Jack Abbot/Mreader shitpost #2
Someone give me more scenarios, Iām runnin dry, (any character)ā¦.
Thinking Iāll post a real drabble after this, not just whimsy and smut
Jack unzipped the fly of his jeans, hurriedly dug himself out before he was in an embarrassing predicament with himself soaked and utterly too turned on by it. Just as his stream hit the toilet, the menās bathroom door was swinging open and you were beside him, mirroring his actions.
In moments like this, God really tested Jack. He felt simultaneously blessed and tortured to see your taller frame at the urinal beside his, yourself look all too pleased to finally let your bladder go after holding it all shift
Jack swallowed and shifted his weight off his prostheticāor at least that was his alibi, if you asked why his eyes kept snapping leftward, then down.
And it didnāt help that, in all of his shameful fantasizing about his close friend, you seemed to be just as keen on catching a glimpse. Jack was drained out now, standing before the urinal with nothing left but a pink in his cheeks and a swell of heat distending his abdomen. Then both pairs of eyes caught briefly on each other and everything twisted up inside Jack.
Your stream tapered off and left Jack drooling over that fat dick you tucked away like a temptation, wanting nothing more than to swallow down as much of it as he could and make you see stars. He washed his hands extra thorough after that thought and followed you out of the bathroom.
Jack felt fucking ruined.
heād choked on his own fingers, making a mess of drool down his chin, while his other hand worked over his cock at a slow pace. Heād imagined youād do that to himāsnap his name or click your tongue every time he decided to get too carried away on himself. Mainly because: his lips, his hands, his flesh at that (hypothetical) moment were meant to be trained on you. While he sat back on his knee and two quarters, giving you the best eyes he could while mumbling out āYes, doctor.. of course, sir..ā until you got sick of it and told him to speak up properly. And if he got too snappy, too ambitious⦠youād drag him up and flip him onto his stomach and tell him all about how filthy he was, how much he needed discipline.
If Jackās cock wasnt slobbering all over his fist and stomach at the moment, himself in real time wouldāve flipped over, arched up like a damn yoga pose and let his imagination take him over the edge. But his body spasmed up too quick for Jack and he was letting out a pathetic little noise, vision blanking for a few moments as he made himself into a sticky puddle.