n ⠀♱ this is genuinely probably the freakiest fic i’ve ever written. enjoy my little freaks <3 i am NOT normal about the way i feel about shawn hatosy and dat shark in his pants. THIS WORK WAS MADE BY ME, NOT AI. DO NOT PLUG MY WORKS INTO AI. not proofread, ignore any spelling errors.
#1 — AT A BARBECUE
An aroma of grilling onions and bell peppers on a heated Blackstone filled the air. You and Jack were at a Memorial Day barbecue hosted by one of his old Army buddies who he hadn’t seen in a while, the sound of your flip flops slapping around on overheating concrete making Jack look up at you as you handed him a beer with a soft smile. “Thank you, honey.” He smiled back at you, a stray curl flopping onto his forehead.
You nod, “Of course. You want some fruit or something? There’s some really good watermelon over there,” you point to a table with an assortment of different types of fruit: watermelon, pineapple, honeydew, and cantaloupe—with a manicured finger. Jack shakes his head, putting the rim of the amber bottle to his lips, “I’m alright, honey, thank you.”
You nod again, a small ‘okay’ falling from your lips before you make your own way to the table, adjusting your cover up on your shoulders. There’s a woman already there who looks to be in her late forties, and you can tell she’s the wife of one of the retired vets that Jack became close with. She smiles at you, holding tongs in her left hand as she picks up a few pieces of watermelon and places them on a plate. “It’s so nice of Jack to bring you here,” She says kindly, “Are you on summer break from the University of Pittsburgh?”
You shake your head, grabbing a paper plate from the stack as the wind picks up, making a few napkins fly away, so you bend down to grab them before responding. “I actually just graduated from the Pitt School of Health,” you correct, “I’m a phlebotomist at PTMC, I work with Jack.” She gasps, “Oh, a father-daughter duo at the hospital! That’s so adorable. I’m Teresa, I’m Emmett’s wife,” She holds out her hand, pointing in the direction of the pool at a tan Asian man.
You shake her hand, “Thank you, but Jack’s not my father—I’m his girlfriend,” You giggle, and Teresa blushes, looking mortified, “Oh, gosh—I am so sorry—” She apologizes profusely, but you just laugh it off, shrugging, “It’s fine, really—the age gap and all—it makes sense that you would perceive us that way.”
She apologizes once more before walking back over to her husband, and you just giggle again to yourself, placing a few pieces of cantaloupe on your plate before going back over to Jack. “What was that all about?” He asks gravelly, pulling you into his lap with a soft grunt, his hand rubbing small circles on your hip bone.
“She thought you were my dad,” you laugh, wrapping your free arm around the back of his neck, stabbing the cantaloupe chunk with your plastic fork and bringing it up to your lips. “Are you serious?” Jack responds, huffing out a laugh, “I don’t look that old, do I honey?”
You hum, looking over his facial features—the Crow’s feet by his beautiful hazel eyes, the greying stubble on his cheeks and chin, the silvery-white curls that you loved to tug on and run your fingers through—and just chuckle, “I plead the fifth.”
Jack scoffs, pinching your hip, “Brat.”
#2 — HAPPY FATHER’S DAY!
You knew that sometimes the age gap bothered Jack—not in a malicious way towards you, but towards himself. He could never understand why you of all people, his best friend’s daughter, chose someone as old and as grumpy as him.
His back ached almost daily. He had wrinkles everywhere. His hair was grey, white in some places, and he had to take Viagra to keep up with you, for God’s sakes—and on top of all of that, he was a war veteran missing the lower part of his leg.
But you still wanted him. You still chose him.
“Baby, are you almost done?” You call out, walking back to Jack’s bedroom, where you see him standing in front of a mirror, sighing as he struggles with his tie. “Let me do it,” You murmur softly, removing his hands from the fabric, breathing steady as you concentrate on untying it for him. “Fuckin’ hands are shaking,” he scoffs, “I’m a doctor, and my hands are shaking. What kind of fucking bullshit—”
“Hey, hey, hey,” You cut him off, your voice soothing as you lift your hand to his cheek, “what’s going on, Jack? Are you okay?” His hand raises to cover yours as he turns his head to kiss your palm, and he nods. “Yeah, just…what that waiter said at dinner—I guess it shook me up more than I realized.”
“Oh, baby,” you coo, “the Dad thing? That happens all the time with us, Jackie—”
He cuts you off, stepping away from you and your touch, “I know,” He says roughly, “It happens basically every time we go out, honey—I just—it makes me feel so weird sometimes. Like I’m some kind of predator, I mean—” He scoffs, “You’re my best friend’s daughter and he doesn’t even know about us. I was there for all of your major life events, hon—don’t you think that’s weird?”
Even though he’s stepped away from you, you step closer to him. “Jack,” You sigh, “I am a grown woman, who can make my own choices.”
“Honey—that’s not what I—”
“No,” You shake your head, “I knew what I was doing when I pursued you, Jack. For God’s sakes, I’ve had a ‘crush’ on you since I was a senior in high school. Who cares if someone thinks you’re my father? You’re not, you’re my boyfriend. And that’s all that matters.”
Jack looks down at you with softened hazel eyes, a smile perking up on his lips. “I’m your boyfriend,” He repeats, like he’s reminding himself.
“My hot boyfriend,” You affirm, placing a hand on his chest to slowly push him towards the bed, “my hot, sexy, beekeeping age boyfriend with a massive dick…”
His eyebrows raise as his back lands against the crisply ironed sheets of his duvet, “Massive dick, huh?”
“You know it’s massive, Abbot, shut up.”
+ 1 — SUPPLY CLOSET
You knew it was wrong to lie to your father—but he couldn’t know about your relationship with Jack yet, he just couldn’t. So when you told him you were going to Italy, and he asked with who, obviously you couldn’t tell him it was with your boyfriend who just so happened to be his best friend of more than two decades. So you lied.
“Just some friends from college,” You shrug, plopping down onto his couch, “Hannah, Veronica, Quinn—that group.”
Michael looks up from his book, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as you rest your head on his shoulder. He places a kiss to your hair. “You better be safe, sweetheart. Use the buddy system when you go to the bathroom, don’t take drinks from strangers, practice safe sex—”
“Dad!” You exclaim with disgust, lifting your head up from his shoulder. “What? You’re a single young woman in a foreign country, honey, and Italian men are very persistent. I’m just trying to make sure you won’t be going home with some foreign objects, honey, that’s all.” He chuckles at his joke, and you roll your eyes.
“You’re so stupid,” You grumble, “and old. And annoying. And for the record, I have a boyfriend. No sex with Italian men will be happening any time soon.”
This intrigues Michael, and he takes his glasses off, closes his book, and then puts both items on the coffee table. “Yeah? When do I get to meet this lucky guy who makes my baby girl so happy, hm?”
Fuck. You’ve already said way too much.
“Someday,” You splutter, “he’s really busy with work, so—”
“What does he do?”
“He’s a doctor,”
Shit! Way too much fucking said!
The next week, you come into work, and almost immediately, Ahmad is in your face with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “The great Dr. Robinavitch! Welcome in, my fair lady.”
You look up at him, amused. “What’s the betting pool this time?”
He just sighs, a look of defeat on his face as his shoulders deflate. He crosses his arms over his chest, “Who in the hospital you’re dating. Your dad put $40 on Park the Shark, caught making out in the supply closet. Said something like that happened when he first started working at the ED with your mom, and you know the saying—like father, like daughter.”
You fake gag, “First of all, TMI about my parents. Didn’t need to know that. And second of all, Park the Shark? Really, dad?” You aim the last piece of your sentence towards him, where he’s at the nurses’ station chatting with Dana.
“Sorry honey!”
Four—almost five—hours later, there’s a small chance for a break after the chaos of an MVC begins to wind down. It had required all hands on deck, bringing in multiple doctors from different departments, and also doctors from the night shift, meaning that Dr. Jack Abbot, MD and you were in the same vicinity.
After completing a CBC and CMP for one of the patients, you had a small break. You let out a sigh of relief as you snap your gloves off, stretching and rolling out your neck before going down the hallway, where, strategically, there was a supply closet. You shrug to yourself, figuring that you could do some organizing in there with the downtime—and shut the door behind you once you make your way inside.
A few minutes later, the door opens behind you, and you gasp, placing a hand on your chest before realizing it was just your boyfriend, who now has a grin on his face. He locks the door before walking closer to you, gripping your hips with calloused hands. “I scare you?” He teases, backing you up against the shelving, placing kisses along your neck and jawline.
“Mm—Jack, we’re at work…” You try to protest, but they get caught in your throat as his hands move from your hips to underneath your scrub top. “In a closet,” he states, “with the lights turned off. With downtime in an Emergency Department. Let me fuck you, honey.”
“You’re lucky I love you,” You giggle, pressing your lips to his. You moan softly as the kisses get more intense, and soon enough, Jack’s scrub pants and boxers are pushed down just enough to let his cock out. Your scrub pants are all the way down to your ankles, thong pushed to the side, scrub top on the floor and your undershirt pulled up to let Jack see his favorite thing: your tits.
“So fucking perfect for me,” He murmurs, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking on it as he slowly starts to thrust into you. “Oh my God, Jackie…” You whine, head thumping against the shelving. He shushes you, pulling off of your breast, “Not my name, honey. And you gotta be quiet, can’t have our coworkers knowing how slutty their favorite phlebotomist gets for her daddy, hm?” He lifts his thumb to your lips, and you gladly take it, moaning around it as his thrusts increase.
“So big daddy—nghhhh,” You whimper, and he groans as you clench around him, shoving his head into the crook of your neck, “Oh, fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck,” He grits out, pace increasing as the knot begins to form in the base of his stomach—and as soon as it forms, it’s gone.
“What the fuck?!” Michael snarls, anger clearly expressive on his face as his grip tightens on the supply closet door’s handle, his teeth gritted. Jack scrambles to pull up his boxers and scrub pants, covering you up with his body as he turns around to face the older Dr. Robinavitch.
“Robby, man, I can explain—”
The door slams in Jack’s face.
“I thought you locked it!” You squeal, rushing to put all of your clothes back on: you pull your undershirt down, put your scrub top back on, put your thong back in the right place, and then pull your scrub pants back on before smoothing your hair and trying to ignore the dull ache that formed between your legs.
“I did!” Jack sighs, running a hand through his hair, “I forgot it unlocks if you pull on it hard enough—Robby must’ve already been irritated.”
“My dad just saw me having sex with you,” You whine, “my life is over.” You hide your face in his chest, and Jack just sighs again, placing a hand on your back before kissing the top of your head. “I’ll deal with it, honey. Just—go back to working, okay? Shut down any shit that people try to talk.”
You look up at him, nodding, and quickly exit the supply closet, avoiding eye contact with any staff as you try to busy yourself with bloodwork labs. Jack, still in the supply closet, grips both sides of his stethoscope, sighs, and then looks up at the ceiling, shutting his eyes before whispering, “God kill me now.”
After taking a few more deep breaths, he exits the closet, looking around for Robby. His heart drops to his ass when he looks out the doors to the ambulance bay, seeing Robby—and you—in a heated argument. Against his better judgement, he decides to go outside.
“He’s fifty years old and my best friend! You are not to date him, and that’s final!” Michael shouts, a finger pointed in your face.
“I’m a grown woman, dad! I can date who I want—who cares if he’s your best friend?” You argue, brows furrowed as you step closer to him.
“Guys—” Jack starts.
“Stay out of this!” You and Michael both yell in unison, and if Jack wasn’t about to get his head bit off, he’d make a comment about how alike your mannerisms were.
“You motherfucker,” Michael growls, walking up to Jack and immediately taking a swing. It lands, hard, and Jack groans as his head snaps to the side, a large bruise forming on his cheek as he spits blood from his mouth. You gasp, covering your mouth as your eyes widen.
“I deserved that,” he heaves, and the automatic doors open as Dana rushes outside, “Robby! Go somewhere else, now!” She yells, helping Jack to his feet.
EXTRA — SECRET’S OUT
“I didn’t know that was gonna happen,” You mumble, cheek smushed to Jack’s shoulder as he holds an ice pack to his cheekbone in Central 5, “I’m really sorry, Jackie.” Your hands are laced with his as the two of you sit on the edge of the hospital bed.
“Don’t be, sweetie,” He says softly, “I knew it was gonna happen.” Jack chuckles, “Your dad has always been protective of you, especially after your mother’s death. Plus, I really think he was expecting it to be you and Park making out in that supply closet.”
You pinch his thigh, and he winces playfully as the doors to Central 5 open with a mechanical hiss—you unlace your fingers from Jack’s immediately as your father walks in with Dana following behind him.
“Apologize,” she nudges the back of his leg with her foot like a mother scolding her toddler. “I’m sorry for punching you, Jack,” Michael sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face before turning back towards Dana, who snaps her gum at him before pointing her chin towards you, “And I’m sorry, baby girl, for reacting that way towards you. You’re right—you’re a grown woman who can make her own choices and I have to trust that you’re capable enough to make your own choices.”
You grin, standing up from the hospital bed to wrap your arms around your father. “I forgive you,” You whisper softly, sighing as he wraps his arms around you in response, squeezing you momentarily.
“What, I don’t get a hug?” Jack jokes, wincing as the stitches on his cheek almost split open when Jack cracks a smile. Michael huffs, pulling Jack into a hug—which is a lot tighter than the one he just gave you, and Jack can tell it’s a warning.
“I’m not saying I approve of this,” Michael mutters, the sound low enough so that only Jack can hear—you were doing something on your phone—“but I tolerate it. I love you, brother, but I love my baby girl more. If you hurt her, so help me God, I will find you down and hunt you.”
“Yep, point taken,” Jack strains out, feeling his lungs get restricted from how tight Robby was holding him.
“First thing in the morning, baby girl, report this damn relationship to Gloria,” Michael says, aiming the sentence at you, his voice louder now.
You nod, laughing as you snap a picture of Jack and your father hugging, sending it to Perlah. “Best buddies!!” You caption it.
EXTRA #2 — FOOL’S GOLD
“Come on, just tell me who won the money! I already had to go basically spill my entire sex life to Gloria,” You whine, standing in front of Ahmad as he shakes his head.
“Can’t,” He sighs, holding up three fingers and placing his hand over his heart, “Scout’s Honor.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Thanks for nothing, Ahmad!” You turn on your heel, exiting the security office as you make your way over to Trinity as she snapped a glove against Whittaker’s back.
“Do you guys know who won the bet? I asked Ahmad who won and he won’t tell me,” You pout, resting your arms against the nurses’ station. “You mean the bet about who in the hospital you were dating, which was started by your meddling father, who then punched your boyfriend, who turned out to be his best friend?” Trinity says matter-of-factly, and you huff.
“Way to call me out,”
“Park won it, I think he won like fifteen-hundred dollars,” Dennis shrugs, ripping open the wrapper to a granola bar. Your’s and Trinity’s jaws drop as you look towards Trauma Two, where Brendon ‘Park the Shark’ Park works on reattaching the severed limb of a construction worker.
“What was his bet?” You ask, tentatively.
“Dr. Abbot, two years and not HR-approved, found out by Dr. Robby in the supply closet,” Dennis replies, his words slightly gargled from granola.
You don’t think you’ve ever whipped out your phone so fast as you text Jack:
what would you say if i asked about a potential threesome with park?
thinking about dbf!jack abbot catching you smoking weed at your dad’s house – he was dropping by with a toolkit he borrowed – and saw you sitting on the couch with an oversized shirt on, joint in hand. he knew it was medicinal, your father himself confided in jack about how rough college was for you and how you started having severe anxiety. so it makes sense how he would stay and check up on you!
jack abbot who convinces you to let him take a hit – he was the sleazy stoner type in med school, rolling joints in the skate park in between exams. when you both get deeper into the smoke sesh he starts getting handsy, plucking the joint directly from your lips instead of letting you pass it directly to him, rubbing your knees in that small, circular motion that sends a tingle straight straight to your cunt but you’re so high you can’t tell it’s from the weed or being so horny for your dad’s best friend :(.
jack abbot who gets the munchies and ends up eating your pussy on your childhood bed. your legs wrapped around his head as he moans into your clit about how “you taste so fucking good, kiddo” and how he’s going to now look into medicinal marijuana because “how am i going to fuck you if my leg hurts?”
warnings .ᐟ 18+ mdni. smut. dry humping. oral over clothing. finger sucking (everyone scream!) sexual intercourse. unsafe sex (wrap it b4 you tap it irl plsss people). reader is dr. robby’s “daughter” - they’re not biologically related but she sees him as a father figure. age gap (reader is in her middle to late 20s). reader is close friends with trinity. both jack & reader are soooo flirty. he calls reader kid + many other pet names. reader calls robby ‘dad’ sometimes. horribly inaccurate medical jargon.
summary .ᐟ the 3 times jack has to pull himself from crossing that line that would change everything between yourself and him + the 1 time he throws caution to the wind and does something about his feelings.
authors note .ᐟ i listened to my moon my man whilst writing this ⭐️
part 2
The first time Jack realises just how fucked he truly is, is when you show up with the sweetest smile, warmest cheeks and what seemed to him, the raunchiest navy blue and white polka dot mini dress he’s seen in a long while.
He has a firm grip on the Bud Light can in his hand, nearly denting it as his eyes follow you across Michael’s backyard, flitting around with a smile and the swish of that damn dress as you greet Trinity, then Dennis, snorting when Trinity laid a playful smack to your ass, his grey eyes watching shamelessly as your pert ass recoiled under the smack, the ends of your dress lifting just slightly, already sending his perverted mind into overdrive. "Jesus christ man, get a fucking grip," He huffed under his breath to himself, shaking his head, as well as trying to shake away the less-than appropriate image of you in his head, busying himself with the beer in his hand, taking a sip to quench the thirst in his throat.
This thing he had for you, this crush (although he wouldn't dare admit that out loud due to how ridiculous it sounded - I mean a man his age having a crush was just humiliating, he thought) he'd begun harbouring, he knew it was wrong, he knew it was shameful - you were basically Michael's kid, not only that but he had scars older than you - everything about this little infatuation should've been pushed down to the deepest, darkest parts of his brain, but that weren't the case.
So deep in thought, he hadn't even realised that you were standing right in front of him, your greetings falling on deaf ears, "Earth to Jack - helloooo!" You smiled, your head tilted and eyes wide as you waved your manicured hand in front of his face, pulling him from his trance with an airy giggle.
"Hey kid, when'd you get here mhm?" He hummed, inhaling sharply as he feigned indifference, smiling as he brought you in for a hug, your vanilla perfume hitting him like a drug. "Got here a bit ago actually, had to take my things upstairs cause I'm stayin' here for the weekend - ooh what're you drinkin?" You hummed, mindlessly reaching for the can, taking a swig of it only to pull a face at the sour taste on your tongue, handing it back to him immediately, "Ew, tastes like burnt asshole," You snorted, pulling a smirk from Jack himself, shaking his head at your antics. "What? Can't handle a little beer? Thought you were a big girl," He cleared his throat, his eyes staying locked on yours as he took a sip from his drink now, his lips where yours previously were, the lipstick stain on the rim of the can a testament to that, "You know I am," You chuckled, quiet enough for only him to hear.
A beat of silence passed, that signature Jack Abbot stare prompting your thighs to press together, quickly looking over your shoulder to collect yourself, face warm to the touch.
With that, you conjured up the shittiest excuse to get away, leaving for the bathroom to pull yourself together, Jack needing to do a similar thing as he stepped inside the kitchen to seek refuge, adjusting his semi over his jeans before clearing his throat.
God, you were going to be the death of him for sure.
The second time Jack realises just how in over his head he really is, is the day of the Fourth of July.
Visiting the ED to see Dr. Robby was something you frequently did, staying at the hub by Dana’s desk as you chatted with the nurses, residents or med students, spilling gossip with Perlah and Princess, catching up with Langdon when he had a second to spare and bothering Dennis and Trinity whenever they didn’t seem so busy - hell your visits were so regular, Dana had a picture of you and her tapped to her station along with the pictures she had of her family.
What you don’t expect however, is to see Jack Abbot, decked out in what seemed to be the hottest uniform anyone’s ever worn, rush into the ED along side another officer on a gurney, your eyes widening, body - jesus everything perked up.
“Holy shit,” you huffed, more to yourself that to anyone else, brows shooting up to your hairline, Princess giggled alongside you, “Holy shit is right - cause if I got my hands on him-“ she chuckled loudly, prompting you to laugh along with her, lightly elbowing her side.
“What’s so funny, I wanna laugh too?” Trinity hummed from beside you, chewing the skin on her bottom lip as her eyes searched yours and Princess’ for any hint of what the joke could’ve been, only to follow your eyes and what seemed to be drool in the corner of your mouth, to a very sweaty, hot and bothered Jack Abbot sauntering off into an empty room by himself.
“Seriously?” she chortled, nearly doubling over with laughter, “Didn’t peg you for the dilf loving type, thought you liked the ratty lookin’ ones - like Huckleberry over there!” She laughed even louder, pointing to Dennis, cracking herself up with her own joke, only eliciting a not so gentle yet still playful shove from yourself.
“Shut up! And technically he’s not a dilf - silver fox though? Fuck yes,” you played into the joke, sticking your tongue out playfully before closing your mouth abruptly at the sight of Robby behind Trinity. “What’s a dilf?” He cleared his throat, moving past Trinity to place his hands on your shoulders, brows furrowed as he looked over your shoulders and down at you.
Trinity’s eyes widened before skilfully slipping away, your eyes wide in panic as you mouthed a hushed “fuck you,” to her as you turned in Dana’s swivel chair to face Robby, “Uhhh I am not havin’ this conversation with you, god no, go ask someone else - also, I saw Jack earlier-“ You huffed, looking over your shoulder to the room he’d slipped into, “He okay?” You asked, chewing the inside of your cheek as you looked up at Robby.
“Yeah he’s right as rain - bullet just grazed his shoulder,” Robby hummed, nonchalantly reaching for a mint in his pocket. Your eyes widened, brows furrowed to the Gods in worry, “He was shot? Is he okay? Shouldn’t someone be attending to him or something?” You worried, standing abruptly from the swivel chair you’d been sitting in.
Robby’s head tilted inconspicuously at your worried demeanour, his eyes narrowing before clearing his throat, “He’s a doctor himself sweetie remember? He’ll be fine - but you’re more than welcome to go ask him if you’re that worried mhm,” He almost teased, still suspiciously eyeing you and the manner in which you basically bolted from the hub and toward the room he’d gone in to, eventually shrugging it off and chalking it up to you being worried about a family friend (he was horribly wrong).
You knocked on the door to announce your entrance, clearing your throat, “Jack, hey it’s me - Robby uh - he told me you got shot and I just, I dunno - just wanted to come see if you’re okay,” You spoke softly, chewing the inside of your cheek with your hands crossed behind your back, rocking back and forth on your cowboy boots, waiting for him to either open the curtain or politely tell you to leave.
Jack went with the former, pulling the curtain open, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of the man you’ve been crushing on for god knows how long, shirtless, “Oh,” you whispered to yourself, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as your mind had to will your gaze away from his very distracting pecs, mentally face palming yourself for making your attraction towards him so glaringly obvious.
Jack only smirked, that soft but firm one he reserved for you only, “Hey kid - uh I was shot at - bullet proof vest remember, but thanks for the concern,” He softly laughed, distracted himself by the too-short, denim shorts you were wearing, his own mind wondering to dangerous places at the star and stripes of your bikini top peeking out from under your white tank top.
You nodded, rounding the cot to check his back, the wound nasty looking but nothing too serious you’d hoped, “You’re sure you’re okay?” You murmured, chewing your bottom lip - a horrible habit of yours, as you came back to face his front, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, lashes fluttering as you blinked.
Jack swore you were tempting him right now - that goddamn look in your eyes had him wanting to profess his love to you right then and there, the thought of ruining his friendship with Robby, pushed to the back of his mind with how your eyes roamed his, then flitted down to sneak a peek at his bare chest. God you were killing him.
“You’re cute when you’re all worried, anyone ever tell you that?” He muttered nonchalantly, keeping up his facade with his eyes downcast to the medical supplies on the tray before him, picking up a cotton swab doused in some sort of cream for his graze. You scoffed, lips parting to speak but his words had you speechless, your mind mush as it replayed “you’re cute,” on loop.
“Why do you do all this anyway - what, being an ER doctor isn't enough of an adrenaline rush for ER cowboy, Jack Abbot?" You teased, messing with a loose strand of fabric on your jean shorts, the softest smile on your lips as you picked your eyes up from your lap to Jack's, his eyes already on you, something flashing through them - something reckless, something that made you wanna jump his damn bones.
He huffed a laugh out, finishing up with his bullet graze wound, "Uh my therapist said I needed a hobby," He shrugged, raising his brows almost suggestively. You snorted, shaking your head, "Really? That's what you're calling it - risking your life like that is not a hobby, it's a death sentence," you scoffed, once again chewing the skin on your bottom lip.
Jack smiled, that same smile that made your cheeks flush, your ears warm and your thighs clench, "I can handle myself, stop worryin' so much," He cleared his throat, reaching for a clean shirt, sliding it over his frame, much to your distaste. Another beat of silence passed as he promptly pulled the shirt over, his salt and pepper curls a little disheveled, somewhat giving him a boyish charm, only serving to make you swoon even more.
"I take it you have plans," He hummed, swiftly changing the topic as he nodded toward your very skimpy, very distracting outfit, "Yes, uhm - I’m goin to a lake house with some friends, just came here to say bye to dad then I needa get back to my apartment to pack the last of my things," You hummed, mindlessly tracing shapes into the hospital bed. Jack couldn't help but wonder whether these friends of yours were boys, boys he was certain, no absolutely positive, he could treat you better than, that familiar raging green monster simmering just beneath the surface - god you were really messing him up.
"You need a ride back? I’m headed out anyway, could drop you off," He almost whispered, disposing of any used medical supplies before standing up, hissing under his breath at just how short those shorts of yours were, his adam's apple bobbing as he tried to remain composed - you had this ability to make him lose his cool like a teenager trying to talk to their first crush, it was bordering on embarrassing for a man his age.
You didn't miss the hitch in his breath, somewhat proud of yourself, "I actually drove here - I know surprising - but thank you Jackie, I'll take you up on that offer another time though," You giggled, fishing for your phone in your back pocket to check the time, "Shoot I should actually get goin - buttt do me a favour and get a less nerve wracking hobby please - see you later Jack," You beamed, winking as you turned on your heels, hips swaying as you left, most definitely hypnotizing that poor old man, waving over your shoulder before finding Robby.
Jack watched you saunter off, jaw clenched, eyes pierced and cock most definitely hard, "Nice talk kid," he scoffed to himself, shaking his head.
The third time happens when you're visiting PTMC's ED for a completely different reason.
You'd been at a bar with friends, a little tipsy (tipsy's a lie, you were flat out drunk off of your ass) when some guy repeatedly kept coming up to you, talking about showing you a good time even after you politely declined, multiple times at that; at one point he'd even gotten a little handsy, right when his apparent girlfriend decided to show up and in the flash of an eye you were being shoved against the bar, a right hook to your nose and the words "skank", "bitch" and "homewrecking slut" sounding through the air above the ringing in your ears, your own scream drowned out due to the stabbing, shooting pain going down your nose, towards your eyes.
"Jesus fuck!" You yelled out in agony, doubling over as your head started spinning, blood trickling down from your nose, warm and metallic as it gushed over your parted lips, seeping and soiling the cute white top you donned with the crimson colour of your blood. Your breath quickened as your vision grew blotchy, stumbling around on your vintage heels as your friends called out your name repeatedly, their pleas falling on deaf ears as your body gave out, vision going completely blank as you passed out.
Meanwhile back at the ED, it was nearing the time for the night shift to switch with the day shift, the limp in Jack's step a testament to the gruelling night himself and the rest of the doctors and nurses had that shift, his prosthetic giving him problems again. Just as he thought it'd all quieted down, in you came, well a very disorientated, clearly hurt you, hauled in on a gurney, your friend Alex at your side as Jack and a few nurses rushed up to you.
"Woah woah - what the fuck happened here kid?" He stressed, already at your side as the paramedics explained your condition, his eyes searching yours for anything else that might have been wrong. You simply groaned, eyes teary at the terrible pain in your nose, the blood that had been streaming from it now to a halt, dried sticky against your face and chest, "I'm fine - shouldn't even be here - this isn't necessary," You slurred, still a little out of it as they rushed you into a room, Jack assuring the paramedics that he had it from here, brushing you off when you let him know you could get off from the gurney and onto the bed yourself, breath hitching in your throat as Jack effortlessly picked you up and set you down onto the cot.
"Please don't tell Robby - I don't even wanna be here cause he'll just make a fuss and I just-just wanna go home and sleep Jack," You swallowed, wincing slightly as he took your face between his palms, "Okay, okay hush now kid, none of us will tell him but you gotta let me help you okay? Now tell me again what happened here," He softly spoke, his gentle tutting and the warmth of his hands on your skin calming you down to an extent.
"Some lunatic girl punched her square in the nose cause she thought she was flirting with her boyfriend - who was actully just harassing us and then she got all woozy and fainted and I panicked and called 911 cause I wasn't sure what to do," Your friend piped up from the seat she was in, hugging herself.
"That's good - it's good that she was brought in thank you," He hummed as he looked over his shoulder at your friend, smiling briefly before turning his attention back to you, lifting his one hand from your face, holding his index finger up and moving it side to side to assess your cranial nerves and eye muscle function, your hazy eyes following as best as you could.
"Okay now I’m gonna press my thumbs alongside your nose and you're gonna let me know when it starts to hurt alright? Then from there its up for a CT do we can see what we’re really working with here - you still with me sweetheart?" He cleared his throat, bringing his other hand back to your cheek, his thumb lightly caressing the plush skin there before softly pressing his thumbs along your nasal cavity up toward you eye, groaning and wincing once his thumbs reached your corneas.
"Doesn't seem to bad - took that punch like a champ, pretty badass if you ask me," He attempted to lighten the mood, peeking his head out to call on Princess, who had just started her shift, to take you up for a CT scan, only for your hand to wrap around his wrist, swallowing as you looked up at him with the neediest eyes he's ever seen, "Stay with me - please," You pleaded, your bottom lip jutted out, still tipsy and your entire face still throbbing.
Jack hesitated, his eyes locked on your smaller hand around his wrist, his scrubs suddenly getting too hot, "Yeah - okay I can take you up," He cleared his throat, helping you into the wheelchair and hauling you up for the CT scan.
Once you were done, you were back in the ED, already having assured Alex that she could go home and that you'd uber back to your apartment - the poor girl was exhausted and still drunk out of her mind, and her girlfriend had been waiting outside for her so you didn't see why not. In the meantime, Jack took to cleaning your face of the dried blood, his touch tender and reserved, apologising profusely when he'd apply too much pressure in an area close to your nose, his thumb once again tracing slow circles into your jaw as he worked to get you clean.
You sobered up real quick in that moment, your eyes darting all around the room but at the one thing you really wanted to look at; a stillness fell over the space, your heart beating pathetically fast, the cardiac monitor announcing it to the rest of the world along with it, pulling a particularly cocky smile from the man before you.
"So, good news is, there's a slight fracture, but it's nothing your body can't fix on it's own with some time and rest - bad news, no more bar fights for the next few weeks Rocky Balboa," He smiled, eliciting a snort from yourself, your shoulders bouncing as you hysterically laughed at his terrible joke. "What? I'm serious kid - or else you'll start to look like an MMA fighter, then next thing you know we're draining your cauliflower ears," He chuckled, your forehead connecting with his shoulder as your body fell forward with laughter.
"If the pain ever gets too much, a Tylenol should work - now lets get you out of here before Robby shows up," He called his hands, standing up from the edge of the bed, holding out his hand for you to take, like the gentleman he was, and you did, his hand dwarfing yours in size, something he tried really hard not to think about as he helped you stand.
"It okay if I take you home - cause I’m not letting’ you take an Uber like this, and I gotta be out of here soon anyway," He hummed, your hand still in his, his touch grounding you as you nodded, knowing that fighting him on this would only waste time. With that he led you out, trailing on his heels only to be stopped by Dennis and Trinity who were clocking in for their shift.
"Holy shit, what happened to you?" Trinity gasped, her hand on your shoulder to look you over, "You should see the other guy," You jested, your eyes heavy with sleep as you squeezed Trinity's arm, assuring her and Dennis that you were fine.
"Okay well let us know if you need anythin' okay?" Dennis hummed, hugging you before walking up to the hub, Trinity only raised her brows suggestively as she gestured with her head to Jack who had stood and waited for you, your lips twitching as you tried your best to not burst out laughing, hugging her before walking alongside Jack to his car. "My favourite shirt's ruined," You sighed in passing, more to yourself than to him, still tipsy as you looked down at your white shirt that was now stained red.
He turned to look at you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he opened the passenger side door for you, "I'll get you a new one," He muttered casually, once again biting back your smile as you got into his car, sucking your cheeks in as you thought over the entire interaction, your fractured nose the last thing on your mind, storing it into that special place you kept all your memories of Jack in.
The final straw snaps on a night you should've been on a date with some lame guy your age.
You'd been excitedly waiting for him, already having ordered a cocktail at the quaint Italian place he suggested, decked out in an all new wardrobe, feeling good about this particular one.
An hour had passed and you’d already regretted your earlier feelings, the other side of the table still empty, the complimentary rolls eaten and your pornstar martini’s glass empty, your eyes stinging with tears as you realised you’d been stood up, the messages to his number not going through anymore.
You felt humiliated as you stormed out of the restaurant, scolding yourself for thinking this one would be better than the others, kitten heels clacking against the pavement as you tried to collect yourself, looking up to the night sky to try and calm down, not wanting to spill any tears on a man that didn't deserve them in the first place.
You fumbled for your phone in your leather purse, nostrils flaring as your hurt simmered under the surface of your skin, your thumb hovering over the Uber app, your mind overthinking to the worst possible scenario before decidedly exiting it and clicking on your contacts, scrolling and scrolling until you had no one else to call, chewing the skin on the inside of your cheeks till a metallic taste hit your tongue, scrolling back up until your thumb hovered over his name, Jack Abbot. You stared down at your phone for what felt like an hour, heart beating rapidly in your chest as you finally worked up the courage and pressed call, sniffling as you held the phone up to your ear.
Jack had been on his couch for the evening, his off day spent catching up with sleep and watching whatever bullshit was on the TV, massaging his leg as his prosthetic lay against the foot of the couch - that was until your name flashed across his phone screen, answering it with a sense of urgency only an ER doctor would have.
"Hey kid, what's up?" He hummed, clearing his throat as he flexed his unoccupied hand, the smile wiped from his face at the sound of your laboured breathing and stuffy nose from the other end. "Hey Jackie," You sighed, your jaw twitching as you looked up once again, inhaling a deep breath to stop yourself from crying, wiping under your eyes as you sniffled before speaking into your phone again, "Sorry for callin so late but I-I don't know who else t'call - Robby's on his stupid sabbatical thing and it's-fuck- its too god damn humiliating too call one of my friends right now and-shit you're probably busy, I shouldnt have called I'm sorry," You croaked out, hiccupping as you spiraled, hands shaky and your worlds a jumbled up mess as you realised what you were really doing.
Jack's brows furrowed at your frantic rambling, shaking his head as he held his phone between his ear and his shoulder, reaching to put his prosthetic back on, "Woah, hey-hey sweetheart slow down - okay you gotta breathe for me or else I can't help you kid - now take a minute, then tell me what's wrong - never too busy for you," He hummed softly, his voice immediately calming you down.
You inhaled sharply, swallowing the bile rising in your throat before trying again, "Okay uhm - was supposed to have a date t'night but the guy uh - he stood me up and I took an uber here, and I wouldv'e uber'd back but its so late and I just - I didn't know who else to call," You sighed exasperatedly, looking up at your surroundings again.
Without wasting any time, Jack sprung up from his couch, tugging on a quarter zip as he looked for his wallet and car keys, "Send me your location, stay where you are and I'll be there as soon as I can okay honey?" He huffed, only ending the call after you confirmed you heard him with a hum, looking down at his phone to see you'd sent the location of the restaurant you were hauled up at.
𝜗ৎ
You sat on the curb, legs crossed and hugging yourself against the chilly evening wind, your eyeliner slightly smudged due to the few tears you'd spilled, only looking up when the familiar roar of Jack's car sounded out, climbing out and urgently walking up to you, "Oh sweetheart," He cooed, gently lifting you to stand from your underarms, your bottom lip wobbling as the flood gates immediately broke open, bringing you to his chest, strong arms wrapping around your neck to keep you close, "I know baby, I know," He whispered, the pet name rolling off of his tongue with ease, rocking you back and forth in his embrace as he shushed your cries, pulling back as his hands slid to your jaw, his eyes falling to your teary ones - he hated seeing you cry.
"Hey hey, look at me - no more crying okay? Any guy would be lucky t'be yours, you know that right? He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on,” He murmured, the rough pad of his thumb stroking from your cheek down to your jawline, his other hand wiping profusely at your fallen tears, "That dick just shot himself in the foot standing you up - just shows he didn't deserve you in the first place," He huffed, pulling you in to press a kiss to your forehead, "Jesus you're freezing," He laughed softly, letting go of you briefly to pull his quarter zip over his head, his black undershirt riding up, revealing his freckled lower stomach. Your breath caught in the back of your throat, not even registering that he'd moved your arms above your head, sliding the quarter zip over, his cologne overriding your senses, his hands working deftly to pull your hair out from the sweater and back over your shoulders.
"C'mon lets get you home," He quipped, hand at the small of your back as he brought you to the passenger side, opening the door and helping you in, reaching over you for the seatbelt, "I can do that myself y'know?" You whispered, voice hoarse from crying. Jack snickered, pulling the seatbelt across your body and into place, "I know - but I like takin' care of you so sue me," He smirked, closing the door before rounding the car for the drivers door, the life coming back to your eyes as you melted in his sweater, head falling against the headrest with the stupidest smile on your face, the asshole who stood you up already forgotten.
𝜗ৎ
The drive to your place was quiet and easy, the radio playing softly in the background as Jack checked up on you every now and again, saying the stupidest jokes to lift your spirits; the car soon came to a halt in your apartment parking lot, Jack opening the door for you like before.
He walked you up to your apartment, hand hovering over the small of your back but still remaining close, digging for your keys in your purse as you came to a stop in front of your door, opening it before turning to him, swallowing as you worked up the courage to spit out the words burning on the tip of your tongue, "Do you…maybe wanna come in?" You murmured, looking up at him with those eyes again, paired with you in his clothes had him throwing all caution to the wind and nodding before his mind could even catch up to him, closing the door behind himself.
"You want something to drink?" You murmured from the kitchen, standing with your hands behind your back as you looked at him, looking like a puppy that just got kicked out onto the street, tugging at his heart strings, "Uhh yeah sure - what d'ya got?" He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he took a seat on your couch, his eyes darting across your living space, everything so uniquely you - a framed photo of you and Robby on the mantle above the fireplace along with a few others of you with family and friends, the photo of Robby seemingly staring him down, acting as the angel on his shoulder, reminding him of how “wrong” his love for you was.
"I've got water, cranberry juice, redbull and a beer?" You scrunched your nose up, your head tilted as you peered from the side of the fridge door, looking at Jack for an answer. "Beer's fine - thank you," He cleared his throat, taking his phone and wallet out from his pants pockets and setting them on your coffee table.
You handed him the can of beer, taking a seat next to him, your bare knee brushing his, your eyes flitting from his hand holding the beer, to the lines at the corners of his eyes and then back down to his mouth as he took a sip, unconsciously squeezing your thighs together.
A somewhat awkward silence passed, the tick of the hands of your clock loud in your ears as you chewed the skin on your bottom lip, looking everywhere but at the man before you; "I meant what I said earlier - I wasn't just saying it to make you feel better," He spoke, his tone of voice low as he set the beer down, flexing his hands as he turned to you, "Look at me, please?" He practically begged, your body willing you to face him, almost as if there were a magnetic pull between you two.
His words from earlier wrang through your head like a broken tape record, lips slightly parted as you thought them over, the thinly veiled desperation behind those words clear to you now - he wanted to be yours and you wanted to be his.
The silence dragged on, and through it he could see the cogs whirring in your head, the picture of Robby on your mantle taunting him, telling him to stick to his word and not go against his better judgment - but how could he not? That dangerous line you both teetered on seemed to get thinner and thinner by the second, practically nonexistent with the way you were eyeing him, those sad eyes of yours pulling him in until the line was just…
Gone.
Before you knew it, his lips were on yours, sensually kissing you, large hands flexing on your waist as he hoisted you into his lap, desperately tugging at your (his) sweater and pulling it over your head, his lips falling back into place as he desperately found your mouth again, panting into one another as he moved all your hair over your shoulder, trailing his hungry lips down your jawline and to the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, your eyes fluttering as he paid extra attention to the sensitive skin there.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this, you’ve been driving me crazy for as long as I can remember,” He mumbled into your skin, his right hand moving to bunch your skirt up at your waist, his left hand at the back of your neck, straightening your head to look at him.
And you did, your pupils blown with lust as you stared at him, brows furrowed as he began rocking your hips for you with the grip he held on your skirt, his bulge catching on your clothed clit so deliciously it made your head spin; “Yeah?” You huffed out breathlessly, letting out the cutest moan as he bucked up into you, “Yeah kid - should fucking hate myself for wantin’ you but I can’t,” He groaned, his forehead pressing against yours, your scent and touch all around him, making his cock even harder if possible.
You smiled, biting your lip as you looked at him, your hands in his grey curls, tugging at them as your hips continued working, “Bedroom, now please,” You whimpered, Jack smiling as he nodded, wasting no time hoisting you up with one arm, biceps bulging as he did so, his other hand on your bare thigh as he caressed and grabbed at it, getting lost in your mouth as he navigated through your apartment like a man on a mission, moaning into his mouth as his belt buckle rubbed up against your wet cunt.
After what felt like forever, your back finally met your cool silk sheets, his knee sliding between your legs on instinct as he hovered over you, his hand reaching out for the pink stuffed bunny you had on your bed at all times, looking at it with a meticulous gaze, “Cute,” He commented before tossing it, shaking your head and getting all shy as you leaned up to kiss him again, swiftly turning you both over so you were on top, your hands fiddling with his shirt, “Off - want this off,” You murmured into his mouth, his tongue claiming yours before scoffing at your needy demeanour, “So demanding,” He chuckled, pulling his shirt over his head, your lips swollen and kiss bitten as you pulled away, rolling your hips again as you looked down at his shirtless frame, bottom lip wedged between your teeth as you stared.
“What?” He smiled, leaning up on his elbows, growing slightly self conscious. You giggled, your nails trailing over his pecs, leaning down to press a few kisses to the freckles scattered like constellations across his chest, playfully nipping at one of his pecs before sitting back up again, “You’re just really sexy,” You shrugged, smiling as you manoeuvred off of his lap to undo his belt, moving further down south to take off his prosthetic.
“You don’t have to,” He hummed, running a hand through his messy hair - he hadn’t been with anyone since his late wife, and the thought of a younger, beautiful woman being saddled with his issues had him feeling just the slightest bit insecure, and you could see that, with the way his brows furrowed - but you were quick to wash all those thoughts away as you shook your head, “I want to, so let me,” You smiled saccharine sweet, little demanding thing you were, as you pulled up his pant leg to gently remove it, pressing a kiss to his leg once it was off then removing his pants and underwear altogether.
Your eyes widened at the length of him, lips parted in want as you eyed his cock standing at attention, pussy gushing around nothing as you sat between his open legs, “Get up here,” he huffed, quickly wiggling out of your skirt before his hand reached for yours, tugging you back up and onto his lap, his bare cock bucking into your soaked white lace panties, your desperation growing more intense by the second. “Fuck you’re so beautiful,” He hummed, looking up at you with hazy eyes, smiling as you removed your top, tossing it aside as his hands slowly inched from your waist up toward your bare breasts, grabbing handfuls and eagerly squeezing at the flesh.
You whimpered at the feeling, calloused hands rough against your sensitive nipples, his index finger and thumb rolling the pert skin between them, tugging harshly at them, only serving to soak your panties even further. His other hand fisted through your hair, bringing you down to his lips, this kiss messy, portraying the want, no the need, you both had for one another, teeth and tongue clashing, saliva dripping down your chin. “This-“ He breathed heavily, panting into your mouth, the precum leaking from his tip allowing for your clothed pussy to glide along the length of his aching hard cock; “Is why, you don’t mess around with boys baby - they wouldn’t know what to do with all this but I do,” He smirked against your lips, his hands working deftly as they moved you down onto your back again, giggling as he kissed his way from your lips, down your jaw, along the column of your throat and down toward your naval, his right hand smoothing along your thigh, bringing it over his shoulder, your sex right in front of his face. “You still listening baby?” He huffed, his unoccupied hand slapping slightly against your clothed clit, pussy weeping in response. You nodded, thighs threatening to close around him but his broad shoulders prevented it, “Yeah Jack - always listenin’ to you,” You quivered, somehow feeling him smirk at your response.
“Y’got the prettiest pussy honey,” He hummed, clearing his throat as he placed a kiss to your thigh, then right over your clothed clit, the wet patch right over your entrance an indication of just how badly you needed this, how badly you needed him.
“This all for me mhm?” He hummed against your cunt, darting out to lick a stripe along your covered entrance, the friction of the lace against your clit and his nose nudging into it as he mouthed at your entrance, sending your mind into overdrive as he ate it over your panties, using his left hand to pull the fabric taught along your pussy from the waistband, the stimulation stealing the breath from your lungs.
“Fuck fuck fuck, yes! All for you, only for you,” You mumbled breathlessly, your hands fisting the sheets as he messily lapped at the wet patch on your panties, growing hungry for the real thing as he hazardously pulled your underwear aside, his tongue making contact with your bare clit now, stars shooting behind your eyes at the feeling of him sucking your sensitive pearl into his mouth. “Just the sweetest thing ever kid,” He hummed around his mouthful, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your raw pussy, his eyes on your writhing form, smiling in satisfaction before diving back in, all but making out with your sopping cunt.
Your thighs started shaking, back arching off of the bed as he continued eating you out like his life depended on it, his right hand still tentatively stroking your outer thigh whilst his left hand snaked back up to your breasts, flicking and pinching at your stiffened peaks, that coil in your belly snapping at the added stimulation, white hot shooting through your veins as you breathed rapidly, his tongue still massaging your folds as he worked you through your orgasm.
Your chest heaved, smiling as he lifted himself from between your legs, now hovering over you, one hand beside your head to keep him up, his head dipping down to kiss your forehead, your cheeks, your nose and then finally your mouth, the sweet moment halted by tasting yourself on his tongue, your arms rounding the back of his neck, bringing him in even closer if that was possible. “You still okay?” He hummed against your lips, pulling back to smooth your hair from your face, thumbing your cheek, “Better than okay,” You giggled, pecking his lips again.
“That’s real great - cause as much as I loved tastin’ her - want you to ride me honey, you think you can do that f’me?” He whispered, blown pupils boring into yours, almost enough to push you through your second orgasm of the night, his chin glistening with your essence.
And that’s exactly what you did, the feeling of him sliding into your spent pussy more euphoric than anything you could have ever imagined, your hands on his chest as you rode him, thighs burning as you moaned out like a bitch in heat, the sounds coming from your room bordering on pornographic - your neighbours would surely send in a noise complaint tomorrow.
“That’s it, you’re doing so good for me baby,” He huffed, his hands on your hips as he helped you, tears pricking at your waterline as the feeling was all too much, the tuft of hair at his base deliciously rubbing against your worn clit with each roll of your hips, his cock hitting that spongy spot that made your vision blurry and sent your pussy gushing, your head thrown back at the feeling.
“Can’t-it’s too much Jackie-can’t,” You cried out, Jack’s voice cooing as he hushed you, chest heaving as he panted, “Nah you’ve got this sweetheart, I know you do, c’mon just a little longer - you wanted this kid now you gotta take it like the good girl I know you are,” He murmured, his hand snaking to cup your cheek, tilting your head so you were looking back down at him again, hips still rolling even through the overstimulation.
Your eyes dragged up to find his, dopily smiling through the pleasure, “There she is,” He cockily spoke, his thumb dragging along your bottom lip, before sliding it into your hot mouth, your lips immediately wrapping around the digit, tongue sliding along the rough pad as you moaned around it, sucking his thumb as you would his cock, picking your pace up.
“Fuck,” He almost growled, the sight of you on top of him, in your own little world with his thumb between your plush lips, your breasts bouncing with each thrust up as his large cock bullied through your swollen pussy, the ‘shlick’, squelching sound coming from where your sex were connected sending him reeling, his breath heavy as he used his unoccupied hand on your hip to keep you bouncing.
“I’m close - you still with me honey?” He huffed out, searching your pleasure clouded eyes for an answer. You hummed around his thumb, nimble fingers wrapped around his wrist to keep him there, increasing your pace to push you both just over that edge, your breath caught in your throat.
That line snapped with the last buck of your hips, his left hand digging into the skin on your hip whilst his thumb stayed between your lips, unintentionally quietening your moans as you did so around his digit, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your thighs spasmed around him, body shaking. Jack felt woozy on his own, fucking whimpering as spurts of his hot cum painted your insides, coming down from his borderline bone chilling high, pulling his thumb from your lips and dragging it down till his right hand joined his left on your hips, manoeuvring you until you slid off of his softening length, placing you right on his bare stomach, urging you with a hum and a hand on the back of your neck now, to lay your head to his chest.
And you stayed there, head tucked under his chin, his hand stroking any patch of skin he could find, murmuring sweet nothings and solid promises to you, lulling your overexerted body to sleep.
And finally when you were, your eyes rested, breathing even and your arms wrapped loosely around his neck, the situation dawned on him - that picture of Robby flashing through his mind again, playing on his guilt - but that selfish part of him didn’t care - how could he when the sweetest girl was clinging to him, making him feel alive for the first time in a long while.
With a kiss to your forehead and a soft, “I love you,” against the sweat slicked skin there, he realised he didn’t care - you were worth everything and all of it, and he’d be dammed to let you go - Robby would just have to deal with it.
𝜗𝜚 THANK YOU FOR READING 🪽
𝜗𝜚 TAGS: @voidsuites @pittsick @cinnamoncunt @missmanlykink @deansdeer @millersdoll @martiansodas-blog @peachyparkerr @emo6thing @honestlystop @tinythebunni @3w-guts @rookieclair @eyve-5 @dollieluver @moodshiftandrandomtoughts @serrendiipty @verouys @piscesfairyyy @txmblatnight @beausling @fanficluvr04 @superloser @true1411 @pintobug @ovaryacted @teenage-iridescence @dilflover-3 @prettysurethatsakidney @imnotdatboii @222col @glindaupland-apologist (just tagged those that asked to be tagged, this isn’t an official taglist)
𝜗𝜚 WANT TO JOIN MY TAGLIST?
𝜗𝜚 ALL LIKES, COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED 🦢
summary: you move in with your dad during college and your crush on his best friend, Jack Abbot only grows and grows. you have no idea after you've come back from travelling that he feels very much the same...
content/warnings: inappropriate relationship, unspecified age gap, dirty talk, dad's best friend, daddy kink, use of the pet name "uncle jack", fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, kinda pervert jack NSFW + MDNI! 18+ ONLY!
wc: 3k
notes: I've been wanting to write this for so long & I think I might write some blurby/shorts in future about this...cos I'm kinda obsessed with pervy Jack...please give me ideas here.
Jack Abbot would like it to be known he wasn't a creep. Wasn't some typa pervert. And he wasn't a dirty old man. So why did Robby's daughter being around always make him feel that way?
In Jack's defence, you didn't grow up around Robby. His friend had gotten his college sweetheart pregnant and they did give it a good go of it back then. But Michael Robinavitch had a one-track mind and he was going to medical school. Young love was no match for the realities of the real world.
Robby stayed in Pittsburgh and you were raised with your mother in different places around the country. She liked to travel; you were never in one place for too long. Maybe this is why she died young. She wasn't long for this world either.
You were in a freshman in college, so it meant that you could either tough it out on your own or you could move in with your dad that summer. You were a broke college kid, so Pittsburgh became your home. And, honestly, you liked it. Even if it got cold as hell in the winter. Anyway, Robby was hardly ever around! He worked absolutely 24/7 in the hospital.
You caught the travel bug from your mother, and you spent two years travelling around the globe. Now you were home and trying to get your life in order. So you spent a lot of time applying for jobs in your field, sitting around the house, binge-watching shows on Netflix and following Robby around The Pitt.
"Baby Robinavitch!" Santos had taken to greeting you.
"I hate when you call me that," you tell her as you sit at the nurses' station waiting for Robby to be finished for the day.
"I think you missed out on being a Pitt nepo baby," she responds with a smirk.
"Oh yea, cos that's working so well for Victoria!" you say, nodding to the med student who looks like she's been electrocuted. "Not a chance would you catch me in here. And what would they call me, Dr Baby?"
"Dr Baby has a ring to it," Santos laughs.
Robby appears then, "You think of following in my footsteps? It's never too late!"
"Nuh uh! Not a chance. Ready to go home?" you ask. You had to leave your car in the shop and Robby said he'd give you a ride home.
"Let me just do handover, I'll be 10 minutes tops," he promises, going off with Santos following behind him.
Your eyes follow them to where Dr Jack Abbot has just walked in. You bite your lip as you watch him, you can't help yourself. He's sex on legs.
"Gotta be quick tonight, Jack. I've gotta bring the kid home," Robby tells him, nodding back towards you.
Jack's eyes track over to where you're sitting, now looking down at your phone. The weather has turned as summer starts to creep in and you're taking the opportunity to soak up the sun. Your outfit, despite The Pitt's AC blasting shows this. His eyes zero in on your bare shoulder as your tank top strap has fallen down. He imagines fixing it, his fingers brushing over your skin. He gives his head a shake and focuses back on what Robby is saying.
"Oh you're still coming to the barbecue on Saturday?" he reminds Jack. "Don't forget to bring beer and that marinated stuff you love."
Jack clears his throat, "Of course. I'll be there. Who is gonna grill? You!?"
Robby rolls his eyes at him before calling over to you. You jump up and your tank top does nothing to conceal the bounce of your breasts. Jack has to start thinking of medical terms he learned in med school to calm himself down. You're his best friend's daughter. You're literally young enough to be his daughter! He cannot be having these thoughts about you.
"See ya, Baby Robinavitch," he calls after you, he can't help himself.
You turn around with a wicked little smirk on your face, "See ya around Uncle Jack."
Oh you brat!
"Are you still gonna go on sabitical?" you ask your dad as you fill the pool in your backyard.
Robby looks at you, "I was inspired by your travels!"
"Uh, I didn't travel by motorbike," you point out, spraying him with the hose.
"Hey! And I'm pretty sure I remember seeing you on a moped!" he tells you as he opens a beer.
"I was on the back of one for like an hour!" you argue back.
"Oh with some strange boy, that's what every father wants to hear," he groans.
You stick your tongue out at him, "I'm a big girl."
Oh, you are, Jack Abbot thinks as he joins you both in the back garden. He tries not to be a complete creep as he eyes you up in your shorts and bikini top.
"Okay, where should I put all this?" he asks as he holds up the two huge grocery bags of food. He has more beer in his truck.
"Here, gimme. I'll let you two oldies catch up," you say as you take the bags from him.
"Oldies?" Robby repeats in disbelief as you disappear into the kitchen to put everything away.
Jack sets about manning the grill while Robby gets the sides ready. And they stay at their stations as more and more guests start to trickle in. Your friends and your dad's populate the backyard.
"Oh fuck, we're all out of ketchup," you realise as you pick up a hotdog.
You sigh and head into the house. You're looking through cupboards in the pantry in vain. Where the hell is the ketchup?! Only your dad could make this so difficult. You climb on top of the counter to search deeper in the cupboards.
"Lost, kid?" you hear that familiar low rumble.
"Uncle Jack!" you tease, knowing how much he hates when you call him that. You lean back to look at him and gauge his reaction. But as you do so, you lose your balance and tumble backwards. You prepare yourself to hit the hard floor in the small room, but instead you're encased in muscle instead.
"Gave me a fright, princess," he breathes, his face just inches from yours as Jack Abbot holds you.
Fuck. This is like your fantasies come true.
"Gave myself a fright," you confess. "Thanks for saving me."
His arms are hot against your bare skin and you don't miss how his eyes dip to the swell of your breasts against the flimsy bikini top. You picked it out just for him that morning, knowing he would be there. But you had no idea how close he'd be.
"Kinda my job, kid," he reminds you with a smirk.
He absolutely should let go of you. You're not in danger of falling anymore. But he wants to hold you a bit longer.
"Your boyfriend will be looking for you," he finally breathes, still not moving away.
"My boyfriend? I don't have one of those, Jack," you respond, tilting your head up.
It would be so easy for him to kiss you now. No one can see into the pantry. He remembered teasing Robby for ages about this room, and now, well, now he's thanking God for it.
"Then who are you wearing this for?" he rasps out, his thumb trailing over the strap of your bikini top.
Fuck. Why was that so hot? You look up at him through your lashes, daring him to make the next move.
But then you hear your dad calling your name and the two of you shoot apart.
"What are you doing in here?" Robby asks when he pushes open the pantry door.
"I was looking for ketchup. But I almost fell and Uncle Jack caught me. But I still haven't found the ketchup!" you complain, pointing your finger at your dad. "Are you hiding it on me?"
Robby is so distracted by the ketchup he doesn't question any further and immediately enters the pantry to reach a shelf way too high for you and hand it to you.
"Why would it be up there?" you argue as you head back outside.
Jack takes a minute to himself in the kitchen. That was way too close. It just can't happen again. But every time he catches your eye, he knows he needs to get you alone again.
It looks like you're thinking the same thing because as soon as Robby is enthralled in discussing his sabbatical plans, you announce to the air that you're going to the garage for more beer. Jack waits a few minutes before following you. You're sitting on top of the chest freezer in the garage, your legs crossed at the ankles, waiting. What if he doesn't come? But the door opens and there he is in all his glory.
"You're gonna get us in trouble," he breathes as he crosses the room to you, his hands immediately going to your bare thighs.
"I thought you liked trouble, Uncle Jack," you tease him, hooking a leg around his hip.
"You gonna keep calling me that?" he asks as he trails his nose over your neck, inhaling your intoxicating scent.
He's been dreaming about this for months, but he never thought that you would feel the same for him.
"Why, what would you prefer?" you ask, letting your head fall back.
When he doesn't answer, you pout, "Not gonna answer, daddy?"
That rips a growl from his throat, and finally his lips are on yours. He's kissing you like a man starved, nipping at your lower lip before pushing his tongue into his mouth. His hands grip your thighs and pull you closer to him. You find yourself grinding against him as the kiss turns deeper and more passionate. You're basically making out like teenagers.
But it's Jack that pulls away first.
"Shit, princess, we can't do this here," he breathes stepping away from you. "Anyone could walk in. Your dad could walk in."
You bite down on your thumb, knowing that's what makes it so hot, but also being very much aware he's right. Your eyes drop to the hard-on now tenting his pants and you have to press your thighs together.
"Tonight?" you breathe. "I could come to yours?"
Jack Abbot knows better. He's too old for you. You're Michael Robinavitch's daughter!
"Yea," he breathes. "My place."
He kisses you again before handing you a case of beers. "You better go back out there."
What the fuck was Jack thinking when he asked you back to his? You're Michael Robinavitch's daughter for God's sake! His oldest friend! Some kissing was bad enough...but...
It didn't matter, anyway. It's not like you were going to show. You were probably drunk and a little crazed from the sun. You weren't going to show.
But then his phone pings.
Can you pick me up?
A message from you and a location. It's a few blocks from your house. You tell Robby that you're going out with friends and then ask them to drop you off here. You don't them to know where you're going either. But your car is still in the shop. Anyway, it wouldn't do for anyone to see it in Jack's driveway.
You don't have to wait long before Jack's truck pulls up and you hop in.
"This is a bad idea," he tells you as he pulls away, looking around to make sure that nobody has seen you.
But he puts his hand on your bare thigh.
"You've changed," he says after a brief silence, looking you over.
"Well, I wouldn't leave the house in a bikini top!" you remind him as he turns onto his street.
"Shame," he growls, pulling into his garage.
"Oh I think you'll prefer what I'm wearing," you promise him, pulling the oversized jacket you have on closer to your form.
Jack chuckles, shaking his head as he leads you inside.
"You want a drink?" he asks, but he's just being a gentleman, both of you know why you're in his house.
"I'm good, thanks," you say as you unzip your jacket, revealing the practically sheer baby doll lingerie you have on under it.
Jack almost swallows his tongue. Yea, fuck the drink. He crosses the room and kisses you. Hard. His hands cup either side of your face, accidentally tugging on loose pieces of hair. The sensation makes you wince and this causes the older man to smirk against your lips. You weren't expecting that.
But suddenly he's pulling away from you. You whine as you chase his touch and he gives you a sympathetic tut before hooking his arms around your thighs and throwing you over his shoulder. He walks with determination to his bedroom where he throws you down on his bed. He groans as you spread your legs, showing your completely bare pussy to him. Fuck. Has he ever seen a sweeter fucking sight?
He pulls his shirt off and climbs onto the bed. His hands explore your body, every inch, every curve. He groans as he feels your nipples pebble under the flimsy fabric of your lingerie. You whimper as he pinches them harshly between his forefingers and thumb. But it goes straight to your core. Honestly, you feel that if he got out his stethoscope, he would get a stronger pulse at your cunt than from your heart. Finally his hands rip the fabric from you. It falls off you, eliciting a groan from the doctor.
"You're gonna cum on my tongue, princess," he tells you. "And then I'm gonna fuck you so full o' me, you won't be able to walk straight."
You just nod dumbly as his hands slide up your thighs, closer and closer to where you need him. His thumb ghosts over puffy clit but he doesn't touch it, not yet.
"Use your big girl words. Tell daddy what you need, pretty girl," he growls.
"Please make me cum. Please, daddy," you whine, rocking your hips up in desperation.
He chuckles and presses him thumb over your clit, rubbing soft circles over the sensitive bud. He presses two thick fingers in you, making you cry out in pure need. You're so turned on you can't think straight. Honestly, you're not sure you can hold off an orgasm until he gets his lips on you. But he notices how your pretty face screws up and he pulls away from you.
"You must have all those dumb boys wrapped around this pretty pussy," Jack gruffs as he hooks your legs over his shoulders. "But they don't know how to make you feel good. Not like me, baby girl. Oh I'm gonna make you see fuckin' stars."
"Fuck!" you gasp as his tongue finds it way to your clit. "Please, daddy."
Jack just smirks against your sopping cunt and suckles at you like you're a Michelin-star meal. His rough hands palm at your plump ass. Finally one hand snakes up your body to tease your nipples, he pulls and pinches, even smacking your tits at one point. And fuck, it's enough to make you cum.
You soak his face with pure lust, rocking your hips needily against his face as you ride out your high. A fantasy you've had since you were a teenager has finally come true.
Jack strokes your thighs as you come down from your high. He starts undressing now, throwing his t-shirt over his shoulder. He disregards his pants somewhere and then his boxers.
"Fuck me, daddy, please. My pussy is so empty. Fuck!" you whine out in pure need. You're not even sure what you're saying.
He sits up on his heels between your still quivering thighs.
"Oh baby, you don't have to beg daddy to fuck you. I'm going to. I'm gonna give you daddy's cock," he promises as he strokes every inch of himself.
Finally, he's pressing into your weeping cunt, and you're squirming underneath him. He loves how you squirm. Honestly, it's a turn on he never imagined. But now he can't imagine sex without it...without you.
He groans as he bottoms out on you, seeing how your stomach flares with the length of him. You whimper as you get used to the stretch.
"So big, daddy," you whine pulling him down to capture his lips in yours.
You taste like fucking heaven and Jack can't help but rock his hips into you. And then another roll and another. And finally he's fucking you, his hips snapping against yours. The room is filled with the sound of skin on skin and both of your heady moans mixed together.
"Fuck! Fuck!" you scream out as his thumb finds your clit again. His lips dip down to suck at your tit.
"Fuck! My pussy, daddy. Oh fuck, my pussy's gonna cum."
Jack pops off your tit and smirks.
"Yea, baby. Cum for daddy. Let that sweet pussy milk daddy's cock," he growls.
His filthy words and the pressure of his thumb on your clit has you seeing stars. You scream out as you cum, squirting over his cock. This display makes his eyes go all wide. He's never seen that before.
He moves his free hand to press into your mouth, his ring and middle finger pushing your tongue down. But it does nothing to stop you from sucking on them, showing him what he's missed out on. His wedding ring knocks against your teeth with each thrust.
It's enough to make you cum again and Jack can feel your spent pussy fluttering around his cock. When it clamps around him again he's a goner. His hips stutter and he cums with a groan. He rocks his hips slowly into you, filling you with ropes of his hot cum. His head finally falls to your neck.
You stay there for a moment, knowing that this shouldn't happen again. But it does...twice more before you go home the next night. And then practically every day when Robby is on his ill-advised sabatical. In almost every room, in both Jack and your place.
Jack has you bent over the kitchen sink after you've cooked dinner as the chill of September starts to creep in. You gave up on wearing panties a long time ago and you pretty much have an open door policy, if Jack wants you, he'll have you.
You're crying out for more when you hear footsteps in the hallway that have you both jumping apart from each other. Jack pulls his pants back up and you smooth down your skirt just as your father walks into the room. His face a mask of horror as he realises what has been happening while he was away.
"Welcome home, brother!" Jack attempts with a weak smile as you sneak into the shadows.
a/n: thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! kinda wanna stay writing dbf!Abbot for a minute...what do you think?
❦ synopsis. jack abbot was your father’s best friend, fifteen years your senior, and entirely off limits. you slipped him your number anyway. bad idea? probably. worth it? absolutely.
content. 18+. jack abbot x fem!reader. dbf!jack. age gap (reader is in her mid 20s, jack is early 40s). sneaking around. oral (f!receiving). protected p in v. car sex. mirror sex. finger in mouth (brief).
wc. 10.7k
an. it's a longgg one. so enjoy !!
the almost-summer insects are loud the evening of your dad’s annual memorial day bbq. you’d taken the train up from the city that morning, a bag packed for a few months rather than a few days, needing the suburban quiet more than you’d admitted to yourself. a few hectic months of finishing your masters while working full time had left you wrung out in a way only a proper break could fix.
you step out into the backyard and the warm air hits you, voices mixing in with the cicadas, the smell of charcoal and something sweet. your parents are well off, the backyard expansive and manicured, fairy lights strung between the trees already glowing gold in the early evening.
and that’s when you see him.
silver haired, broad shouldered, standing with your father and another man you don’t recognize. he’s not loud about it, the way some men are at parties like this, drink in hand, laughing too hard. he’s just there. a steady presence. like the room arranged itself around him without him asking.
he looks up and catches you staring.
you give him a small smile. he holds it for a beat, returns it, quiet and unreadable, and then turns back to the conversation like nothing happened.
“there you are, darling.” your mom finds you before you can register what just happened, pulling you into the huddle. “come meet jack. this is dr. jack abbot, remember? i told you about him. he’s the one who was at the gym with your father when he had that small stroke. kept him stable until the ambulance came.”
you did remember. vaguely. your mom had mentioned him a few times over the phone during those scary first few days, always with this tone like she wanted you to know he was one of the good ones. she’d also, at some point, let slip that he was quite handsome for his age which had made you curious enough to look him up.
you’d found almost nothing. a blurry photo from some hospital gala where he was younger, dark haired, barely recognizable. another from an award ceremony, grainy and poorly lit, his face half turned from the camera. you’d closed the tab and thought nothing more of it.
the man standing in front of you now had not been adequately prepared for.
you reach your hand out. his is warm, large, engulfing your palm easily. the touch moves through you faster than it should.
“nice to meet you,” you say, and you mean it more than is appropriate.
he looks at you the way men his age sometimes do when they’re trying very hard not to. “you as well.”
your dad says something about jack being a veteran, about it being a meaningful weekend for him too. jack doesn’t smile at that. just something solemn moving behind his eyes, confirming that whatever he’d seen hadn’t left him clean.
you think about that look for the rest of the evening.
---
you run into him at the farmer’s market three days later.
you’re standing at a stall debating between two bunches of peonies when you feel someone stop beside you. you glance over and there he is, in a grey henley and dark jeans, looking entirely too good for a saturday morning farmer’s market in suburban new york.
“dr. abbot,” you say, a little surprised.
“just jack,” he says, eyes moving to the flowers and then back to you. “visiting your parents for the weekend?”
“for a little longer than that,” you say. “you live around here?”
“ten minutes that way.” he nods vaguely in a direction. noncommittal. like he’s already deciding how much to give you.
you buy both bunches of peonies just to have something to do with your hands.
he walks with you for a bit, not quite on purpose, or at least that’s how he plays it. the conversation is easy in a way that feels unfair. he asks about your masters, what you studied, what you’re doing now. he listens like he’s genuinely curious about you, takes his time without interruption. you learn he’s been in suburban new york for a few years, that he left his practice in the city after his wife passed, that he has his own little clinic now because apparently that’s what you do when you’re trying to build a quieter life.
he says it nonchalantly and you don’t press for more.
when you reach the end of the market he stops and you stop with him.
“i’ll see you around,” he says. not a question exactly. more like something he’s hoping for.
“probably,” you say.
he almost smiles. almost.
---
you see him twice more before the dinner.
once at your parents’ house when he stops by to drop something off for your dad, catching you in the kitchen in an oversized tee and sleep shorts, hair still messy from bed. he looks at you for exactly one second longer than he should before fixing his expression back to neutral and asking if your father is home.
and then once at the pharmacy, where he’s picking up a prescription and you’re buying face wash, and he ends up standing in line behind you and making a quiet comment about the brand you picked that makes you laugh, and then looks almost annoyed at himself for making you laugh.
he’s trying. you can see it clearly. the deliberate neutrality of him, the way he keeps his eyes from lingering, the way he keeps things brief and polite.
it makes you want to push.
---
the dinner is your mother’s idea. a small thank you, she says, for everything jack did for your father. nothing formal, just the four of you on a friday evening.
you wear a dress that you’d packed for no real reason. silky, short, the kind that sits just high enough on your thigh to be a problem. you tell yourself it’s because you felt like it.
you know that’s not entirely true.
jack arrives at seven. you watch him from the top of the stairs as your dad lets him in, see the moment he looks up and finds you coming down, see him look away just as quickly. his jaw goes tight, a muscle flickering there briefly before he smooths it over.
dinner is pleasant. your mom talks too much, your dad laughs too loud, and jack sits across from you being perfectly polite and perfectly composed and absolutely not looking at you any more than is necessary.
which somehow makes it worse.
you excuse yourself after the main course, slipping down the hall toward the bathroom. you’re washing your hands when you hear him in the hallway.
you step out and find him already there in the narrow hall, and neither of you move. the dinner sounds feel far away. the space between you is close enough to feel the warmth of him, and his cologne reaches you before anything else, something quiet and warm, and he’s looking at you the way he’s been carefully not looking at you all evening.
your pulse does something it has no business doing.
you reach into your pocket slowly, pull out the folded slip of paper you’d put there before dinner, hold it out between two fingers. your eyes stay on his.
he looks down at it. back up at you. and for a second, just one, his gaze drops to your mouth and stays there long enough to make your breath catch.
“i’m your father’s friend,” he says. his voice comes out lower than intended.
“i know,” you say softly.
he should walk away. you can see him thinking it. the war behind his eyes.
he reaches out and takes the paper instead, fingers brushing yours, and then he steps back and clears his throat and goes back down the hall without another word.
you lean against the wall for a moment before you follow.
---
you go back to the table and finish dinner and make conversation and laugh at your dad’s jokes and do not think about the hallway.
you do not think about the way he’d looked at your mouth.
you do not think about the way his fingers had felt brushing yours when he took the paper.
jack stays another hour, polite and easy and perfectly composed, and when he leaves he shakes your dad’s hand and thanks your mom for dinner. he glances at you once on his way out, brief and unreadable, the kind of look that gives nothing and takes everything.
“lovely to meet you properly,” he says.
“you too,” you say.
the door closes and you help your mom clear the table and go to bed and do not think about it at all.
---
a week passes.
you work. that’s the honest answer for what you do with the silence of your phone. you open your laptop early and close it late and fill the hours in between with emails and decks and calls that run long, the familiar rhythm of it steadying in a way you hadn’t expected to need.
it helps, mostly. you’d taken this break to breathe and somehow you’d gone and complicated it spectacularly within the first two weeks, so throwing yourself back into spreadsheets feels like a reasonable correction.
your mom keeps finding reasons to bring him up at dinner. jack mentioned he might come to the farmers market this weekend. jack was asking after your thesis topic, isn’t that sweet. you nod and eat your food and say nothing.
your phone stays quiet.
you start to feel that particular kind of silly that you really hate feeling. the kind that makes you want to be annoyed at yourself more than at anyone else. you’re not a girl who waits around. you’d handed him your number because you’d wanted to, not because you were expecting anything, and it had meant nothing, and you are completely fine.
your phone buzzes on thursday morning and you pick it up embarrassingly fast.
it’s your landlord about a leaking pipe in your city apartment.
you put the phone face down and open another email.
---
you go for a walk thursday afternoon because you need air and because staring at a laptop in your childhood bedroom is making you feel sixteen in a way you don’t appreciate.
the neighborhood is quiet and warm, someone’s sprinkler ticking in a front yard, birds doing their thing in the trees. you have your earbuds in and you’re almost feeling like yourself again when you turn a corner and nearly walk into him.
he’s coming back from a run, slowing to a stop, a little breathless. grey tee, dark shorts, the outline of his prosthetic visible below the hem, silver hair slightly damp. looking entirely too good on a thursday afternoon.
you look straight ahead and keep walking.
you hear him pause then fall into step beside you.
“hey,” he tries.
nothing.
“you’re ignoring me,” he says. there’s a quiet amusement to it that makes it significantly harder to maintain your expression.
you pull one earbud out and look at him with the most neutral expression you own. “can i help you?”
“you walked right past me.”
“i didn’t see you.”
“you saw me,” he says simply.
you stop. turn to face him fully on the pavement, squinting a little in the afternoon sun. “you didn’t text.”
he holds your gaze. “i know.”
“okay,” you say pleasantly, and put your earbud back in.
he reaches out and touches your elbow, gently, and you stop again.
“it’s not right,” he says, when you look at him. his voice is low and even, like he’s explained this to himself many times already. “your father is one of my closest friends. you’re his daughter. there’s an age gap that—”
“i’m aware of my own age,” you say.
“i know that.”
“and i’m aware of yours.”
“that’s not what i—”
“jack.” you say it quietly but clearly. “i have a masters degree. i have a career. i pay my own rent in one of the most expensive cities in the country.” you hold his gaze without flinching. “i don’t need you to decide what i can and can’t handle. i don’t like being put in a box, especially not by someone who looked at me the way you did in that hallway.”
something shifts in his expression. he looks away briefly, jaw working.
“one drink,” he says finally, still not looking at you. “there’s a place on 4th avenue. friday night.”
you look at him.
“no,” you say.
he blinks. looks back at you. “no?”
“dinner,” you say. “and then a drink.”
a beat.
“you’re negotiating.”
“i’m clarifying,” you say pleasantly.
he looks at you for a long moment. you watch him try very hard not to smile and almost succeed.
“dinner,” he says. “and a drink.”
“and you’re paying,” you add.
he exhales through his nose. “obviously.”
you put your earbud back in and start walking. “friday works,” you call back.
you don’t turn around but you’re fairly certain he’s standing there watching you go and doing that almost-smile again.
good.
---
he texts friday morning.
jack: should i pick you up or are you meeting me there.
you stare at your phone for an embarrassing amount of time.
he confirmed. he actually texted to confirm, which means he’d been thinking about it, which means he hadn’t spent the week being perfectly unbothered the way you’d assumed he had. and he’d offered to pick you up. like it was a real date. like he was going to come to your parents’ front door and walk you to his car and—
you put your phone face down on the bed.
get it together, you tell yourself.
you pick it up again.
but he’d offered to pick you up. that’s a thing a gentleman does. a thoughtful person. and he’s thoughtful, you’ve noticed that about him, the way he listens, the way he remembers small things you’ve said, the way he—
and he’s so annoyingly attractive. how does that happen. how does someone get to be that age and look like that and also be like that. it should be one or the other. it’s unfair is what it is.
you realize you’ve been staring at the ceiling for five minutes.
you: i’ll meet you there.
you put the phone down and go get ready and absolutely do not smile at yourself in the mirror.
you smile at yourself in the mirror a little bit.
---
the place on 4th avenue is small and warm, the kind of bar that moonlights as a restaurant. dark wood and low lighting and a chalkboard menu above the bar. he pulls out your chair and you sit and pretend that doesn’t do anything to you.
he orders without looking at the menu. you notice that but don’t say anything.
it starts careful. he already knows the broad strokes of your masters from the farmer’s market, so he asks something different tonight. what you actually want to do next, now that it’s done. where you see yourself going. you tell him honestly, more honestly than you expected to, about the job you’re good at but aren’t sure you love, about the version of your career you’re still trying to build toward. he listens with his glass resting in his hand and his eyes on you and doesn’t once look at his phone.
“and now you’re here,” he says.
“now i’m here,” you agree. “taking a break. or trying to. i’m still working remotely so it’s not quite a break.”
“doesn’t sound like much of a rest.”
you think about it honestly. “it’s getting there.”
he nods like he understands that specific kind of tired. you get the feeling he does.
you ask about medicine, what made him choose it, whether he ever wanted something different. he thinks before he answers, which you like about him, the absence of automatic responses.
“lost a close friend when i was young,” he says simply. “couldn’t do anything. felt like i should have been able to.” he turns his glass once. “so i decided i’d learn how.”
“and the army?”
“enlisted after my first year of pre-med. served as a combat medic for two tours.” a brief pause. “finished my degree when i came back.”
he says it with the flatness of someone who has made peace with something that didn’t deserve it. you don’t push. just let it settle between you the way it needs to.
you talk about other things after that. easier things. he asks about the city, whether you miss it yet, and you tell him honestly that you miss the noise more than you expected to. he tells you he grew up in boston, that new york had always felt like someone else’s city even after years of living there. you ask what suburban new york feels like and he thinks about it for a moment.
“quieter,” he says. “in a way i needed.”
you ask him what he does with the quiet and he says he reads, mostly. medical journals, some fiction. runs in the mornings. you tell him that sounds very disciplined and he looks at you with something dry.
“you say that like it’s an insult.”
“i say it like it’s very you,” you say, and he looks at you for a moment like he’s trying to decide what to do with that.
the conversation moves like that all evening, one thing leading naturally into the next, barely any effort. you forget to check your phone. you forget to be nervous. you just talk, and he talks, and at some point you realize you’re leaning forward with your chin in your hand and he’s leaning forward too and the space between you has gotten smaller without either of you deciding it.
at some point the bar fills in around you. the dinner crowd thinning and the drinks crowd arriving, louder, livelier, music turned up a notch. someone laughs too hard at the bar. a group spills in through the door bringing the warm night air with them.
you and jack don’t notice any of it.
it’s only when he glances around and then back at you that you realize how late it’s gotten.
“i’ll just use the bathroom,” he says, pushing his chair back. “be right back.”
you watch him stop at the bar on the way back. a quiet word with the bartender, something slipped across the counter without a word to you about it.
he comes back and picks up his jacket.
“ready?” he says simply.
you smile a little without meaning to. “yeah,” you say. “let’s go.”
---
the night air is warm with a slight breeze when you step outside. you pull your jacket loosely around your shoulders and say “i had a really good time” and mean it completely and then immediately start wondering if it sounded too eager. you fall into step beside him on the pavement and the silence is comfortable but your brain is doing that thing where it replays the whole evening looking for something to be anxious about and finding too many candidates.
did it go well. it felt like it went well. he paid without making it a thing which was. god that was sweet. but he hasn’t said anything since we left and maybe that means—
“you’ve gone somewhere,” he says.
you blink. look up at him. “what?”
“just now.” he glances at you, steady. “where’d you go?”
your mouth opens. closes. “nowhere,” you say.
he looks at you for a moment in that way he has, like he can see straight through the word, and almost smiles and says nothing and you feel your face go warm.
“do you want to take a walk,” he says instead. “there’s a park just around the corner.”
“yes,” you say, maybe a little too quickly.
he definitely notices. doesn’t say anything.
---
the park is quiet, just the sound of your footsteps and the distant hum of the street. the trees are full and dark against the sky and the path is lit by old iron lampposts and the air smells like cut grass and something floral.
you spot the ice cream stand before he does. a small cart tucked near the park entrance, fairy lights strung around the awning.
you stop walking.
he follows your gaze. looks back at you. that almost smile already happening.
“come on,” you say, already heading over.
he shakes his head slightly and follows.
you get strawberry cheesecake in a cup. he gets dark chocolate pecan, which somehow suits him completely. you both stand under the fairy lights eating ice cream while the warm night moves around you.
“here,” you say, holding your spoon out toward him.
he looks at it. then takes the taste, and his expression does something reluctant and impressed at the same time.
“that’s actually good,” he says.
“i know,” you say smugly.
he holds his own spoon out without a word. you lean in and try it and the dark chocolate hits first and then the pecan and it’s rich and warm and very him somehow.
“okay,” you admit. “that’s also good.”
“i know,” he says, and you laugh, and this time he actually smiles. quiet and real and just for a moment.
you look at him in the lamplight and feel something settle warm in your chest and think. oh. okay. this is a problem.
---
you start walking again when the cups are empty, slower now, no particular direction. the park is mostly yours at this hour, just the occasional dog walker passing with a nod.
you’re not in your head anymore. somewhere between the ice cream and the smiling you’d stopped replaying the evening and landed back in it.
he’s walking close enough that your shoulders brush every few steps and neither of you moves away.
you stop near a lamppost where the path curves and turn to look at him and he’s already looking at you, that careful composure doing very little at this particular moment.
you lean up and kiss him.
he goes still. one second. two. then his hand comes up slow and cups your jaw and he kisses you back, deep and sure, and you forget about the warm night and the lamplight and everything else.
he pulls back first. steps back slightly. shakes his head.
you groan softly. “i’ve never had to ask for things, you know.”
that flicker at the corner of his mouth. “so you’re a spoiled brat.”
“what will it take,” you say, looking up at him. “for you to just give in.”
“i’m not—” he stops. jaw tight. “i’m not relationship material. you should know that going in.”
you hold his gaze. “i’m not looking for a relationship either. it doesn’t have to be more than what it is.” a beat. “we’re adults, jack.”
he looks at you for a long moment. the last argument behind his eyes going quiet.
then he kisses you again. different this time. his hand gripping your face, consuming, and you grip the front of his jacket and let him.
he pulls back just enough to speak, voice low.
“the townhouse is two minutes from here,” he says.
you didn’t know that. you file it away for later.
“okay,” you say.
he takes your hand and you go.
---
the door barely shuts behind you.
his hands find your waist before you’ve taken a step inside, walking you back against the entryway wall, mouth on yours, and the kiss is nothing like the one in the park. that one had been careful, him dipping his toe in. this one is hungry, open mouthed, his tongue sliding against yours slowly, like he’s tasting something he’s been thinking about for a long time. you make a sound against his mouth and feel him exhale hard through his nose like it costs him something.
your fingers find his shirt buttons. his hands push your jacket off your shoulders and it hits the floor somewhere. something knocks off the entryway table, neither of you flinches.
he pulls back just enough to look at you, chest rising and falling, hair slightly messed from your hands, and the composed dr. jack abbot of dinner and parks and careful measured distance is completely gone. what’s left is just him, looking at you like you’re the only thing in the room he’s done being good about.
he takes your hand and walks you backward through the darkened living room and sits down on the couch, pulling you down onto his lap in one smooth motion, hands settling on your hips.
“jack—”
“here,” he murmurs, guiding your hips forward, then back, slow. “like that.”
your breath catches. his jaw is tight, eyes dark, watching your face with an intensity that makes it hard to think straight. his hands grip your hips and move them again, that same slow roll, and a soft sound escapes you before you can stop it.
“you have no idea,” he says, low, almost to himself. his forehead drops to your shoulder for just a moment. “how long i’ve wanted this.” his mouth finds your jaw, your neck. “wanted you.”
you pull back just enough to look at him, chest heaving, lips swollen. his eyes meet yours, dark, pupils blown.
“fuck me,” you breathe against his mouth. “please.”
a groan tears out of him.
he flips you in one smooth motion, your back meeting the couch cushions, him over you, and his hands find the zipper of your skirt, fumbling with it in a way that is deeply satisfying coming from someone so usually composed. you reach down to help and he bats your hands away gently.
“i’ve got it,” he mutters, jaw tight, and you bite your lip to keep from smiling.
he does.
---
you wake up to the smell of coffee.
for a moment you just lie there, ceiling unfamiliar, sheets softer than yours, the morning light coming in through curtains you don’t recognize. then it lands. right. jack’s townhouse. you sit up slowly and push your hair back and look around the room.
it’s neat in the way of someone who lives alone and likes order. dark furniture, minimal, a small stack of books on the nightstand. a glass of water on your side that wasn’t there when you fell asleep.
you stare at the glass of water for a moment.
you find his shirt at the foot of the bed and pull it on and pad downstairs.
he’s in the kitchen. grey tee, dark pants, barefoot. you can hear the faint clink of his prosthetic foot as he moves around the stove with that same leisured pace as always. coffee already poured, two cups. eggs in the pan. toast just popped.
he glances over when you appear in the doorway.
“morning,” he says simply. like this is normal. like you wake up in his house all the time.
“you made breakfast,” you say.
he just smiles in return.
you slide onto the stool at the kitchen island and wrap both hands around the mug he pushes toward you and watch him cook and try not to feel too much about any of this.
you mostly fail.
he plates the eggs without ceremony and sets it in front of you and sits across with his own and you eat together in the quiet morning, the kind of quiet that doesn’t need filling. outside birds are doing their thing in the backyard. somewhere a lawnmower starts up distantly.
“did you sleep okay?” he asks at some point.
“really well actually,” you say, and mean it. the peaceful dreamless kind you’d been craving for months.
---
you leave just after nine. he walks you to the door, and just before you step out he cups the back of your head gently and presses his lips to your forehead.
your insides melt.
“i’ll see you later,” he says.
you look up at him. “yeah,” you say softly. “you will.”
you walk to your car with his shirt smell still on your skin and the ghost of his mouth on your forehead and think. oh you are in so much trouble.
---
it becomes a pattern after that.
stolen minutes, mostly. a look across the room that lasts a beat too long. his hand finding the small of your back when he passes you in the hallway at your parents’, gone before anyone could notice. a text at odd hours that starts as nothing and becomes something by the time you put your phone down.
---
it was gathering at your parents’. a few neighbors gathered in the living room, some rosé for the women, beers for the men, your mom moving between guests with a platter of something she’d spent the morning making. it fills up fast the way your parents’ house always does, loud and warm, someone’s kid running through the hallway.
you’re in a sundress, yellow, the kind that sits light on your shoulders. jack is there when you arrive, talking to one of your dad’s colleagues, and his eyes find you once across the yard, darkening just a fraction.
you go inside for ice an hour in.
the kitchen is quiet after the noise of the backyard, just the hum of the fridge and the distant sound of someone laughing outside. you’re pulling the ice tray when you hear the door behind you.
you don’t turn around. you already know.
his hands find your hips from behind, turning you, and then his mouth is on yours and it’s nothing like the usual careful composed kisses. one hand slides into your hair, the other flat against the small of your back pulling you in, and he kisses you the way he does when he’s been watching you from across a yard for an hour and has run out of patience for it. open mouthed, his tongue sliding slow against yours until your fingers curl into his shirt and you forget what you came in here for.
his hand moves under the hem of your dress, palm dragging slow up the inside of your thigh, and he pulls back just enough to look at you.
“is my girl wet for me?” he murmurs, low, meant only for you.
your breath stutters. you don’t answer. he finds out anyway, fingers pressing against the thin fabric of your underwear, and the quiet sound he makes against your temple is deeply unfair.
“jack,” you warn softly.
“shhh,” he says, and drops to his knees.
he pushes your dress up and hooks your underwear down in one smooth motion, tucks it into his pocket, and then his mouth is on you and the world narrows to the warm press of his tongue. your hand flies to your mouth. the other grips the counter behind you hard enough to whiten your knuckles, the noise of the party bleeding through the walls while he takes you apart quietly on the kitchen floor.
he doesn’t rush. that’s the thing about jack. he never rushes.
by the time you come you’re biting down on your own fist, eyes squeezed shut, shaking.
he stands up and fixes the hem of your dress back down like nothing happened. looks at you once, the corner of his lips tilted up in a smirk, while you’re still trying to remember how to breathe.
“i’ll give those back later,” he says, patting his pocket.
“you’re unbelievable,” you manage.
he reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. presses a single kiss to your cheek and walks back outside.
you stand in the kitchen for a full minute before you follow.
---
he keeps his eyes on you for the rest of the day. not obviously. just enough that you feel it every time, that quiet heat from across the yard. enough to know he hasn’t forgotten.
you don’t get the underwear back.
what you get instead, after the last guests trickle out and your parents call it a night, is his hand finding yours in the dark hallway and him walking you to the downstairs bathroom and clicking the lock behind you both.
you’re quiet about it. mostly.
---
the dinner is a few of your dad’s colleagues and their wives, jack included, the type of evening that involves good wine and stories you’ve heard versions of before. you sit at the far end of the table and catch him looking at you twice, both times immediately looking away.
you wear something simple. nothing risky. you’re behaving.
mostly.
you say your goodbyes at the door, your coat already on. “i’m heading out to meet a friend,” you tell your dad, kissing his cheek. “i’ll stay over hers. i’ll be back in the morning.”
“i can drop you off,” jack says from behind you, already reaching for his keys. “i’m heading that way.” you were going to meet him anyway.
your dad claps him on the shoulder. “perfect, save her the uber.”
you smile. “thanks, jack.”
the drive starts quiet. lights bleeding past the windows, jack’s hand loose on the wheel, the low hum of the radio filling the space between you. comfortable on the surface. charged underneath.
you watch the road for a while.
then you reach across the console.
“don’t,” he says immediately, his hand closing over yours.
you do it anyway.
he exhales hard. pulls off at the next quiet stretch, a side road that’s dark and empty. he clicks the lock and reaches for the lever at the side of his seat and lets it fall back. then his hands find you and he hauls you over the console and onto his lap before you’ve fully registered the movement.
you land against him and his mouth finds yours, urgent in a way that pulls low in your stomach. you’re both pulling at things, his shirt buttons, your top, the zip of his pants, the graceless urgency of too much want in too small a space.
when he finally pushes inside you, both of you stilling for just a moment at the stretch of it, thick and familiar and so so good, your forehead drops to his shoulder and you exhale shakily.
“okay?” he murmurs.
“yeah,” you breathe. “yeah, move—”
you start to roll your hips and his hands grip your waist, steadying, guiding, letting you find the rhythm. the windows fog at the edges. his jaw is tight, eyes dark, watching your face with that focused intensity that makes you feel like the only thing in the room.
then his feet find the floor and he starts thrusting up to meet you, slow and hard, and your head falls back.
“jack—”
“i’ve got you, darlin’,” he says low, one hand splayed across your lower back holding you close, the other pulling your top aside, unhooking your bra, his mouth replacing it, warm against your hardened peak. you dig your fingers into his shoulders and stop thinking about anything at all.
the radio plays on softly. outside the road stays empty.
neither of you are in any hurry.
---
you end up staying the night.
you hadn’t planned to. but the radio plays on softly and neither of you move and at some point the quiet of the car becomes the quiet of his townhouse and then it’s late and he’s pulling his shirt over your head in the dark and saying stay against your temple like it’s nothing.
so you do.
---
a few days later you answer the door at your parents’ when the doorbell goes.
you’re in sleep shorts and an oversized tee, hair up, not having expected anyone. jack stands on the other side of the door in dark slacks and a polo, his glasses hanging from the collar, looking entirely too put together for a tuesday morning.
you lean against the doorframe. “where are you going dressed like that?”
he looks at you. then very deliberately looks at your shorts. “golf. your father suggested i develop a normal hobby.”
“and you listened?”
“he’s very persuasive.”
you open your mouth to say something else when your dad’s voice carries from inside. “jack! give me five minutes, i’m almost ready!”
jack raises an eyebrow at you. you raise one back.
and then he steps into the foyer, glances once over your shoulder toward the stairs, and kisses you quickly. you feel his hand caress your jaw and then it’s gone just as fast when he pulls back.
“i’ll see you later,” he murmurs.
he steps back and straightens his collar. looks completely poised.
you are not completely poised.
your dad comes thundering down the stairs two minutes later, clapping jack on the shoulder, steering him out the door. jack follows, and just before he reaches the car he glances back once.
you’re still in the doorframe.
he smiles. that small smile, only for you, and turns away.
you stay there a moment longer than you need to before going back inside.
---
the phone starts buzzing an hour later.
it’s sitting on the kitchen counter where your dad left it, lighting up with a number you recognize from his office. you grab your keys.
you find them on the sixth hole. your dad spots you first, face confused, and you hold up the phone. his expression shifts immediately into the particular look he gets when something’s gone sideways at work.
he steps away to take the call and you’re left standing on the green in your tiny shorts while jack abbot turns around and takes you in with a slow once over.
“my dad forgot his phone,” you say innocently.
“i can see that,” he says.
“interesting shorts,” he says.
“thank you.”
“that wasn’t a compliment.”
“i know,” you say, and smile.
your dad reappears, phone pressed to his chest, apology already on his face. “jack, i’m so sorry, there’s something with the mcvoy merger, i have to go. i’ll make it up to you, we’ll reschedule—”
“go,” jack says easily. “don’t worry about it.”
your dad looks between you both. “she can drive you back—”
“go sort your merger,” jack says.
your dad squeezes his shoulder gratefully and strides off toward the car park, already back on the phone. and then it’s just you and jack and the open green and the warm afternoon stretching out around you.
he looks at you.
you look back.
“get a hole in one,” you say.
he stares at you. “i’m sorry?”
“hole in one, old man,” you say. “and i’ll make it worth your while.”
a long pause. he looks out at the green. looks back at you. the corner of his mouth pulling in a way he doesn’t quite manage to hide. he shakes his head with a chuckle under his breath.
he lines up his shot with the confidence of someone who is very good at things he pretends not to care about.
it drops clean.
he turns and looks at you over the top of his glasses.
you burst out laughing.
he’s still giving you that look, warm and steady and just slightly wolfish, and something flips over in your chest.
“hole in one,” he says simply.
---
things fall in his entryway.
his keys missing the hook. your sandals somewhere near the door. his phone clattering off the console table that neither of you stops for because he has you against the wall with his hands under your thighs before the door is fully shut, your legs wrapping around him, laughing into his mouth until you’re not laughing anymore.
“you wore those shorts on purpose,” he says against your jaw.
“i have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” you manage.
he pulls back just enough to look at you, hair messed, chest rising and falling, and shakes his head slowly, a quiet laugh in his expression.
“what am i gonna do with you,” he says, low and gravelly, shaking his head in faux disappointment.
“i have a few ideas,” you say.
he carries you upstairs with your legs still around him, mouth finding your neck, the curve of your shoulder. he sets you down on the edge of the bed and steps back, reaching behind him to pull his polo off in one smooth motion.
you take a moment to just. look at him.
toned shoulders in the way of someone who has been active his whole life, with a softness at his middle. freckles scattered across his arms and chest, concentrated at the shoulders, the kind that come from years in the sun. a slight roundness to his stomach that makes him look exactly his age in the best possible way. silver hair dusted across his chest, catching the afternoon light. you bite your lip as you take him in.
his eyes are already on you.
his hands find the waistband of your shorts and drag them down slowly, dropping them somewhere on the floor. he straightens up and looks at you for a moment.
“touch yourself for me,” he says quietly.
you hold his gaze for a beat. then you lean back on your palms and slide a hand down between your thighs, fingers tracing down your folds, finding the growing wetness there.
he stands there watching, breathing a little heavily, before his hands find his belt buckle, unhooking it slow, shoving his pants down without looking away from you. his cock is thick and already hard and his hand wraps around it, stroking, eyes tracking every movement of your fingers, and the whole thing is so intense and quiet that your breath has gone completely unsteady.
then he steps forward.
he takes your wrist and brings your hand up and closes his mouth around your fingers, sucking them clean without breaking eye contact, and your brain short circuits completely.
he pushes you back onto the bed.
he buries his face between your thighs, mouth finding your clit with no warning, and your back arches clean off the bed. he works you open, tongue fucking into you obscenely, and you’re loud about it, louder than you mean to be, one hand twisting in his silver hair while your hips roll down against his mouth chasing more.
you soak him and he doesn’t pull back. just makes a quiet satisfied sound against you and keeps going like he has nowhere else to be, like this is exactly where he wants to be, until you’re shaking and your brain has turned completely to mush and your whole body is pulling tight.
“jack— jack i need—”
he pulls back just enough to look up at you, mouth slick, eyes dark, expression perfectly composed.
“hm?” he says. “can’t quite hear you. old man ears.”
you groan. “jack.”
“sorry?” the corner of his mouth twitches.
“you know what i need—”
he tuts softly. “you’re going to have to be more specific, sweet girl.”
you huff, thighs squeezing around his shoulders, and he raises an eyebrow at you like he has all the time in the world and fully intends to use it.
“please,” you breathe. “please please just fuck me, jack, please—”
you keep saying it, broken and shameless, until he pulls back, rolls a condom on with steady hands, and finally fills you in one slow push that knocks the air clean out of your lungs.
---
the bed creaks.
he has your legs pushed up, knees to your chest, ankles hooked over his shoulders, and you are folded so completely beneath him that the only thing you can do is hold on and take it. his hands brace either side of your head, eyes on your face, and he moves with a focus that makes it impossible to think about anything else.
the headboard finds the wall. once. twice. and then it just. stays there, a constant rhythmic clatter that fades into the background because there are other sounds now too — the slap of skin, your moans climbing higher with every stroke, the low sounds he makes when he’s trying to stay controlled and losing the battle. the room is loud with all of it and neither of you are doing anything to stop it.
“you’re doing so well for me,” he murmurs. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles over the swollen bud, and you make a sound that you feel in your whole body. “killin’ me, baby,” he grunts. your puffy lips stretched around him, taking everything he gives, and he looks down at where you’re joined and his breathing is shaky.
his hips are losing that careful rhythm, thrusts getting shorter and more urgent, and you can feel him everywhere, the relentless drag and push of him, your whole body pulled taut around him.
“jack—”
“yeah baby,” he breathes. “yeah yeah, come for me. fuck—” his thumb keeps those merciless circles over your needy clit. “this pretty pussy’s squeezing me so good, can you feel that—”
and that’s it. you come with his name on your lips and your whole body arching up into him, thighs shaking against his shoulders. he follows right behind you, a low groan pressed into the curve of your neck, hips stuttering to a stop.
for a moment neither of you move.
---
then he carefully lowers your legs, pressing a brief kiss to the inside of your knee before he pulls back. you hear him in the bathroom, water running, and then he’s back with a warm towel and he cleans you up quietly, thorough and gentle, and you lie there and let him and try not to think too hard about what that means.
he tosses the towel aside and settles on the edge of the bed. reaches down and unstraps his prosthetic, setting it carefully against the nightstand. the room is quiet while he does it, a routine for him.
you watch him from where you’re curled on your side, still soft and sleepy.
“does it hurt?” you ask, voice still a little wrecked.
“not hurt,” he says. “just gets uncomfortable after a while.”
you reach out without thinking, fingers finding the end of his residual limb, and you massage there gently. he goes very still for a moment. then his hand comes up and squeezes your shoulder.
neither of you say anything. you don’t need to.
he settles back against the headboard and pulls you into his side, your cheek finding his chest, his hand moving through your hair in long slow strokes. he presses his lips to the top of your head and you close your eyes and breathe him in and think that this is a very dangerous thing to have gotten used to.
“i’m ordering thai,” he says after a while.
“okay,” you say, not moving.
he reaches for his phone with his free hand, the other still in your hair, and places the order without asking what you want because he already knows. you smile at that a little where he can’t see it.
the food arrives forty minutes later and you eat together in his bed, containers spread between you on the duvet, casablanca pulled up on the tv.
you groan when you see the title screen.
“you haven’t seen it,” he says, already settling back.
“i’ve seen enough of it.”
“that’s not the same thing.” he hands you a container of pad thai. “watch the movie.”
you watch the movie.
it’s good. you’re not going to tell him that.
halfway through you’re completely invested and stealing bites off his plate and he lets you, which is how you know he’s in a good mood. the lamp is on low, the room warm, the sound of old hollywood filling the quiet between you. he makes a comment about the cinematography at some point and you make a comment back and it turns into a whole thing and by the time you look up the scene has moved on entirely.
“we missed it,” you say.
“i’ve seen it forty times,” he says. “it’s fine.”
you laugh softly and settle back into his side.
you’re asleep before the ending. you don’t even realize it’s happening, just the warmth of him and the low sound of the television and then nothing at all.
you wake up to a dark room and credits rolling softly on the screen.
jack is asleep beside you, breathing slow and even, one arm still loosely around you. you lie there for a moment in the quiet of his townhouse, the distant sound of a car outside, the low hum of the television.
then you slip carefully out from under his arm.
you find your clothes in the low light, dress quietly, check your phone. 12:43am.
you lean over him. “jack,” you whisper.
he stirs. opens one eye.
“i’m heading home,” you say softly.
he reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, still half asleep. “text me when you’re in.”
“okay,” you say.
you let yourself out.
---
the house is quiet when you slip through the front door, just the lamp on low in the living room. you’re halfway up the stairs when your dad’s voice comes from the kitchen.
“that you?”
you pause. “yeah, it’s me.”
he appears in the doorway in his robe, mug in hand, looking more tired than suspicious. “where were you?”
“out,” you say.
“with?”
you open your mouth. close it. look somewhere past his shoulder.
your dad watches you for a moment, something shifting in his expression, gentle rather than pressing.
“hey,” he says quietly. “i’m not going to push. you’re an adult, i know that.” he sets his mug down and comes to the foot of the stairs, looking up at you with that look he’s had your whole life. “i just worry about you, kiddo. that’s all. just want you to be careful.”
you feel it in your chest, that particular warmth that only he can put there.
“i know,” you say softly. “i am.”
he reaches up and presses a kiss to your forehead. “get some sleep.”
you watch him shuffle back toward the kitchen. then you go upstairs.
---
you’re in bed, lamp off, staring at the ceiling when you pick up your phone.
you’re in bed, lamp off, staring at the ceiling when you pick up your phone.
you: i think dad knows
jack: how?
you type out the whole interaction.
jack: okay. let’s lay low for a bit.
you stare at the screen.
you: :(
jack: be good and i’ll reward you.
you smile at your phone in the dark.
you: tie me up?
jack: i just said be good.
you laugh to yourself, quietly.
you: fine. deal.
you put your phone face down and close your eyes and fall asleep smiling like an idiot.
---
it’s been a few days since the golf course.
you text. not constantly, not in the way that would mean something you’ve both agreed not to name. just enough. a voice memo here, a late night exchange there, him sending you a dry one liner about a patient that makes you laugh out loud at your laptop and your mom asking what’s so funny from the other room.
you missed him. more than made sense for something that wasn’t supposed to be more than what it was.
you wondered if he missed you just as much. you didn’t ask.
---
it was game day. a few of the neighbors had gathered in your parents’ living room, beers cracked, the big tv loud with commentary. it fills up fast the way your parents’ house always does, loud and warm, someone’s kid running through the hallway, the smell of something good coming from the kitchen.
you’re on the back porch when you hear your name.
“no way.”
you turn. marcus is standing at the sliding door grinning at you, older than you remember but the same eyes, the same easy smile. you went to high school together, lost touch the way people do.
“marcus,” you say, and he pulls you into a hug that lifts you slightly off the ground.
you spend the next hour catching up in the corner of the living room, half watching the game, laughing at old memories and terrible teachers and that one party junior year that neither of you should probably talk about. he’s easy to be around. always was.
you don’t notice jack until you feel it.
that particular awareness. like a change in the room’s temperature. you glance over marcus’s shoulder mid laugh and find jack across the living room, standing with your dad and two other men, drink in hand, eyes on you.
he looks away the second you catch him.
but you felt it. the weight of it. a different kind of watching than his usual.
you let it go and laugh at something marcus says and don’t look over again.
your phone buzzes at 9:43 pm, twenty minutes after the last guests have trickled out.
come over.
two words. no context.
you say goodnight to your parents, grab your keys, and go.
---
he opens the door before you’ve knocked.
he’s still in what he wore to the game, shirt untucked now, sleeves rolled to the elbow. you can see the definition in his forearms, a vein running through the muscle there, fit in the way of someone who keeps at it without making a show of it. he steps aside to let you in and you cross the threshold and turn to look at him and know. something is sitting differently about him tonight.
“jack,” you start.
“bedroom,” he says. “strip and get on the bed.”
you hold his gaze for a moment. he holds yours back, jaw set, unblinking.
you go upstairs.
you hear him follow a minute later. you’re sitting on the edge of the bed when he comes in, jaw set, eyes darker than usual.
“i said strip,” he says quietly.
“i know what you said,” you say. “i’m trying to figure out what’s going on with you first.”
a beat.
“nothing’s going on,” he says.
“jack.”
he looks at you for a long moment. then he crosses the room, tips your chin up with two fingers, and looks down at you.
“who was he,” he says. low and even, not quite a question.
oh.
you feel the smile start before you can stop it. “marcus?”
his jaw tightens. “is that his name.”
“he’s an old friend,” you say. “we went to high school together.”
his face stays still. but his eyes shift.
“strip,” he says again. “and get on the bed.”
this time you do.
---
the lamp on the nightstand casts the room in dark golden hues. he stands at the foot of the bed and watches you undress, unhooking your bra, sliding fabric off your shoulders, letting things fall. his eyes track every inch of you as it’s revealed, quiet and intent, taking his time with it.
you feel every second of his gaze like a physical thing.
he strips himself without looking away from you. shirt first, then his belt, his pants. the freckles scattered across his body, heavy on his arms, the slight roundness of him. you bite your lip as you take him in.
he looks at you for a long moment in the warm quiet of the room.
“did anything ever happen,” he says. “between you and marcus.”
you look up at him. “we kissed once. at a party junior year.” a pause. “that’s it.”
his jaw ticks.
“once,” he repeats.
“once,” you confirm. “it was nothing.”
he looks at you for another long moment. then he reaches forward and turns you, guiding you onto your hands and knees, one hand pressing firm between your shoulder blades.
you hear him behind you, the tear of a wrapper, and then his hands find your hips and he tilts your chin gently to the right.
there’s a mirror.
long, leaning against the wall, angled just enough that you can see everything. him behind you, broad shoulders, the curve of his body, hands gripping your hips. you, flushed and waiting. the two of you together.
“look,” he says quietly. “look at how good you look with me.”
you look. and then he pushes inside and your mouth falls open.
he sets a pace that’s different from his usual. not cruel, never cruel, but insistent. purposeful. his grip on your hips tighter than normal, fingers pressing into the flesh of you in a way that’ll leave marks and you both know it. every thrust driving you forward, the headboard finding the wall, that familiar clatter filling the room.
“fuck,” he groans, almost to himself, eyes on the mirror meeting yours. “such a good girl, takin me so well.”
you whimper. his hand moves from your hip to your jaw, thumb pressing at the seam of your lips, and your mouth opens for it without thinking. you suck on it lazily, eyes fluttering shut, clenching around him, and the sound he makes behind you is low and barely contained.
then he pulls back, flips you, hauling you up the bed in one smooth motion so your back meets the mattress. he hoists your leg up over his shoulder, the other hooking around the back of his thigh, and pushes back inside and the angle is different, deeper, and you make a sound that comes from somewhere embarrassingly desperate.
he looks down at you.
his eyes are darker than usual. not angry exactly. something more complicated than that. like there’s a purpose behind them, something he’s working through that has nothing to do with you and everything to do with you, and he’s groaning low with every thrust but his jaw is carrying something heavier than exertion.
he wants to imprint himself on you. you can feel it. the want of it radiating off him in waves.
and somewhere underneath all of it, buried where you can’t quite see it, he knows he needs to stop. that this isn’t — it isn’t — it isn’t supposed to be—
his thumb pressing down, rubbing tight circles against your clit, and your back arches clean off the mattress.
“jack—”
“yeah, baby,” he grits out. “come on. come for me.”
you do. hard and shaking, his name breaking apart in your mouth.
he stills. pulls out before he can get there, jaw tight, sits back on his heels. too far in his own head to follow you over the edge. he deals with the condom quietly, efficiently, like if he moves fast enough you won’t notice.
you’re too far gone to notice.
silence settles over the room.
---
he cleans you up without a word, warm towel, the same quiet efficiency as always. then he sits back against the headboard and you roll onto your side, cheek on the pillow, looking up at him.
you’re smiling. you can’t help it.
he looks down at you. reaches out and tucks a strand of hair back from your face.
“what,” he says.
“i like this side of you,” you say.
he looks at you for a long moment, the corner of his mouth doing a slow losing battle.
“go to sleep,” he says.
you keep smiling.
“goodnight jack,” you hum.
---
he doesn’t sleep.
you’re curled against his side, breathing slow and even, and he lies there in the dark with the ceiling above him and his thoughts going in circles he can’t stop.
marcus. the way you’d laughed with him. easy and bright, the kind of laugh that comes from somewhere comfortable, somewhere with no history of grief or war or bad decisions made in the dark.
he’s a good guy probably. your age. no baggage. no prosthetic leaning against a nightstand. no dead wife he still talks to sometimes in his head when things get quiet enough.
these past two months have been — he stops himself. doesn’t finish the thought.
it was supposed to be simple. he’d told himself that from the beginning. told you too. not a relationship. not more than what it is. just two adults who understood the terms.
but then breakfast happened. and the ice cream in the park. and you falling asleep against him during casablanca and him not moving for two hours because he didn’t want to wake you.
he’d said he wouldn’t give in. he’d said it to himself in that hallway at your parents’ house the night you slipped him your number. he’d said it on the walk when you’d called him out. he’d said it outside the restaurant.
and then he’d stopped saying it entirely.
he looks at you in the dark. the soft rise and fall of you. something clenching in his chest that he doesn’t have a name for and doesn’t want one.
he should put some space between them. before it becomes something it can’t come back from. before you wake up one day and realize you’ve wasted the best years of your life on a man who is held together with old stitches and careful habits.
he thinks about the sabbatical he’s been putting off for two years. three months. scotland, maybe. somewhere far enough that the distance does the work he can’t seem to do himself.
he makes the decision somewhere around four in the morning.
he lies there until six feeling terrible about it.
he’s careful getting up. detaches his prosthetic in the dim light, reattaches it quietly, presses a kiss so soft to your cheek you don’t stir.
then he goes to the kitchen and makes breakfast.
you appear in the doorway twenty minutes later, hair loose, wearing his shirt again, and something about the sight of you does exactly what he knew it would. you pad over and wrap your arms around him from behind, cheek pressed between his shoulder blades, and he goes very still.
“morning,” you say, muffled against his back.
“morning,” he says.
he keeps his voice even. keeps his hands moving. eggs in the pan. toast just popped. coffee already poured.
you don’t notice anything. you’re too warm, too soft with sleep, too happy. you steal a piece of toast and sit at the island and talk about something you’d dreamed about and he listens and nods and says the right things and thinks about scotland.
you leave after breakfast with a kiss to his jaw and a smile that does something complicated to his chest.
“i’ll see you later,” you say.
“yeah,” he says.
he watches you go.
---
you drive home giddy in a way you haven’t been in a long time.
you spend the morning working from your childhood bedroom, laptop open, but your mind keeps drifting. to the mirror. to his hands. to the way he’d looked at you in the warm lamp light like you were the only thing in the room worth looking at.
he likes you. he has to. people don’t look at people like that unless they mean it.
maybe next time you see him you’ll tell him. quietly. simply. just — i really like you, jack. and see what happens.
you’re smiling at your laptop when your phone lights up on the desk beside you. four consecutive buzzes.
5:04 pm.
you pick it up still smiling when you see it's from the man who won't leave your head.
the smile fades before you’ve finished reading.
jack: hey.
jack: i’ve been thinking about us. what we had these past few months has been really good. more than i anticipated, if i’m honest. but i think we both knew this wasn’t built to last.
jack: the sneaking around, your father, the gap between us. it isn’t fair to either of us to keep going. i’m taking a sabbatical i’ve been putting off for some time. leaving tomorrow. a few months away feels like the right call. i'm sorry i couldn't say goodbye.
jack: take care of yourself.
you read it twice. then a third time like the words might rearrange themselves into something different if you give them enough chances.
they don’t.
you put your phone face down on the desk and sit very still. outside the neighborhood kids laugh. a car passes. the world just keeps going.
you’d been planning to tell him you liked him. you’d been rehearsing it in your head all morning.
you think you heard it. the moment your heart shattered into a million pieces.
an. yes there is a part 2. no, i don’t know when it’ll be out :d hope you liked it !!
summary: when jack notices that his new intern, who happens to be robby’s daughter, needs some extra help, he happily gives it to her.
content: age gap, dad’s best friend, praise, no use of y/n, pet names, reassurance, hurt/comfort, fluff, domesticity, forced proximity, work romance, soft dom jack, mutual pining, slow burn, love confession, night shift and a little of day shift crew
warning: panic attack, light mentions of cancer/dying from cancer, existential crisis, daddy issues
word count: 6.5k
playlist: Dad’s Best Friend playlist
author’s note: reader was lowkey going through it in this fic (especially at the start). i wrote this at w0rk and i felt worthless, i felt ugly, i felt gay, so i had to reflect that on reader… sorry!
look at my masterlist and join my taglist here!
It was hard to follow in your father’s footsteps with the pressure everyone, including him, was putting on you.
With enough love for medicine, you managed to make it work and even got an internship at the PTMC.
Gloria wasn’t very thrilled by the family lineage and asked you to take the night shift hours to minimize the risks of favoritism if he were your supervisor.
It’s how you started to work under your dad’s best friend’s guidance. You had known Jack for years, so it felt nice to have a good mentor when you were stressed about the difficulty of the emergency department.
As you charted, struggling to keep your eyes open, you felt a gentle hand place itself on your back.
“Hey, how are you feeling, kid?” Abbot asked with a caring tone.
“I’m fine,” you answered, slightly too quickly to make him believe it.
“I got you a protein bar with a cup of water, your shift is almost done,” he reminded while placing the paper cup and the snack beside your computer.
“Thank you, you didn’t have to…”
“I know, but you were very helpful tonight, and I want you to know it.”
“I just worked normally, it’s nothing crazy.”
“Don’t beat yourself down like that. You rocked that shit in the trauma bay earlier. It was impressive, you held it together really well!”
You felt your cheeks reddening in embarrassment at the praise. You always had a little crush on him, so the praise hit closer to home.
“Okay, I’ll let you chart, and you’re done for tonight.”
“I was thinking about taking one last patient,” you rectified as he left.
“No, we’re good. It’s a little slow tonight, and you need to work on your charting experience.”
You slowly nodded to take it in.
What the fuck was ‘charting experience’? Why couldn’t you take another patient? Were you bad? Did you make a mistake you were too dumb to notice?
Maybe you typed too hard on the keyboard while thinking about all of those thoughts, but Shen walked your way.
“Hey, you okay there?” He asked with his end-of-shift Dunkin’ drink.
“Yeah, I’m just charting.”
“Good, good, good,” he repeated, tapping his palms on the counter as he said it. “Do you mind taking a patient in South?”
“No, not at all!”
“Wow, okay. It’s in South 15,” he informed as he gave you the tablet he had in hand with the chart of the patient.
“Good, I’m going, thanks!”
You rushed to the room while reading. Gaining any type of experience was what made doctors good. You needed it. It was crucial to get a good spot in the department you wanted.
“Hello, Mrs Wang, you came in for pelvic pain, is that right?”
“Excuse me, are you a student doctor? I want a real doctor.”
“I’m not a student doctor, I’m an intern,” you corrected with what you deemed to be a trustworthy smile.
“I want a real doctor,” she requested, looking opposed to anything else.
“It’s quicker if I treat you now. Everything will be reviewed-”
“No, I need a real doctor, or I’m leaving.”
You nodded and left to go get Shen again, but you bumped into Jack as you closed the door of Mrs Wang’s room.
He crossed his arms before talking in a stern voice.
“What were you doing with a patient? I told you to concentrate on charting.”
“Shen asked me,” you defended, making John walk your way.
“Sup, what’s up with the patient?”
“She wants a real doctor,” you replied with a disappointed expression.
Jack rolled his eyes and took the tablet.
“You need to chart. I’ll take care of it.”
You bit your lower lip to keep your emotions in and walked to the computer, which you didn’t even close.
You typed and tried to focus on the screen only.
Jack came back a moment later and sat next to you.
“You know why I pulled you off patients?”
You shook your head and continued to type to distract yourself from what was probably coming.
“You’ve seen 16 patients and barely charted. You’re good with them, but you need practice with documentation. You’ll make a good doctor, kid.”
“Oh… Thanks…”
“I’ll drive you to your place after. Robby is working today, so he won’t be able to do it. Is that okay?”
“Yes, it’s fine,” you briefly answered, your mind blurring with the praise he just gave you.
“Don’t sweat it. Do you want to go eat breakfast at a diner? We went there with your dad once.”
“The retro one? Yeah, that could be good.”
“Okay, I’ll leave you to work now,” he said before getting up while rubbing your back.
You went back to writing, and the end of your shift came pretty quickly, so much so that your dad’s voice made you flinch.
“Getting charting done? Can I see?”
“Mhm,” you agreed while you anxiously waited for his criticism.
He read it with his reading glasses. Slowly shaking his head in disapproval.
“You added too many details. I’d take forever to read this in a life-or-death situation.”
“But you told me last time to add more, I thought it would be good like that,” you argued with furrowed brows.
“No, you can’t spend all of this time writing when you could’ve helped more patients. It’s all about balance in here,” he explained as he deleted some parts you wrote.
You nodded in hope that the lack of an answer would make him go away.
“You ready to go, kid?” Jack interrupted, visibly heading in the direction of the exit with his camo backpack on one shoulder.
“No, she has to redo her charts,” your dad commented with a supportive hand on your shoulder.
“What? No, her charts are good, man.”
“Brother, look at it!”
He took a second to read it all.
“It’s detailed,” he trailed off as he signed it.
“You’re the one in charge…” He started before turning to you. “But we’ll work on it later, honey. Love you and be kind to Jack.”
You rolled your eyes at the childish comment he made at the end, but still returned the feeling.
As you walked in the parking lot in silence, you felt like you needed to say something. Maybe a thank you for defending your charts or for being with you. You didn’t have time to give it much more consideration before he opened his mouth.
“Your dad can be rough around the edges. Especially with inexperienced doctors like you.”
A short silence fell in the air. Could he see through you?
“It’s just annoying that I have to be perfect on and off the clock. He won’t let me make mistakes.”
He looked at you for a second with a more understanding gaze.
“I know, kid… I personally think you’re a great intern if that helps.”
“I’m trying to be one…” You whispered as he placed a hand between your shoulders to guide you toward the passenger seat.
“You are,” he stated without leaving room for doubt.
You sat down and kept silent on the way to the diner. Abbot understood that you had a long shift because he’d normally encourage you to walk him through your cases. This morning, though, he gave you rest.
“We’re here. Are you still down for breakfast? It’s on me,” he offered as he got closer to the restaurant.
“Yes, please, I’m too broke to refuse a free meal,” you joked as he drove there.
The diner wasn’t too crowded for 8 am. It was still a little too early to be a full rush.
The waitress seated you somewhere nice and left you with menus in hand.
“Do you know what you’ll take?”
“Probably the waffles with fruits and chocolate. You?”
“Their classic breakfast,” he answered before closing the menu to concentrate on you. “What specialties interest you the most right now?”
“Oncology. Less busy and higher pay.”
“You’ll need good grades, but you’ll get there.”
“You think?”
“You’re a quick learner. It’ll be hard, I’m not denying that, but you’ll get there.”
“I’m trying to,” you revealed in a low tone.
“It’s not just grades, it’s also all of the emotional stuff. The ER is easier because you’re not close to anyone you’re treating.”
“You always wanted to be in the ER?”
“Yes, I love always having something to do. Makes you forget about anything else.”
“At least you’re not working with your issue…”
“Robby tries to help. He just doesn’t know how to. I’ll talk to him.”
“I just feel like I can’t do anything right with him. It drives me crazy-”
The waitress interrupted your complaint with a shy smile and a notepad to take your order.
Jack politely gave it and went back to you.
“He’s not your attending. I am. You do things right according to my book, and that’s what matters.”
“You’re not just saying that because you know me?”
He chuckled at the question and shook his head. “No, I’m able to say what I need to say.”
──୨୧──
You went back to work the next day. Your dad was working a double to cover for Shen, and it was genuinely the worst thing to ever happen.
“You did the chest tube wrong! Fuck, just get out of here, we’ll clean up the mess,” he dryly criticized as he pushed you outside of the trauma bay.
You looked around the department to discreetly go hide in the supply closet. As you closed the door, the emotions came up quickly. You tried being silent at first, but as the tears and snot wet your face, you started loudly sobbing like a little kid.
Nobody came near that place anyway…
“I’m fucking useless, I can’t handle any more of this,” you whispered to yourself, letting the thoughts in your head be heard by your ears.
As the sobs intensified without getting a grip, you noticed the lack of air. You touched your chest to feel your heartbeat. Even with its racing rhythm, it felt like someone put a rope around it and tied it tight.
You wanted to speak, but your lips couldn’t move to form a sentence. As if your vocal cords got stolen by the harsh words of your dad. You were stuck with your mouth open to gasp the little air you could get in.
You flinched as the door opened to reveal your attending.
“There you are, kid-” He quickly interrupted himself as he saw you. “Fuck, everything’s okay, you’re safe, and I’m here,” he reassured while closing the door and putting his hands on your shoulders to ground you.
You tried to utter anything, but it wouldn’t come out.
“It’s fine, you don’t have to say anything. Can you take deep breaths for me? I know you can do it,” he asked with a gentle and steady tone.
You tried, but you just couldn’t do it.
“Hey, you made a mistake, as every doctor does. So what? The patient will be fine.”
Jack noticed your breath slowly coming back, so he took your hands to unclench them from the strong fist they were in.
“I’m very proud of you, you’re a damn good intern. One difficult procedure that wasn’t perfect doesn’t equal all of the other perfect ones.”
“I messed up,” you quietly answered once you got a hold of your tongue again.
“Don’t think about it, it’s not important right now.”
“He kicked me out…”
“I know, I know. Let’s just breathe together first.”
He took deep breaths, and you mimicked him as you wiped some tears on your cheeks.
“Atta girl, you’re fine, I got you,” he started before noticing you hyperventilating once you could finally breathe. “Hey, hey, hey, one breath at a time. Let’s do it together… One…” he instructed as he raised and lowered his hand in a slow motion to guide your breathing.
You quickly got a hold of it and finally felt normal, but the embarrassment took over in no time.
“Sorry, I usually don’t stress like that… I swear I’m-“ you tried to justify as you wiped your eyes once more.
“I know, I know, it’s normal to break once in a while when you’re working here,” he cooed as he placed strands of hair behind your ears.
“It’s just work and my dad.”
“You don’t have to feel embarrassed about cracking, kid. It was a tough case, and you did everything you could. You can’t change anything about the past.”
You rolled your eyes to prevent some new tears from escaping your eyes.
“You come to find me if it happens again, okay? Don’t hide in supply closets, the cleaning products won’t help you,” he joked while wiping a tear under your eye.
“Okay, sorry…”
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for. Now, go make yourself a coffee and chart for a while. It’ll relax you for a bit.”
You nodded and left to go to the break room to take something to drink.
With a coffee in hand, you sat down in a secluded spot to chart.
Your dad and Jack must’ve missed you because you heard them talking about you somewhere they weren’t able to see your presence.
“Robby, you can’t talk to her that way. She’ll break before she even starts,” Abbot began as he crossed his arms.
“She’ll need to get a tough skin if she wants to make it. I know I was rough, but it’s the job. When you screw up, you get told.”
“Just let me be her attending. You’re not even supposed to be working with her if I listen to what Gloria says.”
It made your dad chuckle for a bit.
“Don’t act like you care about what Gloria says, Jack.”
“I normally wouldn’t, but I have to admit that she’s right. You’re not objective about her.”
“So I can’t help my own daughter become a better doctor?”
“I just want you to try and separate work and family. Don’t take cases with her. That’s all.”
“Fine, less work won’t hurt me,” he concluded with his hands up in surrender as he left.
Jack sighed and looked around to make himself useful somewhere. That’s when he noticed you looking at him. He gave you an apologetic look.
“Sorry about that, kid… Do you still want to go eat afterwards?”
“Yes, I’m done in twenty minutes max,” you notified while pointing at the screen to make him check.
He read it attentively and smiled as he gave it back.
“It’s perfect, you really improved. I’m really proud of you.”
You turned around to face the screen as you blushed. He gave your shoulder a simple rub and left to help Toomarian.
As your shift ended, you walked to your locker and took your bags. Jack was right there to accompany you to the exit door.
“Let’s go, you worked hard enough,” he claimed with a hand on your back to softly guide you.
Breakfast at the diner became a habit between you and Abbot. It was a time to talk about pretty much anything you had in mind. Patients, medical school, and personal life. Whatever was on your mind got addressed.
“What are you thinking of?” Jack asked as you ate your waffle.
“Lena said I was going to be a good doctor when we were in North 26 with Shen. It made me feel better about my skills after the shit show in the trauma bay.”
“Yeah, everyone can see that you’re improving, not just me.”
You blushed but quickly recovered as you got used to the constant praise coming from him. Even if it made your stomach get butterflies, you learned that it was unnecessary to daydream about more. Whatever you hoped could happen will never happen. You just needed to appreciate what you had.
“You’ve helped me a lot,” you acknowledged with a shy smile forming.
“And you’ve listened and applied my advice.”
It was hard to believe that he didn’t know what he was doing when he complimented you like that.
“I’m finishing my rotation in a week,” you added out of the blue.
“I know. How does it feel?”
“Weird… I’ll miss you and the fact of working in the ER, even if it’s not my favorite department to work in, according to me.”
“It’s true that oncology and emergency have nothing in common,” he laughed as he crossed his arms on the table. “I’ll think you’ll find your place just fine somewhere, and I’m there if you want more breakfasts here.”
“Ohhh, I really want to continue to eat here from time to time!”
“We can arrange that,” he replied as he nodded in agreement.
The waitress came with the bill while you received a phone call from your landlord.
“Hi, is everything okay?” You questioned with a worried tone.
“Depends on your definition of okay,” your landlord started.
“What happened?”
“Remember the leak from upstairs we talked about yesterday?”
“I do, you said it was nothing to worry about.”
“It is now. It’s actually way worse than we thought,” he corrected, his tone getting more shameful.
“How bad?”
“Bad enough that the guys want to remove a part of the ceiling and one wall,” he elaborated.
“What?!” You responded a little too loudly, making Jack look in your direction as he tipped the waitress.
“Water got in the insulation. It’s no joke. We need to start today,” he added, as you heard.
“Today? I work nights, Martin. Where will I live?”
“Well… Not here, that’s for sure,” he responded in a confident tone.
“I can try to find somewhere to go for a bit, I guess.”
“Yeah, good mindset. It’ll just be for a couple of weeks,” he brushed off.
“Couple of weeks?!”
“Could be three, maybe more. Depends on how much mold they find.”
“Mold?!”
“Let’s not panic until we know that there’s mold.”
“You literally brought up mold!”
“Mold?” Jack repeated as he looked closer.
“Hey, I’m trying to be transparent!”
“You’re terrible at this.”
“I get that a lot…”
“Can I at least take some stuff before you ruin my place?”
“Yeah, for sure,” he agreed before hanging up.
“Hey, what’s happening? Talk to me,” Jack intervened as he moved his head to demand eye contact.
“My apartment is in renovation apparently… I’ll go crash at my dad’s place, I just need a cheap place for today…”
“No, you’re not paying for that. You come to my place, okay?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” you ignored as you opened your phone to check hotel rooms.
“Then let me pay for it. You’re Robby’s daughter, I need to look out for you.”
“I don’t want to make you pay for that. You already invited me to breakfast.”
“You can always come to my place then.”
“I just don’t want to disturb you.”
“You’re not.”
“Okay… It’ll be easier if I go to your place.”
“Good, let’s go,” he concluded with a grin as he got up.
You walked to his car, and you just felt drained. Nothing was going right. Absolutely nothing. The car ride to your apartment was silent. Jack tried to reassure you without success. He was much of a talker in moments like these, always trying to fix the issue right away. You just wanted some quiet time to think about what your life began to look like.
As you entered your home to pick up your things, you discovered all of the water damage.
“Fuck,” you whispered as your attending was rubbing your back behind you.
“They’ll fix it, kid. We’ll just take your things and leave, okay?”
You nodded and did as he said. You placed all your valued items in bags, along with everything you’ll need for the next three weeks.
“You can always come back if you forget something. Don’t worry about it,” he reminded you as he noticed you looking around for anything you’d need.
“I know, I know… I would’ve loved a shower, though.”
“I have one at my place.”
“How surprising,” you sarcastically replied, the lack of sleep making you a little irritated. “Sorry…”
“It’s fine, had worse.”
──୨୧──
The next two weeks were spent at your dad’s place. He kept your childhood room, and there was a comforting feeling about sleeping where you always slept until recently.
However, Robby wasn’t always helpful. He did really try, but he couldn’t help but tell you what to study.
“I’m just trying to help!” He defended as he made you skip a whole section of your chapter.
“I’ll have it on the exam! I need to study it!”
“It’s irrelevant in practice, you’ll get one question about it at most.”
“And? I still need to know the answer to that one question! Gosh, just let me study alone!”
“Mind your tone, young lady!”
“Argh! Mind yours!” You retorted as you closed your book and took your bag to go to work.
Your dad was supposed to drive you, but you were so mad that you got an Uber.
On the way there, you texted Jack.
r u working tonight? i’ve been craving a waffle and a place to stay
just for tomorrow!! and only if you don’t mind!!
I don’t mind! You’re always welcome at my place, and it’s been a while since we've been to the diner! We can go after your shift so that I can know more about oncology! 😆
good, i’ll come in the ed after that i’m done with my shift!!
You closed your phone and left the car to go to the oncology department of the hospital.
It was very different from the ER, to say the least. The cases were getting repetitive, but still very hard. You were literally watching people die in front of you. The ER was quick and busy, but the oncology department was all about slow and quiet deaths.
You grew attached to patients who died under your care.
Seeing them be all joyful while playing cards together with the knowledge that they’ll probably die was breaking you internally.
You finished your shift and went down to the ER with a forced smile for Jack.
You saw Princess receive a twenty bucks from Ahmed, who looked very unhappy to give it to her, and it made you even sadder. Nobody was close to you in oncology.
“Hey, kid, still want this waffle?” Jack asked, placing a hand on your back to guide you toward the exit.
“Mhm,” you agreed with a forced joy that couldn’t come naturally anymore.
“We’ll talk over breakfast, okay?” He proposed as if he could read your mind.
He opened the door for you, and you sat down in his car. He only had time to get in his seat before you broke. Completely and utterly broke in tears.
“Shhh… It’s okay,” he cooed as he rocked you in his arms.
“No, it’s not!”
“It is… Robby told me about your disagreement. It’ll get fixed,” he said as he ran his fingers through your hair.
“It’s not just that! It’s the fucking oncology department that I hate! It’s my fuck ass apartment that still isn’t fixed! It’s my studying that is never-ending!“
“It’s all temporary. All problems have solutions.”
“I don’t know in which field I want to go! All of my friends know in which field they want to go!”
“Breathe a second… You won’t fix everything in one morning. I can help you solve things, but you need to take a breath.”
“I can’t take a breath! I’m drowning! What don’t you fucking understand?!” You yelled at him as you’ve never yelled before.
“Kid…”
“Fuck!” You added as you hit his arm before crying in your hands.
Instead of getting angry, he just continued to slowly rub your back with a gentleness that made you angrier. He had no right to be this calm when you were experiencing so much fear about your future.
“You need to work on your relationship with your dad, but time apart can help for now, okay? Now, for oncology, you have no idea how normal this is. Rotations are meant to make you realize what you like and also the things you don’t like. We can try to find you a department you’d like. And for the apartment issue, you know I’ll always be there.”
You sobbed a few more times before leaning your head on his chest as he hugged you tight.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you… I feel worse now that you’ve helped me…”
“I’ve had worse than you. Everything you’re feeling is normal, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of, clear?”
“Clear,” you mouthed as you wiped your tears.
“I have some tissues in the backseat,” he said as he took them to give them to you. “We’ll figure it out together. You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you,” he murmured before kissing your forehead.
“I really want to know which department I’ll go to. It’s really important for me.”
“I know. Do you want to talk about it while eating breakfast?“
“Yeah, I’m starving,” you realized as you correctly sat on your seat and buckled your seatbelt.
It was so comforting to feel a presence close to you that you didn’t want to arrive at your destination.
“I’m so tired,” you laughed as you passed a hand through your face while getting out of his vehicle.
“You’ll sleep soon. We eat and go to bed right after, okay?”
“Yes, and I’ll get some days off soon. That will be nice,” you informed as you told your waitress that you wanted the usual once you got in.
“Yes, if you want to go study at my place, you can. I’ll give you a key to make it easier.”
“Okay, it’ll help. My dad is always trying to help me study, but he’s just unmotivating me.”
“It’s over now. You’ll take some days away from him, and it’ll all get better.”
“Hopefully…”
Over breakfast, you were eating in silence. Your throat felt too tight to talk, so you didn’t say anything. He waited for you to finish a few bites before talking.
“So, what do you hate about oncology?”
“The patients…”
“You hate the patients?” He asked without judgment but with curiosity.
“No! No, of course not! I love them, and that’s the problem,” you corrected.
Jack stayed quiet for a moment. He wanted to understand what you meant, even if he already had an idea.
“I spent months with some. You learn to know their spouse, their kids, their favorite snack… Then, they die.”
“You watch them get worse, and you can’t do anything about it.”
Jack took a sip of his coffee and resumed.
“Anything else?”
“It’s boring,” you added, earning a laugh from him.
“Well, that’s honest,” he smiled.
“I’m serious! Every day feels the same! Labs, consults, family meetings, and then it’s more labs, more consults, and more family meetings,” you listed with your fingers as you ranted.
“So would you say that you preferred the ER?”
“I don’t know… It was too stressful for me.”
“Have you thought about internal medicine?” He suggested.
“Not really… I’ve been focused on oncology for a long time, actually. I’ve never thought about not liking it,” you admitted as you took another bite.
“Nobody can have their lives all figured out, especially at your age. It’s good to have times like these where you sit down and think about where you’re going instead of blindly following what you thought you’d like years ago. Try internal medicine and see if you like it,” he comforted.
“Yeah, would’ve been cool to know what I wanted though…”
“You don’t have to have it all figured out.”
──୨୧──
Living at Jack’s place was way better than your dad’s. You could study at the dining room table and stay in your pajamas for the whole day.
It was nice to fall asleep with him on the couch after binge-watching a shitty show and to hug him when you pretended to sleep in an effort to touch him more.
You were way too scared of the awkwardness of a rejection, but you craved his attention more than you should.
One specific night, you were watching a new movie on Netflix. It was something you didn’t really care about. Just some background noise as you finished some study notes. Jack was reading news articles on his phone.
“Do you want me to turn the TV off so that you can focus?” He asked, taking the remote in his large hand to turn it off.
“No, I want to sleep on it,” you voiced with begging eyes you hoped he couldn’t notice.
He smirked at your remark and placed the remote back in its initial place.
“You know you’re not very subtle in your sleep.”
“What?”
“When you end up halfway on top of me.”
You turned bright red and didn’t know what to say. You thought he wasn’t going to know. He was half-asleep when you cuddled him. Nothing happened when you touched him. Was he grossed out by it?
“Sorry, kid. Didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he apologized as he closed his phone to focus entirely on the conversation you were having.
You nodded while your thoughts continued to race in your head.
“You know that I’m getting older, right?” He added after the lack of an answer.
“Huh, yeah,” you finally managed to utter.
“You’re not in trouble. It’s fine. My back’s just killing me from that damn couch.”
“Are you serious? You don’t mind? I really didn’t want to be weird. I just wanted to. I really don’t know why-“
“It’s fine, I get it. Do I look like the type of guy that doesn’t know how to say no?”
“No…”
“It just seems a lot simpler if we sleep in the bed instead, okay?”
“Okay…”
“Come on then, I’m working tomorrow,” he said, extending his hand to help you get up.
This day, you slept cuddled with him in his bed. It felt safe and comforting, even almost natural.
You closed your eyes without any worry in mind as he traced small circles over your arm.
The next evening, you woke up with his alarm. He slightly groaned as you moved to turn it off.
He passed his hands through his face and hair before sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his prosthetic leg.
“I’ll go make you something,” you proposed as you were now fully awake.
“No need, keep sleeping.”
“I can’t go back to sleep once I've woken up. Let me help you, please.”
“Fine, yeah, we can make some pancakes if you want?”
“Oh my god, yes! With blueberries?”
“Mhm, whatever you want,” he agreed with a coy smile forming on his face.
You cooked, and he helped you before getting ready. He came back to his bedroom with his scrub and a little gel in his silver hair.
He placed his hands on your waist to delicately move you aside so that he could see how it was turning on the pan.
“Smells good. Didn’t know you were such a great cook,” he complimented.
“I have the pancake recipe memorized from when I was a kid.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it was my go-to breakfast on the weekends.”
“Mm, I’ll have to eat it on the road, though. I’m getting late.”
“Fuck, sorry, it’s all ready,” you said as you gave him a Tupperware with three pancakes.
He thanked you with a kiss on the forehead and immediately left to work.
Jack ate while driving, and he was impressed with your skills. Once he arrived at work, he texted you.
The pancakes were really good! Study well tonight and don’t forget to rest. I’ll be back later in the morning. 😁
“Hey, Abbot, what got you smiling like that?” Dana asked, holding a tablet in her hand.
“It’s only Robby’s daughter,” he brushed off before shoving his phone in his pocket.
“Why are you texting her? She okay?”
“Yes, she made breakfast this morning, and I just wanted to thank her.”
“Because she’s living at your place? What are you? Her older boyfriend?” She joked as Robby came in to greet him.
“Hi, brother. Kid’s doing well?”
“Yes,” Jack briefly answered, not revealing too much.
Dana scoffed as she took a document from the counter and left without a second word.
“She was talking about a boyfriend?” Robby pointed out to Jack.
“Yeah, she thought that your daughter got into a relationship…”
“She did?”
“No, she’s too much of a bookworm for that, don’t worry, man,” he reassured while avoiding eye contact.
“Good, I don’t like the guys she’s been with. They were all too immature for her. She needs someone who has experience, is steady, and consistent. She should be with someone who’s always there for her-“
“Okay, how about you update me on your patients?” Jack interrupted as he realized how much he looked like that description.
As he followed his friend to a room, he couldn’t help but play with his wedding ring.
What was he doing with a twenty-something at his place? How inappropriate is that?
The day went quickly. Especially with how busy he made himself to forget all about you.
He never realized how much you occupied his mind, and it made him insane. Your existence polluted his thoughts in the most intoxicating way possible. Saying you were an inconvenience would’ve been a lie, though. He yearned to think about you just as much as he despised it.
As he entered his car, he took a deep breath and decided to take a moment to think about his feelings. What he thought was only care became something else very clearly.
Perhaps taking his distance could be a good idea to have a time of reflection.
He opened his phone to a text from you.
waiting for u, stuDYING sucks!!
The simple reply made him smile as much as he regretted it.
You greeted him with a hug like usual.
“Hi, you okay?” You asked as you saw his closed-off body language.
“Yeah, just tired,” he replied with a small smile.
“Okay, I can make you breakfast or dinner. I don’t know what you’re craving.”
“It’s fine, I’ll eat leftovers.”
“Okay… Did I do something wrong?”
“No, I’m just really tired,” he lied once again.
“Sure…”
He headed to the bathroom to shower quickly as usual. His head fell into his hands before letting out a desperate sigh.
Jack fell in love again. After promising his late wife she’d be the last one he’d love, and after keeping that promise for years, he couldn’t help but fall for his friend’s daughter. Probably the worst thing to happen.
He was thinking about all of the interactions he had ever had with you to dissect what you felt. He couldn’t really tell. Spending all of those years widowed and blocking feminine attraction probably went to his head. Were you flirting or being friendly?
He left the bathroom with a towel around his hips. You looked at him while he tried to find something to put on. He was hot, really hot… But it wasn’t the moment to admire him when he was acting this curiously for the whole morning.
He got dressed behind the closed door of his bedroom, and as he opened it, the frown of his brows didn’t move. The stress from work was supposed to be gone by this point, yet there it was.
“Jack, what’s going on? Tell me, please,” you begged as you approached him.
“Nothing for you to worry about. I’ll just talk about it with my therapist, and it’ll be fixed,” he said, more to himself than to you.
“Okay, but I’m here if you need to. You always are for me, so I want to be there for you as well.”
“I know, but this one is mine to sort out,” he reassured with a hand on your shoulder.
“Fine…”
You went back to the backyard to study some more.
As you reentered the house because of the colder air, you saw him doing the dishes from his dinner.
“Hey, I’m done studying for today. Do you want to watch a movie again?”
“No, I’m exhausted, I’ll just go to bed,” he tiredly smiled.
“Okay…”
He went to his room, and you were left alone in the kitchen. You were wondering if you did something wrong. Why did he suddenly act so distant? Did you do something wrong? Why couldn’t he fucking tell you what you did? What was his problem? Were you the problem?
You put on your headphones and turned the music to a high volume to bury any thoughts you could have. You fell asleep like that.
The next evening, you prepared yourself for work. It’s been a while since you last went there, and it stressed you a little to see your patients or the ones who left. You still wanted to show up to finish this rotation and try something else.
“Jack, can you drive me to the hospital?” You asked like nothing happened this last morning.
Hopefully it was a bad dream…
“No, your dad will drive you,” he directly answered as if he had rehearsed it.
“Why? It would be easier if you drove me.”
“I asked him…”
“Why? What’s going on? Why are you avoiding me? What did I do?”
You tried not to cry, but it was so painful to see him act like that toward you after all of those moments shared.
“Why are you pushing me away? Jack, I don’t understand! Did I do something?”
“You did nothing wrong, I’m just trying very hard to do the right thing here, okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“You stopped feeling like Robby’s kid, and I shouldn’t feel that way toward you,” he replied before looking away in shame.
You stayed silent, thinking about what to answer. It kind of dumbfounded you to get this big delivery before a long shift.
“I mean… I didn’t really help by literally living with you…”
“I’m just trying to figure out my feelings. I haven’t done that since my wife, so it’s a bit rocky.”
“So you want to take your distance? What do you want?”
“I’d like to think about it. You’re young…”
“It’s not like I was freshly eighteen…”
“At least, but you’re still a young woman and my friend’s daughter… It’s just… A mess to deal with. I shouldn’t feel this way about you…”
He kept looking away, and you moved his head to force eye contact.
“I’m not twelve. I’m a grown woman, and I’m not just Robby’s child, okay? I like you. So take your time to think about it. There’s no need to rush and deny your feelings.”
“I’m old, you should be with someone your age.”
“Ew, no!” You immediately answered when you thought about guys in their twenties with a disgusted face, making him smile. “If you need time to think about it, go ahead. I can go back to my dad’s place.”
“How about you stay here, and I take you on an actual date?”
“Really?”
“Yeah, we take it slow, and we can give it a shot. Just trying to see if it works out.”
perv!dad's best friend!dr jack abbot x fem!reader.
18+. content warnings: fauxcest (use of dad and kiddo), vaginal fingering, medical stuff, sexual education, praise, implied masturbation (m)
jack invites you and your father to his lake house every summer. he's never had kids, but he's always wanted a daughter. that must be why he dotes on you, always sneaking you ice cream after dinner, giving you massages when you complain about an ache.
your father jokes that sometimes jack acts like more of a dad to you than he does... you're a grownup now, he says. you don't need to be coddled, you can figure stuff out by yourself. jack disagrees. that's why over time, he went from "uncle jack" to "dad". it was a silly joke of a nickname at first, but now it flows easily from your lips.
one day your father's out fishing and you curl up into jack, pouting as your head falls onto his shoulder. "dad, my tummy hurts..."
his eyebrows raise. instinctively, he starts a differential: it's been two weeks since your last period, and it's a one-sided ache in your lower abdomen.
jack exhales through his nose, bringing you into his en-suite bathroom and locking the door just in case. he has you sit up on the counter, asks you to peel your panties off while he puts on some gloves.
a black lace thong? okay, he guesses that must be what the youngsters are wearing these days...
he spreads your pussy lips open with two chubby fingers, peering down at your fluttering cunt. one look at your egg-white cervical fluid and it's clear to him, nothing's wrong, you're just ovulating.
"s okay?" you murmur breathily.
"she's perfect," he replies, his eyes roaming over your dripping pussy, at the way your clit twitches under his gaze. "still, dad has to check inside. just to be safe."
soon he's got you leaking all over those blue nitrile gloves as he curls the thick digits against your g-spot, making you whimper. jack just grins at you, loving how your eyes can't leave his. "theeere we go. that's it. dad's hitting it, isn't he? i'm a doctor, baby. i know where all your precious spots are."
his fingers massage at your spongy insides, coaxing more slick out of your swollen pussy. "mmmhm. so responsive. dad's girl is perfectly healthy, nothin' to worry that pretty little head about."
and when he starts fucking his digits in and out of you, your hands gripping tight against the countertop, he says, "i wish i coulda taught you how your body worked, kiddo. y'shouldn't be getting scared about things like this, not when i'm right here. you know dad's got his good girl, always."
his free hand presses over your lower stomach and steadies you when you start to shake and your walls begin to clench, rubbing almost clinical circles over where you'd complained about it hurting earlier. "shhh... that's it, almost there, honeygirl. you're trembling, baby, dad's fingers really feel that good?"
when you nod, he coos, thumbing at your clit tenderly. "i got you. don't fight it, 's gonna feel even better now. all tingly, isn't it? lotta nerve endings there, kiddo. touchin' here makes you come real hard." and you do, tight around his fingers while he watches your sweet face, how you look while you whimper for him.
"oh, baby, you look so pretty..." he pulls his gloved fingers out of you with a pop, your juices stringing messily off of the nitrile. he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean, humming greedily at your taste before he pulls the gloves off with practiced ease and tosses them into the trashcan.
and when he hears your father's car pull up in his driveway, he fists your soaked panties and steers you out of the bathroom. "put your pants on, sweetheart. i'll be out in a few minutes."
