#dr abbott smut

[ovaryacted]

SPECIAL TREATMENT

─ Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x fem! reader || WC: 1.2k

CW: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUT. Age gap implied [Michael is canon age, reader is 25+]. Power imbalance situation [Attending/Resident]. FWB dynamic, sort of. Past mentions of smut in different instances. Oral (m & f receiving. Unprotected p in v. Heavy praise kink. Everything is consensual & mutual. They’re freaky idk. A tinge of yearning. Reader has hair & is a beast at medicine. Note: I have not watched The Pitt yet, so I apologize for any mischaracterizations lolz.

Hi. I honestly don't know what this is. It came to me in a dream after I yapped with @superhoeva in the DMS, and now she's tormenting me to keep writing for Mista Dr. Robby. Now I'm sucked into this world that I didn't even know existed lmao. Anywho, walk with me for a second here, let me cook! Reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated. Proofread by moi. <3

It all started with two simple words.

“Good job.”

Seven letters. One singular statement. A term of encouragement familiar to practitioners all over the Pitt, and of course it’s not unknown to you. Always said in recognition of one’s efforts, and in this family you’ve meshed with in the emergency department, it went a long way to hear that phrase after the intense shifts you all had to handle.

Though with Dr. Robby, it had a second meaning.

Sure, he recognized everyone’s hard efforts in saving lives, pairing his words with a nice pat on the shoulder and his signature smile. But he would never admit to giving you special treatment, at least away from prying eyes.

As a fourth year resident in the Pitt, you’ve already made somewhat of a name for yourself, and it didn’t go unnoticed by your other colleagues, especially Dr. Robby. You impress him on a daily basis, your quick reflexes in adapting to current situations is a trait he’s always admired, your ability to keep your cool in moments that would otherwise crack everyone else brings a mix of admiration and envy. You weren’t particularly the sensitive type, often reminding him of Dr. Abbott and his demeanor at times, but he knows it’s because you’re determined, because you hold yourself to a different standard and aim to command any room you step foot in regardless of the circumstances.

He can sympathize with that, he was like that years ago. It’s nice to watch the spark take over when you’re in your element.

You can be confident and borderline cocky at times, but never arrogant. You barely flinch when you need to crack open someone’s chest, or when you were covered with blood after a particularly extreme trauma, steady hands working despite the adrenaline running through you. Michael liked when you called the shots before he did, and usually he didn’t need to ask for your thoughts on the cases assigned to you when you were already so persistent in sharing your resolutions.

He had no choice but to commend you for your hard work, always slipping a quick “good job” after doing something right or a “job well done” once things were taken care of. You’d never show it to anyone else, but Michael knew the impact of his words, how your eyes gleamed for the slightest second as you fought off the urge to smile. It was amusing to say the least, so he didn’t stop, he couldn’t, not when it encouraged you to push your own limits, to be the best, if not for yourself then for him.

He reveled in it.

Your consistent performance is what resulted in this mess you found yourself in. Going from being Dr. Robby’s trusted and favorite resident to something more over the course of a year was enough to give you whiplash.

It began with a brief “pep talk” in an empty on-call room. You thought you had fucked up royally on the last patient you had, that maybe Dr. Robby had a different opinion towards your approach. Yet, he surprises you when he leans down to kiss you, your breath hitching in your throat and instantly reaching to grasp his shoulders, fingers digging into the material of his hoodie in an attempt to bring him closer.

Those two little words became a frequent saying in the safety of his apartment, where you often went after your shifts synched up. Michael always needed to give you more than just words, to feed you the reverence you deserved—craved even.

He always tells you when your lips were wrapped around his length, sucking lavishly while he keeps your hair out of your face. Your throat grew sore from the tip of him slipping inside, lips plump with your constant sucking. Pulling away with a smile on your spit covered face and placing a wet kiss to his crown, the words tumble out of him with a groan.

“That’s a good girl. Taking all of me like that. Good job, baby.”

Or when it was his head between your thighs, licking and eating at you with such fervor, your thighs shake every time. Clutching at his head, you’ve already fallen over the edge twice, and it was never enough for Michael. Like an addict, he ate you up until his jaw ached, refusing to leave his spot from your cunt until tears streaked down your face and your overworked pussy throbbed from all of his attention. Despite his overwhelming touch, he was always there to keep you grounded with his slick covered mouth.

“Doing such a good job for me. You got one more in you, right? One more and I’ll give you what you need.”

And the other instances where he was inside you? Those were probably your favorite pastimes.

Your legs were hanging loosely over his hips as he pummeled into you, back arching up as your arms slung around his neck. Moaning against the side of his throat, Michael cradled the back of your head with one hand, the other keeping your lower back at the right angle, letting his cock fill every crevice so deliciously you had no other choice but to just take him. Completely smothered under him, your senses were overwhelmed with him; his scent, his touch, his voice. Tears pooled at your lash line, cheeks warm under the intense gaze of the man hovering above you, stuttering on your own breath that turns into a moan at the precision of his thrusting. He only smirks above you, lifting up one of your thighs to his shoulder and diving inside you even deeper.

“Been such a good girl for me, letting me take care of you like this. I know, I know. I got you.”

Your moment of daydreaming is cut short as you’re back in the commotion of the Pitt, the beeping of the machines and people yelling here and there grab your attention once more, deciding to look down at your clipboard to review what else was on your roster for the day.

“Reviewing the caseload?”

You didn’t need to look in the direction of the person’s voice to know it was Dr. Robby, slyly eyeing up at you from where he sat, typing some notes on the computer. The black glasses he wore sat on his sharp nose, a staple to the rest of his appearance along with his cargo pants and baggy zip-up.

“Had so much on my plate I started to lose count. You still want me to handle that patient in Room 5? Heard it was a bad one.” He glances at you, slightly tilting his head to the side with the faintest smug grin on his aged face.

“Yeah, I do. Plus, I know you’re always up for a challenge. I’ll be there in five.” You rolled your eyes at that, shaking your head with a sigh and turning on your heel to head towards your next patient, fully aware of the set of eyes following you from behind.

You didn’t mind being Dr. Robby’s favorite resident. After all, a little special treatment never hurt.

©️ ovaryacted 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[superhoeva]

dr. abbott's the kind of man to have you back against the bed, holding your own knees as far back as they'll go while he spits at and sucks you silly.

a growl leaves him as his tongue dips into your hole, nosing at your clit with a long inhale.

"fuck, you're somethin' else," dr. abbott mumbles, eyes clouded with the same fire you recognize with earlier after he led you through the successful save of a patient suffering from toxic shock. he'd praised you afterwards in a raspy whisper and sly smirk that you'd thought about for the rest of the week.

two days catching him staring at you from across the room later, and here you are; squirming against the bedsheets of your attending while he fucks you with his tongue. you've already come on dr. abbott's face twice at his command but the fervor of his mouth shows no decline.

the flicking of jack's tongue sounds loudly in the air of your room, barely covered by your loud gasps and long whines of his name. he does anything but let up, forehead shining with a thin layer of sweat, lugging the flat of his tongue up to wipe across your clit. you flinch at the feeling, and your thighs starts to quake when he repeats the action before pulling away with one last suck.

"gonna come for me one more time," he instructs, guiding one your quivering legs to hang over his shoulder while the other goes limp onto the bed. "then i'm gonna fuck you like the brilliant, badass resident you are. that sound alright to you?"

jack's mouth quirks at your blissed-out nod, only giving you a single second before a pair of his fingers swipe and press against your slit. he watches, fascinated, at how slick you've become as he eases inside.

he curls inside you immediately, the pads of his fingers dancing along spots that sucks all the air from your lungs. a breathy moan escapes the man at your warmth, and he follows the sound with the dipping of his to lap at you again.

tongue moving in a frenzy, dr. abbott resumes his devouring of you with an unashamed groan and working jaw, fingers working in and out of you in perfect sequence.

"been my fuckin' favorite for a damn year, you know that?" he mumbles messily against you, eyes cutting upwards to watch you tremble and clutch the sheets... his sheets.

god, jack known there was something about you from the second you stepped into his er. he finally figured out what it was when you performed a perfect thoracotomy and a retrograde intubation on the same damn day. inadvertently, the attending had the tendency to stick by your side ever since that day, making sure that you consult and present to him, and trying not to lose his shit at the times you already have the correct answer.

something inside you had felt the pull. the inescapable tug produced by the intensity of mundane conversations, how close the two of you stand without noticing, the quipping that oozes a step past workplace banter.

all of it–the looks and touches and fucking yearning–have come to a head through the form of his tongue and fingers working you close to tears... starving for you and proving it tenfold.

there's a precision abbott cares for you with. his movements are sharp but tender, engulfing you in the suffocating pleasure his measured purpose brings about.

"yeeeah. you got it," jack coos raspily at your growing whimpers, bullying his tongue back onto your clit with a reassuring wink. "gimme one more, baby... then we'll see f'you and can take my cock as well as you're taking my fingers."

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[spaceyaemonds]

former stripper/R2!reader and Jack go get breakfast together every morning after she works night shift with him, even before becoming official. He always, always buys and makes sure to take her home after. Walking her to the door like a true gentleman.

Eventually, they just start going to his place. At first, they just sleep. He likes the feeling of her next to him, in one of his old army shirts and a pair of his boxers.

It all changes one day when he accidentally walks in on her changing and he’s rock hard at the sight of her the the tiniest and laciest piece of lingerie he’s ever seen.

note: unedited

[storiesaplenty]

The Pitt Masterlist

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy though.

Warnings: swearing. Smut below the cut. Oral (m receiving) cum swallowing. Anal. Use of butt plug.

WC: 1011

Divider by @strangergraphics

©️ magicalbuttertarts 2025: do not repost or translate my work. Do not use AI on my work. This is the only place I post my work.

This part is Dr Robby, Dr Abbott, & Dr Langdon.

Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch

My ponytail was wrapped tight in Dr Robby's fist as he held my head in place as he raised his hips back and forth. His other hand was closed in a fist, that was stuffed in his mouth to keep his moans down.

My hands were gripping his thighs as I let him use my mouth and throat for his pleasure, knowing how stressed he is.

The tip of his cock hit the back of my throat a bit too rough, and I gagged, making him throw his head back as he pulled himself completely out of my mouth.

I was gasping for air, knowing I wouldn't have much of a break before he thrust back into my mouth.

He placed both of his hands on the side of my head, forcing it back a bit further, as he looked down at me, and I must have been a sight. The little bit of eye makeup I wear, streaking down my face, the corners of my mouth coated in spit and precrum.

"Being so good for me, aren't you? Always know exactly what I need, don't you?" He thrust back into my mouth, with a loud groan.

His pace was brutal and not forgiving at all as he was so close to finishing.

With a grunt of my name, he stilled as the first rope of cum hit the back of my throat. His hips stuttered as he coated my throat.

I made sure to swallow it all, not wanting to miss a single drop of it.

I continued to suck, even after he was long done. Him trying to catch his breath.

Dr Robby helped me to my feet, kissing me, the two of us moaning at the taste of him on my lips.

"I promise to make it up to you at home." He mumbled against my lips.

"It's okay. I know how stressed you are but I will remind you later that you owe me."

Dr. Jack Abbott

I know Jack asked me a question, but I was too far gone to have heard him properly. Not with the way how his cock is just stretching me so perfectly.

I felt his hand on my throat, squeezing it just right as he pulled my body back, so my back is flushed against his chest.

He placed his mouth against my ear, nipping it before repeating himself.

"I said, what gives you the right to question me like that?" My whole body shivered at his tone. My pussy tightening around his cock.

Making him groan as he sped up his pace, if that was even possible.

"I'm sorry Jack. I didn't mean," I couldn't finish what I was saying, as he angled his hips just so, now prodding that spot inside of me that always makes me scream.

I had to cover my mouth, but Jack didn't like that. He moved my hand from my mouth.

"Gonna act like a brat on the floor. Let everyone here how I take care of your brattiness." I shook my head no, trying to stifle my moans as people were walking right outside this closet.

"Go on. Let them hear you. Let them hear you getting fucked by Dr Abbott."

The hand on my throat got a bit tighter and before I knew it, my whole body was shaking as came, my pussy clenching around his cock, forcing Jack to groan against my head.

He held himself back, fucking me through my orgasm until he couldn't hold back anymore.

He grunted my name as he stilled, his cock twitching in my pussy as he filled me.

My mouth hanging open as he came, triggering another small orgasm from me.

Jack pulled out of me, the two of us moaning at the loss of him inside of me.

"You good now Jack?" I asked him as I fixed myself up.

"Yeah, for now."

I rolled my eyes at my husband.

Dr. Frank Langdon

"Come on Frank, we don't have much time. Where?" I mumbled against his lips, as his hands squeezed my ass through my scrubs.

"You got the plug in?" He asked me as he pulled away, to look into my eyes. I nodded my head yes, as he text me this morning to put it in.

"Turn around." I knew what he wanted.

I pulled down my scrubs and my panties. I felt his hand rub against the heart shaped plug that I have in my hole.

I whined as he pulled the plug out, and placed it on the box next to him.

"Good thing you used plenty of lube." Frank said as he placed his cock at the entrance and slowly slid in.

I groaned as he slid inch by inch inside of me, this not being the first time we have done this.

"Gonna make it up tonight. Just let me fuck you." His hands tightened on my hips, so tight I will feel them for the rest of my shift.

"Use me Frank." I barely got out before he pulled back, leaving just the tip inside and slamming back into my ass.

He fucked me as hard and fast as he could. His pace never wavering as he fucked me like his life depends on it.

"Gonna be a good girl and let me cum in your ass huh? Work the rest of this horrible shift, knowing my cum is in your ass."

"Yes Frank, yes." I always felt dirty when we did this, but I also fucking love.

"Oh shit." He said a few moments later, just as I felt his cock twitch as he came.

"Yessss." He groaned, as he finished coming.

Frank pulled out of my well used hole, and spread my ass cheeks to watch his cum slowly leak out of my hole, before putting the plug back in, and pulling up my bottoms.

"I'll except you naked when I get home Dr Langdon." I teased.

"Will be. Don't you worry about that."

Part 2 with Dennis Whitaker, Mateo Diaz & Donnie Donahue coming soon

[differcnces]

Don't Make Me Someone You Can't Have

pairing : dr. jack abbot x resident!reader (afab!reader)

summary : The fallout didn’t start the day of Pitt Fest—it started when you told Jack Abbot how you felt and he told you he didn’t want you. A week later, grief, jealousy, and everything unsaid ignite into something impossible to bury. (Lowkey inspired by Big Love by Fleetwood Mac—because obviously.)

warnings/content : trauma aftermath (mass casualty event), hospital setting, attending x resident dynamic, mutual pining, emotional repression, angst, jealousy, possessive behavior, verbal rejection, explicit sexual content (f!receiving, protected sex), semi-public/backseat sex, emotionally loaded dialogue, swearing

word count : 4,212

18+ ONLY, not beta read. Please read responsibly.

a/n : I am just so obsessed with Abbot, like oml I do not need a new hyperfixation at this point of the semester but here we are. Hope you guys enjoy this!

There’s blood on your forearms.

Not a lot—just the dried trace of a life you couldn’t save, stuck to your skin even after the first scrub. You’ve already changed out of your soiled gloves and gown. You sanitized twice. But still, you scrub again, because your hands won’t stop shaking and focusing on the motion keeps you upright.

The shooting at Pitt Fest has left the trauma bay soaked with the sound of screams you can’t forget. The floors were slick. Supplies ran out faster than anyone could track. You can still hear the rhythmic buzz of the trauma pager, the overhead call for more gurneys, the shrill monitor that never quieted until it did.

Your white coat is somewhere in the hallway—discarded and stained, a casualty of triage. There’s a bruise blossoming on your cheekbone, just beneath your eye. It’s from when the mother of the boy thrashed in panic, her elbow colliding with your face. You didn’t notice it at first, not until someone pointed it out with a grimace. Said it was turning purple, already swelling. Said you should ice it. You didn’t.

You press harder on your hands.

Jack Abbot hasn’t spoken to you since he snapped orders across the gurney three hours ago, voice razor-sharp, eyes like flint. He’d taken over compressions without blinking. His personal protection gear streaked in blood. His shoulders set like stone. His voice—steady, calm, cold.

You’d hesitated.

Just a second. Maybe less. But he’d seen it.

“You’re too shallow—switch out. Now.”

He hadn’t looked at you when he said it. Just stepped in, hands already moving, chest compressing with the precision of someone who’d done it a hundred times before. Because he has.

He moves like he did on the field. You’ve heard stories—Jack the soldier, desert heat in his lungs, fingers suturing flesh with a kind of brutal grace. You’ve seen glimpses of it before, but tonight? Tonight, it wasn’t a glimpse. It was a full transformation.

You backed away, stunned into silence. Not because he took over. But because of how he did it. Like you were a liability. Like you didn’t belong.

You told yourself it was adrenaline. It wasn’t.

The door creaks open behind you, and you don’t have to turn to know it’s him.

You keep your eyes on the mirror—don’t move, don’t breathe—until his reflection comes into focus beside yours.

His eyes go straight to your cheek.

The bruise.

His posture changes. Shoulders tense, mouth tightening. He doesn’t say anything, but the flicker of something behind his eyes is unmistakable. Not surprise. Not guilt.

Anger. Not at you—but at the fact that you’re hurt.

He doesn’t speak. Just leans against the counter. His eyes flick to your cheekbone again. The bruise is deeper now, ugly in the fluorescent light.

“You paused,” he says finally, voice low.

You dry your hands slowly. The paper towel crinkles between your fingers.

You turn, sharp. “I froze because I’ve never had to treat a gunshot wound in a fifteen-year-old while their mother screamed in my ear.”

You don’t stop.

“She was grabbing my sleeves, pulling at my hands, sobbing and shouting his name—over and over. She kept trying to touch his face. I could barely see where the blood was coming from. I wasn’t even sure where to start.”

Jack doesn’t flinch. “That’s what the job is.”

You laugh, and it sounds like it’s clawing its way out of your chest. “Don’t lecture me on what the job is, Jack. I’ve been here three years. I know what this place does to people.”

His jaw tightens. There’s something in his eyes—anger, maybe. Or guilt. You can’t tell with him. You never can.

He pushes off the counter.

“You think I don’t know what it does to people?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Not when he steps closer, the air between you tight enough to snap.

“You think I wanted you in the bay?” he asks.

You blink. “What?”

Jack’s voice dips lower. “I saw your name on the call sheet. I almost pulled you off rotation.”

Your breath hitches. “You don’t get to do that.”

He’s close now—too close. He smells like hospital soap and something else beneath it—deep, expensive cologne that cuts through the sterile air. Teakwood. Mahogany. That warm, slightly spiced scent that always lingers a second too long after he leaves a room. Clean. Controlled. Intentionally chosen. Just like him.

“I don’t want to watch you fall apart,” he says.

Your heart slams. The words hit harder than they should, because they’re the first ones he’s offered that sound like anything real. Not just protocol. Not just war-worn discipline.

“I already have,” you whisper. “And you didn’t notice. Not when I told you how I felt. Not when you shut me down like it meant nothing. Like I meant nothing.”

He swallows hard. His posture stiffens.

“You didn’t even look at me after that,” you say, voice shaking. “I told you I had feelings for you, and you acted like I’d crossed some unspoken line. Like caring about you was a mistake I should be embarrassed by.”

Jack doesn’t say anything.

You shake your head, eyes burning. “For you, it’s easier to pretend this thing—whatever it is between us—doesn’t exist than admit you’re scared of something real.”

You don’t have to spell it out. You’ve seen the way he distances himself—the way he locks things down before anyone even gets close. You’ve felt it.

The silence now is a living thing. Loud. Brutal. The air is laced with too many unsaid things.

You can feel it—beneath the calm, beneath the scrub shirt and military precision—Jack is burning.

But he still doesn’t reach for you.

So you do what you always do.

You leave before he can stop you.

You don’t get far.

The trauma bay doors hiss shut behind you and the night air hits your face like a slap—cool, sharp, soaked in hospital exhaust and rain-soaked concrete. You pace once. Twice. You don’t cry.

You breathe. You think you might scream. Instead, you lean back against the cold exterior wall of the hospital and close your eyes. And there it is—the echo of his voice, thick with something too raw to name.

“I don’t want to watch you fall apart.”

But it wasn’t just tonight that gutted you. It started before. When you said too much and he gave you nothing.

It was three days ago. Late enough that the hospital had gone quiet—the kind of quiet where your thoughts get too loud, and nothing feels safe to admit.

You were both at the nurses’ station. Jack sat at one of the desktops, the screen glowing pale blue in front of him, his fingers motionless on the trackpad. You were across from him, one hand hovering over the keyboard, the other absently toying with a pen.

You’d been circling it for weeks—maybe longer. This thing between you. It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It lived in the quiet, in the unspoken, in the almosts. In the way your skin prickled when he entered a room. The way air shifted when he stood behind you—close, but never touching.

It was in the way his gaze found you during rounds, lingering just a heartbeat too long. The way his voice dipped when he said your name, soft and unreadable—like a secret slipping between his teeth. The way your breath caught when he brushed past you in the hallway, the fabric of his scrubs grazing yours, sending a bolt of something electric down your spine.

It was professional. It had to be. But it never felt neutral.

Every look felt like contact. Every silence, a dare.

The tension wasn’t dramatic. It didn’t need to be. It sat just under the surface—constant, quiet, undeniable. Like gravity. Like something pulling you toward him whether you wanted it or not.

But it wasn’t just you.

Jack watched you, too. Carefully. Deliberately. Like he was trying not to want you and failing anyway. He always looked away too slowly. Cleared his throat when your laugh caught him off guard. Said your name differently than everyone else—lower, rougher, like he was holding it in his mouth too long.

There were moments you caught him looking at you like he was already sorry for it.

Like he knew what it would cost if he gave in.

There were nights you couldn’t sleep without replaying the way his hand brushed yours, or the heat of his body behind you in the elevator, or the flicker of something in his eyes before he shut it down again.

You weren’t supposed to notice.

He wasn’t supposed to let you.

But you did.

And he did.

And both of you kept pretending it wasn’t real—even as it took up more and more space inside your chest.

You hadn’t planned to say anything. You hadn’t rehearsed it. It just… happened.

“I care about you,” you’d said, voice soft but steady. “I’m not trying to ruin anything. I just need you to know.”

Jack didn’t look up. Not at first. He just sat there, shoulders stiff, jaw set like someone had flipped a switch inside him. When he did meet your eyes, it wasn’t with warmth. It was with something colder. Sharper. Like he was bracing for impact.

“This can’t happen,” he’d said. Quiet. Controlled. Like he was reciting a rule he’d memorized a long time ago. “You’re a resident. I’m your attending. You know that.”

You’d nodded, tried to smile, tried to make it easy for him. Tried to act like it didn’t sting.

But he kept going.

“And even if you weren’t… it’s not a good idea.”

He hesitated. Just a second. But enough.

"You don’t know me," he added, eyes hard. "You think you do, but you don’t. You see what I let you see. And that version of me—that's not real."

And then, like he needed to twist the knife just to make sure it stuck :

“Whatever you think this is—I don’t want it. I don’t want you.”

You knew, even as he said it—he didn’t mean it. Not like that. But he wanted it to hurt. Needed it to. Like if he made you hate him, it would make walking away easier. That was the part that stayed with you.

You hadn’t cried then. Not in front of him. You nodded again, eyes dry, throat burning, and told him you understood. But you hadn’t said anything else. Didn’t argue. Didn’t ask him why.

And he hadn’t offered.

Not an apology. Not an explanation.

He hadn’t said a single word to you since—not until today, when his voice finally cut through the chaos to order you off the boy’s chest. Cold. Clinical. Like nothing had ever passed between you at all. Like you were just another resident.

But you’d felt it. In the way he walked into a room and wouldn’t look at you. In the way his voice would hitch when you brushed past. In the way his fists curled tight at his sides, like he wanted to reach for you but refused to let himself.

He was trying to be cold. Trying to keep the line drawn.

And still—still—he’d almost pulled you from trauma rotation tonight.

You open your eyes. The ache in your chest feels ancient. Familiar.

Big love. That’s what it was. The kind that never had a chance to grow, but still bloomed under your skin like it owned you.

And Jack? Jack let it die before it ever had the chance to live.

It’s been a week since Pitt Fest.

The hospital has started to settle into something like normal, but you haven’t. You still flinch when a trauma page comes over the comms. Still hear that mother’s voice, shrill and ragged. Still feel the ghost of Jack’s hand brushing yours when he took over compressions. That wasn’t the moment you broke, but it was the moment you knew you couldn’t pretend anymore.

So tonight, you go out. Against your better judgment.

Whitaker begged you. Santos threatened to show up at your apartment with a bottle of tequila. King and Mohan promised only one drink, just one, come on, you need it. Javadi was supposed to come too, but she bailed last minute—something about studying for boards and not wanting to get caught at another bar underage.

So now it’s the five of you crammed into a booth at this dive bar near the hospital in downtown Pittsburgh, the one with sticky floors and pool tables missing half the balls. The music is too loud, but the company is easy. Whitaker is doing some elaborate retelling of a patient who tried to fake a heart attack to get out of paying his copay. Mohan is crying from laughter. You’re sipping something sweet and strong and trying to let it all melt away.

It’s working.

Until you see him.

Jack.

He’s across the bar, half-shadowed under the neon sign, nursing a beer like he doesn’t want to be seen. But he’s not alone.

Robby’s with him. Of course he is.

They’re leaned in close, not talking much. Just sitting. Watching.

No—he’s watching.

You.

Your drink stills halfway to your mouth. Your stomach twists, not violently, but enough to knock the wind out of you. Jack doesn’t look away. Not immediately. Just holds your gaze like it hurts him. Like it should.

You force yourself to blink, to laugh at something Whitaker says. You pretend your hands aren’t shaking. You pretend you don’t feel your entire body tuning itself to the sound of his silence.

He rejected you. You know that.

But the way he’s looking at you now? It doesn’t feel like rejection.

It feels like longing.

And maybe that’s worse.

You down the rest of your drink in one go. It burns less than it should.

There’s a man at the bar. Mid-forties, maybe older. Salt-and-pepper beard. Expensive watch. He catches your glance and offers a smile that’s a little too polished, a little too practiced—but you return it anyway. Because he’s older. Because he’s sharp-eyed. Because he reminds you, in all the wrong ways, of someone else.

You excuse yourself from the table before anyone can stop you.

You take your drink, your heels, and your broken pride, and you slide onto the stool next to him.

Jack sees. Of course he does.

You make sure he does.

“Can I buy you another?” the man asks, nodding to your empty glass.

You smile. “Yeah. Why not?”

You laugh too easily. Let your shoulder brush his as he leans in. He says something you don’t hear because your pulse is thundering in your ears.

Across the bar, Jack’s jaw is tight. His hand clenches around his beer bottle, the label peeling beneath his thumb.

You tilt your head back and laugh again—this time louder, brighter, crueler.

Because if you’re going to hurt, you want him to feel it too.

And he does.

You can see it in the way he breaks eye contact first.

You can see it in the way Robby says something and Jack doesn’t respond.

You can see it in the way he stands up a minute later, like he can’t stand to watch anymore.

But he doesn’t leave.

He moves.

Across the bar. Slow, deliberate. Controlled rage in every step.

Robby calls after him, eyebrows lifted, confused—but Jack doesn’t answer.

He stops a foot away from you, the stranger mid-sentence, and you feel it before you even look up—heat rolling off of him like a storm about to break.

“Can I talk to you?” Jack says. Voice low. Measured. Barely held together.

You arch an eyebrow, take a long sip of your drink. “Busy.”

The man beside you glances between the two of you, sensing something sharp in the air. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to.

Jack’s eyes are locked on yours. Not the stranger’s. Not anyone else’s.

“You need to come with me,” he says, lower now. “Now.”

And it’s not a command. It’s not even a plea. It’s desperation wrapped in control, fraying at the edges.

You consider refusing. You want to.

But you rise anyway.

And follow him out the door.

The air outside is colder than you expected. Or maybe that’s just him.

Jack doesn’t speak right away. He walks fast—toward the lot behind the bar, where his car is parked beneath a crooked streetlamp. When he finally stops, it’s with his back to you. One hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair. The kind of stillness that comes right before something breaks.

You follow, heart hammering. He turns.

“What the hell was that?”

Your arms fold across your chest. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

His eyes flash. “The guy. The flirting. You were trying to—”

“Trying to what?” you snap. “Move on? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Jack exhales, sharp and uneven. “You don’t get it.”

“No, Jack. I really don’t. You said this couldn’t happen. You told me to forget it, forget you. And then you stare at me like that? Like you’ve got any right to be angry?”

“I’m not angry,” he bites out. “I’m—”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Silence stretches. You can hear the distant music from inside, laughter spilling through the front entrance. But here? It’s just you and him, and everything you haven’t said.

“I didn’t want to do that to you,” he says finally, voice frayed. “Push you away. I just… I didn’t know how else to make it stop.”

Your voice lowers. “Why would you want it to stop?”

He steps forward once. Close, but not touching. His hands stay at his sides like he’s afraid of what will happen if he reaches for you.

“Because it scares the shit out of me,” Jack says. “Because you matter more than you should. And because I don’t trust myself not to fuck that up.”

Your heart twists. “So instead you say things to make me hate you?”

“I thought if you hated me, it would be easier for both of us.”

You laugh—soft, bitter. “It’s not.”

His voice breaks. “I know.”

You look at him. Really look at him. There’s pain there—old and festering. The kind that has nothing to do with you and everything to do with whatever he’s been dragging behind him since the war, since before.

You take a breath. “So what now?”

Jack steps even closer. You can feel the heat of him again. His eyes drop to your mouth, then snap back up like he’s furious with himself for even looking.

“You came out here,” you say.

“I didn’t want to watch someone else touch you,” he admits.

“Then don’t make me someone you can’t have.”

There’s a beat.

And then he’s kissing you.

Rough. Desperate. Like he’s been holding it in for years and it’s finally breaking loose. You answer it without hesitation, fisting your hands in his shirt, dragging him down like you’re daring him to finally stop pretending.

He presses you back against the car, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your waist like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His mouth is on yours—hungry, ragged—like if he slows down, this will disappear.

“Back seat,” he growls. His voice scrapes through your chest.

He opens the rear door behind you, hand never leaving your hip, guiding you with him. You climb in first, crawling across the backseat with your heart in your throat. By the time you turn, he’s already sliding in after you, pulling the door shut behind him with a solid, final thud.

He grabs your face with both hands and kisses you again, harder this time, like his life depends on it. You climb into his lap, straddling him now, knees on either side of his thighs, your bodies pressed close and flushed with heat. He shoves your coat off your shoulders, pushes your shirt up. You tug his top over his head and toss it somewhere in the car.

“God,” he mutters, eyes raking over you. “You’ve been driving me insane.”

“Then do something about it.”

He does.

He unhooks your bra with one hand—like muscle memory—his mouth already on your chest, teeth and tongue working in tandem. His other hand splays across your lower back, holding you close as your hips grind down into his.

You’re panting. He’s shaking.

You reach between you, working open his belt, and feel him throb beneath the fabric. Jack shudders when your hand slips inside, groaning low into your skin.

“Wallet,” he mutters against your neck, voice breathless. “Inside pocket.”

You grab it. Your fingers move fast, practiced by adrenaline. You find the condom tucked there, tear it open, and hand it to him. His eyes meet yours as he rolls it on—slow, deliberate. Controlled, even now.

You brace yourself on his shoulders and lower down onto him, taking him inch by inch until he’s seated fully inside you.

The stretch burns in the best way. You gasp. He swears.

You don’t move. Not yet.

He kisses your jaw, your collarbone. Holds your hips steady with both hands like he’s savoring the feel of you. And when you start to move—hips rolling slow and deep—he leans his head back and groans your name like it’s the only word he knows.

“You feel—fuck, you feel like heaven,” he breathes.

You ride him hard, your rhythm building, mouths colliding again and again between moans. His grip bruises your thighs as he thrusts up to meet every movement, his control slipping with every second you stay on top of him.

Then suddenly—he shifts.

His arms wrap under your thighs, and in one smooth, powerful motion, he lifts you.

You gasp as he turns, guiding you onto your back across the seat. He stays inside you the whole time, never letting go, until your back hits the cool leather and he’s towering over you, braced between your legs.

“You okay?” he asks, breath ragged.

You nod, already whining for more.

Then he starts to move again—deep, relentless, rocking the car with every thrust.

He shifts, bracing one hand beneath your thigh to push your leg higher, opening you up to take him deeper. The angle hits something devastating—you cry out, fingers clutching at his shoulders.

Jack leans down, mouth hot at your neck, breath ragged.

“You’re mine,” he says, voice cracked and raw. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasp. “I’m yours, Jack.”

His hand slides down your side, gripping your hip for leverage—then slips between your bodies. His fingers find your clit and start to circle, firm and focused, his pace never faltering.

It sends you over the edge.

You break apart beneath him—back arching, thighs trembling, his name ripped from your mouth like a prayer you didn’t know you were saying.

You’re still shaking when he comes—groaning into your shoulder, his rhythm faltering as he buries himself deep one last time and lets go.

Afterward, you don’t speak right away.

You’re tangled together. His chest is against yours. His arms still hold you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he loosens his grip. Your heartbeat stutters beneath his palm. The windows are fogged, the car soaked in heat and the weight of everything that just happened.

You stroke a hand through the back of his hair, calming him more than you.

Finally, he shifts, settling beside you, your body still half-curled on top of him.

And quietly, you say:

“I followed you out because I thought you were going to leave again.”

He freezes.

You feel his breath catch against your shoulder.

“You left once,” you say. “After I told you how I felt. You didn’t look at me. Didn’t say anything. Just made it clear I’d imagined all of it. And tonight? I thought you were about to do it again.”

His voice is tight when he finally speaks.

“I almost did.”

You nod slowly. “Why didn’t you?”

Jack exhales hard. “Because I saw you with him, and I knew—if I walked away again, I wouldn’t just lose you. I’d be choosing to.”

He turns your face toward him.

“And I couldn’t live with that.”

You search his expression. His hand brushes a strand of hair from your face, and then settles on your cheek.

“I tried to kill it,” he says. “Tried to convince myself it wasn’t real. But it is. And it’s too big to ignore.”

“Big love,” you whisper.

He nods. “Yeah. The kind that burns everything else down.”

You press your forehead to his.

“I waited. Through all of it—every time you pretended you didn’t feel this, too.”

His eyes close. Like the truth hurts more than anything else tonight.

“I don’t know how to want you without wanting all of it,” he admits.

And you don’t need him to explain what all of it means.

The chaos. The risk. The weight.

You nod. “Good. Because I don’t want halfway.”

He leans in—presses a kiss to your cheek, then your lips, soft now. Careful.

And finally—finally—he says, “Then I won’t run anymore.”

You believe him.

But only because Big Love doesn’t let you run.

It lives. Loud. Messy. Permanent.

And tonight, in the heat of a parked car, Jack finally lets it have him.

[eddiesfaerie]

who you let in

Summary: Jack has a soft spot. He didn't expect you to be the one to find it. (6.9k words) read on ao3 here

Pairing: Jack Abbot x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, porn with plot (the storyteller within me can't help it), unspecified age gap, hurt/comfort for both of them LOL, canon typical gore? medical stuff? idk, panic attacks, trauma, angst, power dynamics (reader's a med student), suicidal ideation, Jack being flustered, oral (m receiving because he needs it), big dick Jack, fingering, rushed sex despite how long this fic is i'm sorry, unprotected PIV sex, Jack's sort of a soft dom, semi-public sex, praise kink, competency kink, lots of fleshy bodily words in here to describe lust idk

AAAAA i just spent all day writing this yes i'm embarrassed <3 also haven't posted my writing in like actual years at this point.... anyways be nice to me

It’s unlike you, Jack thinks to himself, to look so out of it. 

GSW to the chest. A young girl in her early twenties maybe. She’s lost a lot of blood. Her blonde hair somehow already matted with it, so much so that she could pass as a natural brunette. It’s gone dark with oxygen and coagulation. 

Your team huddles around her, as do the other units around the dozens and dozens of gurneys being brought in one after the other, unrelenting and without promise to end soon. 

All protocols you’ve learned in the last year are out the window. Disregarded for the mass casualty event that was PittFest. None of the residents had ever seen anything like this, you’d never seen anything like this. This was the most action you’d ever witnessed and suddenly you felt like there was a balloon in your own chest, compressing air flow or blood flow or something to your head. 

All the blood, the smell of metal inescapable no matter which section of the ER you were suddenly rushed to. 

Your knees go weak, they shake, your hands shake. Everything’s wrong- 

“She’s going white Abbot pull her out.” 

You hear your attending huff from right behind you before his hand finds your bicep, curling around it and pulling you from where you leaned over the patient. You can hardly protest, your mind elsewhere and your feet blindly follow Dr Abbot who leads you to the family room. 

“Robby I need you to cover over on the GSW to the chest for a sec.” He calls over, his voice ringing in your ears, your mind trying to focus on one single thing but everything’s registering all at once. His hand on your arm, all the beeping, the cries of agony, tubes being intubated and balloons being puffed into chests. It all seems a lot further away when Abbot closes the door. 

You never thought you were particularly his favourite. You’re much younger and typically too upbeat. You clash naturally, he’s not drawn to you and you’re not drawn to him.

Dr Abbot is unafraid of correcting you in front of your peers. After a year now of him being your attending you’ve become familiar with his ways but that doesn’t mean you’re any more appreciative of the public humiliations.

There’s something about these older ex military men, the ones who joined too young and have been in the system ever since, climbing up and up the ranks, hardening at each level to a point where disassociation is expected. Hold it in, hold it together. There’s is no I in team. All for one and one for all. All that bullshit. 

Dr Abbot wasn’t really that guy to a T but hell was he uncrackable, unshakeable, hard as stone. No doubt it’s helped him here in the ER, you’ve never seen someone as laser focused and capable as Dr Abbot. It’s almost effortless for him, it seems. Like he doesn’t have to think twice about anything. His confidence is unmatched and you’d always admired that, no matter how much you thought he disliked you. So yeah it was kind of surprising when he was the one to pull you away for a time out. 

Jack never meant to become so attuned to you. He didn’t do it on purpose. He blames it on being your attending for a while now, he’s worked with you the closet over this past year and he knows how you work, how you operate. He didn’t mean to but it happened. He feels like he can read you like an open book, you wear your emotions on your sleeve, on your face. You’ve never been one to conceal how you were feeling, unlike him. So when you stopped talking, stopped making little remarks and little jokes, nearly frozen and clearly dissociating, he knew what was happening long before the resident called for you to be pulled out. He wanted to give you a moment to bounce back as you usually do. 

Dr Abbot closes the curtain to the family room, shutting the door. He turns around and finds you still awkwardly standing there, eyes far off, elsewhere. He had expected you to take a seat immediately, he doesn’t know what you’re still doing up considering how close you look to collapsing. 

“S-sorry I don’t know what’s happening, I-” You stammer, embarrassed yet not in control of whatever’s taking over your mind and body. 

“Hey, hey stay with me, kid. Don’t go to that place.”

Abbot puts his hand softly on the middle of your back, guiding you to the chair. You sit down reluctantly, unable to move your body in a coordinated way for some reason. He kneels in front of you, groaning as he goes down and his knees cracking. 

“Listen, don’t tell anyone but I’ve had my fair share of panic attacks, okay?”

“Is that- is that what’s happening?” You ask dumbly, squeezing your eyes shut. You suddenly feel dizzy. Not enough oxygen to the brain.

“How does your chest feel? Can you breathe?” 

“I feel like I can’t.” 

“Then yeah, that’s what’s happening.” 

Your lip wobbles despite how much you’re still trying to hold it together, that much Abbot can tell. You’re fighting like hell against this panic attack which might only threaten to make things worse. He grabs your hand in his, squeezing lightly. You’re barely able to return it. 

“What are five things you can see?”

“W-What?” You sniffle.

“Tell me five things you can see, come on.” He squeezes your hand again, reassuringly. 

You try to take a deep breath but your diaphragm spasms and it comes in all shaky, causing you to hiccup like a child. 

“Y-you.”

Against all odds, Dr Abbot smiles. Incredibly small but you see it. 

“That’s right. What else?”

You try to take a deep breath again. “Uh, the paintings on the wall.”

Abbot nods. You continue. 

“The curtains. The chairs. The door.”

“Good. That’s good. What about four things you can touch?”

“Your hand.” You say most obviously, since he’s still holding your clammy hand in his. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so shaken up. 

Dr Abbot squeezes your hand again and this time you squeeze back, a silent thank you of sorts. 

“Um, my scrubs, my hair on my neck, the wind from the fan.” 

“Okay, now three things you can hear.” 

“Your voice.” Dr Abbot chuckles, like he was expecting it. 

“Sure.” He nods.

“You’re breathing.” You take a deep breath now, as if it reminded you. Abbot breathes deeply with you. 

You try to motion lazily to the door, “The doctors outside, I can hear them talking.”

“That’s right, and they’re being pretty loud, aren't they?” He tries to joke, to lighten the mood. 

You nod your head, yeah. 

“What about two things you can smell?”

You go to open your mouth but Abbot cuts you off again. 

“And don’t say me, we’re about an hour into this shift and I know I’m not smelling too pretty right now.” 

You laugh, you actually giggle a bit, albeit a bit breathless, your body still trying to catch up to your more relaxed mind. Jack smiles. 

“I can smell metal and disinfectant.” 

“Okay and one thing you can taste.” 

Your cheeks burn a bit. You know it doesn’t mean anything but when you started each sentence with something relating to him… You can’t help but think. 

“My stale gum.” 

Jack chuckles a bit, shaking his head. What were you doing with mouth in your gum. It’s not allowed on shift but everything had started so suddenly you hadn’t had a moment to toss it and you got scared on choking on it if you swallowed it. 

Abbot clicks his tongue at you in disapproval, holding out his open hand near your mouth. You look at him confused, but he just gestures to his outreached hand. 

“Spit it out, let’s go get you a new one, hmm?” 

Your face burns again, but you do what he says for some reason. 

Because he asked. 

He closes his palm around your gum for a moment before easily tossing it into the trash can in the corner of the room. 

Dr Abbot stands back up, knees cracking again. He helps you up, holding your elbows in each of his hands. You’re still a little wobbly, weak in the knees from your body’s sudden breakdown. You haven’t yet regained all your strength. 

You try to steady yourself, your hands gripping his forearms, trying to concentrate on the strength of him holding you up. 

You suddenly feel oddly close to him. Not just physically seeing as how close you two are standing but in the air, it feels like something’s shifted, like something’s irreparably been changed between you two. He’s just seen you at your most vulnerable, talked you through your first panic attack and even admitted to having experienced them himself. How many people in the ER can say they know that much about Dr Jack Abbot. 

Maybe you’re just over analyzing what’s transpired. 

“How you feeling?” His voice sounds out and you realize you had your eyes squeezed shut, when you open them Jack’s peering down at you, trying to give you the softest look he can muster. 

“I’m okay.” 

“Yeah? You don’t have to be.” You shake your head no. 

“No, no I’m good. Promise.”

“I’ve got my best med student back?”

You can’t help but look at him quizzically, laughing a little. 

“I don’t think I’m your best med student but sure, I’m back.” 

“Come on, take the compliment.” He quips and it surprises you. You didn’t think he’d press your objections. 

“I actually thought you-” Hated me, you want to say.

“I know.”

Oh. 

“I know I’m hard on you. But I only do it because I know you can take it. I think it makes you better.”

Your lips go into a hard line, you nod. Right….

“I mean, it doesn’t hurt to be told I’m doing good every now and then. I do think I’m tough, you’re right, but I don’t know… I like this side of you.” You admit before you can stop yourself. 

Now it’s Jack’s turn to blush. His cheeks go red in that boyish way and it blossoms all the way to the tips of his ears. Your heart leaps a bit. 

If you weren’t back to yourself before, you were now. You’re suddenly very aware of how close you’re standing even though you’ve both let go of each other. It was sobering. 

“Alright kid, as long as you don’t tell anyone.” He winks. 

You burn. 

“Promise.”

/

Things did, in fact, change after that.

Dr Abbot pulls you for huddles, just you and him now for feedback, no longer doing it in front of the other med students, doctors or attendees.

You stand closer to him, he stands closer to you in general. 

He’s not afraid to grab your hand and stop you from doing something. Or start something. The amount of times he’s guided you through a procedure you’d never done before with his steady hadn’t engulfing yours, guiding a blade smoothly through a patients skin or a thin tube through an incredibly small incision. 

You wondered if anyone noticed. If anyone had become attune to the fact that you followed each other around like each other’s shadows. Never one without the other. You could see Princess and Perlah whispering to each other whenever you stood close to Dr Abbot, you couldn’t help but smile at the fact that at least someone noticed how he’d picked you as his favourite and warmed up to you. It made you feel special, all girlish and giggly even though it absolutely shouldn’t. 

A new unusual sound had started to fill the ER. Jack Abbot’s laughter, even quiet giggles fuelled by none other than you. Not even Robby, once his rival now best friend in the ER, could get that sound out of him as often as you do. 

Jack gets you sandwiches, juice boxes from the cafeteria when you look particularly out of it or if the moment granted a quick escape for food. He’d find a chocolate bar or anything to perk you up on days where you weren’t doing so hot, or had a particularly anguishing patient. Death was inescapable in the ER, everyone knew that but not everyone handled it well, it didn’t matter how well versed or experienced you were in the medical industry. 

Not even Jack himself. 

The night shift was now coming to a close, meaning the clock was close to striking 7am. That awkward time before the day shift shows up and the night team goes home to sleep through the day, all to start again in 12 hours. 

It was weird working in the off hours, you felt like a vampire or a bat, you thought to yourself as you climbed the steps to the roof, trying to find Jack. You knew him well now, and you know where he goes to run away when he can’t handle the weight of the shift anymore. 

You open the door, it creaked open annoyingly loud, announcing you rather ungraciously. 

Jack drops his head low at the sound of the door opening. He knew it was you coming to find him. He leans back against the railing behind him. 

“What are you doing up here?” He asks, calling out to you without turning his head. The wind carries the sound of his voice to you. 

The sun is threatening to come up over the city line, light only beginning to spill upwards into the sky, painting the clouds all pretty shades of light blue, pink and orange. You struggle to take in the beauty due to the night that just transpired. 

The vet hit and run. It was a hard one on Jack. He’d known guys like that in the military. They seemed untouchable, surviving tour after tour. It was never easy to watch one go, especially the ones that made it home and get taken out in some seemingly avoidable way. 

Some church bell tolls in the distance. You approach him, unsure how to answer what you’re doing up here. Checking on you, wanting to make sure you’re okay, everyone’s worried but the reality was no one batted an eye at him escaping after spending the last two hours coding this guy into the system. This was how Jack operated. Disassociate, dissociate until he couldn’t anymore and his feet carried him up to the roof. Contemplating. 

So you don’t say anything, you just stand behind him. 

Jack’s skin looks golden up here. The light passing through his curls, catching the greys. Your heart tightens. 

“It’s always a rough way to end the night.” You offer, unsure of what else to say. 

“I must’ve had a reason at one time to keep coming back but… I can’t think of it right now.” Jack grips onto the railing, leaning forward and looking down below him. 

You instinctively reach out to him, your hand going for his bicep, it’s closest to you. Despite the cool early morning air, his skin was still hot to the touch, still coming down from what had just gone down in the ER room. 

“Jack…” You can’t help but sigh, silently pleading with him to stop. 

His head turns, dark eyes meeting yours. God he looks so sad, a man worn down. 

And you realize you’ve never called him by just his name. Just Jack. 

“D-Dr Abbot, I mean- sorry.” 

He doesn’t correct you. He doesn’t particularly care right now. And the way you said it makes his heart tight like your hand is on his arm. Palms clammy with being so high up and so close to a ledge. You never liked heights and you hate that he’s always flirted with them. 

He clicks his tongue, sighing before crouching down and reeling himself back over to your side of the railing. You sigh in relief, you hadn’t realized you were holding your breath. 

Jack is completely distraught. He looks wrecked, broken. 

Your hand still on his arm, he comes to face you, standing so close but you can’t find it in you to step away from him, not when he’s like this. 

Jack drops his forehead to your shoulder, you try not to freeze up at the sudden extreme closeness.

“Are you okay?” You ask dumbly, voice gone quiet because of how close he is. Your lips ghost over the shell of his ear, plush flesh on soft cartilage. Jack shivers, turning his head slightly and his nose pushes into your neck. 

What else is there to say to such a quiet man, lost in his own solitude of reflection. 

“No.” He says simply, plainly. 

Your heart aches for him. 

Your hand is still on his arm, you flatten it and trail it up to his shoulder, squeezing him there. 

He presses himself closer to you. You hold your breath, your heart threatening to leap up out of your throat. You swear he must feel it beating through his own chest. You think you can feel his. 

He trails his nose along your neck, up your ear. You can feel that subtle white beard that carves the angles of his face so sharply, so perfectly, colour so soft and white it nearly blends into his skin seamlessly. They catch at your skin in that scratchy way and its almost too much. 

His hands, they move and suddenly they’re on your waist, sliding around the circumference of you until he’s enveloped you in his strong arms. You can feel how sturdy he is, how solid and strong from years of exertion and force and yet you feel like you could blow away at any moment. This cannot be real. You can smell his hair, the remnants of his cologne peaking through the smell of antiseptic and disinfectant. You can smell him. 

He knows this shouldn’t really be happening. You both do. You’re both very much aware of that fact. Even though its just a hug its just a hug. Jack had been aware of it ever since that day in the family room when he first worried about you. Because that’s what friends do… they worry about each other, right? Friends….

Jack lets his nose travel higher, along your hairline behind your ear, relishing in the closeness of  another living, breathing human being. Warm flesh against flesh, closeness of muscles and organs. Hearts, beating. When was the last time this happened? When was the last time he let his walls down like this? You both wondered. 

“I’m sorry.” He offers lamely, voice quiet and matching yours. He tries to pull away from you but his body doesn’t get the memo, he stills clings to you. He’s afraid of what would happen if he were to let go now. Surely he’d crumble into nothing off this roof. 

He moves his head, nose against your cheek as your hands move to his chest, bunching up the fabric of his shirt in your palms. You don’t want him away either. You need him close, suddenly very close. Despite your breathlessness at the closeness, you think you’d stop breathing if he were to pull away now. You wouldn’t bear it. 

You shake your head no, “Don’t be.” You reassure him, voice still quiet. 

Something posses you and you nudge your nose with his, Jack sighs loudly, arms tightening around you and you sigh too. Your mouth opens in an innocent way, trying to get more oxygen to your brain. But you can feel his breath on yours, feel it fanning against your lips and you lean closer, pushing your nose into his again and he has to use every iota of strength within him to not lunge into you. 

This shouldn’t be happening, he reiterates to himself. All the alarms are going off in his head. He shouldn’t be touching you like this, he shouldn’t have grabbed you, you shouldn’t be letting him. You could both get in serious trouble for this. 

But you fist at his shirt, hands trembling against his chest, feeling him, muscles under supple flesh. Your lips part, small breath fanning against his lips and he breaks. He’s just a man. 

Jack presses his open mouth to yours, and you let him again for a reason he doesn’t quite understand. It’s sloppy in a desperate way, passionate and sad. You could cry if you weren’t so wrapped up in the feel of being completely encompassed by him, his soft lips on yours. 

You open your mouth wider, your hands moving from his chest to wrap your arms completely around his neck, hauling his body into yours as if you couldn’t get any closer. You wanted to meld into him. Bone fusing to bone. You let your tongue poke out and suddenly he’s right there with you, his tongue going as far into your mouth as it possibly can, trying to get to every inch of you. Jack whines and you burn at the pathetic sound. A grown man, whimpering for you. Your knees threaten to buckle. 

His body flush with yours, you can’t help but feel how his body reacts to you. Hard and solid against your hip, your leg as your bodies writhe against the other, pleading to get closer. 

“Jack,” you whimper into his mouth, unsure, testing. 

Jack lets his lips travel to the corner of your mouth, kissing every inch of you that he possibly can, your teeth as you say his name, your cheek, earlobe, the spot underneath your ear. 

“Tell me to stop.” He groans, hands moving back to their spot on your waist, trailing down to your hips where he grinds you against him, making that aching part of him known. 

You whimper again, eyes threatening to roll into the back of your head like the sun threatens to come over that edge and catch you both where you ought not to be. 

“I don’t want you to stop.” You admit, face burning even though you’re both as debauched and pathetic sounding as the other.

Boldly, you let one hand travel down from his neck, down his body to softly touch in between his legs, feeling where he’s hard, aching between his legs. He groans again, this time absolutely pained, his forehead dropping to yours. 

“W-We shouldn’t be doing this.” He admits, like you both don’t know that already. He’s practically begging you to give him a reason to stop this now, even though he knows he’s already too far gone to do anything at this point. You’re too warm, too welcoming and soft and willing. Salvation. 

“Especially not here.” You manage to laugh a little. Suddenly you pull away from Jack and he thinks that’s it, you’re calling it. His instincts propel him to check his watch to check the time. T.O.D. Time of death. He’s being dramatic. 

You pull him to the opening of the stairwell, creaking open that squeaky door once again and you lightly press him against the wall furthest away from the stairs.

It’s an enclosed space, a room up on the roof. You have to open another door to get to the stairs which lead all the way down to the ER, blocked by another set of doors. If someone were to go into the stairway, you’d hear them from a mile away. At least that’s what you hoped.

Jack let’s you move him, lets you press your body against his and kiss his tanned, freckled neck. Your hand finds its spot on his crotch, feeling him through his pants. God he hasn’t gone down an inch. He feels huge, painfully hard. You can’t believe you’re feeling him like this. You can’t believe The Jack Abbot is letting this happen, you can’t believe he wants it. With you. 

“Can I?” You ask, already lowering yourself to your knees. 

Jack just looks at you in complete and utter disbelief, mouth agape as he watches you get down on your knees, pressing your face to his clothed dick, kissing him through the fabric. Kill me now, he thinks. If anyone were to find you both like this… 

He feels like a dirty old man as you pull his cock from his pants, watching it spring up and slap his belly with wide eyes, like you need it, like you’re suddenly starving. 

His cock is huge. You don’t know what you expected but it wasn’t this. You try not to look frightened by it, by the prospect of shoving it into your mouth and hopefully, your cunt. 

He’s your attendee, you try not to think about that. Try not to think about how you’re his subordinate and he’s so much older than you, experienced, well versed. This is all completely wrong, incredibly fucked up but fuck if it doesn’t turn the both of you on just a little more in the worst way. 

His dick is hot in your hand, skin like silk and you salivate at the pure sight of it. You look up at him, his face flushed all the way up to his ears and down to what you can see of his chest poking out through the small v in his shirt. Skin on fire. 

You give him a sort of inquisitive look and he realizes he never answered you. You looking up at him with those big, needy eyes. He can only bring himself to nod his head, at a lost for words. 

You smile up at him, hand already gliding up and down his thick length. Jack hisses at the near foreign sensation, in this moment he can’t bring himself to remember the last time this happened, let alone a time when it wasn’t his own hand. Yours is much smaller, more delicate than his, you can barely wrap it around the entirety of him and suddenly he feels dizzy. 

You lean forward, kissing the tip of him and he squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, they open and close into fists at his sides. God does he want to touch you, to have you let him take what he wants but he’s afraid. Afraid of over stepping, afraid of scaring you. 

Suddenly you’re opening your mouth and kissing at the head of him, licking at his slit, collecting whatever’s pooled there and humming to yourself at the taste. You’re worried you’ll become addicted to this.

More of him slides into your mouth, all the way until he’s hitting the back of your throat. Suddenly his hands are flying to the side of your head, holding you there. His eyes open and he looks down at you, eyes intense, mouth set into a hardline like he’s barely hanging by a thread. You make eye contact with him and he groans, loud. You’ve only ever seen him like this leaned over a patient, intense focus, blinders on to anything except the task at hand. But this time its you. Your pussy throbs. 

Jack let’s himself thrust into your mouth a couple of times, eyes squeezed shut again, head leaned back against the wall behind him in complete surrender to you and your mouth. He says your name so broken, like its the only thing he can remember, the only thing keeping him grounded. 

You wonder if he’ll let you fuck him. 

A few more thrusts and suddenly Jack is pulling you off of him, looking back down at you again and hauling you back up to your feet. You give him the saddest eyes and he swears his heart breaks. 

“I’m- I was gonna cum if you kept that up.” He sort of laughs to himself. Jack’s never felt more out of practice than he does now, pants down around his ankles, cock heavy and begging still in your hand, and a young, pretty girl looking at him with wet eyes, hungry for him. 

What did he do in a past life to deserve this? 

“That was kind of the idea.” You smile, bitting your lip and your hand continues to move up and down on his aching length. 

Back face to face now, Jack can’t believe he has you like this, lips plump and swollen with exertion and slick with spit. Your eyes are dark with greed, hunger for something else. He never though this would happen, not between the two of you. Not that he ever explicitly thought about it but there were moments of weakness. Moments where he let his mind wander as he held your hand in his, guiding you through a procedure, noticing your body and its proximity, its warmth, that girlish smell you carry around you. You’ve always been intoxicating, a temptation just begging to be indulged in. Had he mentioned how wrong he thought all of this was?

“Jack?” You ask, pulling him out of this thoughts. 

“Hmmm?” He basically slurs, distracted by the continuous movements of your hand on his cock, it was on the verge of turning painful. 

“I asked you if you’re gonna fuck me.” You ask, devilish grin plastered on your face like you’re the cat who got the fucking cream. Or is at least trying to.

Jack lets out a broken laugh, voice cracking from your particularly harsh grip on him. 

“Is that- Is that what you came up to the roof for?” He jokes but suddenly you think he’s being serious. 

You worry thats all you thought of him, of this. A quick fuck, a need for release, a need to forget what happened tonight. 

“No, Jack that’s not- I swear-” You struggle to find your words. 

Jack smiles at you, it alleviates some of your worries. His hand moves and finds the waist band of your pants, he shoves it down until he’s cupping your sex. You gasp, his hand hot, feeling your hotter core and whats embarrassingly seeped out of you ever since you pulled him from the railing. 

Jack clicks his tongue at you, like he always does. 

“Yeah, I bet you want me to fuck you, alright. You’re soaking for it.” 

Oh fuck. 

You whimper, leaning easy into his touch, letting him feel you. 

“Fuck, baby.” He groans, his fingers gliding easy through your glossy folds, playing around in the mess you made. Its embarrassing. So much so that you almost miss him calling you baby. 

Jack doesn’t fight the temptation long, no matter how much he wants to tease you about it. His two fingers find your hole and push in steadily, afraid to hurt you. You gasp, body falling into his, letting him hold you with his other arm. Your hand on his cock stutters but is determined to keep pleasuring him. 

You moan when he pushes his fingers all the way in, crooking them to press up against that spongey spot inside of you, your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head. 

“Fuck-” You choke, head heavy on his shoulder, your lips grazing his neck as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, switching it up between that and toying with that fucking spot inside of you. 

“Jack, I’m-”

“Oh I bet you are.” He chides and you burn. 

This could have been so humiliating if you chose it to be. How quickly you folded for him, how badly and desperately you needed him. As if he hadn’t folded just as quickly, if not faster, for you. 

Suddenly his fingers are ripped from your core and he’s ripping your pants down along with your underwear. You step out of them quickly, letting him manhandle you around to get you were you wants you. 

“Look at you listening to me so easily now.” Jack remarks, turning you around and pushing you up against the wall. 

“I always listen to you.” You admit, voice breathless and breaking and sounding completely debauched. 

You feel him step in to your space, you arch your back instinctively and Jack basically purrs all soft for you. You feel the head of his cock at your entrance, threatening your folds. You whimper, shiver. You try to push into him but his hand flies to your neck, holding you still where you are. 

He leans over your back, rucking your shirt up with the hand that was holding his dick. He hadn’t meant for this to happen like this, all dirty and rushed and in his fucking workplace. He thinks about the rest of you, hidden under your scrubs, how he’d kiss every inch. Maybe that was for another time. Hopefully. 

“I know you do.” He praises, kissing the back of your neck and pushing into cunt in the same breath. You both groan way too loudly, pure relief coming over the both of you. 

Jack breaches you slowly, he knows he’s big. He’s not even being any type of way about it, he just knows its a lot from past…. flings. But God do you take him like a champ. You push your hips back into his, needing him to fill you completely you’re fucking whimpering for it. 

But Jack’s still got his hold on you, pinning you down so he can work you onto his cock slowly, at his own pace. He’s in control here. 

You both moan again once he reaches the end of you, fully seated in your velvety pussy. His head falls onto your back, his arms wrapping around you to hold you to him, anything to get closer. You scramble to gain purchase on anything, the wall, his strong arms, anything. You feel dizzy, you feel full, you feel drunk. 

“Always so good for me. Such a good girl” He moans, hips pulling back to just thrust back in punishingly. It punches a moan out from your gut. 

You nod your head, unable to speak. I try to be good, I try to be.

Jack doesn’t wait, this has to be quick anyways, you both have been gone for far too long, he’s suddenly reminded that the day shift will be showing up in a matter of minutes and God knows Robby will be looking for him up here. His dick throbs at the thought of being caught balls deep inside of you, his little med student. 

He pulls you back by the ass to meet his hips, pumping himself in and out of your creamy pussy at a brutal pace, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head. He says your name, you’ve never heard him say a name quite like that and it breaks you. 

“I-Is this good?” He asks, trying to be sexy but it comes out broken, desperate and pathetic.

You nod your head frantically again, trying to turn your head to look at him and Jack’s heart soars at the sight. Your pupils blown black, eyes big and watery from the feel of his cock filling you up to the absolute brim, hair matted to your sweaty forehead. He wants to lick the sweat from you. Next time, next time. 

Jack leans closer, kissing you on the open mouth and you moan debauchedly into him. As he moved closer to you to keep kissing you it pushed his cock that much further into you, his hips grinding into your ass and his cock into the absolute end of you. You can barely keep yourself standing, you’re thankful for Jack’s strength keeping you up, you could’ve had both feet off the ground and you’d have no idea. 

His cock pummels into you, moan after moan being punched from your chest, your gut, the deepest part of you. 

You whimper into his mouth at his sweet kisses in contrast with his harsh thrusts, it was enough to make your head spin, your pussy clench, threatening to burst. 

“Tell me it’s good, need you to say it for me.” 

“S-So good, Jack. You feel-”

“Yeah?” 

You cry, you think a lone tear falls from your eye and maybe Jack kisses it away or licks it but his cock doesn’t stop and suddenly you’re cumming, completely surrendering your body to his. You shudder and twitch and your pussy squeezes his dick so tight he nearly sees stars, it takes everything in him to not blow his load inside of you in that instant. 

That would be bad, that would be really bad, that would be messy and irresponsible and fuck he’s not wearing a condom how could you both have been so stupid and drunk off each other to not grab a condom. It’s not like you have them in your scrubs but theres a dispenser in the bathroom and - 

“Jack please,” You beg, voice so small and worn out. Your hand reaches out behind you, grabbing for him and suddenly he’s pulled back to the very real reality where he is fucking the shit out of you and he’s about to cum about it. 

“Please what?” He asks, needing to hear you say it. 

“Need you- need you to cum for me. Please Jack.” 

Fuck, he doesn’t want this to be over, he needs this to go on forever, needs you to suddenly be his salvation, he’s not quite sure how he’s gone on this long without you but he knows he can’t go forward without it. 

Jack’s body tenses, his cock somehow gets impossibly harder, you feel it thicken inside of you and you moan again, another orgasm threatening to rip through you. 

But suddenly he’s pulling himself out of your greedy hole, his voice breaking as he spills himself onto the concrete floor beneath the both of you. Your cunt pulses, desperate to have him fill you again. Before you can protest his fingers lunge up into your abused hole again and he grating at that spot inside of you, the one that has you seeing stars. 

“Need another one, yeah?”

“Jack- fuck!” It complete takes over you. 

Somehow without having to even tell him, he felt the way your pussy spasmed and cried around him right before he pulled out, he knew you were close to cumming again. And ever the gentleman he is, he’s going to give you another one. 

He’s unrelenting, just like he was with his cock. His two fingers crook up against that spot again and suddenly you’re seeing stars. 

Jack’s arm wraps around the front of your shoulders, hauling your back straight against his chest, holding your trembling body to his. You can feel his slowly softening cock against your lower back, cum still dripping from it onto your ass. 

“Do it, please.” He begs of you this time, the muscles in both arms trembling from his own orgasm. 

Jack feels your pussy spasm again, feels the way your chest quickens its breathes, the way your feet nearly kick out from under you with the strength of it all and your cumming on his hand, your eyes going black and blind from the force of it. 

You slump back against him, letting him hold you once again. Jack wraps both his arms around you, swinging you around so that his back is pressed against the wall so he can lean on something. You both try to catch your breath, clinging to each other with leftover desperation. 

Greedily, he lets a hand swipe through your abused folds, collecting what you’ve given him. You whimper, leaning your head back to hide it in his neck, embarrassed. 

“Jack,” you whine in a pathetic attempt at protesting. 

He clicks his tongue at you, “Let me.” He tells you, plainly. 

His fingers linger, scooping up what he can and bringing it to his lips. He licks everything, groaning at the taste and letting his eyes close. You whine, pushing your face further into his neck, smelling him. He smells manly, like sweat, cologne and sex. You let it envelop you. 

Jack holds you like that for as long as he humanly can. Before the thoughts of getting caught inevitably come crashing down upon him again. 

“We have to move, kid. Can’t stay like this forever.” He tells you in a sad tone. You press a final kiss to his neck, breathing him in before pulling away. 

“I know.” 

You both pull yourselves back together. Jack puts his own pants back on as he watches you pull your underwear on slowly. Mindlessly, he reaches for your pants and holds them out for you. You put your hands on his shoulders while you step into them. 

“Thank you.” You tell him, voice gone quiet again, like you already have to be hush hush about this. 

Jack kisses the top of your head sweetly. You wonder what’s to come after this. You look up at him and he gives you that slick side smile you’ve only seen him throw Robby or Dana. 

“Didn’t know you could make noises like that.” He smiles and you push him back against the wall you were both just fucking up against, your face absolutely burning. This motherfucker likes making fun of you. 

“Jack I swear to God-”

He grabs you and kisses you again, holding your face to his. You let him kiss you, fighting the want to just melt back into him and stay here. 

Jack pulls away first. His anxiety getting the best of him. 

“Can I drive you home?” He asks, unsure of what else to say. He needs to get you out of the workplace and have a normal fucking conversation with you that doesn’t revolve around grief and dying kids and elderly on life support. 

And besides he knows you take the bus. 

“Yes please.” 

/

okayyy i literally had to cut it short because this shit was getting too long LOL, i had a full final act outlined but maybe that could be a shorter part two if anyone's interested..... lmk <3

[lockeswoodss]

Double It

MDNI!!!

Pairings: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Reader, Jack Abbot x Reader, Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Jack Abbot, Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Reader x Jack Abbot. (This does contain MXM smut, don't like don't read)

WC: 3,536 (This fic kinda got away from me lol 😅)

CW: Smut, Masturbation, Oral (Male and Female Receiving), Jerking Off, PIV, DP (Two Holes), Fingering, Daddy Kink, Sir Kink, MMF Threesome, Sub Drop, Porn, Squirting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You panted, breath coming out in stuttered exhales, as your eyes locked in on your laptop sitting next to you on your made bed. The lewd sounds of the porn scene playing out contained in your headphones. You kept your bottom lip sandwiched in between your teeth to stifle any moans. It was only five in the morning, and you didn’t want to risk interrupting any of your neighbors’ last couple of hours of sound sleep. Fuck, you wished you could be like them, but you were equal parts horny and geared up from the 15-hour shift you had just gotten off from a few hours prior. You were set to leave after your normal 12-hour shift in the Pitt as a nurse practitioner when a major car pile-up on the highway happened. Of course, it happened just before the exit closest to the Pitt. You stayed until the situation got under control. You only clocked out when you did because of your partners’ encouragement. They reasoned that you should go home and rest before the inevitable chaos of the Pitt sparked off again. You knew they were right, of course; Robby and Jack often were the only barrier between your sanity and working yourself to the bone.

Fuck, you internally groaned at the thought of your partners. Your pussy throbbed around the vibrating dildo you were riding. You did your best to distract yourself from your internal longing to be in the arms of your lovers. You knew they’d be at least another hour before clocking out, and even then, they’d most likely only have enough energy to shower before going to sleep. You closed your eyes, the sound from the MMF threesome you were watching faded into white noise as you tried your best to imagine it was really Robby’s cock nestled inside of you. It was just slightly too small to pass as the real thing. When you were in the process of buying sex toys, both of your lovers were against you buying anything bigger; they both knew you’re far too impatient to properly prep yourself. Which, while true, did nothing to negate the need flaring inside of you.

You closed your eyes, falling into the memory of the last time you had a quicky in an on-call room. Despite the temptation, it was rare for all three of you to be together at the hospital; Robby hated quickies. While the memory of how you found yourself situated between them on the cheap, stiff mattress of the on-call room was fuzzy, the act of itself was burned into your memory. Robby sat at the head of the bed; scrub pants pulled down just enough to free his cock. You could feel yourself salivate at the memory of the sight of his dark happy trail leading down to his already hard cock. Just as you had started to work your way down his cock and relaxing your throat to take the entirety of his length; Jack tugged your scrub bottoms and underwear down in one foul swoop. You let out a surprised moan as he thrusted two fingers into your heat. He prepped you just enough that it wouldn’t hurt when he pushed in. Equally impatient, you ground back against his fingers, back arched as you took Robby fully into your throat.

Jack placed a kiss on your right shoulder blade, as he draped himself over you, thrusting in one fluid motion. You moaned as he snapped his hips at a breakneck pace, his dominate hand finding it’s way to your clit. He rubbed it just right to make you as desperate as he was. You moaned around Robby’s cock, his hand threaded through your hair, his hips stuttered before he began to slowly begin to thrust into you. Robby’s consideration was short lived as Jack started to slam his entire weight into your pussy with each thrust, causing you to lurch forward and deep throat Robby. Your eyes watered as you were pushed and tugged by your partners as they desperately chased their release. Your pussy pulsed and clenched around Jack at the sensation of being used, getting off at the feeling of how desperate they were for you. You came first, triggering both of your partner’s releases. Your pussy milked Jack’s cock as he released within you. Your screaming muffled around Robby’s cock caused his hips to falter, cumming deep down your throat.

Fuck, you were so close, you could taste your release on the tip of tongue when the sound of the video cut out. Your eyes snapped open, widening at the sight of your partners towering over you. Both stood, arms crossed against their broad chests, clad only in their boxer briefs. Their scrubs and shoes most likely were ditched in the laundry basket next to the entrance of your apartment ( A practice you started during Covid). You flushed, there was no way of talking your way out of this to avoid punishment. Your hand was still wrapped around the dildo you were riding, and they had clearly seen the video being played on your laptop before closing it shut. With trembling hands you click off your vibrator, an unintentional whine escaped you as you slid it out of your slick pussy. You took a breath as you slid your headphones down to your neck.

“Hey,” you greeted shyly, your knees now shut together as you sat back on your calves, hands folded on your lap. You waited desperately for Jack to respond. While they were both dominant, Jack was a top to a fault, whereas Robby and you aligned more as switches.

“Hey, baby.” He replied after a moment, making you sweat, “What were you up to?”

“I, I was masturbating.” You replied meekly. There was no way around this, you were going to be punished.

“That’s interesting. I don’t remember either of us giving you permission to cum. Let alone touch yourself.” Jack said, glancing back at Robby, “Do you?”

“I don’t,” he replied, smirking down at you.

“No, that’s right, I believe our exact orders were to eat something and go to sleep.” Jack said, cupping your face, “Now, why would a good girl like you go against precise orders?”

“It was too quiet.” You didn’t have to elaborate; they both knew what you meant. Jack cupped your face in response, he perched on the bed to your right, stroking your bottom lip.

“I’m sorry you were feeling restless, baby, but you know you could have texted us.” Jack replied, “We’re gonna have to punish you, don’t want our angel becoming a brat, do we?”

“No,” Robby agreed, crouching down to your level.

“What’s my punishment?” you asked, looking up at them.

“Well, you wanted to cum, so I think it’s only fair we help cum to the fullest.” While Jack’s words were innocent, his tone revealed a more menacing implication.

“Why, don’t you warm her up while I start the shower?” Jack said, looking over his shoulder at Robby.

“Alright,” he nodded in response, Jack pecked his lips before standing up and making his way into the master bath.

“Hey, baby,” Robby greeted, slowly kneeling down between your parted thighs.

“Do you want me to move back? Are your knees-”

“I’ll be okay, love,” he said, kissing your inner knee. “By the looks of your pussy I’m not gonna be down here too long.”

Your core flared at his observation, you spread your legs as Robby pressed both of your inner thighs apart. You moaned as he parted your lower lips by running his thumb down the seem of your pussy.

“You must’ve been close, you’re practically dripping,” Robby mused, as two of his fingers easily slid into your heat.

“Daddy,” you moaned, body jerking as he wrapped his lips around your clit. A shiver wracked through when he started to suck, while he built up speed thrusting his fingers deeper than you could imagine reaching on your own.

“Fuck,” you moaned grinding against Robby’s face, fingers threaded through his hair to keep you grounded as you rocketed towards your release. Your eyes snapped open at the feeling of Jack’s broad chest pressing up against your back as he sprinkled your neck with kisses. You gasped as his cold hands cupped your breasts, teasing your nipples.

“Cum when you’re ready love.” He whispered in your ear, before nipping at your earlobe.

“Fuck, Sir.” You panted, throwing your head back, thighs shaking. Your delayed orgasm cut through you too fast; it was too much all at once.

“Daddy, I’m gonna-” was all the warning you could get out before your release splashed against Robby’s lower face. Despite the mess you made on his face, he didn’t let up. He sucked harder, tongue tracing your clit while he fingered you through your release.

“Fuck, Daddy no. I can’t. I can’t, it’s too much,” you whined, while Robby doubled his efforts, knowing if you really wanted him to stop, you’d call out your safe word (code) or yellow/red from the traffic light system. Your thighs couldn’t stop shaking as your release once again gushed onto Robby’s face. You fell back, limp, into Jack’s arms as Robby gently pulled back. Your pussy clenched around nothing at the sight of him wiping your release half hazardly off his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What’s your color, baby?” Jack asks, lips brushing your right ear.

“Yellow, Sir,” you panted, “I just need a sec.”

“Alright,” he responded, kissing the side of your head, “Do you want to stay here, or can I take you to the bathroom?”

“Bathroom,” you answered, knowing they’d most likely want to wash the shift off of them before getting under the covers. Despite knowing it was coming, you still slightly jumped when Jack gathered you up in his arms and walked you into the nearby bathroom. Jack let out a chuckle as you hid your face into his neck. He gently placed you down on the counter, pecking your lips softly before he turned to face Robby. While both still had their underwear on, it did little to hide the strain of their cocks against the black fabric. Once they were in arm’s length from each other, Jack fisted the hair at the nape of Robby’s neck and pulled him in for a desperate kiss. He moaned at the taste of your release on Robby’s lips. Robby’s right hand cupped the back of Jack’s neck to deepen the kiss while his left tugged their underwear down enough that he was able to wrap his hand around both of their cocks. Jack whined as Robby jerked their cocks off together.

You couldn’t look away as Jack broke away from the kiss, resting his forehead against Robby’s, panting. His hand wrapped around Robby’s tightening their hold.

“Fuck,” Jack gasped, hips thrusting up into Robby’s grip.

“Fuck,” Robby moaned in agreement, his hips grinding into his hold. Their pants and moans bounce around the bathroom; if you weren’t already wet you were now. They rarely jerked off like that at work. Oral was the easiest clean up wise, second only to fucking with a condom on. Any sex at work was impulsive, not allowing the luxury of always having access to condoms. Plus, on the rare occasion Robby would allow for a quicky he wanted to cum in you. You knew it was the beginning of the end when their hips started to stutter and lose pace. Jack shot off first, cum splattered between their stomachs, a high pitch whine rip through him as Robby jerked him off through his release. Jack’s face began to turn red from overstimulation when Robby came, adding to the mess of their lower abdomen.

They leaned against each other for a moment before pulling back after coming down from their high. In what felt like an instant, they were crowding your space. Jack stood between your parted legs and began to kiss down your neck, adding to the hickeys on your chest as he migrated downward. Meanwhile, Robby had tilted your chin up, offering you his cum covered hand to clean up. You maintained eye contact as you wrapped your hand his wrist to keep it steady, before you began to lick and suck on his fingers.

“Fuck,” he gasped as you sucked his middle and ring finger into your mouth, cleaning the last bit of cum off of them.

“Such a good girl,” he praised, replacing his fingers with his lips. You teasingly nipped at his bottom lip, sliding your tongue in as he groaned in response. Despite your physical size difference, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for Robby to allow you to dominate and take the lead when sex was involved. He was a switch at heart and didn’t mind letting you take care of him. You gasped against his lips as Jack thrusted two fingers into your heat.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “Her pussy’s prepped from the toy, you think you can take both of us today love?”

You inadvertently clenched around his fingers at the idea. It had been a while since you’d last taken them at the same time.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckled as you pulled away from Robby, “What do you think?”

“Have I ever said no to that?” Robby asked, quirking a brow, “Where do you want me and Sir?” he asked, looking down at you.

“Can you fuck my pussy while Sir fucks my ass?” you asked, bordering on bashful, despite the words coming out of your mouth. You didn’t want them to know what it did to you to when you were that full, split open by both their cocks while they cradled you between them.

“As long as you want it, I’ll never say no to that baby,” Robby said, pecking your forehead.

“Good, we can start to stretch you in the shower, sound good, love?” Jack asked.

“Yes, Sir,” you replied, before he once again picked you up and deposited you between them under the warm stream of the shower’s water. You let out a contented sigh, leaning your weight back against Robby behind you. Your eyes fluttered shut as Jack took care of washing your face, while Robby worked at shampooing and conditioning your hair. He patiently combs through the knots in your hair as Jack stated on cleaning your body. They bathed themselves as they alternated washing you. You fell boneless back onto Robby once they were done pampering you. While they were always attentive when bathing you, it was especially important for you to be as relaxed as possible if you wanted to take both. Jack slipped his fingers behind you and started to tease and finger your asshole. Once he deemed you pliable enough, he shut off the water before wrapping you up in a fluffy towel. You were once again placed on the counter as your partners rushed to dry themselves off.

The edge of your consciousness had already started to feel warm and fuzzy as Robby scooped you up in his arms and sat down against the headboard, you facing him. You were vaguely aware of Jack behind you grabbing the lube as you pulled Robby back in for a demanding kiss. You moan into the kiss as Jack breeched your asshole. You could feel Robby’s cock stirring back to life as you deepened the kiss, showing how desperate you were for them. Robby held your hips steady to prevent you from grinding back or forward. Your slick once again began to pool at your core, wetting Robby’s thighs.

“Fuck,” you gasped, pulling away from the kiss, “Fuck, Sir I’m ready please!” you begged as Jack worked a third finger into your back entrance. He lightly smacked your outer thigh with his free hand, before wrapping his arm around your waist so that you’d be flush with his front as he continued to finger you.

“Baby, can you feel how hard you make me?” he asked rhetorically, cock pulsing against the small of your back, “Believe me the second I’m able to thrust in without hurting you I will.”

“Sorry S-sir,” you gasped as he reached around and began to toy with your clit. Robby stroked up and down your spine reassuringly, as you hid your face in his throat in an attempt to hide your flushed face. You whined as Jack pulled his fingers all the way out. Before once again clicking open a bottle of lube. He let out an unabashed moan as his thrusted just past your back entrance.

“Fuck,” he moaned, before slowly thrusting in an out to allow you time to adjust.

“Daddy, please,” you asked, looking up through your wet lashes, eyes watering from the sensation of Jack filling you so well.

“Fuck,” he groaned, he had never been good at telling you no. He teased his cock head against your folds, hoping to distract you enough until Jack bottomed out. He slowly began to ease into you after Jack gave him a small nod over your shoulder. He was only a third of the way in before he felt Jack inside of you.

“Fuck,”

“Fuck,” they both groaned at the sensation. He continued to thrust in and out, gauging your facial reactions before thrusting in deeper. His cock kissed your cervix as he bottomed out, pelvis flushed with yours. You let out a stuttered moan, now at their mercy as they both fill you to the brim.

“Please fuck me,” you panted, eyes watering from the stimulation, “I want it, want to feel you cum inside.”

Both men groaned in response as Jack pulled a fifth the way out before thrusting back in, and Robby followed. They settled into a rhythm of alternating their thrust so that only one of them was in you at a time. It didn’t take long for you all to start feeling overstimulated. You moan, unabashed, head thrown back over Jack’s shoulder as you bounce between them. Robby cursed under his breath at the sight of you, trying to contain his release. You looked angelic, glowing from a thin layer of sweat, breast moving with you, as you tried your best to keep up.

You only lasted a minute longer at the most before you came, eyes squeezed shut as you convulsed around them.

“Fuck, Daddy, Sir” you babbled helplessly. You had no time to come down from your high before being ushered into the next one. Jack had an iron grip on your hips, forcing you to keep moving past the point of overstimulation.

Robby was next to cum, facing the brunt of your orgasmic spasms in your pussy. As gently as possible he slipped out of you, cum spilling out of your entrance as you collapsed onto his chest. Your moans continued as Jack brought up the rear, using you like you preferred. He whispered praised in your ear, before he his hips stuttered and thrusts got sloppy, cumming deep inside of you. He groaned a soft, “Fuck” at the sight of both his and Robby’s spent leaking out of you as he pulled out.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Robby asked, pushing your sweat-soaked hair out of your face, before pecking your forehead.

“Daddy,” you whined back, hiding your face in his shoulder. He and Jack shared a look over your shoulder, instantly recognizing the tone of your voice. It was plain as day to them that you were experiencing sub drop. They silently communicate over your shoulder, leading to Jack pulling back as slowly as possible while Robby kept a firm grip on your waist. Jack softly pattered to the bathroom, grabbing a warm, wet washcloth, and to the kitchen for a bottle of water, ibuprofen, and a few pieces of chocolate from your stash that you thought they didn’t know about.

“Sir,” you said, suddenly realizing his absence.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby. Sir will be back in a second.” Robby reassured you, stroking your spine, while cupping the back of your neck against him. Jack did less to hide his steps as he crawled into bed behind you.

“I’m gonna clean you up, you okay with that, love?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you replied softly. A whine escaping you as Jack cleaned you the best he could without a proper shower. Once he was done, with Robby’s help, he propped you up against him as he leaned back against the headboard. Robby poked your lips with the straw of your water bottle, before you reluctantly opened your mouth and took a deep sip of water, meanwhile Jack broke up your chocolate squares into smaller pieces, feeding you between sips along with the meds. Once you came mostly back to your body, they allowed you to lie down again. Jack shifted in behind you, face tucked into the hollow of your throat, ear flush with your carotid artery so that he could feel the steady beats of your heart along with your exhales. You were tucked into Robby’s chest, his long arm stretching over you, cupping the small of Jack’s back to keep you sandwiched between them. You hummed contentedly, feeling safe within their arms. The world beyond your blackout curtains tuned out for now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N:

Thanks for taking the time to read ^-^

I normally write for one piece, so it's been really fun writing for a relatively new fandom. Still getting used to writing for these characters, sorry if they're a little OOC.

Hope you're doing well wherever you are 💛

Update: The Prequel "Throuple It" can be found: Here

[gojosdeepspace]

warnings: explicit content, not proofread at all, very cheesy

being dr abbot's controversially young girlfriend who he fought tooth and nail not to fall for but ultimately ended up failing at — an unlikely scenario for him in any other context.

you having been one of the newly transferred residents robby had recently acquired and occasionally working during abbot's shift. at first not standing out to him past you being pretty competent and also a pretty face to all those around (though, he'd never acknowledge that fact, not wanting to be inappropriate).

him feeling like a creepy old man when he starts gaining interest in you, unknowingly taking you under his wing as other more-seasoned doctors did with some of the other newbies (langdon had some preference towards teaching mel, what was so wrong if jack showed a little bit of favoritism towards you as his student?).

he'd bump into you on the roof one day after a specially difficult shift, not realizing you'd be there. he'd watch you from a distance, not making his presence known as he took in your profile while you looked into the distance. he'd take note of the dry tears on your cheeks and the flush on your nose. would want to comfort you, but wouldn't really be the best at knowing how to do so. despite being an overall nice guy, he'd have trouble with such an intimate moment, usually letting his niceties towards you manifest themselves in the forms of teaching and praise. his emotional intelligence would buffer at that moment, simply watching you for a bit before hearing a sniffle and deciding to step into action.

and it'd go better than he'd have imagined. something about seeing you so down and seeking solace on the roof in a similar manner to him would've just made him act on instinct. any doubts or insecurities in his mind would leave him as he made his presence known and offered a (metaphorical) shoulder to cry on. he'd let himself be vulnerable and share how alone he felt when he was your age and still stationed far from home, terrified every day for all the dead bodies that he couldn't save, the same ones that would haunt him for days to come.

he'd insist on taking you home that day, not wanting to leave that roof without you and ensuring you made it home safely. and when you had a particularly hard day, he'd find you on the roof without fail. it'd become a routine between the two of you, leading to abbot taking you home on those specially difficult days when you needed his company (and him yours), but never expressed it verbally (just like him).

until one day he'd park himself in front of your house as he always did when dropping you off, but you'd pause before getting off. you'd turn to him with a shy smile and hopeful eyes, wondering if he'd like to come in for some coffee. and even though he'd be scared of falling even deeper, he'd say yes, offering you a half smile before following you into your house.

that's when all unspoken pretenses would crumble and fall.

he'd enter your home completely unsuspecting, respectful, yet slightly stoic, with his usual soldier's stance as he followed you into your house, hands behind his back. but they wouldn't remain there for long, not when you turned to face him as soon as you closed the door, your own hands finding purchase on his jaw and pulling him towards you. your hands would be shaking slightly, but that'd be out of his mind the second your lips connected.

still respectful as ever, his hands would lay on your hips, kissing back but not with the level of passion he'd like. would be so firm in his respect for you and his fear to make you uncomfortable that he'd send the wrong signals, almost appearing unwanting of your kiss.

you'd pull away slightly, eyebrows furrowed and mortification on your face as he continued to hold onto your hips, hands slipping north and settling on your waist as he mumbled against your lips.

"you don't want this. i ... i'm too old for you. it's inappropriate, i don't want to-"

"but i want you," you'd whisper back, eyes locked on his lips.

he'd let out a deep breath, skin hot at the way you were looking at him. he'd feel dizzy with desire, while also embarrassed at how turned on he was at just a mere kiss.

you'd press an open mouthed kiss to his lips, letting your tongue grace his lower lip. your hands would've migrated to his chest by then, grasping at his shirt while your hazy eyes stared at him. he'd never have seen such an empty look in your eyes, but he'd have known in that moment what power it held over him.

"are you sure?", that's when his lips would trail your neck, simply brushing his nose along its length and savoring the goosebumps forming. you'd melt into him, sighing and pressing yourself up against him.

"please," was all he needed to hear before snapping.

he wasn't aggressive nor overly assertive, but rather passionate. he pressed you up against your own door, tongue slipping into your lips with a groan of satisfaction at every mewl you let out for him. every touch, every noise from him was rewarded with whines and sighs of relief from you. he was a veteran at this, but this was the first time he'd ever felt his mind running on nothing but unadulterated lust.

eventually you'd end up in your room, undressed as his hands felt every curve, calloused fingers squeezing and dragging the soft skin under them with desperation. he'd sit himself under you, letting you take whatever you wanted from him.

when you'd grind your bare hips against him, he'd lose his mind. his head would be thrown back, trying to hold back from losing himself and taking control. grunts would leave him while his hands utilized herculean effort not to leave bruises on your hips.

and your cries for him would not help matters.

"jack, oh, fuck, jack ..." you'd whine at the feeling, as if you needed to let him know how good it felt. as if he was unaware of the hotness between you that was making him reevaluate his morals.

you'd lose control yourself after a while, almost falling off his lap as you stretched yourself towards your nightstand in search of a condom. watching you open it with your teeth and slide it on him would be a foggy memory to jack. this all felt new to him despite his age, despite his past experience and knowledge.

"oh, fuck," were his last words as you lowered yourself on him. he'd guide your hips without meaning to, but your never-ending cries of pleasure would let him know how much you enjoyed it.

he'd once again feel like a creep as he looked up at your thrown-back head and at the tears of pleasure gathering in your eyes. having his pretty little resident, a girl so beautiful and so young losing herself on him would cause conflict within him. but it would all leave as your orgasm approached, as you cried for him to play with your clit and as you dropped yourself onto his chest, your breasts pressed up against him as your hips sped up in their rocking, head buried in his neck and kissing at his skin every so often.

when it was all said and done, you went to pee, excusing yourself with a meek 'be right back' while he redressed himself, standing awkwardly in your room, not knowing what would come next. he was no stranger to one-night stands, but he surely didn't want this to be one.

it wasn't until you arrived back to your room and saw him ready to leave that your smile dropped, sounding like a pouty kid when you opened up your mouth and asked 'you're leaving?'

but he didn't overthink it as he responded with a 'no', offering you yet another half smile as he let you lead him back to bed. many things were whispered there, revelations of feelings and promises of tomorrows. the L word wasnt thrown out just yet, but jack could feel it deep within him. and when you cheekily asked if this meant he was your boyfriend now, he felt himself blush for the first time in years as he pulled you even closer, uncaring about any reservations he had before. he'd walk straight into hr the very next shift if it meant the harsh days could be closed off like this from now on.

[science-hoes]

Jack Abbot x Reader Masterlist

Kaleidescope

Early Spring Snow

Updated 3/31/2025 :)

[ebodebo]

— THE PITT MASTERLIST ⋆｡°✩

all works are 18+ MDNI!

ᯓ★ Dr. Michael Robinavitch

— ONESHOTS

Comforting you after a patient death… ˙⋆✰ angst

@ebodebo - all rights reserved. please do not modify, repost, or translate any of my original work. none of my work is permitted to be reposted on any other platform.

[kilojulietsierra]

So I’m gonna need like a full story on jack and Sam because omg it’s so perfect loved it so much

I’m glad you love it! All the love for the fics I’ve shared makes my day!! There will be one more chapter of Send Me An Angel for sure and I have an idea for a how they met/backstory kind of thing too that I think I will share. I love them too so I’m sure there may still be more! 💚

[superhoeva]

𝐣. 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭 – 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 (𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭; +𝟏𝟖) | worked on this instead of sleeping but it might be one of my favorite things i've ever written. very overwhelmed by this man and how self-destructive i feel like he can be. warning(s) include: language, fluff, angst, smut, very little dialogue, penetrative sex (mentioned, m + f), handjob (mentioned), bodily fluids, jack being back (whatever that means), attending/resident relationship, fwb vibes, also there's fluffy parts, i swear.

The room stinks of sex–of lingering musks and a slowly-dampening heat that serve as memorials to another night spent losing yourself in the surprisingly tender hands of Jack Abbott. A pulse between your legs, also a reminder. The heat there has far from subsided, lingering and still dancing itself through your veins.

You feel nice. The window on the far side of your room is cracked to stop the smoke from your cigarette you’d finished a few minutes ago from persisting for too long. Sounds from the city flutter in just under the floating chords of Nude by Radiohead.

In Rainbows, track three. Jack fucked you, face to face, the night he learned you knew every word of the song by heart. Then hummed the first verse with you while you rode him to his own peak.

Jack sits against your headboard, sheets hanging at his waist to shield his softening cock from the air of the night. His face is the better version of an already faultless story in this low lighting, the edges of his jaw and cheeks promising something dangerous.

You’ve chosen to rest on a pillow instead of Jack’s thigh, but lay halfway on your side to face the man. Makes it easier to stare at him as you fall asleep. He doesn’t let you get far, fingers of one hand coiling with yours as you play with the digits that started the night feeding you the fruit he bought three days ago. The old lady at the berry stand think ‘m cute, and always gives me extra Jack explained after turning up at your place with an extra carton of some of the sweetest tasting produce you’ve ever consumed.

You smile to yourself, thinking. He fed them to you. The scowling, rugged, sarcastic attending had fed his fourth year resident strawberries.

Jack squints at you, ignoring how his own mouth wants to twitch upwards. “What’re you grinning about?”

You shake your head. He accepts your answer with a rolling of his eyes, untangling his fingers from your and running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip before you get a chance to pout at the loss.

He’s been like this a lot recently–softer, warmer. Eyes overcast with… fondness? The hands that used to yank you into him tug at your body, now. Dragging and trailing at your skin like he’s memorizing the map of your body for when you aren’t near. You’ve wholly accepted the change, letting his grip linger and kisses lengthen into something that burns up your insides.

Grabbing his hand, you snuggle it to your face and close your eyes. He watches you with a still stare, waiting until your breaths even to let his eyes shine with silent tears. His mouth quivers as he makes sure to keep his sniffles quiet, rolling his head with a sigh.

He feels good. Too good, and it didn’t take more than three of his weekends off to get there. Hiding it used to be easy, swearing to himself that the reason you make his chest tremble is because of that trick you do with your tongue. Because of how snugly he fits inside you and how cockdrunk you get. Because of how pretty you beg when he makes you stretch your pussy out with your own fingers instead of his.

Those were the reasons he masked himself with. Forcing himself to go blind at how you snore even though you say you don’t, and wouldn’t look him in the eye after seeing the tiny spots of dry drool you left on his shirt despite his promises that it was alright. Ignoring how he ached through the seven days of shifts, doing his best to treat you like he hasn’t been balls deep inside you every weekend for the past year. Stuffing aside how he thinks of you even when you’re not around, how he almost mumbled I love you into your mouth as you jerked him to a lengthy completion across your stomach a month ago.

Jack’s fucked, and he knows it. He knew it when he woke up seven Tuesdays ago and reached out for you. It took him an embarrassing seven seconds to remember he wasn’t in your room, that you weren’t there. It takes him longer to realize how chilly he keeps his place.

That’s another thing about you, you’re always so damn warm. With patients and him, and so is your room.

He’ll miss that. It’ll take him a while to get over it, too. He’ll snap at residents and smile less but he’ll get over you. He has to. Regardless of how many tears he lets fall tonight as he thinks of the look on your face when you wake up not find him not in your kitchen making Saturday morning coffee but gone. Not letting you see him until the following Monday, and making sure to add a little edge to his voice when speaking to you.

No jokes. No touches. No winks from across the room. And no more weekends.

Wiping his face, Jack sucks in a deep breath and dips his head to look at you. A sad smile warps his face at the drool already leaking out onto your pillow.

Too wired to sleep, he spends an hour listening to your snores and studying your face with watery eyes before slipping his hand from your grasp with a sniffle. The man freezes when you shuffle, holding his breath until you nuzzle into the pillow. He finds his clothes after a few seconds of searching, hoping the quiet music still playing from your looped playlist is enough to cover the clinking of his belt and shuffling fabric.

Jack’s halfway out of your room when his body forces him to pause. It’d be so easy to give in. To concede, and peel off the clothes so he could slip back into bed with you. You’re always so tired after he fucks you, all you’d do is whine and tug him closer before returning to your sleep. LHugging him into you even though he always complains about waking up sweaty.

He stands in the doorway of your room for a long two minutes before turning to face you. Tipping to the bed with long strides, Jack swallows.

You wake six hours later. Music stopped, and Jack long gone.

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[spaceyaemonds]

pairing: dr. jack abbot x reader

sum.: you have a one night stand with an extremely attractive older man, but it doesn’t seem like you’ll see him again. fate has other plans, it seems.

warnings: age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 23) unexpected pregnancy, light smut, reader and jack have both been drinking but are very eager/consent is definitely there.

notes: i am still working on former stripper!reader, but this came to me and i had to get it out. i think this will be a series of smaller drabbles, instead of a full one shot, but idk, what do you guys think/prefer? unedited. any feedback is extremely appreciated, especially reblogs/asks!

wc: 1.3k

next

You meet Jack Abbot in a dark bar on a Thursday. You, drug out by your friends, begging you to just let loose for once. Him, alone, on his last night off for the week, mentally preparing to go back to work the next day.

You caught his eye from across the room, and feeling brave, and of course egged on by your friends, you make your way over to him.

The first thing he does is ask you how old you are, to which you give a cheeky response of old enough. At the unamused look you receive, you tell him you’re twenty-three.

Jack nearly choked on his drink at that, and nearly tells you that you’re too young for him. But the pretty and cheeky smile you give him makes a small smirk appear on his face, so he doesn’t.

The second thing he does is order you a sweet fruity drink and a double shot of whiskey for himself.

One round turns into two which turns into three. You laugh a lot, and he laughs at your laugh. Jack tells you briefly about his time in the army, and in turn you tell him about your evil boss that you just know is out to get you.

I’m an ED doctor, he mumbles in your ear after you ask what he does for work

An eating disorder doctor? He snorts at your question.

“No, emergency department, like an ER,” You blush as he laughs at you, nearly choking as he downs the rest of his whiskey in one go.

You don’t even realize that you had effectively abandoned your friends and had been talking to Jack the entire night until one of them comes to ask if you’re ready to go.

You look at Jack, sheepish smile on your face and a glint in your eyes.

You end up at his place, his mouth on yours and calloused hands pawing greedily at your tits under your shirt before he even gets the door closed.

“Your skin is so soft,” He mumbles as he leaves open mouthed kisses from the corner of your mouth to your neck and back up again.

You moan, “I like the way your hands feel on my skin,”

Your hands tangle in his hair as you force his mouth back on yours, teeth clashing as his tongue fights yours for dominance, ultimately winning when you distract yourself trying to get his shirt off of him.

As quickly as his shirt comes off, he has you topless, your shirt and bra tossed somewhere in his living room.

The rest of the night is a blur, but you know he fucked you in some way, shape, or form on nearly every surface of his home, from eating you out on the couch, to fingering you until you managed to squirt all over his countertops as he made you drink water to stay hydrated, to fucking you dumb on his cock in at least six different positions on his bed, and once more pressed against the shower wall before putting his shirt on you and holding your body pressed up against his body while you slept the entire night.

The next morning the two of you chatted over breakfast. No awkwardness, he goes out of his way to make you laugh over his disgusting coffee, as so affectionately deemed it.

He doesn’t ask for your number, so you don’t ask for his. You kiss the side of his mouth as you leave him.

Jack goes to work, business as usual, but he thinks about you every day for the next eight weeks. Wondering if your boss ever let up on you or if you tried that new Italian place you were wanting to eat at.

You spend the next eight weeks stressed beyond belief. Work eating at your soul and consuming your entire life. You do think about Jack almost every day, contemplating going back to that bar just to see if he’s there.

But you don’t ever get the time, and your next meeting is an unexpected one to say the least.

Slipping on the wet floor in a grocery store was embarrassing, but hitting your head on the way down was mortifying. You were going to have to find a new grocery store.

The situation just keeps getting worse as the paramedics show up, telling you they have to take you to the emergency room since you show signs of a concussion and your nose is bleeding.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Mohan. I hear you took a bit of a fall?” The doctor is pretty, and her smile seems genuine as she talks to you.

“Uh, you could say that. This all could’ve been avoided if they had a wet floor sign out at the grocery store, though,”

She laughs, “You would be surprised how often we see that here,”

She starts going through the usual string of questions you get at the ED. You answer them all until she gets to the last one, “And when was the date of your last period?”

All of a sudden, your mind is blank. Surely you’ve had it, right? You had to have.

“I-I guess I don’t remember,” It comes out a whisper, and your brow is furrowed as you try and try to remember. You know you had it.

Dr. Mohan senses your inner turmoil, “No worries, we can do a blood test,”

She takes your blood and tells you she’s going to go order a CT for your head, “just sit tight.” With a mind smile, she’s gone.

You sit there, trying to rack your brain. There is no way you’re pregnant. No fucking way.

It takes what feels like an hour for Dr. Mohan to come back, ultrasound machine in tow, “So, I have your test results, and it does appear that you are pregnant. We’ll have to do an ultrasound to confirm how far along you are, but after that we should be able to get you to CT,”

“What the fuck.” Is all you can manage, eyes wide as you look at her, “Are you, like, certain?”

She places a hand on your own, squeezing in a comforting manner, “The ultrasound will be to confirm, but blood tests are rarely wrong,”

She gets you situated and pulls the gown up so she can rub the probe over your abdomen, “I am hopeful we won’t have to do this vaginally,”

She quickly places the cold jelly on your abdomen and runs the probe over it, trying to find a fucking baby. You feel like you might throw up.

“And there they are,” There’s a smile on her face and she shows you.

“Oh my god,” You think you’re in shock “I think I’m gonna throw up,”

“Oh!” She quickly steps into action, grabbing a bucket and rubbing your back while you vomit.

“I think this is the worst day of my life,” She gives your shoulder a squeeze.

“The vomiting could be due to the fall you took,” She bites her lip, “CT is pretty backed up, let me go get my attending to see if he can take a look and find something that can get you moved up the list. I’ll be right back,”

She quickly walks out, and you feel tears building quickly in your eyes. How the fuck could you let this happen?

And now, you’ll have to awkwardly face Jack and tell him your passionate night has resulted in this situation.

He didn’t even ask for your number for crying out loud.

Your downward spiral is interrupted when Dr. Mohan returns, with the last person you wanted to see right now.

“This is my attending, Dr. Abbot.” She gestures to him. “Dr. Abbot, I have a twenty-three year old female, approximately eight weeks pregnant with a possible concussion,”

You don’t hear another word that passes her lips, eyes glued to him, and he looks just as shocked and horrified as you feel.

[cinemichh]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Pitt (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jack Abbot/Samira Mohan Characters: Jack Abbot (The Pitt), Samira Mohan Additional Tags: Pure Smut, Workplace Sex, Age Difference, Secret Relationship, Dom/sub Play, Praise Kink, Orgasm, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Dirty Talk, Older Man/Younger Woman, Horny Doctors, Purely for the reader to enjoy some smut hehe, One Shot, talk you through it Summary:

"The thoughts from her shift disappeared until there was nothing but the warmth of his lips slamming against hers. A sudden, intense electric buzz generated between them. She could feel her body becoming more and more desperate.

Abbot briefly pulled back, his breath heavy. 'Follow me.' He whispered with a sense of urgency. She didn’t hesitate."

**************** Pure Abbot/Mohan smut because we needed more of it...

[atthediscowithoutpanic]

How to Save a Life Chapter 1

Where you are an outside case manager and make frequent visits to Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, and have a soft spot for a certain ER doctor. Does it blossom into something more?

Dr. Jack Abbott x reader

18+ minors do not engage

warnings: trauma discussed in the episodes of the Pitt, heavy mental health conversations, suicidal ideation conversations, smut eventually, slow burn. I will add more as they come.

I haven't written in a while, but this man has me in a chokehold! Sorry for the mistakes I'm getting the writing dust off.

0615

Opening your work laptop and logging in for the day to take a peek at your case load for the day. As a case manager, your job was to go into certain hospitals in your area and “intervene” about those psychiatric patients who continue to be readmitted frequently. Or be a frequent flyer, as most of the emergency departments call them. Most of the time, there was not much that could be done about the patients from your end, they required a different level of care, or they had an environmental factor you could not fix. Social services money was often sparse, which meant people were waiting years for the resources needed, whether that was housing, pharmacy assistance, utility bills, etc. Your days were tirelessly frustrating by this and made you often feel helpless, as there was not much you could do. But, you could be a kind face to patients and understanding while they were dealing with unimaginable life factors, helping them navigate those waters. Unfortunately, you saw your top priority for the day on your caseload as soon as you opened your computer program housing all your clients information, Mr. Krakozhia, had been readmitted back to the emergency department, and looking at the hospital census, it would be a long wait to get pushed up to the psychiatric floor. Quickly, you got dressed in a sweater and slacks and headed to your kitchen to make some food and coffee to go. As you were waiting on your coffee to brew, you quickly made a to do list of some other work and personal items you needed to complete, a text came through:

Jack: “ You know who is here again. Are you coming by?”

You: “Yeah, I’m headed that way.” 

Jack was Dr. Jack Abbott, one of the emergency room doctors at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. He was a rock at all times, and had become decent acquaintances throughout your visits to his ED the last couple of years. Thankful for his level head and somewhat understanding of your patients. Your coffee is finished, and poured it into a mug and ran out the door. 

0650-0710

After a short drive, you pulled into Pittsburgh Trauma and noticed what looked like a figure on top of the building on the roof. Immediately, you went racing into the building for Dana at the nurses' station because of course, she was here early like usual. “Well hi there, I figured we’d see your shining face today.” Dana leaned in to get a hug from you, and you stopped her short to be able to whisper in her ear. “You know someone is on the roof, Dana?” Pulling away she sighed hard, “Yeah, I know. I think Robby is headed that way, go after them and see if your help is needed, however, keep a distance.” Shrugging off your backpack, you headed toward the stairs.

0720

Quickly and quietly, you ascended the stairs, mind wandering about who was up on the roof, and racing. You’ve done crisis intervention countless times, but the adrenaline still gets going, and you still want to make sure you do not mess anything up. Slowly opening the door to the roof to peak at who’s up here. It’s Jack and Robby up here, with Jack on the edge, and you continue to watch just in case something starts to go sideways. Robby is more than capable for this, especially how long they’ve been friends, but know Jack’s PTSD can be very intense at times. They start towards the door, and you shut it quickly, going down a few stairs like you are heading up the stairs again, and you totally have not been watching. “ I know you have been watchin from the door, you don’t need to act like you weren’t” Robby states so casually. Ugh, ok it’s going to be one of those days, with passive-aggressive Robby, got it. “Robby, can I get a second with Dr. Abbott, please?” Dr. Robinavitch did not even say a word, just continued down the stairs and gave a thumbs up to you standing behind him. 

“I figured it was you up here if Dana would not tell me who was up here.” 

Dr. Abbott ran his hand through his greying hair, “ I worked on a veteran my age for three hours, and he still died and I was stuck telling his wife and young daughters that he wasn’t coming home.” 

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that. Get some food and some sleep, please. I am here if you need to talk through anything, always.” Gently you placed your hand on his shoulder to try to remphasize you knew he was capable to dealing with anything, but just needed an outlet sometimes.

He nodded and didn’t say anything, and you both went down the stairs silently. 

[glamorizethechaos]

Sweet Surrender (Series) - Part 1

As seen on ao3

Summary: Claire Hawthorne begins her ER rotation at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Hospital under attending Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch.

Dr. Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch & Original Female Character

Warnings: mention of sexual assault, fluff, (eventual) smut, alcohol, anxiety & ptsd

This work is a work in progress so I am not sure where this is eventually going to go. Any triggers warnings will be added as needed. If you feel a TW should be added, feel free to message me.

Part One: Trouble

Dr. Robby walked into the doors of the ER, the waiting room already full of patients; crying babies, the regulars looking for a warm bed or a quick fix, and the those who were sick but not quite sick enough to be of any urgency. He buzzed in and walked towards the nurses station, Dr. Abbott standing at his computer doing some last minute charting before he headed home. Dr Robby glanced up at the board that always seemed to be full beyond capacity. 

"Jesus Christ," Dr Robby grimaced looking at his day ahead "did the whole of Pittsburgh come in last night?"

"You tell me, we got a fucking asses kicked. Barely made a dent in the damn waiting room." Dr. Abbott put the last of his things in his bag. "At least I'm not the ones with the new med students today."

"That's today?" Dr Robby took of his glasses and rubbed his eyes. This was the last thing he needed today, not with the work load ahead of him, now he had to play babysitter. 

One by one, the med students filed there way into the ER. They seemed to be getting younger looking ever year as Dr. Robby grew another year older. Soon they introduced themselves: Dr. Melissa "Mel" King fresh out of the VA, Dr. Trinity Santos- intern, Dennis Whitaker- a fourth-year, Victoria Javadi- third year, and lastly Claire Hawthorne fourth year.

"I just finished my Peds and OB rotations." Claire spoke softly, and Dr Robby nodded in acknowledgement. Claire was curvy, yet petite, standing no taller than 5'2. Her hair was red and she had freckles that seemed placed on her face one by one, each with delicate precision. Her eyes were bright green and while looked tired, were also happy and full of life. Dr. Robby felt himself staring, but soon directed them for a tour of the ER. 

Soon the EMTs come in with a man on a stretcher and Dr. Robby instructs Claire to take the case, "45 year old man complaining of shortness of breath, chest pains, and is diaphoretic." With the help of the EMTs, Robby and Claire brought the man back into a room and Claire took a history. 

"What do you suggest we do Dr. Hawthorne?"

"Order an EKG and check his troponin. Could be an MI?" but before Claire could finish taking the mans vitals, he loses consciousness. She checks for a pulse and feels nothing, before Dr Robby knew it, she immediately jumped on the stretcher and began administering chest compressions. After multiple shocks of the patient, three rounds of epi, and 45 minutes of compressions they were unsuccessful at reviving the patient. 

"Time of death...9... 9" Claires voice cracked as she tried keeping herself composed. She had never lost a patient. 

"Time of death, 9:28" Dr. Robby announces, looking at Claire from across the room. She left quickly, removing her gloves and tossing them in the trashcan outside the room. He followed, 

"Hey, wait up," he jogged quickly, grabbing her arm. "You alright?" he asked, knowing what it felt like lose his first patient. Something that never really seemed to get easier. 

"Yeah, I just need a glass of water." a tear fell down her cheek and she swiftly wiped it away. She didnt want to seem weak on her first day. Dr. Robby told her to take a few minutes to gather herself before seeing her next patient. Soon it was lunch, Claire stood in line in the cafeteria for a cup of coffee, she felt too sick to eat. The feeling of the mans ribs snapping at each compression, knowing that mans kids would never see their father alive again, it all made her lose her appetite. 

"How you holding up?" she heard a voice from behind her. She turned to find Dr. Robby standing with his hands in his pockets, looking at her apologetically. She smiled softly and nodded, she didn't exactly want to talk about it, and he took the hint. When it was her turn in line, Dr Robby stepped forward and swiped his card before she could pay. 

"Dr. Robby, you didn't have to do that! I could have paid!" she said in protest.

"I was a med student once, trust me, you don't have the money." he joked, well- partially. She thanked him and the two walked down the hallway back towards the ER. 

"God I'm exhausted. I barely slept last night" Claire groaned, rubbing her eyes. She took a sip of the coffee, it was typical hospital coffee- horrible, and she tried not to make a face. 

"Oh yeah? Nerves get to you?"

"That... and well... my roommate was up all night fucking her boyfriend. We have thin walls." 

"Well at least it sounds like your roommate had a good night." he chuckled. 

"That makes one of us." she rolled her eyes. The two talked as they walked down the hallway. He was born and raised in Pittsburgh, she was from a small seaside town in New Jersey. She fell in love with the city while visiting her family while she was a kid. She felt this city was home. Undergrad was spent at the University of Pittsburgh and was now there for med school as well. She lived in Shadyside with her roommates, 4 girls in a 3 bedroom apartment. It wasn't exactly ideal, but it was what they could afford. 

The rest of the shift was exciting, Dr Robby talked her through her first intubation, a woman came in labor; having just finished her OB rotation- Dr Robby learned a thing or two from Claire. She ended her shift with a vomiting toddler. 

"That kid was tough. I don’t think I’d have the patience for that. Kids always scare me." Dr. Robby said leaning over the counter as Claire charted. 

"Kids? You're the senior attending and you're scared of kids?" 

"Kids, toddlers… I don’t know how to interact with them. I have an awkward, stoic personality and the whole crying and vomiting thing makes me uncomfortable…you're good with kids though..."

"I don’t find you awkward, just…" she hesitated a bite, "well I like kids."

"Go on, finish the thought" 

"Just a bit, uptight." she shrugged nervously. 

He chuckled and shook his head. He removed his glasses and looked at her with a raised brow. She was gonna be trouble.