dontworrysunflower

[dontworrysunflower]

Juno

Jack Abbot x Reader

Description: Jack and the reader spend a day in the park with Robby and his family, leading to some heartfelt confessions. Once they both return to Jack’s house, they take the next step in their relationship (and maybe jumping a few steps in the process). Standalone fic or Chapter Four of You Are In Love.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, canon typical medical descriptions, discussion about Jack’s dead wife, taking care of Jack’s leg after a long day, reader is a Sabrina Carpenter fan, Jack is an Old Man, Jack and Robby are never beating the soulmates allegations, as always technically a Robby x reader fic because his wife is intentionally left unnamed so you can have the best of both worlds, beware of typos, this is about 9.5k words 🥹

Chapters: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four

Jack Abbot Masterlist

—

Robby shoved his wallet and keys into the pocket of his shorts while he balanced baby Abbot on one of his arms. He chuckled when he looked down at Eliza, who had expertly dressed herself in a dress and fairy wings. “You’ll have to take your wings off to get in the car seat, okay?”

Eliza jumped around her father, moving towards the front door, ever a beacon of energy. “Okayyy.” She agreed in a sing-songy voice.

Robby’s wife met them at the door to the garage, diaper bag slung over her shoulder. “I think we’re good to go.” She announced, tickling baby Abbot’s socked foot, drawing a giggle from the baby.

Robby turned back towards the hallway. “Alright, let me just grab my sunglasses and-“ He was cut off by a ceremoniously loud hiccup followed by a stream of spit-up leaking down his arm from his son. “Ah, fuck.” He mumbled.

“Robby.” His wife scolded quietly, looking at Eliza.

Robby reached into the diaper bag on her back and fished out a burping cloth to clean off his arm. “She didn’t hear me.” He quickly defended, thankful that his daughter didn’t seem to clock his profanity.

His wife just shook her head but smiled anyway. “Are they gonna meet us at the park?” She asked.

Robby wiped off baby Abbot’s chin before tossing the dirtied cloth into the hamper. “Yep. Jack just texted, said they’re on their way.” He confirmed.

His wife nodded and started going through her mental checklist. “Alright, I’ve got Abbot’s diaper bag, picnic blanket, sunscreen, band-aids, extra clothes for both of them…”

Robby chuckled and wrapped his arm around her to soothe her rambling. “Honey, we’re just going to the park.” He reminded.

His wife smirked and raised an eyebrow. “You underestimate our kids.” She warned, opening the door to the garage, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

Robby leaned down halfway to accept the kiss before he pulled the door all the way open, letting his girls walk out before him. “Alright, Robinavitches. Let’s roll.”

Eliza followed her mom out the door, but she underestimated the span of her fairy wings. One of the wings got caught in the doorway, jerking the child back, destroying her momentum. “Fuck!” Her little voice echoed in the garage, and Robby immediately winced.

“Michael!”

——

Jack had draped one hand over the steering wheel as he drove and the other on your lower thigh, elbow resting on the center console. You sipped happily on your iced coffee that he had handed to you with a kiss when you got into his truck.

“I don’t hate it.” He mused, looking to the screen displaying the current song selection you had queued up.

“Nobody hates Sabrina Carpenter.” You replied, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“I just don’t get who Juno is. Is it supposed to be a character in the song?” His brow was wrinkled with concentration as he turned into the parking lot of the park.

You raised an eyebrow. “You never saw the movie?” You asked.

“Uh uh.” He mumbled, maneuvering the wheel to ease into a parking spot.

“It’s a movie about a high school girl who gets pregnant. It’s a coming-of-age movie.” You educated him before taking the last sip of your iced coffee.

Jack put the car in park and looked at you with a bewildered face. “What? That’s what this song is about?” He questioned.

You shrugged, smiling at his astonishment. “Yeah, she wants the guy to fuck a baby in her.”

His face reddened far more than he would have liked, but it was adorable to you. “They play this song on the radio?” He stammered, and when you nodded, he just shook his head as he turned off the truck. “That’s a very sexual song.”

You giggled and hopped out of the truck, your feet crunching on the gravel of the lot. “Okay, grandpa. Is it time for your nap?” You teased, meeting him on the driver's side of the truck.

Jack couldn’t help but smile at you as you approached him, and he tugged gently at the skirt of your sundress, admiring the fabric. “You know, one day, you’re gonna pay for all these ‘grandpa’ and ‘old man’ jokes.” He warned, eyes crinkled from the bright sunshine.

You pressed your hands on his broad chest covered by a lavender polo, closing the distance between your bodies, admiring the way the sunlight enhanced the hazel of his eyes. “Is that a threat, Lieutenant Colonel?”

He chuckled and tilted his head down, nose brushing against yours. “S’not a threat.” He whispered and gently captured your lips with his. “It’s a promise.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and then it was your turn to blush. For a moment, you thought he might throw you back in his truck and take you home. Before you could regain your wits, a little voice called out from the grass field of the park.

“Uncle Jack!”

You both turned to look out to the park, and there was Eliza, in a pink dress and fairy wings hanging from her back, running as fast as her legs could go. Behind her was her family, sprawled out on a picnic blanket.

Jack placed a hand on your lower back to lead you to the park, and he knelt down to catch the little girl in his arms as she threw her arms around his neck. “Hey, princess.” He greeted, kissing her on the cheek.

Eliza giggled as he rose to his feet, hoisting her onto his shoulders. You tapped her knee as you walked towards the picnic blanket. “I love your wings.” You complimented.

She rested her head on the top of Jack’s, her face squished against his silvered curls. “Thank you.” She responded bashfully.

Jack kept a firm grasp on one of Eliza’s ankles so he could hold your hand, swinging your arms just slightly as you approached her family. Robby laid on his back, his head resting in his wife’s lap, as baby Abbot crawled across his upper body.

You knelt on the blanket across from them, your sundress billowing out. Jack hung Eliza by her feet, the little girl screaming and giggling as she squirmed, before laying her gently on the blanket.

“How much of your soul did you sell to get us all off on the same day?” Jack nudged Robby’s knee with his foot.

Robby balanced baby Abbot as he sat upright on his chest. “Only a third of it.” He answered earnestly. “Dana has been blowing up my phone all day complaining about the interns.”

Jack carefully began to kneel down, and you stabilized one of his arms with your own until he was settled next to you. He kissed your temple gently in gratitude before saying, “Those interns make me want to drink before I show up to work.”

You turned to give him an offended look. “Hey, I’m one of those interns.” You complained.

Robby’s wife shook her head. “You’re not one of those interns. You have survival instincts.” She corrected.

Robby lifted baby Abbot off his chest to let him crawl around on the blanket. “It’s true. In fact, you’ve improved other people’s survival instincts.” He noted before pointing at Jack. “Especially his.”

You thought Jack was going to respond with snark, but he just nodded. “Haven’t been on the roof in months.” He agreed.

Baby Abbot began to crawl towards you, moving slowly but surely. You reached your arms out to him, making grabby hands at the baby. “Glad I can be of service.” You deadpanned, but grinned when baby Abbot grabbed your legs, pulling at them. “He looks like he’s ready to stand.”

Robby’s wife sighed nostalgically. “He’s getting there.” She said, a frown on her face. “I wish he’d stay little forever.”

You scooped the baby in your arms, cradling him close. Jack leaned slightly over your shoulder to peer down at his nephew, contentedly snuggled into your chest. “Abbots don’t stay little. They grow big and strong.” He stated proudly, squeezing one of the baby’s chunky thighs.

Robby scoffed and sat up to stretch. “You’re literally five foot nine. Baby Abbot is gonna grow big and strong thanks to me.” He argued.

Jack sat up straighter, brow furrowed. “Thanks to you?” He genuinely laughed. “You have the same body shape as one of those floppy air people outside of car dealerships.”

“Yeah, at least I can reach the top shelf in the supply closet.”

“But you needed help unscrewing that oxygen tank last week?”

“Hey, do you wanna race to that sign over there? I’ll even give you a five-second head start.”

Robby’s wife audibly groaned and dropped her head back. “I can’t do this again.” She mumbled.

You rolled your eyes, bouncing baby Abbot in your arms. “Have they always been like this?” You asked.

She nodded solemnly as Robby laid back again, head in her lap, staring up at the sky. “Dana has told me stories of their first years as attendings. Honestly, I don’t know how she’s done it all this time.”

Jack and Robby looked to their respective partners, seemingly offended that anyone could be annoyed by their antics. You leaned in with interest. “Stories?” You repeated.

“Oh, yes.”

You stole a glance at Jack, who suddenly looked uneasy. “Like what?”

Robby’s wife smiled smugly, letting Eliza flop into her embrace after she had thoroughly inspected a ladybug on the picnic blanket. “Their first interns hated them so much that they casted their legs together while they were asleep during a snowstorm.”

You stared blankly at her, trying to figure out what question to ask first. “How?” Was all you could muster. “Were they asleep in the same bed?”

Jack sat up straight, ready to defend his honor, while Robby started reaching up to cover his wife’s mouth, but Eliza snatched at his arm to stop him.

“That’s not nice, Daddy!” She exclaimed through a fit of laughing.

“Mommy is not nice.” He grunted as his wife helped to hold his arm down.

“They say that they were asleep on different stretchers, and the interns put them right next to each other.” His wife began to explain. “But I don’t buy it.”

Jack tilted his head down until his gaze was sharper. “We were asleep on different stretchers.” He insisted.

You giggled and nudged his shoulder with yours. “It’s okay, you can say that you were snuggled up next to your best buddy. It was a snowstorm.” You teased with a smug grin.

Jack shook his head in annoyance, but he couldn’t resist matching your smile. Robby finally sat up, tickling Eliza so she would stop trying to attack him. The little girl squealed and kicked, but she was no match for her father’s strong arms. “Believe what you want.” He finally surrendered. “But when I fell asleep, the room was empty. If Jack came to sleep with me, then that was his scheming, not mine.”

You and his wife giggled, and Jack rolled his eyes so hard that you thought they’d get stuck like that. You looked down at baby Abbot again, who was beginning to drift off to sleep, content in your arms. His eyes blinked slowly, fixed on yours. One of his hands had a tiny fistful of the fabric of your sundress. You traced his soft, chubby cheek in a soothing pattern with your thumb, continuing even after his eyes remained closed. The sight made Jack’s heart skip a beat, and he desperately wished that it was his baby you were holding.

—

After another hour in the sun and Eliza’s insistence, your crew began to walk towards the nearby ice cream parlor. Robby pushed baby Abbot’s stroller on the sidewalk, and his wife held onto his bicep as they walked behind you and Jack. Eliza was perched on your shoulders, legs dangling on your chest. She and Jack were not on speaking terms right now.

“Uncle Jaaaaaack.” She drawled.

Jack crossed his arms dramatically over his chest and cocked his head to the side, away from her. “I can’t hear traitors.” He said to nobody in particular.

You giggled and bumped his arm with your shoulder. “You’re just jealous she wanted me to carry her.” You teased.

He looked down at you with a fake glare, but the glimmer of playfulness in his eyes was undeniable. “She’s forgetting who held her first.” He retorted, looking up to his niece with the same intense stare.

Eliza giggled and rested her head on top of yours, letting her arms hang limp on either side as she rested. You raised an eyebrow, not following his statement. “Held her first?” You repeated.

Jack accidentally let a smile break through as he thought back on the memory. “Yep. I delivered her.” He replied.

Your heart warmed at the thought, and suddenly their connection made more sense. You turned slightly to look back at Robby’s wife. “You had to deliver in the Pitt?” You questioned.

She let out an exasperated breath, clearly unhappy about the thought. “It was a less-than-ideal situation.” She deadpanned.

Eliza nudged one of her feet at Jack’s shoulders. “Uncle Jack was my first best friend!” She exclaimed.

And with that, Jack couldn’t keep pretending to be mad at her. He grabbed the foot that bumped his shoulder and shook it gently. “Best friends forever, yeah?” He said.

She giggled and reached for him, so you carefully transferred her from your shoulders to his arms. “Yeah!” She squealed, snuggling into his embrace, fairy wings nearly blocking his view as the ice cream shop came into view.

After everyone got their ice cream, your group took over a table outside. Eliza dug into her cotton candy ice cream as delicately as a five-year-old could, the pink and blue beginning to stain her mouth. Robby had a praline ice cream cone that his wife kept stealing bites from despite having her chocolate ice cream cone. Jack had opted for butter pecan, while you were more adventurous with a limited flavor called “Espresso,” inspired by Sabrina Carpenter’s song.

As the sun began to beat down on your ice cream, your tongue contained the melting treat to its cone, licking up any tributary that threatened to spill down the edges. Jack pretended not to notice the way your tongue moved with ease, and he really tried not to imagine the ice cream cone replaced with his-

“Uncle Jack, when are we going swimming at your house?” Eliza’s voice cut through his impure thoughts.

He straightened his already impeccable posture and looked at his niece. “How about next Friday?” He suggested, then looked over to Robby and his wife for approval.

“For your birthday?” Robby asked, surprise laced in his voice. Jack never wanted to celebrate his birthday.

Jack nodded slowly, like he was still trying to convince himself. “Yeah, sure. I think we all have the evening off.” He confirmed.

Eliza took another bite of her ice cream before asking, “What about Nana?”

“Nana can come, too.” He promised.

Robby nodded as he dipped his pinky into his ice cream, then pushed it against baby Abbot’s mouth. The baby boy smiled and kicked his feet with excitement at the taste of the sweet treat. “You like that, buddy?” His father cooed, ready to give him more.

Eliza shoved her ice cream at her baby brother. “Let Abby have some of mine!” She exclaimed.

Robby’s wife smiled and dabbed her finger in the pink and blue swirl. “That’s very sweet of you to share, Eliza.” She praised.

Baby Abbot squealed and kicked his legs again at the taste of more ice cream. His parents laughed, and Eliza scooted closer to him. You smiled as you watched the family, heartstrings pulled by their joy and love for each other.

Instinctively, you looked up to Jack, but he was already looking at you. His eyes glowed with adoration in the light of the early sunset. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face from the gentle breeze. Just when you thought he was going to lean down and kiss you to complete the cinematic moment, he furrowed his brow.

“Um…I think you have a little ice cream right there.” He said, tapping his nose to show where you should clean.

Your face flushed with embarrassment, and you frantically reached up to your face. “Right where?” You questioned.

Jack bumped your elbow, sending your ice cream cone to smash against your nose, smearing across your skin. “Right there.” He answered with a devilish grin.

After the shock wore off, you broke into a wide smile and began smacking his chest with your free hand. “I fucking hate you.” You hissed, quiet enough that Eliza couldn’t hear, but it was laced with laughter.

Jack tried to defend himself from your attacks, leaning away when you came to press a messy, ice-creamy kiss on his mouth. But he eventually relented, licking the sweetness from your lips as his face became covered with the dessert. “No, you don’t.” He breathed against your mouth.

Eventually, your laughs faded, breathless, and you grabbed a napkin to wipe off your mouth and his. As you do, you take notice of the extra freckles on his face from a day in the sunshine. “Your freckles are darker.” You admired, tracing the constellations on his cheeks.

“Yeah.” He replied, his voice softer than his usual gravel. “Sun brings 'em out.”

Before he could say more, Eliza shrieked with delight as Robby lifted her out of her chair and swung her in wide, dizzying circles. Her fairy wings fluttered with each spin. Jack glanced over, and you felt his posture shift as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. His smile remained, but it dulled at the edges, like a ghost passed through it.

“They make it look easy.” You noted, watching Robby hand Eliza off to his wife, who kissed the top of her head with practiced tenderness.

“It’s not.” Jack replied, almost absently. “But they’re good at it.”

You tilted your head up to look at him. His gaze had drifted toward baby Abbot, now asleep in his stroller with melted ice cream dribbling down his chin. Robby crouched beside him, wiping it away with a gentle, aged hand.

“Does it make you want that?” You asked earnestly.

Jack was quiet for a beat too long, and you worried that you may have pushed him too far out of his comfort zone. He drew in a long breath through his nostrils. “Used to think it wasn’t in the cards for me.” He admitted. “Not the way things have been. The job. The chaos. The bullshit. But…” He looked at you now, really looked. With those gorgeous hazel eyes that bore his entire soul. “Then I see you holding Abbot. I see you lighting Eliza up like she’s got stars inside her. And I think… maybe I was wrong.

You didn’t know what to say to that. Your chest ached, full and warm and a little unsteady, and tears began to sting your eyes. So instead, you reached out and took his hand under the table, just as Eliza crashed into your side with a burst of laughter, tugging at your arm.

“Come see the rock I found!” She pleaded.

You happily relented, standing to follow the child. “Okay, okay.” You agreed.

Jack watched you go with her, his hand still holding yours, fingertips grazing your skin until you were just out of reach.

And he knew it then.

He didn’t want to let go tonight.

—-

After lots of hugs and promises to see each other next Friday night for the pool party, you and Jack parted ways from Robby and his family. The ride home was similar to the ride to the park. Jack’s hand on your thigh, music of your choice humming through the speakers, and an aura of contentment mixed with the AC of the truck. Now and then, Jack would steal glances of you gazing out the window, eyes fixed on the sinking sun, and smile to himself.

Once you arrived at his house, he led you through the threshold, hand on your lower back. Not like he was inviting you inside, but like he was welcoming you home. After kicking off your sandals and lining them neatly next to the wall, you turned to find him leaning against the closed door, just…looking at you.

“Something on your mind?” You asked, closing the distance between the two of you, resting your hands on his broad chest.

Jack smiled and grasped one of your hands, bringing it to his lips. He kissed your knuckles, each one, like it was a holy ritual. “I didn’t want today to end.” He admitted, lips brushing against the dorsum of your hand.

You nodded in agreement, reviewing the new freckles dusted on his nose. “It was a good day.”

His free hand trailed against your back, down to your waist, skimming the fabric of your sundress. “You’re great with them. With my family.” He noted, letting you stretch your hand across his stubbled jaw. “The way you hold Abbot and let him drool all over your dress while he sleeps.” He used his newly freed hand to gently tug at a strand of your hair that framed your face, inspecting the way the wave bounced back when he released. “The way you keep up with Eliza and every silly tangent she goes on.” The hand on your waist began to travel to the side, resting on your hip. “The way you laugh with Robby and talk to his wife like you’ve known her longer than he has.”

You pushed your fingertips backward into his dense curls, scratching gently at his scalp. “It’s really easy. They feel like my family.” You replied.

Jack smiled, warmer than the sun that was slowly turning the living room golden. “They are your family.” He corrected.

“Then what am I?” You whispered, leaning just a little closer until you could feel his breath fighting against yours.

He closed the distance between your faces, brushing his nose against yours, lips just barely touching. “You’re mine.”

This time, the kiss was different, no longer held back by nerves or doubt. It was gentle, but deeper now, like something had clicked into place. He led you to the bedroom in that same slow, reverent way. Every movement felt intentional, like unwrapping something sacred. He helped slide the straps of your sundress off your shoulders, brushing his lips over every new inch of skin revealed to him. You unbuttoned his lavender polo with shaky fingers, anticipation coursing through your veins, and pulled the fabric over his shoulders.

His freckles rivaled the stars in both number and beauty. You seared hot, open-mouth kisses across his neck and chest, lapping up the salt that crystallized on his body from the warm, sunny day. Now and then, you dared to suck on the tender flesh, drawing a heavenly moan from his throat.

Jack’s fingers found the zipper to your dress and began to pull it down slowly. “I haven’t done this…in a long time.” He found the words to say.

You shuddered as more and more air hit your open back as the zipper slid down. “How long?”

He swallowed hard, the muscles of his throat shifting. “10 years.”

Your eyes widened. “You haven’t fucked anyone in 10 years?”

Jack let out a breathy laugh. “Oh, I’ve fucked.” He corrected, but your raised eyebrow and unamused stare inspired him to clarify. “But I haven’t done this.”

You tilted your head, tracing the chiseled outline of his pectoral muscles. “What is this?”

Love. That’s what he wanted to say. He didn’t dare speak it into existence. Not yet. But you already knew. From the way he had first kissed you a few weeks ago. From the way he looked at you with those incandescent eyes. The word didn’t leave his lips. But you could hear it in the silence.

Instead, he dropped his lips to your shoulder and whispered, “You know.”

Your fingers threaded through his chrome curls, taking root as he began to drag his teeth across your clavicle. “I know.” You confirmed.

With a final tug at the zipper, your sundress floated to the ground, pooling at your ankles. When Jack pulled away to admire your body, he choked on his breath when he saw that you had no bra or panties underneath your dress.

“You didn’t have anything on under there all day?” He stuttered, eyes unashamedly raking over your body, indulging in your naked beauty for the first time.

You shrugged, a little self-conscious at his questioning. “It’s a sundress.” You replied like it was the obvious answer.

Jack snaked his arms around your body, pulling you in close, chests smashed together, sharing body heat. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” He breathed, mouth hovering over your carotid, dropping an open mouth kiss on your pulse.

You tilted your head back, exposing more of your neck, and whimpered as he explored with his lips. He moved backward towards his bed, sitting down when the mattress bumped against his knees, and pulled you to straddle his lap. With your breasts now hovering just above his eyes, his mouth latched to one of your nipples, securing it between his teeth. Your back arched when he sucked, and your hips ground against his, your bare pussy leaving a damning wet spot on his jeans.

“Oh, Jack.” You whimpered, and he nearly came at the way you said his name.

He hummed in acknowledgment, reaching up to your other breast, tweaking and twisting the hardened nipple between his thumb and index finger. Another grind of your hips, this time grazing his rock-hard cock in the process. The deep vibration of his groan sent shivers through your body as he engulfed more of your breast in his mouth. His free hand gripped your hip like it was the only thing tethering him to reality and guided you to grind against him once more. And again. And again. And again until you reached down to his belt buckle, unlatching the metal, and snatching the leather from around his waist. Your fingers rustled at the button and zipper until you freed his hips from the snug fit of his jeans.

“Can I take them off, please?” You begged, mind clouded with hypothetical guesses of how he looked fully naked.

But that was when Jack slowly sat up straight with that all too familiar look of hesitation and vulnerability that you hadn’t seen since the ice skating rink. His hazel eyes flicked between your irises, unable to focus on one as his thoughts raced to form the right answer.

“I would need to, um…take off my prosthetic.” He finally confessed.

You smiled slightly at the mole hill that he was seemingly making a mountain out of. “Okay.” You chirped. “Can I help you?”

Jack opened his mouth to speak, possible excuses ghosting through his lips as they twitched, until he settled on the truth. “I’ve never had sex without it.”

You raised an amused eyebrow. “So what, you’d take off your foot, then your pants, then put the foot back on?”

He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “No. I just wouldn’t take off my pants.”

“So for the last 10 years, you just dropped your pants enough to fuck?”

“Exactly that.”

Your smile faded slowly as realization hit you. “Oh. So nobody’s seen your whole body since before…”

Jack’s lips pulled into a thin line, exhaling deeply. “Yeah.”

The look in his eyes sent a stab to your chest. He was scared. You ran a hand against the side of his face, stopping once your fingers threaded through his hair. “Are you scared that I’m gonna find it unattractive or something?” You asked.

He didn’t look away from you, but the sad look in his eyes gave you your answer. He didn’t want to say it out loud because it would sound so silly, so juvenile. But it was true. How could a gorgeous woman like you love a deformed man like him? Sure, they made a whole Disney movie about it, more than one actually, but only one where the deformed guy gets the girl, and that’s after he turns back into-

“Jack?”

Your voice brought him back to the small air you shared together. His eyes focused again, watching the way you shifted in his lap, and your other hand came to rest on his face, holding his head in your grasp.

“I love you.”

The words left your lips softly, deftly, like a secret. Jack didn’t react much, but his eyes widened ever so slightly, more of his hazel irises exposed, and a shaky breath escaped his lips. You continued your confession, maintaining intense eye contact, just how he liked it.

“I love you. You’ve had my heart from the first night I met you when I was on my emergency medicine rotation in med school. I didn’t know it at the time. I didn’t know it until I saw you with Eliza when she broke her arm. Seeing the way you cared for her and for Robby and for his family. I saw a man that I couldn’t help but love because he had nothing but love to give.”

Your words made him dizzy, like he was sucking helium, slowly getting high. Tears began to pool in the corners of his eyes, and you took it as a sign to keep going.

“I know you’ve been married before. I remember you used to wear a wedding ring during my med school rotations and the first couple of days of my intern year. I know she passed away a long time ago.”

It was the first time you ever mentioned his wife, not because you danced around the topic, but out of respect. Jack swallowed thickly at the mention of her.

“I don’t want to replace her. I don’t want to ever push her out of your heart. She was there first. But I just want you to know that you’ve got another person who loves you as much. Who would do anything to make you smile.”

And that made Jack smile. His eyes crinkled, leaning in to your lips with his. “I love you.” He mumbled into your mouth. “More than I thought I was able to love someone.”

His confession drew a relieved exhale from you, and you softened into the kiss, letting his mouth take you wherever was next. Until he pulled away to speak again:

“I haven’t worn my wedding band because of you.”

You heeded his words, but your brow furrowed as you thought back to the last time he wore the ring. “But that was months ago.” You said, really meaning to keep it in your thoughts, but it came out anyway.

Jack just nodded, moving to take one of the hands that cradled his face in his one. “Yeah. Not since the morning you found me talking to her on the roof.”

You squeezed his hand gently. “Talking to her?” You questioned.

Jack sighed, not in distress, but in a peaceful exhale. “In the mornings, I used to go up to the roof a lot. Especially after bad shifts. When the sun was rising, I would talk to her. My therapist thought it would keep me from actually jumping off the building to join her, and he was right.”

He laughed at the end of his sentence, and you smiled along with him, but then he met your gaze once more, staring deeply into your soul.

“I didn’t forget you after your med school rotation during your third year. And I was incredibly distraught when you didn’t take a fourth year rotation. I realized it was because I wanted you.” He confessed, then his jaw tightened. “Loved you.” He amended, like it was the first time the confession left his body. “That’s when I began to feel guilty. Like I was betraying her or cheating on her.”

Your brow furrowed in time with his, and he swallowed hard on the stressful memory.

“Those first couple of shifts that you were with me this year were hell. All I could think of was you, and it was eating me alive. I couldn’t even talk about it to Robby because then that made it real. That morning on the roof, I was talking to her about it. Apologizing for it. But then you showed up, not even looking for me, just trying to get some air. And when I saw you, the way the sun was glowing against your face, and you smiled at me…”

Jack smiled now, as he remembered your sleepy features from that morning melting away as you smiled and talked about the most grueling parts of your shift.

“I could hear her telling me to move on. Honest to God, I heard her voice.” His smile remained, but his eyes were dead serious. “Haven’t worn my wedding ring since that day. Haven’t ever taken it off for someone else because…”

You tilted your head as his eyes drifted down to the hand of yours that he held against his chest. “Because…?” You prompted.

“I’ve never met someone who I would replace the ring for.” He looked back up to your curious face. “Not until you."

Tears stung your eyes, and you took in a shaky breath through your lungs. “You’d marry me?”

Jack grinned, pressing his forehead against yours. “I would marry you tomorrow if you let me.” He answered honestly. “But you deserve some more fanfare than that. A pretty ring, a pretty dress, a pretty wedding.”

You wanted to protest, but the idea of marrying Jack was too much to handle. A proposal, a first dance, all while surrounded by family and friends. It made you smile, and you giggled as you tried to suppress your sheer excitement at the thoughts.

Jack just chuckled and peppered your nose with tiny kisses. “Yeah, you’d like that?” He teased, but so lovingly.

“Yeah.” You agreed, letting him kiss the warmth off your face.

Eventually you caught his mouth again with your own, and the kiss felt different. It was domestic, stable, and sure like an oath you were making to each other in that moment. He deepened the kiss first, moving his hands back to your hips, and you were reminded of the aching bulge you still sat upon.

“Jack?” You whispered, tilting your head as his lips roamed to your jawline.

“Yes, love?” He murmured, dragging his bottom lip against your skin as he moved down to your neck.

You tapped his right knee gently, and that made him pull away to look at you. “Can I help you take it off?” You asked quietly. “Please?”

Jack didn’t answer right away. He drew in a sharp breath when he nodded, his heart fluttering at the thought of someone helping him for the first time since he left inpatient physical therapy. “Yeah.” He whispered.

You climbed off his lap and slowly sank to your knees. He rolled up the right pant leg of his jeans slowly, revealing the prosthesis. The sleeve cover extended from the socket of the metal to his mid thigh, compressing his leg to secure the prosthetic.

“Show me how.” You demanded simply, the same tone you used when he had taught you how to intubate with a tactical crike kit for the first time.

Jack couldn’t help the smile that found its way to his lips. You were curious, desperate to learn. One of the very things that made him fall for you almost two years ago. But this was so much more intimate than teaching you disaster medicine tricks and shortcuts. He was teaching you how to care for him.

He rested his fingers at the hem of the fabric sleeve on his thigh, thumbs hooking under the right material. “This is a sleeve that I put over the socket. It creates a seal to keep the socket in place, stops it from falling off.” He explained, and he began to roll down the sleeve.

Your hands grasped onto his, letting the sleeve snap back into place against his skin. “Let me do it.” You begged, looking up to him with those doe eyes. “Please. I want to learn.”

Jack relented, a small laugh at your earnestness. “Okay, okay.” He agreed. “But it’s gonna be really sweaty.”

You hooked your index fingers under the sleeve around his thigh and pulled down, letting the material roll over itself, slowly exposing more and more of his skin. He let out a hiss of relief as cold air mixed with the perspiration. The sleeve finally unrolled all the way, uncoupling his leg and the prosthetic.

“Yeah, just like that.” He confirmed with the familiar swirl of pride in his chest from whenever you successfully completed a new procedure. “Now I can just move it to the side.”

He placed the prosthetic beside the bed, and it stood up, perfectly balanced. You looked to his leg now, intrigued by the layers of fabric. “Okay, what’s next?” You questioned, fingers tracing over his bare knee.

Jack pointed to the first layer of fabric. “These are just socks. They help to keep a perfect fit within the socket.” He explained, and you removed the two black socks until you were met with silicone. “This is the liner. Why don’t you let me do this one? It collects a lot of sweat. Like a lot.”

You almost pouted when he wouldn’t let you remove the liner. As he carefully rolled it off, he didn’t notice you disappear into the bathroom until he heard the sink turn on and off. You returned with a damp towel, dropping to your knees again. When he removed the liner completely, the silicone material held a small pool of sweat.

Jack grimaced. “I know it’s gross, but-“

You cut him off by encasing his bare stump in the cold, damp towel, massaging gently through the material. He clenched his eyes shut at the euphoric sensation and tilted his head down toward his chest.

“Does this feel okay?” You asked, trying to apply just enough pressure to relieve the strain from a long day of walking through the park.

He just nodded, unable to speak, only grunting in relief as your fingers worked their magic. You dragged the towel up his thigh, wiping away at the sweat that had beaded throughout the day, cooling off the skin and letting it breathe. He closed his eyes, mostly to hold back tears. He had never been the recipient of such love and care and service, and it was almost overwhelming him.

That is, until he felt your lips on his knee. Kissing once, then twice. Then moving down his shin, a gentle trail of kisses. Until your mouth reached his stump where you stopped to inspect the faded amputation scar before searing it with more kisses.

You sat back on your knees, one hand still massaging the knotted muscles at his stump, and scanned his whole body. “You’re so beautiful, Jack.”

That was more than he could handle. A tear escaped from his eye, and he pulled you up to him, guiding your thighs to straddle his lap once more. His lips caught yours, desperate to taste you again, to battle your tongue for dominance that he was sure to win. You draped your arms around his neck, desperate for the warmth of his bare chest against yours. Absentmindedly, your hips bucked, smearing your wet pussy across the crotch of his jeans, dampening the bulge underneath the zipper. Jack only broke the connection of your lips to groan, the vibration pulling from his gut, far deeper than his chest.

“Oh, fuck, baby doll.” He muttered through clenched teeth, reaching a desperate hand to the fly of his pants.

Your hands met his at his waist, pulling down the zipper to reveal the signature “Lucky You” printed on the inside of the Lucky Brand jeans. How appropriate. Before you could shuck his pants off for him, you were swiftly rolled onto your back and tossed farther up the bed, the bedroom a blur, only stilling once you saw Jack crawling up to hover over your body. His jeans were now on the floor and fuck. He was hung. There was no way that-

“I love you.” His voice cut through your pussy’s panicking, and lowered to kiss the inside of your thigh, large hand gripping your knee just below. “I love you with everything that I am.” Kissing up your thigh now, moving dangerously close to your blazing, dripping core, stubble scraping across your marble skin. “And I want to spend the rest of my life making sure you know that.” His nose nudged against your mound, the heat surely condensating against his skin. His breath felt cool in comparison as it hit your folds but warmth spread across your body nevertheless. His eyes flicked up to yours, seeking permission, some kind of confirmation to grant him access to the one thing he’s been wanting since the day he met you.

When your thighs clenched around his shoulders instinctively at the sight, you found yourself unable to form a real sentence. The only thing that would come out of your mouth was a pathetic whimper of his name.

Jack nudged his nose against your hidden clit, like he was marking its location ahead of time to come back to, but his eyes never left you. “I need to you tell me what you want, love. Can’t keep going until you do.” His voice was soft and silvery, but you recognized the underlying strain of lust.

Your cheeks flushed, trying to build up the strength to vocalize your perverse wishes. “Can you eat me out?” You asked.

Jack lips quirked to the side in amusement. Your answer was so sweet and earnest. Not dirty like he was expecting. “You want me to eat you out, honey?” He asked. “Yeah?”

You nodded, brows furrowing in anticipation. “Yeah.” You confirmed.

Without another second of hesitation, Jack dropped his mouth and licked a long, searing stripe against your folds, catching every drop of wetness that had been waiting for him. Your thighs clenched around his head as you screamed his name, fistfuls of his sheets bunched in your hands.

“So wet, goddamn.” He mumbled, gently kissing your pussy, humming as his nose brushed against your clit again. “All this for me? Huh?”

Your fingers found purchase in his chrome curls, anchoring in his scalp, hotly sensitive to his ministrations. “Mmhmm.” You mumbled. “Only for you.”

Jack pressed another kiss to your weeping hole. “That’s right. Only for me.” He reiterated before his tongue dove deep into your core.

Vulgar sounds of his tongue lapping your juices, smacks from his sucking mouth, and your high pitched whines filled the air of his bedroom. It didn’t take long for your abdomen to coil, the telltale hint of an orgasm approaching steadily. But before you could warn him, Jack pulled away, much to your dismay.

“Jaaaaack.” You whimpered, rubbing your thighs against his neck.

He looked up to you, his jaw already gleaming with your juices. “Hold on, baby doll.” He shushed you as his thumb trailed against your folds, moving a little bit higher. “Gonna make you feel better.”

His thick fingers moved to your clit, maneuvering the soft skin until your sensitive bud was fully exposed to the cold air of the room. Without warning, he placed a sickeningly slow kiss against it, pulling back with concentrated suction on the bundle of nerves. Your thighs clamped shut around his neck, and if you were choking him, he didn’t mind the asphyxiation.

“How’s that feel, huh?” He mumbled against your pussy, his stubble burning deliciously against you as he spoke.

Your grip in his hair tightened, forcing his mouth back against your clit again. “S-so good, baby.” You breathed.

Another draw of his mouth against your clit had you screaming his name, squeezing tighter around his neck to a point that he had to use his free hand to slightly pry your thigh enough for a short breath of air. But he didn’t stop. The dance continued like that for a while, him frenching your clit as you squirmed underneath, helpless to his power. When he slipped a thick index finger into your pussy, curling perfectly against that spongy spot inside you, it was only a matter of time before you saw stars.

“Jack, I’m gonna come.” You said it like a warning but Jack took it as a task.

He didn’t stop to praise you or tease you. As soon as your said those words, he was a man on a mission. His suckling mouth doubled down against your clit, taking in the sensitive bud like a devotion. The thick index finger inside you was joined by his middle finger, stretching you further, putting more pressure on that spongy spot.

The twisting in your abdomen reached a peak, but something felt unusual in your core as Jack continued to finger you like a man possessed.

“Wait, Jack. Something feels different.” Your voice trembled, but if he had actually stopped, you think you would have died.

Instead, Jack just hummed against you. “Just give into it, baby doll. It’ll feel good.” His hoarse voice rasped against your bundle of nerves.

Before you could protest, the spring inside you snapped. Your walls pulsed around his large fingers as white heat rushed over your body in conjunction with your juices splashing across Jack’s face, dribbling down his chin as he licked you clean. Your chest heaved as your orgasm rolled through you, the grip in Jack’s curls loosening a bit as you reeled from your high.

“Holy shit.” You panted. “That was…good.”

You felt Jack chuckle as your thighs moved with his bouncing shoulders. “Told ya.” Was all he said with a smug grin before he finished off his meal, leaving nothing left behind.

He began to move up your body again, pressing kisses against your stomach, breasts, chest, neck, jaw, all the way back to your lips. You could taste yourself on his mouth and tongue, his chin slipping against yours from lubrication. You rolled your hips up against his, feeling his length pushing against your belly, aching to be sheathed inside you. When your hips bucked into his for a second time, Jack grabbed them on either side, pinning you down against the mattress.

“What’d I say, huh? Gotta use your words and tell me what you want.” He reminded you, breath ghosting against your neck.

Your hands ran up his back, dragging your fingernails with them in a soothing pattern. “I want you.”

Jack clicked his tongue and tilted his head to the side to look up at you. “You’re a doctor. I know you know more words than that.”

You whined and shut your eyes in frustration, trying to roll your hips again, but they were weighted down by his hands still. “I want your cock inside me.” You begged, and when you opened your eyes again, his were incredibly dilated, almost erasing the hazel completely.

“Atta girl.” He praised before lining up the fat head of his cock against your folds, running it up and down to collect your slick. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath fanning across your cheeks. “Ready?” He asked in a voice too soft to be the one that was commanding you just a moment ago, and surely not one that he ever used as a Lieutenant Colonel.

You nodded, securing your arms around his shoulders, bracing yourself. “I’m ready.” You confirmed, sealing your answer with a gentle kiss.

Jack moved forward slowly. Inch by inch. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six?

First, you couldn’t breathe. It was like the air had been knocked out of you, leaving your diaphragm reeling to regain function. The only thing that could come out was pathetic grunts from your chest, barely making it past your vocal cords.

“Almost there.” His coarse voice whispered.

Seven. Eight? Eight. Finally, pelvic bones fused. And that’s when your lungs could fill again, followed by a glass shattering scream. Jack just pressed kisses across your cheeks, smearing the tears that fell.

“That’s my girl.” He grunted softly between your staggered cries of pain.

Your chest heaved, struggling to adjust to his length and thickness. “J-Jack, it’s too much, I can’t do it.” You blubbered.

“You’re gonna have to, love.” He cooed, nuzzling his nose against yours.

More tears spilled from your eyes as he ripped you in half. He brushed away each one with his thumb, leaving kisses in their place. Slowly, he pulled out of you completely, and you could breathe again. But only for a moment.

Jack filled you up again, just a little quicker this time, and you squirmed underneath him. His name sputtered from your lips.

“You’re doing so good for me, kid.” He mumbled against your damp chest, beginning to pull out again.

And that repeated for a long time. Jack would thrust in, and you would scream, and he would praise you. Over and over. The pace picking up each time. Until finally, there was a rhythm. No waiting to finish his praise before he was thrusting in again.

And the pain morphed into pleasure. Your timid hips began to meet his thrusts halfway, and your cries of discomfort turned to cries of ecstasy. The sounds in the room were unholy but surely heaven felt like this.

But just as your second orgasm began to build, Jack’s hips began to stutter, and the veins in his neck bulged as he strained. “I’ve gotta…I’ve gotta stop.” He grunted.

You panicked, thinking he had changed his mind on a whim, the desperation in his voice sending you into a spiral. “What? Why?” You questioned.

He buried his head deep as he pulled out fully, leaving you painfully empty. “I was gonna come.” He rasped. “Don’t wanna yet. Wanna make you feel good.”

You felt relief wash over your body. But something spurred you to ignore his wishes. You linked your legs around his waist and crocodile rolled him with a swiftness. He would have stopped you, but, well, he only had one foot that was grounding him to the mattress.

“You make me feel good.” You reassured him as you lined up over his pelvis again, hovering above his throbbing cock. “You make me feel so good.” Your hand wrapped firmly around his cock, smothering the head against your folds. “But you’re gonna come.”

Before Jack could protest, you sank down on his length, and his voice cracked into incoherent cursing. You rocked on his hips slowly, splaying your hands across the old scar on his abdomen for support. “You’re gonna kill me, kid.” His voice was hoarse, but his smile was unwavering.

“Hopefully not anytime soon.” You whispered, eyes fluttering shut from the way his tip caressed that spongy spot inside you over and over.

And he laughed. You were riding him to his climax, grinding on him like it was your life mission to make him come, and you were making him laugh.

“I’m- oh fuck, I’m gonna come.” He said, and it was meant as a warning.

He was warning you to pull away, so he could use his hand to finish, maybe splatter against your stomach. But when you maintained his intense stare, bouncing impossibly faster on him, he knew your plan. He gripped your hips tightly and began to meet you halfway with sharp thrusts.

“Jack?”

“Yes, love?”

“Fuck a baby in me.”

Now that? That was enough to send Jack over the edge whether or not he wanted to. When he came, he made sure the whole neighborhood knew. His vocal cords shredded as his head pushed back into the bed, throat muscles shifting. You could feel the hot ropes of cum painting your insides with each twitch of his cock, and you slowed your pace to a gentle roll of your hips, milking each drop out of him.

When the spasms began to wane and his breathing returned to a consistent ebb and flow, he focused his gaze on you again. Your silhouette-framed by the golden glow of his bedside lamp, shimmering with sweat but still enchantingly beautiful. He smiled lazily and pulled you against his chest, careful not to pull you off his cock just yet.

Your head rested against his pectoral, right above his heart. Each thump was slower than the last as his breathing slowed to a normal rhythm. His hand ran through your hair, messed and knotted from throws of sex. You nearly fell asleep that way, in his arms, his cock slowly softening inside you, until he spoke:

“Did you mean it?”

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, the hazel in his eyes now the majority again. “Mean what?”

“You want a baby?” His voice was so gentle, so small, and so…hopeful. “With me?”

You smiled and brought a hand to the side of his face, pulling him down for a sweet kiss. “Yes, I want a baby.” You answered, but corrected yourself when you remembered his favor for specificity. “With you, Jack.”

Jack couldn’t hold back his smile that quickly transformed into a grin. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, brushing a thumb across his cheek bone. “Absolutely.” You replied before kissing him once more. “Besides, I think Eliza and Abbot need some cousins.”

—

Robby collapsed on the couch next to his wife, slinking lazily into her lap as she watched sitcom reruns. “Abbot is finally asleep.” He mumbled against her stomach, humming with content when her fingers began to card through his dark hair. “Wouldn’t stop babbling. Talks as much as Jack does. Maybe we should’ve named him after your grandfather instead.”

His wife giggled and traced the bridge of his nose. “You know the baby monitor is right here? I could hear you talking to him the entire time. You weren’t letting him sleep.” She replied.

Robby scoffed, wrapping his arms around her waist to secure his resting spot. “For your information, we were talking about very important business.”

“Post season stats for the Penguins is important business?” His wife deadpanned.

“Yes. I’m starting him early so that he can be as stressed as me one day and nearly go into cardiac arrest during every game.” He answered very seriously, trying to fight the sleep that called his name.

That is, until his phone buzzed. With a groan, fearing it was the night shift needing an extra hand or worse, Gloria, he sluggishly reached into his pocket. When the screen lit up, he groaned and raised the phone to his wife. “Read this for me, love. I don’t have my glasses on me.”

Before his wife could make a snarky comment about being an old man, the message on the screen drew a gasp from her. “Holy shit, Jack wants to go ring shopping.”

Robby perked up a bit, but was slow to trust his wife. “You know, it’s not nice to lie to your elders.” He teased.

She shook her head, shoving his phone closer to his face. “No, he really said it!” She exclaimed.

Robby furrowed his brow, holding his phone farther away until the text came into focus. “Well shit, he might beat us on fastest engagement.” He mused before typing back a question of “When do you wanna go?”

“Think they’ll beat us on the baby, too?” His wife teased.

Robby chuckled, placing his phone on his chest as he looked up to his wife. “I doubt it. Can’t let ‘em catch up to us though.” He said before pulling her down for a kiss. “Gotta keep our lead going strong.”

His wife pushed at his chest but still revelled in his kisses. “Give Abbot a chance to be the baby of the family.” She teased.

Robby shrugged, smirking up at her. “I’m just sayin’, only three more babies until I have a basketball team.” He joked in response.

She scratched his beard and squeezed his cheeks condescendingly. “In your dreams, Robinavitch.”

[dontworrysunflower]

. ᵒ .༄ JACK ABBOT x MORGUE TECH!READER CONCEPTS !  ࿔* ·˚ ༘ ┊͙ # 🥼 possible trigger warnings .' nsfw 18+ MDNI ━ including oral ( fem!recieving ) , heavy praise kink  ‧ 💉 ‧ ━━ WC 1.7k

series masterlist || inbox ━━━ request here!!! * ✷ ⊹ * ˚ ✷ dividers by @cafekitsune and @uzmacchiato !!!

⤷ ✵ ✧ . · * . · .  BREATHE || requested!!! ( anon )

it started like everything between you and jack did lately : slowly. carefully. like he was afraid you'd break if he touched you too fast.

and maybe he was right.

you hadn’t meant to end up tangled with him on your bed—your safe place, the one part of the world where no one could look at you or expect anything from you. but he’d come over after shift, after checking in on you three times throughout the day with little text updates.

still alive? almost broke shen's nose have time for a coffee break?

and you’d mumbled something about being tired, and then he’d asked if he could stay. you didn’t say no.

now, the light was dim and your bedroom smelled like clean sheets and his cologne—something crisp and warm that clung to your clothes hours after he left. your back was against your pillow, your legs tangled loosely around his waist, and jack was looking at you like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to be here.

his hand slid under the hem of your sleep shirt, fingers slow and reverent against your bare thigh. he’d touched you before—but only like this. over the fabric. through clothes. never skin to skin.

you felt fevered. like your blood was too hot for your body.

“you still okay, pretty girl?” he asked, voice low.

your bedroom was the only place that ever felt remotely safe.

so when jack had pressed a soft kiss to your temple and asked, in that low rasp that always melted your bones—so quietly you'd barely heard it.

you nodded, biting your lip. “mmhm.”

you were trembling beneath him, still dressed ( if your night shirt and panties counted as dressed ), your legs open around his waist, your breath shaky with anticipation. he hadn’t even touched you yet, not really—just slow kisses and soft praise and the kind of eye contact that made your skin prickle.

he watched you for a beat too long. “that doesn’t sound convincing.”

“i’m just…” you swallowed. “nervous.”

his hand stilled. “we can stop.”

“no.” your voice cracked. “i don’t want to stop. i just—i don’t know what i’m doing.” jack smiled. soft and adoring and absolutely fucking lethal. “you don’t have to know what you’re doing. you just have to let me make you feel good.”

god.

you’d combust on the spot if he kept talking like that.

he leaned in, kissing your jaw, then your cheek, then your temple. “let me take care of you, pretty thing. you don’t have to do anything but lie there and let me spoil you a little.”

you nodded—too quickly, too shyly—and he smiled against your skin.

he kissed you properly once more—slow, thorough, the kind of kiss that made your breath stutter—and then his mouth began trailing down. your neck. your collarbone. your sternum. he whispered praise with every inch he traveled.

his fingers brushing your inner thigh. “gonna need you to breathe for me.” you nodded, but your voice wobbled. “mmhm. i’m okay.”

jack kissed the inside of your knee. “color?”

you blinked. “g-green. i’m green.”

“good girl.”

you whimpered—embarrassed, flustered—and covered your face with both hands. he chuckled, low and fond. "don't hide from me, baby, wanna see those pretty eyes." then he kissed down your thigh. closer. and closer.

by the time he reached the hem of your sleep shirt, your fingers were fisted in the sheets. you were already soaked. you didn’t want to think about how obvious it must have been when he nudged his hands up your waist, pushing the night shirt with it. leaving your panties on full view. sopping wet and clinging to your cunt.

he kissed your inner thigh first. then the other. you gasped when his stubble brushed sensitive skin, but he just hummed and did it again.

“i’ve wanted to taste you since the first time you whined my name through your teeth,” he muttered, kissing closer and closer to where you needed him most. “you remember that, don’t you? the first time you got off on my hand, grinding down on my thigh like it was instinct?”

his mouth brushed over the damp cotton of your panties. you sobbed—softly. you tried to hide it, but your body arched toward him anyway. your hips twitched again as you whispered, "oh."

jack looked up at you from between your legs. “i’m gonna take these off now, ok?" you nodded, barely able to speak. when he peeled your panties down your legs, his expression changed—went soft and hungry all at once. it was intoxicating watching him look at you like that.

“fuck,” he muttered. “so pretty.” you made a noise in your throat, small and strangled, hands still over your face. he nudged your thighs wider.

and that’s when he finally kissed your cunt. long. slow. so gentle it felt like your soul cracked in two.

your hands flew to your face again. jack didn’t stop. a long, slow, open-mouthed kiss. he dragged his tongue from your entrance to your clit, circling once, twice, before sucking—softly—just enough to make your hips jerk and a sound escape your mouth that neither of you had ever heard before.

it echoed.

loud. high-pitched. raw.

you slapped a hand over your mouth, mortified. jack stilled, then looked up, eyes dark, lips slick. his eyes were wide when he looked up at you. “baby, you okay?”

you nodded violently. “i—i didn’t mean to—i’m sorry—”

“sorry?” He blinked. then his mouth split into a crooked, wicked smile. “sweetheart, if i’d known you’d could sound like that, i’d’ve been down here weeks ago.”

you whined. “jack…”

“no. don’t hide.” he flattened his palm against your belly. “be loud for me. let me hear how good it feels.”

then he ducked back down—and this time, his mouth was more insistent. his tongue slower, firmer, focused. you felt it everywhere—your thighs trembling, your fingers twitching, your back arching against the bed.

you moaned again—louder.

jack groaned into you.

his fingers joined in—two of them, thick and curling and perfect. it sent a bolt of heat straight through you.

you were crying now.

not from pain.

from pleasure. from being overwhelmed. from being touched in a way you didn’t know you could be. you were sobbing his name, clutching the sheets, shaking so hard you weren’t sure if you were going to break apart or ascend.

“jack—jack—jackie—oh my g—”

he pressed his mouth harder against you. you whimpered into your arm.

“no hiding.” he pulled his fingers out and you whined loud. and then his palm came down, firm and steady on your belly. not rough—never rough—but grounding. his fingers were slicked with your cum and now so was your stomach where he was holding you in place. “be loud for me, pretty thing. let me hear how good it feels.”

and then he buried his mouth back between your thighs like he meant to stay there.

you had never—never—felt anything like it. his tongue was slow and deliberate, licking in deep, patient swipes that made your legs twitch and your hips lift off the bed. when he circled your clit again, it was with calculated pressure, drawing tight little figure-eights before sealing his mouth around it and sucking—

“oh—oh my god—jack—!” your voice cracked. shattered.

you reached for something—anything—and grabbed a fistful of his hair. he groaned into you like he liked it, and the sound made your thighs clamp around his head in reflex.

that only encouraged him.

he doubled down.hands gripping your hips now, holding you open like he was never letting go, licking you like he was trying to ruin you for anything else. and it was working. god, it was working. your vision blurred. your voice—usually so quiet, so careful—was cracking wide open, sobs slipping from your throat before you could even catch them.

“fuck,” he muttered, pulling back just long enough to drag his fingers through your slick again. “you’re soaked. you’re so—” he pushed a finger in, slow and firm, then a second. “—fucking tight. christ.”

“jack—please—i—”

“what do you need, baby? gotta use your words baby. 'member what we talked about.” he asked.

you nodded furiously. “more please!”

“then you’re gonna give me every goddamn sound you’ve got.”

he kissed your clit again, soft and sweet like a reward, before he started moving his fingers—slow, at first. curling them. searching.

you didn’t know what you were saying anymore. you were crying, babbling, leaking into his hand while he worked you open with slow, relentless care. and the moment he found the spot that made your spine arch? he smiled against you.

“there it is,” he murmured. “that’s it, isn’t it?”

you sobbed.

he didn’t stop.

he licked you while fingering you, every drag of his tongue perfectly timed to your cries, coaxing you closer and closer until you were thrashing—honestly thrashing—underneath him.

and when your orgasm hit, it was like your body exploded.

you screamed followed with a choked cry, thighs clamping around his head, your whole body shuddering, voice raw and loud and desperate.

loud. broken. a sobbing, hiccuping mess of sound and sensation.

jack didn’t stop—not right away. not until you were twitching, whimpering, gasping for air. he had stayed with you through it. kissed your thigh. murmured praise. and jack—jack fucking abbot—kissed your hip and said, voice low and rough : “louder than i imagined, pretty thing.”

you could barely breathe. you were shaking. twitching. your legs wouldn’t stop moving. “i didn’t mean to—i didn’t—”

“yes you did,” he said, smiling into your skin. “don’t pretend you didn’t wanna scream my name.”

you hid your face. he kissed your trembling stomach. “Next time, I’m making you scream it twice.” gently he brushed his lips up your belly, your ribs, your throat, until he was beside you again—warm and solid and safe.

you didn’t even realize you were crying until jack was kissing your inner thigh and murmuring, “good girl. that’s it. you did so good for me.”

his hair was a mess. his lips were slick. and he looked like the devil himself—smirking, satisfied, obsessed. “you’re full of surprises, pretty thing,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. you covered your face again, shaking your head.

you whined. he kissed you again. and you let him. because in your bedroom, where you were supposed to feel in control, you didn’t.

not with jack abbott.

and maybe you liked it that way.

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[dontworrysunflower]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。SOME PROTECTOR — JACK ABBOT.

pairing: jack abbot x resident!reader

warnings: age gap (late 20s and late 40s), resident/attending relationship, violence (reader is attacked by patient), hurt/comfort, canon-typical gore

summary: reader is on the receiving end of patient aggression and ends up becoming a trauma patient herself; abbot feels helpless as her life hangs in the balance

author's note: hiii thank you for reading my first ever fic <3 just watched the grey’s anatomy episode where meredith is attacked and this is loosely based on/inspired by it; this isn’t proofread, i needed to get this off my chest immediately. also forgive me for any incorrect medical jargon! i’m a yearner not a doctor…and yes i was listening to some protector by role model on repeat while writing this :)

masterlist | read on ao3

wc: 2.8k

The best part about working a 12-hour shift? Leaving. You love your job, the work you do is rewarding, and you save lives—not everyone can say the same. To top it off, you loved the people you worked with, and they all made your shifts better, even the unbearable ones.

And this shift was straight from hell.

"What are you still doing here?" Dana teased as you approached the center desk, hands resting on your hips.

"Just wrapping up some loose ends. Anything good come in? I'd hate to get FOMO," your eyes scanned the screen as you looked for one last case to take.

"You can take the screaming five-month-old off my hands," Langdon offered, parking himself on the other side of you. You grimaced as you turned to face him.

"I'd rather poke my eye out with a fork," you mused, getting a laugh from Dana and Perlah. An alarm suddenly went off, and you felt the erratic buzzing your pocket.

"What's that for?" Perlah asked, glancing up from the computer screen.

"Birth control?" Dana mused with a knowing smile. You rolled your eyes as you dug your phone out of your pocket, silencing the reminder you had set for yourself. Once the screen cleared, you saw you had a text from Jack.

Dropped off breakfast for you on my way to Pitt, I'll come over after my shift.

You smiled softly and began typing out a response, forgetting the three people around you.

"Speak of the devil," Langdon murmured, bursting your peaceful bubble.

"Don't you have a baby to make cry or something?" You scowled, a look you typically reserved for Langdon, "I'm gonna go give North 1 his last round of meds and then I'm out!"

There was a chorus of byes as you walked away from the desk, heading over to Mr. Saenz's room. He was still asleep in his bed, the knock on the door not waking him up. The blinds were already lowered to give him some privacy, and you shut the door behind you.

Then, you did a routine check on his vitals and smiled to yourself, happy to see that he was stable.

He was one of the first people to come in during your shift after having been in a car accident. Despite the gash on the side of his head and a few bruises, he managed to still engage with you and the rest of the staff. He had just gotten off a double himself, and mistakenly dozed off while driving home before drifting into the wrong lane and overcorrecting too late.

Poor guy kept cracking jokes up until the point he started coding, but thankfully you were able to resuscitate him. When he was brought up to surgery they were able to stop the internal bleeding and patch him up, and based on your check, he should be waking up later today.

"I'll be back to check on you later tonight, Petey," you announced, standing from the ground once you find the vial you were looking for on the storage cart. You set it down on top of the storage cart before snapping on some gloves. "Try not to miss me too much—,"

The words died in your throat as a hand tightened around your ponytail and yanked you backwards into a wall, the force of the throw knocking the breath of your lungs. His fist came next, his knuckles connecting with your cheek and sending you to the floor.

What the hell was happening? When did he wake up?

There was no warning as he delivered a swift kick to your ribs, making you curl into yourself. He moved mechanically, climbing on top of you and continuing to down blows, everything happening so quickly you barely had time to think. You tried throwing your arms out to defend yourself but it was no use—Petey was twice your size, and had the strength of a linebacker.

Not only could you taste blood in your mouth, you felt the thick substance running down the side of your face, and through a sea of pain you saw Petey's knuckles covered in it.

"Help! Security!" Your cries were cut short as Petey's hands wrapped around your throat, constricting your airway.

This cannot be real.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a bed pan on the ground beside his bed. Without a second thought, you reached for it, your hands brushing the edge as you strained to grab it. Finally, you felt your fingers close around it and mustered all your strength as you slammed it into his temple.

His hands went slack around your throat, and he fell backwards off of you. Gasping for air, you laid on the ground unmoving, just thankful to still be breathing. You hazarded a glance at Petey who was unconscious yet again, and winced.

Two blunt force traumas to the head could not be good for him.

The door opened, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Good morning Mr. Saenz, my name is—," the voice screamed, calling for security and rushing over to you. "Y/N! Oh God, what happened?"

"He attacked," you rasped. McKay's face swirled above you as she shined a small light into your eyes checking your pupils. "He wasn't in control."

"I'm so sorry," she reassured, gingerly touching the side of your face. You could only imagine how banged up you must look, and hurt just as badly, if not worse.

Distantly, you heard her calling for Robby and ordering someone to find Abbot. You kept your eyes focused on the ceiling as you fought to stay awake. More voices came into the room and you felt various hands lift you onto a gurney.

The jostling movements made you groan in pain, as you began to feel the extent of your injuries. They were wheeling you through the hallway now, bringing you to one of the empty trauma rooms.

The team moved quickly, shouting out tests to order and demanding that you get bumped to the front of the line for all of them.

"Y/N, do you know where you are?" Robby's voice asked above you. As they hooked you up to the appropriate monitors, he began to do a neurological evaluation and checked your responses.

"Pitt, and I wanna go home," you admitted. Robby cracked a smile but the lines of worry were deeply etched into his expression.

"Can you tell us what happened?"

"I don't know, he was asleep when I went in to check on him and next thing I know I'm on the ground get the crap kicked out of me," you racked your mind for possible explanations for his erratic, out of character behavior, "This doesn't make sense, he's not a violent man. Is he okay?"

"They're working on him right now, but my focus is you. Anyone get in touch with Abbot yet?"

"Whitaker went to grab him, he's in the next room with another trauma," Langdon announced coming into the room. "You really didn't want to get FOMO, huh?"

"You know me," you joked. Someone prodded at your abdomen and you involuntarily let out a yelp.

At that moment, Jack burst into the room with Whitaker half-running to keep up with him. He wasted no time beelining to you, hands cradling your face with a gentleness he only ever reserved for you. He scanned you, his eyes lingering on what you assumed were handprints around your throat.

"Who did this?" It was less of a question, and more of an order, a command.

"I'm okay," you reassured him, resting your hand on his, "I'm okay."

"You're face is three different kinds of purple and blue, there's hand marks on your neck," Jack continued to ramble about the severity of your injuries, but it was getting difficult to hear him over the throbbing pain in every part of your body.

Noticing the change in your demeanor, Jack switched gears knowing that his anger, although justified, had no place in this room.

"Hey, look at me," he instructed softly, his eyes seeking yours, "you are absolutely not okay. But you will be, and I'll be right here with you." He pressed a kiss to your forehead before taking a seat beside your head.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Jack kept talking to you in a low voice to make sure you stayed conscious the entire time. Considering all the blunt blows you took to the head, he was most worried about a possible hemorrhage and counting down the seconds until it was time for you to go up to get a CT.

"You know I've been begging for a day off, now I at least get a week," you said suddenly.

"You won't be able to do anything and you hate sitting around," he deadpanned.

"Yeah, but I get to have a hot doctor dote on me 24/7," you winked at him, but because of how swollen your eye was, it looked more like a wince.

How do you have it in you to joke? He wondered, before realizing you were doing it for him. You must be scared to death in that bed, yet your more concerned about his wellbeing than yours. Hell, Robby even mentioned that you were worried about the man who attacked you.

Jack really never could get over how big your heart was, and it always left him in awe. There wasn't a day that went by since meeting you that he didn't wonder how he got so lucky with you.

The monitors began to beep loudly, pulling him out of his thoughts. When he looked back down at you, your eyes were closed and blood was dribbling out of your mouth.

"Sats are dropping," Langdon announced.

"She's choking on her own blood, we need to intubate to give her an airway," Robby moved methodically as Jack stepped up and out of his way to give him space.

"You shouldn't watch this," a voice said at his shoulder. Jack glanced to his right and saw Dana. She had a sad smile, and reached out to touch his elbow.

"I can handle it," he said tightly, not taking his eyes off you.

"I know you can, but you shouldn't have to. We'll step out until she's stable. Sound good?"

Hesitant, Jack nodded his head. He let Dana lead him out of the room and into the hallway. Once the door shut behind him, he leaned against the wall and took a shuddering breath.

"How can I help you? What do you need?" Dana asked softly.

"I just need a second," he breathed out, squinting his eyes shut. Aside from his deep, measured breaths there was silence between them. "I can't lose her."

"You won't," Dana said definitively, breaking the golden rule of healthcare: making a promise she can't keep.

"You don't know that," it pained him to admit it out loud, but he thought it. He couldn't bear the thought that his last image of you alive and breathing could be you on a gurney, beaten and broken.

"You're right. But you won't lose her, she's a fighter. Just like you." He opened his eyes at this, his next breath caught in his chest. A lump formed in his throat, and he felt a familiar burning in his eyes he knew all too well.

"I can't lose her, Dana. I won't survive it, not this time, not again," he admitted tearfully, his head dropping into his hands as his silent sobs wracked through his body. Dana wrapped her arms around her longtime friend, who she had only ever seen cry a handful of times.

You were his heart in human form. You breathed life into him, into everyone at the Pitt. Dana couldn't bear to imagine life without you, not for her, not for him, not for anyone.

You had to pull through.

It was dark when you first opened your eyes. The blinds were drawn, and everything was quiet aside from the monitors humming beside you. The pain had finally subsided to a small throb that you could tolerate. You shifted, and felt resistance on your lower thigh.

Glancing over, you saw a figure slumped over in a chair beside you, his arms outstretched across your lap. A small smile spread across your face as you recognized Jack, who probably hadn't left your side since you were put in here.

"Hey," you whispered, rubbing a small circle on the side of his wrist. He stirred instantly, as if he had never really fallen asleep in the first place.

He rose slowly, blinking the drowsiness away before realizing what had happened. You spoke.

You were awake.

You were alive, and you were awake.

"Thank God," he murmured before immediately pulling you into his arms. "I was so worried."

"I'm sorry," you said, hugging him tightly in return. He chuckled in your ear, a sound that washed over you and warmed every part of your body.

"You get brutally attacked and you're apologizing? I should be saying sorry," he said, pulling back slightly to look at you, as if he was still convincing himself this was real.

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"I should've been there. I should've come sooner. I keep replaying it in my head, seeing you on that gurney. I've seen a lot in my life, Y/N, some things that I still don't know how to talk about. But I have never, ever been that terrified before in my life. The thought of losing you completely paralyzed me, and knowing that I couldn't do anything to stop it, couldn't do anything to prevent it, and had to sit back and watch—it killed me."

"Jack, I—,"

"Please, I need to say this. You complete me, Y/N, you know that? You're so deeply entwined in my being that I don't know where you end and I begin. I love you with every fiber of my being, and going through this today made me realize just how scared I am of losing you. I couldn't bear living without you, and I don't want to."

"You don't have to," you whispered, "And I don't want to either."

A beat passed, neither of you wanting to ruin the tender moment. Your fingers were laced through his, his other hand sandwiching yours between his.

"Is Mr. Saenz okay? I hit him pretty hard." Jack's lips pressed into a tight line as he remembered the man who beat you so badly, you ended up getting surgery.

"He hit you pretty hard," he retorted, before quickly reigning in his anger. "They think he experienced a seizure moments before you came in because of the severity of his head injury. It was a silent one, which is why no one caught it at first. When he woke up, he was in a post-seizure fugue state. Disoriented, and not in control of his actions."

"Oh God, did I kill him?" You asked, the monitor beeping a little faster as your heart started to race at the thought.

"No, no, hun he's okay," Jack assured you, not wanting you to stress and hurt yourself further, "You got him good, but it was only a concussion." You let out a sigh of relief, leaning back into your bed.

"Thank God," you whispered, closing your eyes as he readjusted the pillows on your bed to make you more comfortable. "What time is it?"

"3:30 AM."

"You must be exhausted, you've been here all day."

"So have you." You cracked a smile and let out a low chuckle, the movement straining your chest in a way that felt mildly uncomfortable.

"Where does it hurt?" He asked, immediately noticing the way you flinched. You waved him off, assuring him that everything hurts when you move, but there's nothing you could do about it. You had been tested before because of your mother's addiction, and you were at a much higher chance of developing one to controlled substances like morphine because of your genes.

You didn't want fo take the risk, and refused it.

"You should get some rest, staying up this long can't be good for you," you insisted, patting the spot on the small bed beside you, "Come on."

He didn't need to be told twice. He climbed in gingerly, careful not to get tangled in any of the wires or accidentally bump into one of your bruises. Once he was comfortably settled, he opened his arms for you to crawl into.

It was a routine, one that you two followed almost every night. Your head rested on his chest, listening to the calming sound of his heartbeat as his arms encircled you.

"I'll be okay," you said into the quiet, "I love you too."

"I know," he kissed the top of your head, "Get some rest. You need it more than me."

-

please like, comment, reblog <3

[dontworrysunflower]

someone else- j.abbot

summary: you come back from a shitty weekend to an even shittier monday with rumours of your kind-of-boyfriend being into someone else. it only gets worse when an aggravated patient gets his hands on you, and jack doesn't even know.

pairing: jack abbot x fem! doctor! reader (probs late twenties/ early thrities)

warnings: reader gets hurt, jack is an oblivious arsehole, general hospital things, general Pitt themes, robby and dana are saints, no mohan slander :)

a/n: hey yall...! back from the dead (aka writer's block). I'm in love with the pitt so please send in some requests or just lmk what yall think of this :) banners from my good friend @no-144444 ! gif from ho-ii

Imagine how you felt, walking into that fucking breakroom, exhaustion pulling at your eyelids as you somehow pushed past the tiredness and pain that shot through you with every step, and everyone was talking about Jack and someone else. 

The lounge was a cacophony of “They were totally hitting it off-”  and “Abbot’s sooooo into her-”. For a split second, you thought it was about you, that maybe, just maybe he’d finally had the balls to tell someone other than Robby or Dana or Makay, finally made you feel like something other than a dirty little secret. Then the name Mohan popped up, and your jaw dropped, despite the way you wanted to seem unphased. Of fucking course he moved onto someone else, moved onto another fucking resident. You just rolled your eyes and continued on your way, sugary coffee in your hand that tasted closer to cardboard than vanilla, but you drank it anyway. You needed it, after the weekend you’d had. You’d missed the mass casualty, only because of a funeral of your own. Your sister. 23. Dead. You hadn’t told Jack yet, it still sounded weird in your ears. She was only 5 years younger than you. It made something like bile rise in your throat, but you were already at the nurses station, so you swallowed it back and smiled at Dana, a black eye and a tired expression hanging off her own features. 

“Long weekend?” you asked, setting your coffee down on your desk. Some people forgot emergency medicine was like all other forms of medicine, admin-heavy. She leaned against your shoulder, relieved to see you. 

“The longest,” she admitted, clinging to you like she wasn’t sure you wouldn’t bolt if she let go. Maybe you would if you saw him. “Talked to Jack yet?” She asked, seemingly sensing it. You rolled your eyes and massaged your temples, a migraine already building. She chuckled. “What’d he do this time?” She teased, and you didn’t even know what to say. You didn’t even know what he did, but you already knew you felt like a second choice, and you fucking hated that. You felt unwanted. For fuck’s sake, neither of you had actually admitted you two were dating, just labelling it as ‘fooling around’ like you were carefree teenagers. You knew you should’ve pushed him to admit it, pushed him towards being real with you. But you saw how it disinterested him. So you didn’t. You just walked beside him was you both decompressed from your days of torture in the Pitt, then followed him up ot his apartment, and helped him make dinner or hold him as he sobbed. Or he’d hold you. 

“Just tired,” you shook your head. “Migraine coming in already.” You chuckled like it was funny at all, but you both knew it wasn’t. She patted your shoulder and nodded. 

“Well, people need you,” she sighed. “Even if I need you more,” she whispered that last part, a bright smile on her lips as she took delight in making you smile. You rose up from your desk, gave her a quick but tired smile, and walked into your first patient, a 14 year old boy with abdominal pain, a simple case of appendicitis, you let Whittaker take the lead with the case. God, he looked tired. You’d only met the boy that day, but he looked like he’d already been through the wars. He probably had. Everyone had that week of panic, that week of wondering if any of this is worth it, if the stress and pain is worth the sacrifice of your sanity and wellbeing. Some people, like you, decide it is. Others don’t. You don’t judge either. You could see that Whittaker was a stayer though, and that made you smile, you needed more sensitive people here, people who still have it in them to care. You felt the exam room as an alarm sounded, ready and willing to help, when you saw them. Walking in together. 

Mohan had been around for a while, she was sweet, you really liked her. It had taken some coaxing, but you'd convinced her to go out to drinks with you, and you’d become fast friends, bonding over shared trauma of the Pitt and dead fathers. She was sweet, and she cared. Jack had his bag slung over his shoulder, an easy smile on his lips as he listened to her talk. Dana stared too. Robby’s hand on your back rerouted you to the coding patient, and suddenly the thoughts of Jack and Samira fell away as your shift got more and more hectic, new patients coming in, more complicated cases requiring you specifically. Robby kept his eye on you as you went about your day, and you noticed. Those tiny looks of concern he sent to everyone when he knew they were past their breaking point. 

A case came in. Aggravated man. Some sort of stabbing. He was on something. You didn’t listen, just rushed to help. You had hands around your throat before you knew what was happening. The tarmac hit the back of your head so hard you thought you might’ve vomited, but soon adrenaline rushed through your body as his body pushed against yours, hands around your neck as he cleanly cut off your air supply. The paramedics tried to pull him off, only able to do so when Robby ran out, more fear in his eyes than you’d ever want to see, and you reminded yourself that you’d never want to be one of Robby’s patients. The guy was taken away and sedated. It was Cassie who pulled you off the ground, Robby already busy trying to get back inside to help with something else going wrong, you were sure. You spluttered out a few coughs as the pain bloomed in your throat and neck, and your migraine somehow got worse. 

She offered you a sad smile. “Can I examine you?” she asked tentatively. 

“No beds,” you answered, your voice hoarse and painful. She shook her head. 

“There’s always one for one of us,” she draped one of your shoulders over hers and helped you inside. Everyone started, patients and doctors and nurses alike, everyone was looking. Dana shook her head, and you knew there was rage running through her veins, but neither of you could do anything now. You just wanted to sit, to be in a room that didn’t have bright white lighting, to be alone. Cassie pulled you into an exam room and sat you down, checking everything. She ordered a CT, just to check your head and neck, but everything else was fine. She bandaged up the cut on your elbow, and sent you up to CT. 

You sat there, eyes watering as you just endured. Endured the day, endured the pain, endured everything. You didn’t think he’d be up here, you thought he’d be downstairs, working with patients. Your heart stopped when you heard his voice. 

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed out. It was followed with a chuckle. “Mohan, you scared the shit out of me.” He smiled, that stupidly attractive smile that made you want to run over there and hit him, or maybe kiss him. There they were, outside CT, probably waiting on patients. Their conversation flowed easily, chemistry oozing, flirty comments dropping from Mohan’s mouth like water from a tap. He didn’t shut it down. He just smiled and blushed. He fucking blushed. 

“Dr. Y/n Y/l/n?” One of the nurses called your name out, and you stood, holding your waiver as you readied yourself for your CT. You didn’t look back to see his reaction, hell, you doubted he heard it. She took one look at you, Maria was her name, one of your first colleagues when you worked upstairs in the Paediatrics ward for your first round all those years ago, before you chose the insanity of the Pitt. She frowned. “What happened?” 

You chuckled but it wasn’t funny, and it didn’t sound right. “Patient got upset,” you shrugged. She nodded, understanding exactly what you meant. Everyone had been assaulted, you were sure of it. It was appalling the treatment you all got, like you weren’t risking your own lives and well-being to make others alright. She set you up in the machine and left you to your thoughts for a moment. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” The venom in Robby's voice pulled Jack from his conversation with Yolanda. He turned and stared, confused. 

“You needed me? Why didn’t you call-?” Jack questioned, but Robby cut him off, pulling him into an empty on-call room.

“Y/n needed you. She got fucking choked half to death and you were nowhere to be found,” Robby let out one of those awful, disappointed laughs before continuing. “I mean, fuck’s sake Jack. You talk to me about marrying the girl, and you’re too swept up in Mohan to realise she hit her head off the ground so hard we sent her straight up to CT. Her neck is black and blue.” 

Everything had stopped in Jack’s world. His breathing, his brain, his body, it all just stopped. You were hurt and you’d needed him, he’d missed you in CT somehow, and he hadn’t known. He cursed himself. His eyes watered despite himself, and he swallowed hard. “W-what happened?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“She got attacked by a patient. Out in the ambulance bay. He jumped off the gurney and on top of her and just started squeezing her throat,” the recount was violent and harsh, but he needed to hear it like that, realise how scary it was, and how terrible it was that he wasn’t there. He nodded, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. God, he wanted to sob. He wanted to scream. He hated this fucking place. He hated it. Robby shook his head. “She’s in CT. Go.”

Jack’s feet moved before he registered they were. Dana sent him a scowl as he rushed towards the elevators, his heart beat  much higher than it should’ve been. The doors opened, and there you were. Hand prints on your throat. Papers in your hand. A tired and slightly unreadable expression on your face. Your eyes widened when you saw him. A tear slipped through his lashes when he saw you. One of his hands reached out… but you just walked on. No acknowledgement. No smile. No teasing comment or whispered dirty talk in his ear. Just blank. Just tried. He blinked. He turned, his eyes searching the room for you again. You were at the nurse’s station with Robby and Dana, probably showing them your scan, trying to prove you were well enough to work. Robby shook his head, and you dropped your head to the counter, Dana’s hand slipping between your forehead and the wooden surface just in time to stop yourself from injuring yourself further. He walked over, his eyes glued to the document. 

“I’m fine,” you argued. “I just want to work to keep my mind off it.” You showed them your totally clear CT scan, well, clear other than the tiny skull fracture you’d received from your attacker. 

Robby looked at you, his eyes caring and soft. They hardened when he saw Jack. He cleared his throat. “Good of you to finally join us, Dr. Abbot,” he bit out, that venom from earlier glaringly apparent. He didn’t miss the way you stiffened and he gulped. “Dr. Y/l/n here wants to continue working.” 

“Baby,” he let it out before he knew what he was even saying, and covered it with a cough. “Come on, just let me drive you home and you can come back in tomorrow,” he said it low, and you felt that pang of pain in your chest again, as that voice in your head screamed at you. He’s ashamed, the voice spoke. You pursed your lips. 

“Dana, can you drive me home?” you asked, pleadingly. Jack took in a sharp breath. Dana looked between the two of you. 

“I think you two need to talk.” She said definitively. She and Robby offered you hugs and pitying smiles, and Robby death-glared Jack as he helped you pack up your stuff. 

The car was cold, but that was to be expected in the dead of the Pittsburgh winter. You stared at your own breath as Jack got the car running, your car, but he’d insisted on driving. The slice wasn’t awkward, it was charged, tense. Like you both things you had to say, and not all of it was nice. He chucked your bags in the backseat with a huff, and turned the keys in the ignition. But he didn’t pull away, didn’t pull out of the staff car park, didn’t move, really. He had so much he wanted to say, so many things he had to be sorry for. He didn’t know where to start, but all those sessions with his therapist ran through his mind about conflict resolution, about caring for people, about accountability. He took in a deep breath and blew it back out, then he turned to you. 

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” he breathed out, taking your hand in the low-light of the parking lot. “I should’ve been, God, I should’ve been. I just, I don’t know-”

“You were with Mohan,” you nodded, staring straight ahead. Your eyes were wide as he raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been with Mohan all fucking ay,’ you shook your head, a sick looking smile creeping onto your lips. “I guess it was a matter of time, right?” you asked, turning to him. You met his eyes, full of confusion, but you pressed on anyway. “We always had an expiration date, I suppose. Some new resident was always going to be more interesting than me.” You shrugged like you didn’t care, but you did. You hated this, hated not feeling wanted or cared about, or even fucking noticed. 

He stared at you like you’d slapped him with his scarlet letter, his heart stinging as he tried to control the bile in his throat. Him and Mohan? No way. He admired her as a doctor, and yes, he heard the flirty comments, but he didn’t like her, not like that at least. Not in the way he bled and died for you, but he’d always been too scared to admit it, so he didn’t. He nodded when you said you two were casual, just fooling around, like some fucking careless teenagers. He pretended it didn’t bother him when he watched Mateo wink at you, or see the way you looked up to Robby like something more than a mentor, but he trusted you. Fuck, he loved you. His mouth dropped open as his heart stung. “What the fuck does that mean?” His voice was lower than usual, deep and dangerous. Like it was when you’d been teasing him all day and then decided to play a game of cat and mouse for him to find you though the hospital. 

“I mean, I get it, I’m not the shiny new toy anymore,” you crossed your arms. You knew you were lashing out, but you couldn’t do it. He spent all fucking day with her. He was in CT while your name was called. He just didn’t hear, or he didn’t care. “Maybe you’ll actually tell someone other than your most trusted friends about you and her, and she won’t have to feel like such a fucking secret.” You added out of pure spite. You hated sneaking around. You hated feeling like you had to hide the fact that your heart beat for him. 

His face changed. He stiffened. “You’re not a secret,” he shook his head and you laughed, so he cupped your chin and turned you towards him. He had that hardened look in his eyes. You gulped back some tears and listened, so sure he was about to break up with you. Hand you some bullshit about workplace relationships or his trauma that excused him perfectly. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, damn it. I love you, Y/n Y/l/n. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there today, and I’m sorry I’ve made you feel like this, but don’t ever think I want anyone else. You’re it for me. You’re everything,” his voice was harsh and coated in emotion. You searched his eyes for any sense of dishonesty and found none. He meant it. Your breath hitched. He brushed a hand through your hair, moving the hair out of the way. “Love you so much it hurts sometimes,” he admitted, his voice low as the first few tears slipped past his water line. “Can’t believe you're hurt and I wasn’t there.” he shook his head and sniffled, trying to push the emotions back down as he’d trained himself to do.

You reached a hand out and cupped his cheek. “I love you too.” You pushed forward, gently lacing your lips with his, as the energy in the car dissipated. You didn’t give him a second to react, just kissed him as softly as you could. His hand cradled your face like it was the most precious thing in the world. He still had things to make up for, and many more conversations were to be had, but he loved you. You could get through whatever bullshit anyone throws at you once you knew he loved you.

[dontworrysunflower]

─ Jack Abbot x fem! wife! reader || WC: 990

CW: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUT. Riding on the couch. Age gap implied [Jack is 60, Reader is mid-40s now]. Talks of Jack getting older [he's retired]. Talks of aging in general. Jack & reader are married & have been together for 15 years. They have two kids together (ages undisclosed). They are obsessed with each other, your honor.

I truly don’t even know what this is or where this came from (I do, I’m lying lmao, ask @maiamore) but I just wanted to talk about Jack Abbot who's retired and older and he's a little insecure about getting older and changing with age. That’s all.

Thinking about Retired! Jack Abbot who you've been with for about 15 years now. He was 45 when you met him, and now he’s much older. 60 years old with a teenage son that ran circles around him and a daughter that’s growing up too quickly for his comfort, both of them he had with you. You’re older too, the same age he was when you started dating, sporting a few grays and wrinkles of your own while you took over for him at the Pitt.

Things have definitely changed over the years in terms of your jobs, and you now worked as a night shift attending while Jack focuses on being a dedicated father and doing his emergency medicine teachings throughout the community and beyond. It’s nice for him to get a much needed break after everything he’s been through, after working so hard for years; and though he may be older, the passion and lust you felt towards him never really left.

In reality it got much worse. He’s been with you all of these years to experience the changes of each other’s bodies, accepting his dad bod, as you called it, and he watched your figure change through pregnancy and childbirth. Neither of you were complaining, far from it; that spark that you two felt was still very much alive regardless of the time that’s passed between you two. Though sometimes the reality of Jack’s age hits him like a ton of bricks.

The curly strands you love are chrome now, a light silver that he’s accepted before, but now there wasn’t an inkling of the pepper that was often paired with the salt. He was still thankfully blessed with a head full of hair, his hairline as strong as ever which Robby constantly talks about with playful envy. His once solid frame is covered with a soft layer of fat, still no doubt in shape and strong enough to do things around the house, and you often mentioned how seeing him wear crewneck sweaters still makes you go crazy. The slight limp in his gait is a bit more noticeable now, his leg growing increasingly achy the longer he’s walking with his prosthetic, but he’s grateful to still have mobility in the grand scheme of things.

Every day, you remind Jack of how much you love him, how he takes care of you and your family, and how he’s always made sure none of you ever have to worry about anything in the life you’ve built. And despite what he does for you and the kids, a part of him always grows anxious about his age, about the gap, not for the same reasons as before but because now he’s worried he can’t keep up with you. He thinks you’ll grow bored of him, that your sex life will eventually dull and wither away, and that there will come a time when he can't fulfill your physical needs the way he used to, something that he takes pride in and always has since the beginning of your relationship.

You knew what you were signing up for. You accepted all of him, all of the baggage he came with, and loved him regardless of the voices in his mind fueling his self-doubts. You know this didn’t come from a place of not loving you. He lived to love you, to serve you, to make you happy. But the rumors of the new younger, handsome, and charismatic surgeon at the Pitt cause the slightest bit of jealousy to flare in Jack’s chest. It’s not jealousy due to a shaky foundation in your relationship; he bought your ring 6 months before proposing to you after 3 years of dating you. Jack is as obsessed with you as you were with him, you’re not worried about that. It’s the jealousy of the new tech’s capability; of being younger, faster, more youthful—of being able to do the things the ER cowboy once did with better efficiency.

You don’t let those thoughts fester too long, not when you’re too busy riding him within an inch of his life on the living room couch, kissing him hard enough to make his bottom lip bleed and coiling a hand through his hair. The kids are already asleep upstairs, your glasses of wine sat empty on the coffee table with the sounds of the TV tuning out behind you. You whisper praises in his ear while nipping at his jaw, reminding him that you’d only want him, that it was only ever going to be him, that he’s the only one who can have you like this.

You tell him that you could give less of a fuck about anybody else when he gave you your two beautiful & rambunctious kids, the dream house he turned into a home, the love and support you needed to succeed and excel in your career while still having a life you didn’t know you could have. You bounce over him until your thighs grow sore, biting and sucking at the length of Jack’s neck until his eyes are rolling to the back of his head and he’s clawing at the plush skin of your hips. His biceps flex as he moves you harder over him and pins you down on top of him when he spills inside you with a deep groan, sinking his teeth into your collarbone as your slick walls flutter around him with the force of your climax.

You could give less of a shit about the new doctor. You could give less of a shit about anybody who wasn’t your husband. He was older when you met him, and he’s older now after being with him for years. You knew what you wanted, what you were dealing with, what you signed up for—and you wouldn’t change a damn thing.

Jack Abbot is an old man now, but he’s your old man. Yours to love, to hold, to fuck however and whenever you wanted. Exactly how it should be.

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

[dontworrysunflower]

Hey!! Love all your Jack Abbot's fic!!! ❤️❤️❤️ Can I request something? You can decide if you want to do it or not. I'm fine with either. Jack Abbot x fem reader. Her childhood friend end up at ER after something happened to him. He wanted to surprise her by visiting her at work after travelling around the world but the worse happened. Jack didn't know who that man was and why he was talking to his girl. And he didn't like it (cue jealous Abbot🤭). And the whole ER just watched the night attending glaring (perhaps killing with his eyes). Just do whatever you want to. Suggestive, jealous, teasing, ER. Thanks!!! :))

hiiiii! thank you and yes of courseeeeee ❤️ i’m obsessed with the new superman atm so…human!clark kent cameo yay! also I probably made this a lot more complicated that it normally should be, but I couldn’t help myself 😅

pretty fucked — jack abbot x fem!reader Your childhood friend is wheeled into the ER, and Jack—unaware of who he is—isn’t too happy about all the Midwestern smiles and charm he’s throwing your way.

warnings: jealous trope(kinda), jealous!jack, reader is from Kansas for the plot, reader’s parents weren’t around in the past, slightly angsty—who am i without angst

You’re busy charting when EMTs wheel in another patient through the doors. You exhale—night shift is just as relentless as ever. You head toward the gurney—clearly too small, given that the man’s legs are hanging over the end—and glance at the EMT for the handoff.

“Male patient, late 20s or early 30s. Took a fall down about ten stairs outside a bakery. Hit his head—got a decent gash above the left eyebrow, but stayed conscious the whole time. Complains of dizziness, likely mild concussion. No signs of neck or spine injury. Vitals are stable,” she reports.

You nod and finally look at the patient—who’s got his eyes squeezed shut and is groaning quietly.

You freeze.

“What the hell?” you mutter, brow furrowing. You know that voice. That haircut. That stupid flannel.

The patient cracks one eye open. Recognition dawns—and then he grins, lopsided and blood-smeared.

“Oh, hey! Funny running into you here, Peach.”

He says it a little too loud—loud enough to turn heads at the nurses’ station behind you. Loud enough to draw Jack Abbot’s attention. He’s frowning now—watching the man on the gurney smile at you like you hung the moon. Like he’s known you forever.

“Clark Kent.” You say his name sternly, “What are you doing here in Pittsburgh??”

“Well it’s nice to see you too.”

“You know this guy?” The EMT asks, raising a brow.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “My idiot childhood friend. Thanks—I’ve got it from here.”

You help move him to the trauma bay, and as soon as the gurney’s parked, you pinch his arm.

“Ow!” he protests, wincing.

“What did you do this time?” Your browse raise, gloving up to examine him.

“Nothing!”

It seems like Clark is fine—his breathing is normal, pupils reactive, vital signs are normal, all you need to do is stitch up that wound on his forehead.

“Do you have any idea what your mom’s gonna say when she finds out I had to stitch you up??”

“She doesn’t have to find out,” Clark mutters, clearly hoping.

“You need, like, at least 4-5 stitches.”

“It’ll heal.”

“It might leave a scar.”

“I thought you’d be a good enough doctor to not leave a scar.”

You shoot him a look and pinch him again, a little harder this time. “First of all, it doesn’t work that way. And second of all, I might just give you a bigger scar myself!”

A good few feet away from you and Clark, Jack watches the entire interaction. How you held him with certainty, no hesitation—you’re so comfortable with this guy. Clearly, you two know each other. He’s just never seen you so touchy with another guy before.

And the guy—Clark, apparently—he’s smiling through a busted forehead like it’s a reunion, not an injury. He's looking at you like he’s the happiest guy on earth.

Jack’s jaw ticks.

He forces himself to look down at the tablet in his hand, re-scanning vitals that don’t need rechecking. He tells himself it’s nothing. That the guy’s just some old friend. A dumbass who fell down stairs and got lucky you happened to be working tonight.

But when he hears him call you Peach—in that fond, teasing voice, and without you flinching like it’s weird?—something shifts in his chest. Something uncomfortable.

Jack’s fingers curl slightly around the edge of the tablet.

He watches you tuck a piece of gauze under the wound with practiced care, brow furrowed in concentration, but your body language is relaxed. Like you’ve done this—caring for this Clark—a million times.

Jack doesn’t realize he’s still staring until one of the nurses brushes past him with a chart and he snaps out of it. He clears his throat, turns away like he’s just passing by on the way to somewhere else.

Like he’s not wondering who the hell this guy is. But he’s about to find out.

Clark hisses when you clean the area around the cut and your other hand has to hold his jaw to make sure he doesn’t move around.

“You know, some would say this is not standard care.” Clark says with squished cheeks.

“Oh shush and let me do my job.” You wave him off.

He smiles. “This is just like middle school,” he mutters, wincing. “Except you’re not using your sleeve this time.”

You snort. “Be grateful. My sleeves were never clean.”

“You still punched that kid in the mouth for me. That was heroic.” Clark recalls.

“The kid had it coming.” You shrug. “You, however, had a nosebleed and cried.”

“Did not cry.” Clark protests.

You lift your brows without looking up.

“Okay, I teared up. But only because blood was pouring out of my face.”

You shake your head, trying not to smile as you reach for the suture kit. It’s easy, slipping into this rhythm with Clark—like no time has passed. Like you're still two dumb kids on a playground with more grit than grace.

“Everything alright in here?”

You both glance up.

Jack’s pulled the curtains open, his arms crossed in front of his chest. His tone is neutral, but there’s something guarded behind his eyes. He takes in the scene: Clark lounging casually on the gurney, you gloved up and leaning in close. Too close for his liking.

“It’s superficial,” you reply, glancing at the wound. “I’ve got it.”

Clark perks up, all Midwestern friendliness. “Hey. You must be the famous Dr. Jack Abbot.”

You suck in your breath at Clark and he feigns innocence. “What?”

Jack’s eyebrows lift faintly. “Do I know you?”

“Nah,” Clark says cheerfully. “Just heard your name a few times.”

You roll your eyes. “Jack, meet Clark Kent. My childhood pain in the ass.”

Clark jerks his thumb toward you. “She used to beat up my bullies and steal my lunch snacks.”

“You gave me those snacks,” you correct.

“Under duress.” He mutters.

Jack doesn’t laugh, though he tries to look polite about it.

“Well. Glad you’re in good hands,” Jack says, and turns like he’s about to go.

But Clark speaks up again, casual and cheerful. “Hey, wait—are you the one who keeps giving her rides home when her car won’t start?”

You pause mid-suture. Jack hesitates at the doorframe.

“Sometimes,” Jack replies, strangely neutral.

“Man,” Clark grins, “some things never change. She’s always had junk cars. You remember that old Chevy you drove in high school? The one where the passenger door wouldn’t open unless you kicked it?”

“Oh my God, don’t even bring that up.” You shake your head.

“How can I? You made me crawl through the backseat for two years.”

Jack watches your banter with him, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “You had a Chevy?”

“Yeah, and old one,” you say. “Baby blue. It was technically my uncle’s, but he never asked for it back.”

“She used to drive us to the river after school,” Clark adds. “We’d skip stones and talk about how we were gonna escape Smallville one day.”

You glance up at that. “That was your dream.”

“Yeah, well. You made it out first.”

You go quiet for a moment, hands still busy with the final stitch. A sad smile plasters on your face.

Jack, still standing just inside the trauma bay, shifts his weight. “Didn’t realize you grew up in Kansas,” he says.

“It doesn’t come up much,” you murmur.

Clark senses the tension bubbling and offers Jack a small, polite smile, like he's apologizing for making it awkward.

“What are you doing here anyway, Clark?” you add, tying off the last suture.

He takes a deep breath. “I wanted to surprise you. It’s been a while since you visited. Two years.”

You wince. “It hasn’t been that long.”

“It has,” he says simply. “Ma and Pa's been asking about you.”

You bite your lip. “You know why I don’t visit, Clark.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “But… we all miss you, Peach.”

The nickname makes Jack’s gaze flick between you again. He doesn’t comment. He just stands there a beat longer than he needs to, then gives a stiff nod.

“I’ll let you two catch up.” And then he turns and walks off.

Clark watches him go, and sees your pained expression.

“So… he doesn’t like me.” Clark states.

You sigh. “No, it's not that. I should go talk to him.”

You toss your gloves in the bin, spray on some hand sanitizer, and step out before you can overthink it. Jack’s not moving fast, but he’s already halfway down the hall. You jog a few paces to catch up, calling out softly—

“Jack.”

He slows but doesn’t stop.

“Hey,” you try again, gentler this time.

“Everything okay with your friend?” he asks without looking at you.

You frown. “You mean Clark? Yeah. Just a few stitches. He’s fine.”

“Good.” His voice is clipped. He starts walking again.

“Jack,” you say, stopping. “Can you just—wait a second?”

He stops, finally turning to face you. His jaw’s tight, his hands in his pockets. He trying not to look at you, he’s trying not to say something he’ll regret.

“What?” he asks, quiet.

You shift your weight, suddenly unsure where to start.

“He’s just a friend,” you say. “Clark. He’s like a brother to me.”

“Didn’t say he wasn’t.”

“You didn’t have to.”

That hits him. Jack glances down the hall, like he’s buying himself a second before he speaks.

“I’m not jealous,” he finally says.

“Didn’t say you were.”

“You didn’t have to.”

You let out a slow breath, the tension between you sharp and awkward now. You want to smooth it out, but something about Jack’s posture makes you hesitate—he’s bracing for a hit.

“I don’t talk about Kansas because it’s not a part of me I… bring up often,” you say, voice softer now. “Clark showing up—he’s not here to stir things. He just missed me. That’s all.”

Jack nods once. It’s a little stiff, but not cold.

“He called you Peach.”

“He’s called me that since I was eight.”

“Why?”

“Because despite me fighting off his bullies like a champ, I still bruised like a peach. Still do.”

That gets the smallest twitch of a smile out of him.

“Charming,” he breathes, stepping closer to you. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I just… it surprises me how much I still don’t know about you.”

“And I guess I am jealous,” he admits. “Not because I’m afraid he’ll whisk you away in his horse and cowboy hat—” that earns him a chuckle from you, “—but because he knows you. Really knows you.”

You nod, understanding his earnestness. “Look, I… I didn’t tell you everything about my life yet because well… I wasn’t ready for you realize I’m kind of fucked up.”

Jack frowns at that.

“My parents weren’t really around when I was a kid. And when they were… the house would reek of alcohol and weed. I didn’t have a perfect childhood. And I guess I was scared that it might not be what you signed up for.”

He exhales slowly, then gently nudges open the door to an empty consult room and guides you inside. Once the door clicks shut, he steps forward and wraps you into a hug, one that you very much need. You press your ear to his chest and listen to the steady beat of his heart, letting yourself sink into it.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to see your face, “I have one leg, I went to war, and I’m well older than you. I think we’re both pretty fucked up.”

You laugh, hands still curled around his waist.

“So you’re okay with me probably having daddy issues and that being why I’m so into you?”

Jack shrugs, his lip twitching. “I kind of guessed that much.”

You smile, your eyes stinging a little.

His tone softens even more as he lifts a hand to your cheek, thumb brushing just beneath your eye.

“You don’t have to tell me everything right now,” Jack says. “But I want you to know that I’m here for you. And that I want you. Your past, your present…” He pauses, his gaze on you. “And certainly your future. I’m not going anywhere.”

You nod, leaning into his touch. “I won’t scare you away?”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “You can’t even try.”

[dontworrysunflower]

Like Father, Like Son

Pairing: bfd!Joel x Reader

Summary: When your boyfriend won’t, his father will.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Age gap. Dad[dy] kink. Infidelity — Reader cheats on her boyfriend with Joel. Pervy!Joel. Cocky!Joel. Subby!Reader. Finger-sucking. Spitplay. Joel c*ms on your tummy then fucks it back in.

Note: I was about to take a nap today, and this thought popped into my head. Couldn’t rest until I wrote it out LOL

Word count: 1.3k

The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, apparently.

At a staggering 6’4, Jimmy Miller is the single tallest boy in your class; his father, Joel, is scarcely an inch taller. Both of them prefer to keep their hair cut pretty short. Their shoulders are broad, and their jaws have a square-ish set—Jimmy’s chin and neck are dusted in the darkest black stubble imaginable, and Joel’s is all salt-and-pepper, thanks to the passage of nearly fifty years.

Jimmy plays football and lacrosse, and Joel runs the equivalent of a 5K on a daily basis, in addition to more strength training and core exercises than you’d think possible for a man even half his age. They both are able to boast physiques that are fit, taut, toned, and strong.

The only area where the elder Miller might have your boyfriend beat is in the way the tip of his cock can reach your cervix—and keep hitting it, repeatedly, in just the way you like it, to make you cum quicker than anything.

You shouldn’t have known what that felt like.

Your first instinct when Jimmy rolled off of you tonight and collapsed into the space beside you in bed should not have been to wait until he fell asleep and then sneak off silently to his father’s room. That was wrong of you.

This is borderline evil, what you’re doing with your hips in the heat and comfort of this oversized bed. Joel is smug.

He has a firm hold on your thighs watching you ride him.

“That’s it,” he drawls. He lifts his right hand and swiftly brings it down to smack the skin, and then he kneads. He nods, like this is something that he taught you to do. “Up an’ down, darlin’. Give that pussy what she needs.”

You really wish he wouldn’t say it like that.

Like you were in some way wanting. Deprived.

Like your boyfriend—his son—couldn’t make you moan and whine in the same way you’re doing it right now, cunt split in two by Joel’s big, thick, throbbing cock and your juices leaking out all over his belly. Jimmy’d been inside you, too, no more than twenty, twenty-five minutes prior, so Joel clearly wasn’t the only one responsible for this mess. He just helped finish it.

“I love him, Mr. Miller. I—I—I really do,” you whimper. With one shaky set of fingers, you squeeze your breast, and you feel a web of pleasure blossom down from your chest to the wet, greedy hole where you have him deep.

“‘M’sure you do.” Joel grins. “Gonna get hitched, buy a nice, big house, and have a boatload of kids? Is that it?”

“That’s what it’s gonna be.”

You bite your lip staring down at him, bracing your free hand on that broad, hairy chest, and then you nod your head, as if to convince yourself of what you just told him.

Then Joel flips you both.

He folds you in half, so your knees are pressed up against your chest and your feet are poised in the air, pointed to him. Joel hums, and he keeps on fucking you, not seeming to take issue with how loud the sounds of your cunt sucking him in happen to be. If anything, he likes it.

Your walls clench around him for what feels like the fiftieth time, and you writhe underneath him. You moan.

“Gonna leave this dick alone, too? Once you’re married, I mean.” Joel’s tone is teasing. It’s steeped in incredulity, as well as the experience of being decades your senior.

“Y-Yes,” you stutter.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he simpers.

Then he pulls a long, sad face like this is the worst news that he’s heard all day, and he leans forward until his chest is flush with the backs of your legs and his cock is driven in to the hilt. He cups your face with his big hands.

“I’m gonna miss this pussy,” he says. Sighing. “Bad.”

“Daddy.”

You can’t help but say it when one hand drifts down and starts to toy with your nipple, and the thrusts keep coming in. The bed shakes with every stroke, and you can tell that you’re close to coming apart at any second.

Joel slides the touch that was cupping your cheek to stuff fingers in your mouth. He makes sure that it’ll stifle your cries—he knows you like to scream when you cum, and though he normally loves to hear it, along with all the noises your pussy makes getting stuffed, tonight he’d rather not have to fight his son. He fucks you harder.

He smiles.

“So when it’s late at night—” Another thrust. Another short, sharp intake of breath as you bite him and whine. “—and my son gets what’s his and leaves you needy—”

You bare your teeth and practically keen as Joel fucks you so deep that you can feel him in your lungs. His length drags in and out, in and out, until the imprint of every vein must be seared into your wet, velvety walls.

“Mr. Miller,” you moan, words garbled.

Joel shoves those fingers even further in your mouth at the same time he bottoms out inside your cunt, and both orifices leak with moisture. He licks the spit trickling out at either side of your lips, the old, sick bastard that he is, and you feel that silver-flecked beard tickle your chin. You can sense a little twitch in his cock from root to tip.

Your eyes roll, and your toes curl tight, the same as they’ve done for him the last three nights in a row.

No, this isn’t Jimmy.

Try as you might to pretend that it is, it just—

“—ain’t enough for ya, is it?” Joel must read your mind. “Jimmy ain’t doin’ ya like this, an’ he never fuckin’ will.”

The fingers slide out. They cup your chin hard instead.

“Mr. Miller, I’m gonna…” Your eyelids flutter back open.

It’s happening again. Your boyfriend’s father is balls deep, pounding you relentlessly into his bed, and your legs are pressed to either side of his neck, taking him in.

“Need a real man to make you cum, huh?”

You look up at him, eyes wide.

Between your thighs, your cunt is as stretched and sore and washed in a deep, heady pleasure as it’s ever been.

Then, you’re about to peak.

Frantically, you nod your head.

“Yes, yes, yes—Mr. Miller, make me cum.”

Joel beams. “Gonna let me fuck it in her, too?”

“Please.”

And he does.

Well, in Joel Miller’s own, particular way, he gets it inside—you cum around his cock, bliss rolling and pulsing and squeezing in time, and he lets you milk him all through it. Your walls constrict, pushing him right over the edge. Then he pulls out. Jerks his cock furiously. Lets his sticky-white spend paint your belly in the thickest, warmest ropes, until he’s completely spent. Then, no doubt thanks to the help of a Cialis or a Viagra taken earlier that night, your middle-aged man is able to stay hard for a good while longer. Keep his hypersensitized shaft in play just to make sure that he can stuff you full.

Unlike his son, Joel doesn’t do rubbers.

Unlike his son, Joel loves to play fast and loose with the term ‘pulling out,’ and when he unloads his seed all over your stomach, he makes sure that he fucks it all back in.

So, holding his still-pulsing dick by the base, Joel swipes it over where he came. Smears the stuff messily. Then, with jizz sticking to the tip and all down its length, practically soaking the whole underside of his shaft, he angles it down. He meets your gaze and slides it back in.

He pulls out, takes a little more, and pushes in again.

And again.

And again.

Eyes never leaving your own, smile growing on his lips, hips pistoning back and forth, gently, and a bevy of obscene thoughts no doubt filling his head, Joel leans in. He doesn’t stop until his nose is hovering less than an inch from yours, and then his hands slide to your thighs.

He sinks in.

He grins.

“Think my son will mind if I fuck you one more time?”

[dontworrysunflower]

It is so important to me that it is JOURNALISM and good journalism that ultimately puts Lex away. As an aspiring journalist, I hear a lot about how the industry is dying and won't be around and why it's not important anymore. I also have very real issues with media and newspapers as they exist today and how they sensationalize news, particularly sensitive news. HOWEVER, this movie said, despite all that, despite fake news and AI and today's media landscape, journalism is important. Journalism that calls out the people in power and operates from a thirst for truth and knowledge is important and has very real power to change things, and that means a lot to me (even if the rest of the movie didn't already)

[dontworrysunflower]

#he turned 50 and all filter just melted away lmao

[dontworrysunflower]

my man my man my man. i feel so lightheaded.

[dontworrysunflower]

PEDRO PASCAL Arriving to the Eddington Photocall at Cannes Film Festival

[dontworrysunflower]

can’t stop thinking of meeting jack on some random day in some random location. and he introduces himself as jack. just jack. not doctor jack abbot, not former us army medic jack abbot. just jack. and he never thought his name was special, arguably its one of the most common names in the world. but every time you say it all he hears is gospel. even when it’s low and annoyed, saying come on, jack or seriously, jack?, or half muffled into one of his hoodies as you pass him to make coffee, it sounds like divine direction spoken through the mouth of the world’s most beautiful prophet. and when you laugh with a oh my god, jack, or just say jack with nothing behind it at all, like it was just the word that happens to be on your tongue at the moment, it takes everything in him not to kneel. because whenever you say his name it feels like you’re talking to him, not the jack, we need you in here people yell at him in the ed, or the abbot, medic at the front from his past. you’re just saying jack. you say it like it belongs in the middle of the sentence, like he exists for something to be built around him and not to be the one that builds, something at the front and forced to lead. you say it like it’s something obvious, like it’s something that doesn’t need to be barked or reminded or earned. you say it like it’s something you’ve always known. and it’s the only time he’s felt like there’s nothing attached, no blood on the letters, no rank pulling it down, no urgency in the syllables. and those four letters are somehow more holy than anything he’s ever known

[dontworrysunflower]

how about sitting on abbot's face and tugging on those gray curls as you ride his tongue 👉👈

Oh hehehehehehehehe / tw: face riding need I say more?

“I said sit.”

“And I said you’ll suffocate—“

“Then I’d rather suffocate between your thighs than on my words telling you to fucking sit. on. my. fucking face, woman.”

“You’re insufferable–“You lower your weight on his weight completely, holding on to the headboard with both hands while his hands fly to your thighs, pressing you down even more, “There, happy now?”

You don’t get a response, but the hum he lets out vibrates through your folds and up to your brain, making you tremble in pleasure as he feasts on you.

There is no time to worry if he is getting smothered under you, and Jack doesn’t seem to care either, he is diving inside you with an enthusiasm you have never seen a man possess and it’s making you dizzy.

He is making you feel so good to the point you nearly trip over and brace yourself with one hand on the wall and the other going to his head, scratching his scalp and tugging on the roots of his gray curls he encourages you to roll your hips.

You would find him looking at you with glimmering eyes if you weren’t so lost in your orgasm and the bliss his mouth and nose are providing for you.

[dontworrysunflower]

He’s so sexy with long hair, fit so well on him

(even when they're messy🥹)

[dontworrysunflower]

PEDRO PASCAL as JOEL MILLER in THE LAST OF US SEASON 1 EPISODE 5

[dontworrysunflower]

THE LAST OF US Season 2, Episode 6: The Price

[dontworrysunflower]

SHAWN HATOSY as JACK ABBOT The Pitt | 6:00 P.M.