summary: it's well known across the ptmc that park the shark doesn't like anyone, except for a younger resident he calls 'crybaby,' who also happens to be jack abbot's secret girlfriend. (4k)
characters: jack abbot / sunshine!fem!reader, mentor!brendon park, whitaker & evil whitaker
contents: secret relationship, jealousy, age gap, humor, insecure!jack, not proofread cw for medical inaccuracies, allusions to smut 18+ (MDNI), and r getting turned out that jack takes viagra
( NAVIGATION ) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( AO3 )
Crybaby.
Dr. Park was the first to call you by that name — or Park the Shark, they called him, on account of his strong features, and the fact that he looked like he could swallow you whole without blinking.
It was your first rotation at the PTMC, when you screwed up a simple tibia plate fixation. The reduction looked clean, in your defense, straight and stable. “You got it?” the attending had asked. And you’d nodded as you adjusted your grip on the patient’s broken leg — only slightly.
The imaging still looked clear from your angle, as the drill went into the bone. But then you looked down, realizing you had forgotten to account for rotation, and found the patient’s foot slightly turned. Your heart dropped to your stomach, and then to your ass at the look Dr. Park gave you when his screw went in off-axis.
“Everyone take a good look!” he’d announced to the crowd of interns and med students watching after the fact. “If anyone here was wondering how to invent a new way to misalign a fracture, congratulations— You just got a live demonstration.”
Your eyes stung with tears, until your attempt to blink them back had failed.
“If this is all it takes to rile you up, wait until something actually goes wrong,” Dr. Park had scolded. “Now do you want me to go easy on you, or do you wanna get better, Crybaby?”
You stayed. And he made you better. But the nickname stuck.
Crybaby became a term of endearment, a symbol of how far you’d come since your interning days, and was shortened to Baby somewhere down the line. “Baby, take this patient down to CT for me, will you?” and “Cut me an ET tube, Baby, six millimeters,” and—
“Good luck getting that consult, baby,” Jack Abbot says from the opposite side of the exam room, with his strong arms crossed over his chest. The nickname sounds different spilling from his lips. It always has. “The OR’s backed up with Westbridge patients. It could be hours before we get a room booked.”
“She doesn’t have hours…” you murmur under your breath, squeezing past Whitaker and Ogilvie as you part from your unconscious patient. “Excuse me…”
“W-What are you doing?” the former boy stammers.
“Getting us a consult…” you say, half-distracted, as you reach for the red telephone on the wall. You press the cool plastic to your ear and dial the ortho extension.
Jack watches attentively from the sidelines as you make the call upstairs.
“You already sound like you’re gonna say no, so I’m just gonna ask quickly,” you say. “I know, I know— Terrible timing. But we both know I’m your favorite, so just hear me out.”
“Favorite…?” Ogilvie murmurs. “Wait— Who is she calling?”
“Park the Shark,” Whitaker answers solemnly.
“Or as I like to call him— Doctor Dick,” Jack says with a cynical smile. “On account of him being a dick.”
Whitaker nods in concurrence. “To everyone but her.”
You hang up the phone and return to your spot at the patient’s bedside. “Ortho consult’s on its way,” you tell them, half-distracted, as you check the ketamine levels in her IV drip.
“How’d you do that?” Ogilivie squints.
“I asked nicely,” you shrug.
Brendon Park comes into the emergency department barely five minutes later, and brings a tense air in with him that matches the unsmiling look on his narrow face. The way his dark blue eyes lock on you the second he walks in can only be described as sharklike.
“What do we got, Baby?” he asks you, and only you, utterly ignoring the other bodies in the room as he makes a beeline to your side. He smells of sea salt and sandalwood when he towers just behind you, standing several inches taller.
Jack swallows down the anger that swells suddenly in his throat like bile.
“Ten-foot fall onto a metal fence,” you tell him. “Tib-fib amputation— Pretty clean cut.”
“Sliced right through the bone like a guillotine,” Whitaker adds.
Park turns slowly, dark eyes zeroing in on the mulleted boy. “Was I talking to you?”
The boy’s cheeks flare red. He clears his throat. “Uh— No. No, sir.”
“Let me see the X-ray,” the attending says to you, much softer in comparison, and follows you the short distance to the bulky machine in the corner.
“See?” you hum. “Not too bad, right?”
His eyes flit from the x-ray to your hopeful gaze. The corner of his mouth flickers faintly upward as he nods once in response. “Yeah. Should be pretty fun— Where’s the leg?”
“Double bagged on ice.” You motion across the room.
Whitaker watches the older man walk past him with an unblinking gaze. “I didn’t know he smiled…” he whispers incredulously under his breath.
“Yeah, me neither, kid,” Jack mumbles, swaying softly in place, as he keeps his eyes locked on the two of you.
His jealousy is misplaced, but inevitable. Everyone had a certain soft spot for you, but he couldn’t quite stand it from Park — the man who didn’t seem to like anyone or anything but his work and you. Jack knows it makes a part of you feel special, you are special, but he wants to be the only one making you feel that way.
“Tell him how we prepped the limb, Ogilivie,” you tell the MS3.
“Oh, please, not me,” the curly-haired boy mumbles under his breath, looking instinctively to Whitaker for assistance. He swallows hard when Brendon’s dark eyes snap to his. “Uh— Sterile saline in the inner bag, ice water in the outer bag. No direct ice to skin contact.”
Park nods and turns away, unwrapping the severed leg on the table below. “Good…”
“Thank you.”
“I wasn’t talking about you,” the attending snaps. His eyes soften the second he turns to you. “Let me guess— You wrapped this?”
“How’d you know?” you grin.
“Because it’s neat,” Park quips drily as he pulls the bluing limb from the plastic. “And I don’t think Abbot suddenly developed fine motor skills.”
“Stop flirting with me, Shark,” Jack monotones.
“Antibiotics?” the man squints.
“Cefazolin and gent,” you answer. “And we’re already cleared her chest, abdomen, and pelvis.”
Park nods to himself, examining the severed leg with his gloved hands. “Clean wound… No rush injury… Rapid transport time…” he mumbles to himself, visibly pleased in a way that makes your stomach do a backflip. “Replantation is a go. I’ll go ahead and book an OR, get it taken care of for you.”
“Thanks…” you say, smiling a little wider than you realize. Because ever since the day he embarrassed you in front of all your coworkers, you’ve made it your personal mission to impress him.
“What’s the catch?” Jack quips from across the room. “You already got a packed OR so… What? You’re just doing us a favor out of the kindness of your heart?”
“Hell, no,” Brendon scoffs. “Baby’s gonna scrub in with me.”
Your breath hitches in your throat. You’re not sure whether to be happy or horrified, ‘cause you haven’t done a surgery with him since you were an intern.
“Holy shit— Really?”
“Yeah. As long as you promise not to fuck up again,” Park deadpans, though there’s something distinctly soft in his eyes as he quips, “And if you can keep your guard dog on a leash for a few hours.”
Your eyes turn instinctively to Jack. You find his features slightly hardened but mostly emotionless. He shrugs despite the distant searing in his chest.
“She doesn’t need my permission.”
“Then why are you glaring like I’m about to steal your favorite toy, old man?” Brendon scoffs.
Jack’s eyes widen. His head swivels slowly over his shoulder, as if he were looking for someone standing behind him. “I know you’re not talking about me,” he quips drily.
“I would love the opportunity to scrub in, Dr. Shark— I mean, Park,” you stammer.
“Alright, then. Let’s go,” he nods, pulling off his gloves with a low pop as he storms back towards the door. “The rest of you, irrigate the hell out of this with three liters.”
“Wait— three liters?” Whitaker blurts.
Park glares. “Of saline, genius.”
“I… I knew you meant saline…”
You stop short in the doorway with Jack at your side, right before you turn to follow Park into the elevator. You flash him a wide-eyed look full of hope and distant worry, “You’re not mad at me, are you? For doing this with Shark?”
“I couldn’t be,” Jack scoffs.
“Well, then, I’ll let you know how it goes later?” you murmur sheepishly, shifting on your feet like a shy child. “Over dinner?”
“Sure,” he nods. “I’ll take you somewhere nice. You know, to celebrate.”
He gives you a soft smile that fades the second you’ve turned the corner. He feels the weight of his own insecurity sitting heavy on his chest. The notion that he’s much too old for you tends to follow him like a shadow, but it rears its mean, green, ugly head a little extra now.
“Hey…” Robby greets, then slows his stride when he walks past the tree men leaving the exam room. “What’s the long faces for?”
Abbot flashes him an unamused gaze. “Shark attack,” he deadpans.
Robby nods sympathetically. “Yeah, that’ll do it…”
The familiar chaos of the ED wraps around you like a blanket when you come down from the OR — the beeping monitors, the rolling stretchers, the hundred different conversations. It feels welcoming, in a strange sort of way; it fuels you in a way it hasn’t in a long, long time. It feels less like you’re surviving your shift now, and more like you could solve every medical inquiry in this hospital if someone asked you to.
You feel ten feet tall and lighter than air as you weave your way through the crowded emergency department. Jack can see it from where he watches you at the workstation with an eagle-eyed stare. Your scrubs are creased from your hours in the OR; your eyes are as wild as the distant smile sitting crooked on the very edges of your mouth.
You plant yourself at the computer next to his, and Abbot pretends like he hasn’t been waiting for you this whole time.
“How’d it go?” he asks distantly, trying to be casual.
“Great,” you nod with a proud smile. “Like really great. There was a twisted artery, and I was the only one who caught it. I got to reroute it all on my own— It was crazy.”
Jack feels himself smiling despite himself, basking in the rays of your sunshine disposition.
“Really?” he hums, nodding once. “Good job, baby.”
You couldn’t possibly count how many times you hear that nickname on a daily basis, but it’s different coming from Jack. It’s warmer, more familiar — makes your stomach do backflips like it’s the first time you’re hearing the word from his mouth. You go dizzy accordingly, as your fingers flit across the keyboard below.
“I’m just glad I didn’t make a total fool of myself like I did the first time,” you scoff.
“Yeah, me too,” a familiar voice quips from behind you.
You glance over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of Dr. Park as he appears suddenly behind you, dropping a file on the desk next to you mid-stride. His sea salt cologne pervades your senses instantly, clashing with Jack’s softer, muskier scent.
“I thought I heard the Jaws theme playing…” the older man quips in a dry monotone.
“You should be proud, Abbot— Your resident was a star in surgery today,” Park says with a knowing smirk hinting at the very corners of his mouth, so subtle it’s barely there. “Can’t wait for her to be my protégé in the OR someday.”
Jack’s frown deepens when the man claps him hard on the shoulder as he walks back for the elevator, though not without tossing a “let me know when you need a letter of rec for that fellowship, Baby,” over his shoulder as he goes.
He watches the younger attending until he turns the corner, and looks back at you with his jaw clenched a little tighter than before. His chest sears at the distant smile on your face, as the flames of his jealousy burn white-hot behind his ribcage
“Well,” Jack hums drily after a beat of silence. “You guys are getting awfully close, aren’t you?”
You scoff like it’s funny to you, because the thought of Park the Shark liking anyone is funny to you.
“What? No,” you laugh, then shrug at the unconvinced look Jack gives you in response. “He’s just nice to me. That’s all.”
Jack lets out a sharp exhale through his nose in place of a laugh. He turns back to his computer and deadpans, “Yeah. Because he likes you.”
You open your mouth to argue.
Jack beats you to the punch.
“And I don’t blame him, either. I think it’d make me a hypocrite if I did.”
Your face flares as a red-hot heat crawls up your neck. Your adrenaline-induced confidence fades into something softer as you struggle suddenly to meet the older man’s gaze. You glance down at the chart Park left, unable to hide the small smile on your mouth when you peer at Jack again from beneath your lashes.
“Where are we going for dinner after this again?” you wonder, half-sheepish.
The expression on his scruffy face shifts slightly, less tense but mischievous still. “We aren’t,” he says and logs out of the computer.
Your eyes narrow into a suspicious squint as you watch the man round the front desk. “What happened to ‘I’ll take you somewhere nice?’”
“Yeah…” Jack nods slowly, huffing sympathetically, as his hands curl around either end of his stethoscope. “I think we’re gonna miss that reservation, baby.”
Your stomach does a backflip.
By the time you make it to Jack’s place, the adrenaline has worn off just enough to leave you pleasantly exhausted.
He can feel it in your kiss, as you straddle him on his sunken couch in the middle of his dim living room — so quiet compared to the ER that it feels like stepping into a completely different world. You prop yourself over his lap with your palms cradling his silver scruff and lick into his parted mouth in slow, languid motions.
You’ve been at it for a while now. So long that Jack can feel your spit down to his chin. You could kiss him for hours and hours and never get bored — a testament to your youth, perhaps, because Jack doesn’t think he’s made out with someone this long since he was in college.
But, for you, he keeps his head tipped back against the sofa and his mouth obediently parted, letting you kiss him however you want — for however long you want. His wide hands fidget with anticipation on either side of your bare thighs, from where your shirt rides up to your hips.
You’d changed immediately into one of his old tees when you arrived, after a shower your body had been craving all day. You smell like his body wash and lotion as you sit on his lap, running your hands down his clothed chest like soft drops of summer rain.
Your fingers brush the tie in his dark navy sweatpants, and he tenses on instinct. You don’t seem to notice, though, as you leave a trail of wet kisses down his scruffy neck.
“Are you gonna fuck me tonight?” you mumble into his pulse. “’S why we didn’t go out for dinner tonight, isn’t it? ‘Cause I’ve been thinking about it all day…”
Jack goes dizzy at your words — at the otherwise innocent mouth they spill from. His stomach warms, and he jerks back from you before he means to; his mouth wet and rosy from the intensity of your kisses.
“Yeah, fuck— Yeah, I just…” he trails off, though it’s more of a dismissal than a true affirmative. “I just gotta go to the bathroom real quick, yeah?”
“Okay,” you smile politely, unaware of his subdued panic that he’s learned to keep well-hidden. You slide off his lap and onto the other side of the couch. “Sure.”
Jack rises from the sunken sofa with a low grunt in the back of his throat. There’s a slight limp in his step from where the long day has taken a toll on his prosthetic. “Feel free to make yourself at home while I’m gone,” he tosses mindlessly over his shoulder, before he disappears down the dim hallway, making an immediate beeline for his lamplit bedroom.
There’s a bottle of sildenafil in his nightstand drawer, with only one pill taken out of it — which he thinks is somehow even more embarrassing. He’d only taken it to masturbate once, after his SSRIs plummeted his libido and he was itching for a release after a long day.
The small orange bottle feels strangely heavy in his hands now, as he tips his head back to shake one of the tiny blue pills into his mouth before he can talk himself out of it. His adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows it dry. The pills rattle faintly when he sets the bottle down beside him again.
He drops onto the edge of his bed, mattress squeaking under his weight. He rests his elbows on his knees and hunches over to dig his palms into his eyes. He tries to will himself hard for you, even though he knows that isn’t exactly how that works.
He thinks of you — all young and pretty and waiting for him out there — wasting your youth on an old man who can’t get hard to save his life. It leads to a cycle of self-hatred that prevents him from getting turned on at all. And it’s maddening.
The ajar door creaks quietly as you push it open without knocking.
You slink inside the dim bedroom and freeze at the sight of the man on the bed, like you weren’t expecting to find him there. Jack’s head whips to your form across the room and spins when he finds your underwear peeking out from the bottom of his shirt — a soft orange color patterned with dark black bats, several months out of season.
“What are you doing?” he squints teasingly, blanketed half by shadow and half by golden lamplight.
“What are you doing?” you retort. “I’ve been waiting out there forever.”
“It’s only been five minutes,” Jack scoffs.
“Yeah, tell me about it…”
You’re all but skipping to his side then, bare feet padding along the thin carpet as you go. The thin fabric of his shirt swishes around your thighs when you walk to stand between his. When you wrap your arms loosely around his neck and duck down to kiss him, Jack tips his chin back and opens his mouth to welcome you — until the open drawer beside you catches your attention, as well as the orange pill bottle sitting on the corner of the nightstand, as if he’d just pulled it out of there.
“What’s that—?”
“Nothing,” Jack answers, a little too quickly, and reaches less than casually around you to chuck the bottle into the drawer again. The pills rattle loudly in the quiet bedroom when he shoves it shut a second later.
He can tell by the look in your eyes that you’ve already gotten a glimpse of the label. Your gaze is soft with sympathy and glittering with something wild that he can’t quite place.
Jack says nothing for several long moments, and instead waits for your response.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed…” you murmur when you catch his scruffy cheeks flaring a soft pink.
“I’m not embarrassed,” he blurts, less than convincingly, eyes shifting away and back again. “I’m just… selectively unthrilled with this timing…”
Your nose scrunches at the shy smile you give him. His warm hands settle again on your waist while your fingers twist in the silver curls at the nape of his neck. Your eyes soften with something tender when you wonder shyly, “Is that why… Is that why you haven’t wanted to… you know?”
“No,” Jack answers instantly, then tilts his head to think for a moment. “Well, I mean— a little, I guess, but… I only take ‘em ‘cause of my SSRIs, you know? It’s not… It’s not because of you or anything.”
“Okay…” you nod and struggle to meet his gaze when you ask, “Do you know, like, how long it takes to kick in… or whatever?”
“Last time I tried, it took about twenty minutes—”
“Last time?” you echo with raised brows.
“I was just trying it out!” Jack defends with a crooked smile, slightly egged on by your misplaced jealousy after stewing in his own all day. “I was by myself when I took it, if that makes you feel any better.”
“It does make me feel better, actually…”
Jack’s light eyes narrow. “What’s that look for, huh?”
“Nothin’…” you lilt quietly, with a poorly hidden smile. “I just… I think it’s kinda hot… That’s all…”
His expression flickers in an instant — surprise first, suspicion second, then something darker third. A white-hot desire threads through the distant embarrassment still swimming in his stomach.
“Yeah?” he presses lowly, with a voice like honey.
“Yeah…” you nod once, unable to take your eyes off his prying stare.
He studies you for another beat, before huffing a quiet laugh of disbelief.
“You’re somethin’ else, baby, you know that?” he mumbles with a shake of his head, smoothing his calloused palms slowly up your bare thighs until they disappear under his shirt.
“I know…” you mutter on bated breath, trying and failing to be casual when you ask, “What do you wanna do then, huh? You know, for the next twenty minutes, anyway?”
You fight back a shiver when his thumb brushes over the center of the delicate mound peeking beneath the hem of your t-shirt, concealed by the thin cotton panties you wear.
Jack hears your breath catch in his throat. His darkened gaze flits from your Halloween-patterned underwear to your heavy eyes, now glazed over with a layer of honeyed desire.
summary: you’ve been helping smurf and the boys with jobs for three years now. on your third year you’re sent to mexico, once again to prove your loyalty to the family. when you return, there’s news. the addition that was missing inside the family when you first came to know them, pope cody.
notes: suggestive content, afab reader, mention of drugs and alchool, curse words, darren and reader hooked up before he came out as gay but now they’re bff!! craig isn’t in the group chat because him and reader have beef, age gap, based off season 2/3 of animal kingdom, minor spoilers.
Summary: You were early for a girls night out, and before your girls got to the bar, you saw a few of the nightcrawlers. Who were you not to say hello?
Warnings: smutty thoughts, Jack Abbot falls harder and deeper for u, reader has nipples and Jack loves them, jack is a freak to be honest…i really went off on a tangent here 😳 sorry there’s not a lot of dialogue i couldn’t find a way to fit it in
Pt. 2!
Based on this request! Slán go foill! 💗 Enjoy!
It was a freaky coincidence. Meeting your friends at the same bar all of the night shift ended up going to on the same night.
You know how it goes, early is 15 minutes early, on time is late, so you got to the bar 10 minutes before your friends would get there. You were busy ordering your drink when you spotted a few familiar faces all sat in a booth. It was the night shift!
You grabbed your martini and made your way over.
Jack was busy halfway into his beer, and almost choked into it when he saw it was you standing at the table.
“Hey, fancy seeing you here,” Jack greeted with a friendly nod, really refraining from staring at you. You were hot in your scrubs, the mere thought of you in normal clothes were enough to make his dick twitch. Now he was seeing it in the flesh.
He did hear you talking, something about meeting a few friends for drinks, but he wasn't really listening. He usually loved your voice. He was more focused on trying not to stare at your body and more at your pretty face - which was equally dolled up, not too much to look false, but it certainly enhanced your beauty.
He glanced down at your dress again, trying to be subtle. It wasn’t skimpy or too short, which Jack liked. It was actually a really pretty dress when you looked at it properly. Oh fuck, he could see your nipples. What did they look like under that dress? They looked perfect from where he was sat. Bite sized, pert, he wondered what colour they were, how would they feel in his mouth and in his hands? And he had an itching feeling to know how your tits looked naturally, none of this clothing in the way - who needs clothes, anyway?
This kind of thinking seriously made him feel like a dirty old man. But if the shoe fits..
“You do look hot, I gotta say,” Parker smiles. She always seems like she’s flirting, but that was just Parker. Now Jack isn’t so sure. She better not be flirting. Is everyone looking at her like I am? That would make me less of a dirty old man, Jack thought to himself.
“Thank youu!” You hum proudly, a bright smile on your pretty stained lips, doing a little twirl in your heels, “It’s a new dress, so hopefully I don’t spill anything on myself.”
Jack wouldn’t have thought that he had a thing for heels. But hell, you looked too good not to appreciate your heels, and how your glossy legs look in them, and how the slit of the dress stopped just below your hip. He felt like Roger Rabbit looking up at Jessica.
What he would give to run his calloused hands up those legs, to feel the smooth skin of your calves and inching up your soft thighs. He would treat you so good…He’d keep you satisfied every day. What if he got you to stay here instead of going out with your girlfriends? Got you right between himself and Shen, squished between the two, seeing that shy and uncomfortable expression on your face. What if he just crouched under the table and hid himself under the skirt of your dress? That’s where he really wanted to be.
Would you be wearing panties? God, no bra and no panties, he’d fucking die — You were always so sweet and modest at work, for all he knew you could be so dirty in your personal life — Jack’s hand itched at his thigh, feeling his cock twitch at the thought. He could smell your fancy perfume from here, wafting off of your hair and your dress. Was your body lotion scented too? Or maybe your legs and arms were always that shimmery and he was too dumb to notice it. He just knew you’d be so soft, like velvet.
Fuck, he needed to get a grip. He couldn’t let this fester and grow. It’d affect him at work…
a/n: i cannot be trusted in a room with frank langdon thank god he doesn’t actually exist
summary: you get cock-drunk on langdon
warnings: smut, a lot of pet names
You can’t help it, it’s not your fault. It’s so close to your face, almost pointing at you. You try to keep your focus on the movie you begged Frank to watch with you on his day off, but your cheek is basically brushing his crotch at every slight turn of your face.
Frank’s apparently unfazed, the contact is so subtle he doesn’t even catch it. But you do, you can even smell the detergent you washed his clothes with. He had asked you to lay on his thigh with the excuse that he wanted to be as close to you as possibile if he had to even bear to watch your trashy choice of a movie. His words, not yours.
Now, he was maybe too invested in the ‘trashy movie’ to not realize his girlfriend was rubbing her cheek on his resting bulge “Oh c’mon with his sister?! How could he do that!” he protests shaking his head in disappointment “I really don’t get it how can you like this?” he looks down at you, catching your distraction “Mh?” you look up at him batting your eyelashes. Frank rolls his eyes, once again you were not paying attention to the movie you so insisted on watching. He still hasn’t caught on what you were diverging your attention to.
“You wanted to watch this so bad what has gotten into that big head of yours huh?” his finger taps above your temple and you swallow down a lump in your throat. Would it be embarrassing to admit how struck you were by the shape of his dick inside his trousers?
He stares down at you with an amused smile painting his lips “Speak up sweetheart” your cheeks heat up at the nickname, you still haven’t gotten used to it.
“I was umh-“ you rub your cheek against his crotch once again, but he doesn’t seem to get the hint. He furrows both of his bushy eyebrows, still oblivious to the fact that you’d stick your head inside his underwear if you could.
You grunt frustrated and Frank laughs in response, the movie’s still running in the background, already forgotten “Can’t read your mind yet” he’s so cheeky with his smug smile and curious eyes scanning your face.
“It’s just- you were so close and i couldn’t help but-“ you pause hiding your face in his leg causing his muscles under it to tense for a moment “You couldn’t help but what?” he inquires “To stare at it” you admit sinking your teeth down your bottom lip, embarrassment flooding both of your cheeks.
Frank’s blue eyes widen a little at the confession and he chuckles giving your cheek a hard squeeze “That’s it? You were staring at my dick?” he was always so open with sex, you guessed because he was a doctor and he was used to be this explicit. You could never get used to that and he loved the reactions he’d get out of you, that’s the main reason he kept doing it.
“God Frank you talk to your patients with that mouth?” Frank sticks his tongue out at you and you roll your eyes amused, he is such a dork.
“If you wanted it you could have just asked for it… It would have been definitely better than this thing you called a movie” he says caressing your cheek. You giggle and stroke your face against the cotton of his pants, hitting the growing bulge under it. Frank looks down at your desperate attempt to feel him against your plump cheek, he can’t help to groan at the sight of you.
“Let me help you with that sweetheart” he pushes your face away gently, causing you to frown for a moment. He slides his pants down his ankles, his boxers hug the prominent shape inside them and you can feel yourself dampen at the sight.
You blink a few times, blatantly staring at his fat cock just hanging there before you. You lick your lips and lower back down, tracing the shape with your finger. He hisses at the feeling of your hand on him, his hips buckle into your touch “So pretty” you say looking up at him.
“Jesus” Frank throws his head back against the couch at your words. You stick your tongue out, wetting the fabric of his underwear at every stroke of your tongue, making him shiver under your touch. You’re basically drooling over his lap by now, making out with the cotton of his boxers. You catch some leak of precum oozing out the fabric. Frank watches in awe everything you do.
He knew you were inexperienced when it came to sex, so seeing you take initiative for something really turned him on. You had a hard time showing your dirtier side, and seeing the way he had you so cock drunk was messing with his head. His underwear are a mess of spit and precum by now, his restrained length is aching for more direct attention from you.
He really, really tries not to take this moment into his own hands. He wants you to explore whatever you’re into at your own pace, but it’s truly taking everything he has to not fuck your face right now.
“Hey sweetheart…you want to let it out?” he holds onto the couch’s cushions for dear life, his knuckles slowly turning white, each breath he takes feels heavy “Get a taste?” it takes a few moments for you to register his words, too busy with your tongue to pay attention to him until he tugs at your hair. You blink out of your hazy state and nod “Good girl” Frank smiles and presses a kiss to your lips, playing with your tongue while he frees his cock from his spit ruined underwear.
He pushes his body into the couch, pulling you on top of him as you keep making out. It’s messy, spit trailing down your chin and his stubble as he kisses you hungrily holding the back of your head firmly to keep you in place.
When he pulls away it is only to stare at you, your hair messed up by his hands, the lip balm you previously had on is nowhere to be found, your mascara is starting to get smudged, your lips are swollen by his kisses. Frank pets your head and fills you with praises as he lowers you down to the floor, your knees hitting the cold wooden material with a thud.
“Go ahead,pup” he says as he keeps staring at you, the way you gulp down at the sight of his bare cock. It’s always a sight to him how you seem to be surprised by his size and girth, every single time. You lick your lips before spitting on the angry tip. You spread your saliva with your hand, giving him a nice and slow stroke, making his head bounce back against the cushions.
It’s a matter of seconds before you wrap your warm mouth around him causing Frank to curse under his breath “Fuck— you’ve become so good” he says as the muscle of your throat welcomes his length all the way in. His blue eyes squeeze,closing shut. He can feel your throat tighten, wrapping around his shaft and holding onto it. He feels like he could explode down your throat in any second now.
To be fair, it was his fault if you were so good at it, he had been throat training you for months now. He still remembers how you used to gag simply by the taste of it. But now? You were madly hungry for it. You feel the tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly as you keep bobbing your head up and down his cock. Frank manages to open his eyes and wrap a hand around your hair, grasping it in a messy ponytail to not let it get in your way “Yeah shit— just like that” his hips shift up, he can’t for the life of him be still right now.
You look up at him through your lashes and he groans when he makes eye contact with you. You sure look fucked up right now, so drunk on his cock that’s making you almost dizzy “My little girl… taking it so well aren’t you?” you hum around his dick and he slams his hips up from the vibrations “Trained you so nicely—fuck— swallowing my dick all the way, my good girl”
Your thighs rub together at his words, you can feel heat spreading down your legs as you keep sucking and licking every inch of him you can reach “That’s it” Frank pushes his hips up one more time before his cum floods your throat. You swallow his thick ropes of cum until there’s nothing left of him. He breathes heavily, resting against the couch as you finish clean him up with your tongue.
“Come here” he pulls you on his lap and when you settle on it he licks his thumb to clean your face off his cum and smudged mascara “I’m so proud” you smile at his praise, feeling pretty content yourself “Next time when you want it, just take it” you laugh pushing his hand away from your face.
Summary: You were early for a girls night out, and before your girls got to the bar, you saw a few of the nightcrawlers. Who were you not to say hello?
Warnings: smutty thoughts, Jack Abbot falls harder and deeper for u, reader has nipples and Jack loves them, jack is a freak to be honest…i really went off on a tangent here 😳 sorry there’s not a lot of dialogue i couldn’t find a way to fit it in
Pt. 2!
Based on this request! Slán go foill! 💗 Enjoy!
It was a freaky coincidence. Meeting your friends at the same bar all of the night shift ended up going to on the same night.
You know how it goes, early is 15 minutes early, on time is late, so you got to the bar 10 minutes before your friends would get there. You were busy ordering your drink when you spotted a few familiar faces all sat in a booth. It was the night shift!
You grabbed your martini and made your way over.
Jack was busy halfway into his beer, and almost choked into it when he saw it was you standing at the table.
“Hey, fancy seeing you here,” Jack greeted with a friendly nod, really refraining from staring at you. You were hot in your scrubs, the mere thought of you in normal clothes were enough to make his dick twitch. Now he was seeing it in the flesh.
He did hear you talking, something about meeting a few friends for drinks, but he wasn't really listening. He usually loved your voice. He was more focused on trying not to stare at your body and more at your pretty face - which was equally dolled up, not too much to look false, but it certainly enhanced your beauty.
He glanced down at your dress again, trying to be subtle. It wasn’t skimpy or too short, which Jack liked. It was actually a really pretty dress when you looked at it properly. Oh fuck, he could see your nipples. What did they look like under that dress? They looked perfect from where he was sat. Bite sized, pert, he wondered what colour they were, how would they feel in his mouth and in his hands? And he had an itching feeling to know how your tits looked naturally, none of this clothing in the way - who needs clothes, anyway?
This kind of thinking seriously made him feel like a dirty old man. But if the shoe fits..
“You do look hot, I gotta say,” Parker smiles. She always seems like she’s flirting, but that was just Parker. Now Jack isn’t so sure. She better not be flirting. Is everyone looking at her like I am? That would make me less of a dirty old man, Jack thought to himself.
“Thank youu!” You hum proudly, a bright smile on your pretty stained lips, doing a little twirl in your heels, “It’s a new dress, so hopefully I don’t spill anything on myself.”
Jack wouldn’t have thought that he had a thing for heels. But hell, you looked too good not to appreciate your heels, and how your glossy legs look in them, and how the slit of the dress stopped just below your hip. He felt like Roger Rabbit looking up at Jessica.
What he would give to run his calloused hands up those legs, to feel the smooth skin of your calves and inching up your soft thighs. He would treat you so good…He’d keep you satisfied every day. What if he got you to stay here instead of going out with your girlfriends? Got you right between himself and Shen, squished between the two, seeing that shy and uncomfortable expression on your face. What if he just crouched under the table and hid himself under the skirt of your dress? That’s where he really wanted to be.
Would you be wearing panties? God, no bra and no panties, he’d fucking die — You were always so sweet and modest at work, for all he knew you could be so dirty in your personal life — Jack’s hand itched at his thigh, feeling his cock twitch at the thought. He could smell your fancy perfume from here, wafting off of your hair and your dress. Was your body lotion scented too? Or maybe your legs and arms were always that shimmery and he was too dumb to notice it. He just knew you’d be so soft, like velvet.
Fuck, he needed to get a grip. He couldn’t let this fester and grow. It’d affect him at work…
i’m so obsessed with this man it’s getting out of control. i need every version of him; dbf, bf’s dad, professor, neighbor, pervy doctor, dom, sub, all of them. i need an age gap with this man where i tease tf out of him. give me those sweet puppy eyes baby and watch what happens.
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