It was difficult to maintain a hobby sometimes whilst travelling through space. Especially when you were also babysitting - what exactly was he again? Did anyone know?- a green baby and also helping with bounties when needed.
Most of the time you were in the ship or just outside of it, depending on if you were in a good location or not. And depending on if the target was easy...or not. On a "regular" day with no complications and no invitation to join Mando, you were with Grogu making sure he didn't eat something he shouldn't or disappear. One time you caught him trying to climb into the vents and another time he was successful and you had to find him before Mando came back. You did, although you could see his helmet physically tilt as he looked at the child giggling and you sweating, hair plastered to your forehead.
Mando was a good guy. As in he was nice, his occupation was questionable and his methods moreso but he was amicable. He wasn't rude or aggressive (to you) and although he wasn't chatty per day, he did answer if you asked him questions. Mostly you asked about the bounties, the people he knew, the places he had been. Nothing too deep. Nothing about his identity. Nothing too personal. You couldn't quite work out if you had made it to banter level or if you were still an acquaintance sometimes. Especially with no expressions to bounce off of.
"that constellation looks like a penis," you remember saying once, and he didn't respond apart from a sigh. Maybe the day was more strenuous than you thought, but he didn't laugh. Although you swore you saw a shoulder move. He definitely shook his head and you didn't make anymore jokes that day.
Another time though, you were playing with the child, just silly messing around on the floor of the cockpit as Mando guided the ship through the stars and a rogue asteroid flew out of nowhere. Mando quickly tipped the controls to swerve the ship out of the way- light work for him, especially being sat in the pilot chair, but he forgot one detail.
You and the kid. On the floor.
As the ship jolted, you were flung to the left towards him and the controls, the kid rolling suit. Your arms flailed as you tried to grab something, anything, as you tumbled.
"ah!" Mando looked down at the noise, before he lurched forward, grabbing the kid with one hand and stopping you from headbutting the wall of the ship with his other arm. Instead of metal, you headbutted his bicep instead. You felt him tense as you collided and he pushed back, trying not to fall right into the mess that you and the kid had accidentally created with your flying bodies.
"sorry." He said as he looked over the kid and plopped him back on the floor. "Still not used to more than one passenger."
"I'm fine" you replied "lucky the armour is outside only" you gestured to his arm "or then it would be a different story."
That simple gesture, a weak joke to cover up how embarrassed you were at being flung around like a rag doll and not being able to steady yourself- and for instead crashing into Mando and his -very strong feeling- arms. That got a chuckle from him. A soft, airy one, but a small laugh.
Today you had escaped any gruelling searches of the vents as Grogu was sleeping in his pod. He was tired after an action packed day yesterday which meant you could escape. Usually that meant drawing or painting but your paints had run out around two planets ago and you had yet to find any. Your pencils had been obliterated by Grogu a few weeks ago when you left them out by accident and he decided to play with them, which ended up with them being splintered into a million pieces. When Mando saw you picking up the pieces you could have sworn he actually felt bad like it was his fault. Even though you had left them on the dash by accident when you heard the ship door open followed by the carbonite freezer. Despite being an established member of the team now, kind of, that noise still made you jump.
So today you had been outside on the steps, just reading. That was something you had managed to keep relatively safe from any prying fingers. The weather was good, there weren't any risks of fights coming back to the ship according to Mando so you could relax and read until the evening. He expected to be away for that long at least.
Being outside in the warmth reminded you of home, although it wasn't quite as dusty there as it was here. You were surrounded by desert and the dust was hot. Times like these made you miss home but also feel content with the space-adventure life.
"hey." A familiar, low voice called out on the radio. You had it clipped to your waist at all times as per Mando's instructions. Just in case. You must have fallen asleep, you realised as your eyes opened to darkness and the smell of old pages. How long were you asleep? Running a hand down your back you could feel indents of the metal from the ramp and you cracked as you pulled yourself up. Folding the corner of the page you had been reading you looked up, squinting through the brightness. Mando was in the distance, not too far away from the ship with his bounty and a package on his side. He must have seen you lying on the ramp and was worried the kid had gotten out of you had been raided. You felt a bit anxious and embarrassed as he got closer.
"hey. Sorry, I fell asleep." You replied on the radio.
"you looked knocked out." He responded.
"sorry." He sighed and you waited for him to get to the ship. "Good day?" You asked, following him into the ship. He hummed in response, pushing the bounty into the carbonite freezer and closed up the ramp.
"it was ok. Easier than expected." You watched as he did his usual routine of returning to the cockpit and checking the kid, the controls, the status of the area.
"that's good." He seemed to not be in a chatty mood, going straight to his area in the cockpit where he usually slept and kept his belongings. You disappeared into the back of the ship to your own space he had carved out in the stockroom and set about giving Grogu some snacks as he was beginning to whine upon Mando returning and waking up from his own nap.
He was a sweet thing, almost like a real baby or toddler. You sat him on your makeshift bed and watched as he ate the little rations from the last food trip that you had gotten him from the markets. That was your favourite thing- finding something new to try either for Grogu or you and Mando. Sometimes it was a trinket that was silly like a little sword made of wood for the dash or a ball for Grogu to play with (try to eat). Usually it was food.
After Grogu finished eating and ransacking your space for other things to entertain himself, he decided to head back to the cockpit. You stretched out on the bed and peeled your book from the shelf, flicking to the right page. In the background you could hear the chortles of the kid and Mando chiding him.
"No. Don't touch that. No. It's not yours."
"What did I say? No."
"Hey. Stop that."
After a while of entertainment you decided to go and help out the Mandolorian with his foundling who was still grabbing at whatever Mando didn't want him touching. You walked in and they both turned, the baby doe eyed and Mando reaching towards his green fists. He swiped something from his hands whilst Grogu was distracted by your entrance.
"Parenting struggles?" You asked, kicking up your feet in the co-pilot chair. Grogu came waddling over. You swiped him up and sat him on your lap. He tried to fiddle with the buttons so you unscrewed the metal ball from one of the joysticks and gave him that instead. This seemed to keep him entertained enough to put him in his carrier and occupy him enough for Mando to change the controls and get everything going for another trip.
You were happy watching the stars all pass by as Mando steered the ship. Occasionally looking over to watch him. He was fixated on the galaxy in front of him, moving sticks and pressing buttons without looking away. You watched the galaxy reflected in his armour and his helmet.
"can I help you?" He asked.
"hm?" You said, still watching the stars light up the beskar.
"you're staring." Shit. You forgot sometimes that even though you can't see his face he still had eyes that you presumed moved enough to see in peripheral.
"beskar reflects the stars really well. That's all." And you could see his muscles tense at rougher moments when there was a rock that needed avoiding. He hummed, unconvinced by your statement but not willing to push anymore. His hand kept twitching and you noticed a bag near him.
"do you want me to get that for you?" You asked.
"huh? What? No." He replied. This time he broke from the trail in front to scoop up the bag and put it on his lap. Whilst he steered with one hand, the other was rooting in the bag, counting what was in it .
When you were flying it was peaceful and you both sat in silence, watching the galaxy and Grogu as he played with the metal ball until he fell asleep. Mando got up, hovering near you as you patted Grogu's head. He pulled the bag he had been holding earlier out from behind him, his fingers gripping the handles.
"this. This is for you." He said, nervously. He reached over the baby to give the bag to you and took his foundling in exchange, putting him in his crib.
Inside the bag was a new sketchbook, pencils and paint set- handcrafted ones at that. The paintbrushes were burgundy like ones you had seen one time when you were out on a mission with Mando, the paints were in a wooden case with flowers burnt into the edges like the flowers that you had mentioned were your birth month one time in a conversation. There were replacement pencils coated in a very close colour to Grogu on the outside.
"The pencils are from him." Mando said, gesturing to Grogu. "To make up for the ones he destroyed."
"and the others?" You palmed through the booklet which detailed who poured the paints and what they used as he loomed over you, watching your fingers turn the pages. His body was tense.
"A gift. From me." You could tell from the strained voice he was nervous and a bit embarrassed but as soon as you heard him you remembered all the times you got him and Grogu sweets or little treats calling them "a gift," as well as the times when Grogu got into the wires or something else and you returned the destroyed items to Mando with sarcasm as he realised what the "gift" actually was.
He was getting used to your quirks and ways of speaking as you spent more time on the ship with him and his foundling. Even though he was quiet sometimes he did truly listen and take note of things, like your penchant for art and warm days. It made your chest feel fuzzy as you pictured him going around the market stalls looking for the correct tools and bag. Actually even the bag was a gift- it was velvety with a gold drawstring and tiny little embroidered stars that were rough against the fabric
"For storage. He can't open drawstrings. I tested it." Mando chuckled as he looked over at Grogu. You remembered that Mandolorians usually show their affection rather than say it- which made sense given the helmets. It gave you great pride that you had managed to gain some affection from the Mandolorian, although part of you was itching to know more. God you felt like a teenager, buzzing at the sight of a crush.
"they're really great I love them! Thank you, you really didn't have to but I do appreciate them! I love the designs."
"good." His shoulders relaxed as you gushed and thankfully you must have looked appreciative enough- you were always awkward with gift receiving and facial expressions and were forever worried that you looked horrified at a gift.
"you ran out the other week." He said after a while of watching the maps as you sharpened and played with your new tools. "so I got you new ones after I finished the job."
"Not many people make their own paints and stuff the way these guys do anymore. Look, here's the studio." You pointed in the leaflet to show him the drawings of the artists at work.
"that's where I got them from."
"the source?! Not just a market stall? You went into the studio?! What was it like, did they give you a tour?"
"I'll take you back next time. Without the kid." He said, pointing to him as he snored. "It's going to get bumpy now."
"It's a date." You felt your heart in your throat. The most ballsy thing you have said since bargaining a place on the ship and now the ship was at full throttle, Grogu was awake and thankfully enjoying the hyperspeed and your insides were jelly from the speed and your dumbass saying "it's a date" to someone whose face you couldn't even read- not that you were even good at that anyway.
"a date." Mando said, swerving the ship. You gripped at the arms of the co-pilot chair and dug your nails in. Was he trying to make you suffer even more?! Your face was burning already.
"figure of speech. I would like to go though."
"a date." He repeated, before another asteroid nearly hit the ship.
18+ MDNI — unprotected piv (wrap it before you tap it), soft!jack, obsessed!jack, gentle sex. FT. JACK ABBOT X AFAB!READER
author note. inspired by this post
“baby, i need you to relax f’me.” jack’s voice echoes around the bathroom, accompanied by the gentle music playing from his phone and the rhythmic sound of water sloshing in the bathtub as he thrusts into you at a steady pace. one of his hands is wrapped around your waist, helping to guide you back onto his cock, whilst the other holds onto your shoulder, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your pulse point.
you’re on your hands and knees, the warm soapy water just below your elbows, and your head tilted forward between your shoulders, trying to ignore the hundreds of thoughts swirling around in your head in favour of feeling the way his cock drags against your spongy walls with every drag of his hips. it’s futile though — your mind is too focused on everything that’s been going on in your life lately. you’ve tried to occupy yourself with other things, like getting through your seemingly endless pile of laundry, but nothing seems to work.
jack can tell you’re not really here in the moment with him, and it breaks his heart a little to see you like this. he’s tried to assure you as best as he can, to do everything he thinks will make you feel better, but none of it really helps like he’d hoped. “hey, you with me?” he asks, his hand running up and down your back to try and get your attention. you hum absently, blinking to snap yourself out of your reverie and adjusting your position in front of him.
“i’m always here for you, y’know.” his words make your chest a little tighter, and you glance over your shoulder to get a better look at him. the low candlelight paints a dream-like hue across his face, making him look even softer than he does usually. “i know.” when he lifts an eyebrow as if to say ‘are you sure?’, you can’t help but giggle, “i know, jack.”
he nods and continues to thrust into you, the hand on your shoulder moving down to play with your clit, the added stimulation making you tighten around him. he grunts and adjusts his grip on your hip, using it to pull you back onto him with a little more force than before. “i’m here, i’m right here...” he repeats like a mantra, each word in time with the movement of his hips. your eyes are squeezed shut and your toes are curled as that familiar feeling in your abdomen begins to make itself known, and you can tell that he’s close, too.
“i love you so much, baby.” he mutters, his voice strained, before he finally bottoms out and spills his load into you, hands shooting out to grip the sides of the bathtub to keep himself upright. your release follows soon after, and you’re able to enjoy it better now that your mind is more than fractionally focused on him. “i love you too.”
after a moment, he leans back on his heels and pulls you with him, your back pressed against his chest and your head resting on his shoulder. his fingers rest just under your tits, skimming the underside of them with absent reverence as he trails his lips up the side of your neck. “you’ll always be my girl.” he mumbles against your skin, and for a brief moment, your mind seems to somewhat quieten.
♡ synopsis: due to seasonal depression, your own self-care, & accuracy at work both begin to suffer. unwilling to stand by while you're put through the wringer for the next few months until spring rolls around again, jack takes it upon himself to look after you in the meantime.
♡ content: caretaker!jack, d/s vibes (lil bit of dd/lg too), pining robby, jack braids your hair, makes you eat snacks, gives bath time, etc
♡ a/n: based on this request, ty!
You're not yourself today.
Well... You haven't been for awhile, truth be told. Change of the seasons, you think. Fall isn't terrible, but it nevertheless serves as the herald of the worst time of year: winter.
It brings about slick roads that you're terrified to drive on, power outages that cast people's homes into negative digits, an uptick in emergent cases because of car accidents and slipping on ice, snow that piles up on a driveway that exhausts you to shovel, everything dying or hibernating or migrating south to wait out the cold, and the Northern Hemisphere being bathed in darkness for the grand majority of each day.
Safe to say you absolutely despise it and plan to eventually marry rich so that you can one day get yourself a home in Key West that you'll winter in as soon as October rolls around every year.
A silly daydream, yes, but nevertheless a nice thought.
While Abbot gives his typical obnoxious pep talk about nightcrawlers and the wild west, you stand to the side while shifting on your feet and studying the electronic board ahead—its colorful fields filled to the brim, as always, with cases that never seem to cease in volume.
When the speech finally concludes, you jump slightly, then turn to walk away... Until Abbot calls for you.
You swing back around to him with a forced cheery smile that doesn't quite meet your eyes.
"You alright?" he asks while resting a calloused hand against your upper arm in concern.
You nod while glancing past him. "Yeah. Fine."
"Didn't join in tonight. Getting tired of your old man already?"
Your eyes flit back to his and you shake your head. "Just thinking about getting to waiting patients." Swerving around Jack—not wishing to give him an opportunity to dig any deeper than surface-level—you head in the direction of an occupied trauma bay.
In the middle of a debridement, a patient's local anesthetic wore off—something you were meant to be keeping in mind, as they were going to require further dosages as you worked to ensure that the site was kept good and numbed while you cleaned—and were made more than aware of that fact when they started howling in pain due to your negligence.
Gently pushed aside when Abbot came sprinting into the room, you stood idly by and sniffled quietly while your eyes filled with tears and apologies poured forth from your lips. "I'm so sorry," you'd whimpered while wiping at your cheeks and mentally berating yourself to get it together!
Once the patient was given a dosage of anesthesia and another resident was summoned to take over, Jack pulled you into an empty room to check in with you.
"Sweetheart, what has been going on with you?" he asks gently with crossed arms.
Wrapping your own around yourself, you shake your head in denial. "I just forgot by getting lost in what I was doing. I'm so—" you clamp a hand over your mouth. "I'm so sorry."
Jack sighs, then takes a step forward and does something unexpected: he wraps his arms around you before tucking you beneath his chin and safely against his chest. "You look exhausted. Are you not sleeping well?"
You yawn and decide to give in. You screwed up, so he deserves explanation. Plus, you're too beat to try and worm your way out of this. "I think I have SAD."
You can't help but feel the least bit pitiable for it. You're surrounded by people with broken bones, burns, lacerations, and unidentified chest pain. Meanwhile, you're in a depressive mood because it's gotten cold outside.
He hums. "You taking anything for it?"
You shake your head. "I had a script for vitamin D once, but I don't feel like it made me any happier. Or any less stressed, for that matter."
Jack runs a hand up your back. "I thought you seemed off lately. I didn't know if it was something outside of here, or work itself."
Your eyes water. "All of it."
"Startin' to worry me. You're not taking breaks, you're taking on more cases than you can handle—"
You pull away while wiping your tear-stricken cheeks with the sleeve of your undershirt. "I'll be fine."
Truth is, you had hoped that by overwhelming yourself here, your bouts of sadness would subside because you were more than occupied and didn't have time to think about anything else.
Jack makes to reach out to you, but you turn and head for the door. "I have patients to get to. I'll be more mindful from now on. I'm sorry, Dr. Abbot."
He watches with disappointment as the door clicks shut behind you.
You're standing idly by and observing Dr. Garcia perform an emergency thoracotomy on a patient with penetrating trauma when you end up having to squeeze your thighs together due to a suddenly straining bladder. Continually shifting your weight from one foot to the other in hope of relief does you little good, though.
Just another way you've been neglecting your own wellbeing lately: by not even bothering to use the restroom regularly.
Hopefully it doesn't result in a UTI. It'd just be another issue to add onto the already growing pile.
Abbot glances to you curiously and watches as you rotate your neck and squeeze your eyes shut before popping open again. Trailing his own lower, he notes the familiar little dance you seem to be doing and sighs.
This damn girl.
Discreetly, Jack silently crosses the room to reach you, then turns and leans in close. "Go to the restroom and relieve yourself."
You glance up to him and blink.
"Go potty, sweetheart," he mumbles before stepping away.
You turn and exit without anyone noticing.
The next time Jack takes note of your obvious self-neglect is when he's passing by the computer station just as you're making to stand, and you sway on your feet before thankfully catching yourself on a nearby counter.
Circling back around, he settles a hand on your hip and guides you in the direction of the employee lounge.
"What're you—"
He stops just outside the door and slides his hands into his pockets while nodding toward the room's interior. "Go get a snack. I'm not going to have you passing out from hypoglycemia."
You roll your eyes, then open your mouth to insist that you're fine and will eat a Snickers later, until he crosses his arms and steps forward with an unwavering expression painted across his features. "Did you just roll your eyes at me?"
You stare blankly at him. "I'll be okay. I had a protein shake before I left the house. I'll have a granola bar later."
Jack grips your shoulders and spins you around while ushering you into the break room. "You're going to have a cup of Ramen, which you will finish every bite of, as well as a juice box, and only once both are on your stomach will I deem you fit to return to work."
A juice box? What, are you five?
"I really am fine," you insist.
He blocks the doorway. "Since you seem incapable of looking after yourself, I'm taking up the obligation instead."
You glance away in humiliation. "I'm not an invalid."
Jack sighs with remorse. "Honey, I didn't mean it like that. But you're worrying me sick. How can you expect to properly look after your patients if you're continually putting your own needs aside?"
Walking further into the room, you yank a container of Ramen off the counter. "I just have to get through to Spring. I'll be fine."
"That is months away," he counters. "So until then?"
You peel the lid off the thin cardboard bowl and toss it into the trash. "I eat my Ramen and drink my stupid juice box," you mumble while filling the container up to the designated line at the sink.
You're slurping up a mouthful of seasoned noodles when Robby waltzes into the lounge for a bottle of water before he clocks out.
Grabbing a cold one from the fridge, he looks at you with a sportive expression. "I'm sorry," he begins with a chuckle. "Are you having a snack in the middle of your shift?"
You narrow your eyes while chomping down on your noodles—sending them sliding back into the bowl. "Jack made me."
He leans back against the fridge. "Jack made you?" Robby asks incredulously before nodding toward the table. "He make you drink the juice box, too?"
You sip at it, then mumble your response. "Yes."
He softens then, with only a slight, playful grin now upon his lips. "Are you alright?"
You shrug while stirring your noodles. "Just not myself lately."
Robby's tennis shoes squeak quietly against polished tile as he heads for the table you're seated at. Pulling out a chair, he seats himself across from you before leaning back. "Something happen?"
"SAD."
He sighs. "Are you taking any—"
You hang your head. "I swear you're both two halves of a whole."
"Guessing he asked the same thing?" he inquires while unscrewing the lid on his bottle.
You return to your noodles. "Yes."
"And?" he asks while leaning forward.
"No."
Robby shakes his head while sliding his clasped hands atop the table. "Do one of us need to write you a prescription?"
Now finished with your noodles, you go in for the juice box so you can finally get back to work. "I'll be fine."
"And how many times have you fed that line to my supposed 'other half'?"
You glance to him and sip the remaining dregs with a frown. Releasing the plastic straw, you reply quietly. "Couple times."
Robby leans back with a sigh and a hand planted atop his thigh. "Well, I suggest you take Dr. Abbot's advice and do a better job of looking after yourself going forward."
He rises, then comes to your side and rests a hand between your shoulder blades while looking down at you. "Otherwise, one of us will. And speaking for myself, I already have enough patients to worry about as it is. So do you."
You crumple the juice box before standing. "I will," you supply—desperate for them both to crawl off your back. "You don't need to worry, Robby," you finish while tossing the item into the trash.
Sliding a tender hand down the side of your neck, he purses his lips. "I hope not." He heads for the door. "Need to be able to look forward to seeing my favorite girl every night before I go home."
Robby turns the handle to finally head out. "Don't know what I'd do if she wasn't here for me to set eyes on."
You watch as he leaves, completely taken aback by his comment. But it nevertheless causes you to warm all the more toward him, now knowing he's so fond of you.
When you wake the next evening, it's with a renewed vow to yourself, your patients, and coworkers: you'll be making every effort going forward to do considerably better. More bathroom breaks—including stops for water afterward—and you have a shopping bag full of nonperishable snacks you plan to lock away in a drawer at the computer station to munch on when you're charting.
Small efforts, but all good steps in the right direction.
Standing in your bathroom, cast in only the soft yellow glow of a nightlight—too early...or, rather, late for the glare of an overhead bulb—you brush your teeth while doing your best to keep your eyes open.
And then a firm, heavy knock resounds from your front door. Your plastic toothbrush clattering from your hand and landing in the sink, you quickly swipe your phone from the porcelain countertop and when you check your outside camera, your jaw falls open.
"Is—Is everything okay? Did something happen at the hospital, or with Robby, or—"
Abbot raises a brow while easing his way inside and over the threshold of your home while brushing past. "Robby always the first thing on your mind in the morning?"
You cross your arms while turning around—curious as to the bag he holds. "No. You two just seem attached at the hip."
He blows a raspberry, then hands you the bag—which seems to have some heft to it—before bending at the waist with a groan to untie his shoes.
"What is this?" you ask while gently lifting the item.
"Breakfast," he replies. Tossing his shoes to the side, Jack stands upright while settling his hands against his back and lightly stretching.
"W-Why?"
He takes the bag again, then plants a palm against the small of your back. "Kitchen?"
You pad in that direction.
Once you've reached it, Jack reaches up and switches on the hood light atop the stove—you're thankful that he didn't go for the ugly hanging chandelier overhead instead, which you plan to replace when you finally have the funds—before opening and closing cabinets in search of a plate.
"I can just eat it with my hands," you say while peeling the brown paper bag open—not that you even have an idea as to what's inside.
You assume some sort of sandwich or biscuit.
You've only just removed plastic utensils when he slides a plate in front of you and snatches the bag away. As he's pouring the contents of a steaming breakfast bowl onto it, you look at him. "How...How did you know where I live?"
He smirks, then steps away to throw away the now empty plastic container and bag.
"Wait," you blurt. "Did you look in my employee file?"
"Took down your cell, email, and home address," he retorts before glancing toward the hallway you emerged from but a few minutes earlier. "Bathroom this way?" he asks while pointing a thumb over his shoulder.
"Yes..." you reply with furrowed brows while watching him disappear around a corner.
Talk about making one's self at home...
Jack is satisfied to see you cleaning the plate in front of you while also sipping on the bottle of orange juice he purchased.
You bristle at the sound of his heavy, ambling footfalls, and open your mouth to begin hounding him with questions until you feel a brush suddenly being run through your hair.
You jerk in your seat and a forkful of scrambled eggs plop back onto the plate in front of you. "What're you doing?"
"Your hair. What's it feel like?"
You toss down the fork before spinning around. "Why're you doing this? The—The breakfast, and you having my information, and now trying to—"
"I told you," he says while settling his hands on his hips. "I am taking up the mantle of your personal babysitter. At least until the seasons change." He shrugs. "Probably until well after, if I'm being honest." He circles his finger. "Turn back around."
"But—"
He leans in close while gripping the back of your chair. "Finish your breakfast, young lady. Now."
You gulp at his demanding tone, and ultimately do as you're told.
You raise a brow at the feel of him parting your hair before consistently running a finger through it and tightening as he goes. "Are you braiding my hair?" you ask between chews.
He hums in response.
"How do you know how?"
He snorts. "These hands can do more than just hold a scalpel." He happens to slide a finger down the back of your neck. "And braid hair, but that's a conversation for another time."
You remain silent while sipping at tangy OJ.
"There was a woman I served with. Hurlston was her name. Her daughter was only a few months old when she got deployed. Got into her mind that she needed to know how to do all these fancy hairstyles for whenever she got older. So, she ordered one of those big fuckin' Barbie doll heads and practiced on it constantly. Complicated shit.
"When there's down time in the Army, there's a few things you can do: read, write letters, watch movies, some plays games... She did hair. Sometimes, I watched when I got bored with a Tom Clancy novel. Learned how to do just a basic braid that way. French? Had her teach me that."
Your plate now being clean, you swirl your juice around to occupy your hands. "Why? Just...boredom?"
Jack shrugs while tying a band he found in your medicine cabinet around the end. "That. And...if I ever got married again, or had a daughter of my own, I figured it'd be something worth knowing how to do."
He squeezes your shoulders while taking the plate to slip into the dishwasher. "Finish your juice and then we're going once you're dressed."
Jack seems to be set on going the extra mile with this. Such as him not allowing you to so much as carry your own bag, and when you slide into the passenger seat...
"Ok, I can get my own seatbelt—" you sigh with irritation as he clasps it into place anyway.
Placing one hand on your seat's headrest and his other forearm across your lap, Jack remains close while speaking. "I am only gonna say this once, so you need to listen."
You draw your knees inward and keep your eyes on his arm before finally meeting his gaze again.
"You need someone to look after you for the next few months. Sweetheart, I refuse to turn a blind eye when someone that I care deeply, deeply for is suffering in silence. All your 'I'm fines' are bull, and you know it. So, until the change in seasons—hell, probably even past that, given where we stand, like I said earlier—you can consider me glued to your side. That means giving you designated break times at work, ensuring you're eating three square meals a day, as well as snacks, bath time here at your home or mine, bedtime—whatever I need to do to ensure that you're being looked after the way you not only need to be, but deserve."
Your chin wobbles. "I'm not a child, Jack. I can—"
"No, but if you need someone to father you—or...or just act like a surrogate husband when things get dark, then baby, that's what I'm here for. Alright? All the shit you're having trouble carrying right now? Put it on me. I can handle it. Okay? I am not losing you to depression—seasonal or otherwise. Because, sure, right now maybe it's forgetting to eat or use the restroom, but what about when you don't have the energy to bathe, or the mental fortitude to get out of bed every evening?"
You sniffle while settling a palm atop the back of his hand. "Are you sure?"
He slides his hand out from beneath your own, and cups your cheek. "My purpose at work is obvious. Outside of it?" he swipes a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Honey, you're it. And I couldn't be more thrilled."
Jack sort of moves you into his home in the middle of the fall season. Nothing drastic like furniture, but he does have you pack up the basics: clothes, toiletries, hobbyist materials like your laptop, some books, a journal, and so on. And as your newly designated caretaker, he only thinks it fair that he pay your rent and utilities while you're away, since he's the reason for your sudden absence from your domicile.
He once makes a joke while giving you a bath—yes, something which most certainly sent you reeling the first time he drew one for you—that if you give up your lease, then he won't have to worry about checking on dripping faucets once snow starts to fall.
In way of repayment, whenever you're both off, you try doing chores and general tidying up around his house while he watches TV or works on bullet reloading. Until your pacing and utterly inane babbling finally does Jack's nerves in...
After yanking you into his lap one afternoon in the living room and practically cradling you in his arms while threatening to shove his thumb in your mouth if you didn't calm the hell down, you finally got the message that you needed to sit and shut up for awhile.
Now, he gives you designated chores on a chart on the fridge for you to do a few times a week, so as to occupy you, and time set aside for you to talk your little heart out where he listens until you've run out of words. He adores talking with you, but God if you can't be a chatterbox at times when you get excited.
It honestly gets to a point that, when you're outside of the ED—which you're once again flourishing in because of Jack's consistent, precise direction—you almost wholly turn your mind off and otherwise leave it in more capable, trusted hands because you feel so safe and taken care of with him.
Jack drives you home, bathes you, puts you in clean PJs, makes you dinner, and even tucks you in right next to him every morning.
He'd initially tried out the arrangement of giving you his bed—he refused to listen to your protestations when you insisted it be the other way around—while he would sleep on the pullout couch, but it didn't last long because of his back.
Turned onto your side with Jack behind you, he runs a calloused palm beneath your camisole and up your back, trying to coax you to sleep. "Do you need a cup of warm milk?" he whispers.
You pop open a curious eye. "That actually sort of sounds disgusting."
He smirks. "I thought so, too, but figured it worth offering if you thought it'd help."
He tugs the hem of your camisole up to just below your breasts, then returns to massaging your back. "There's another tried and true method that usually helps get me to sleep."
You close your eyes again. "Hm?"
He grows quiet for a moment. "Be easier to get started on if you took your clothes off."
You sigh in irritation. "I don't think my attending is supposed to say things like that to me."
He chuckles. "I think that ship sailed when I appointed myself your caregiver, sweetheart."
Rolling onto your other side, you drag yourself closer, then burrow into the warmth his bare chest provides. "Goodnight."
Cupping the base of your skull, he tilts your head back and brushes a kiss over your lips. "Good morning."
You tangle your limbs around him before making to count up to a hundred in an attempt to finally drift off.
"Maybe we should move to Alaska," he mumbles. "Then there'd be no reason for this to ever end."
You shake your head while giggling. "Go to sleep."
Jack wraps his arms around you. "Sooner I get to see you again, the better."
Hows abouts robby not realizing that you want praise from him just as much as jack and jack having to push for it for you
18+mdni
ugh I can def see this happening semi-regularly... like jack will just keep constant praise and encouragement flowing from his mouth so when he's around robby will really fall of with it. The most you'll get from robby is a "there you go" when you follow his instruction :((
You'll be sucking Robby off while Jack fucks you and he can see the way your eyes are searching robby's face, wide and hopeful, whenever you take him deep enough to make him groan and you gag </33 tries to sate you with his own "good girl, sweetie. makin' robby feel so good" but you just whine and keep gazing up at robby while he cups your face and slides his cock down your throat again. Jack shoots him a look and a low "Mike," that finally grabs Robby's attention
"You're doing a great job, honey." He says, voice low and gruff with arousal. "Look at you taking me all the way." And you let out a pleased moan, finally relaxed <3
also this made me think of when you're really fucked out after jack has already fucked you... robby slides his cock into your pussy, his eyes trained down on the way you stretch around him and the way jack's cum leaks out around his dick. you whine and squirm, so so sensitive, but whimper out a desperate "feel good, daddy?"
and jack has to urge, "She's talking to you, man" bc robby's so focused on your pussy and so not used to you addressing him that way </33 but once it clicks it makes him smirk and lean down to kiss you and finally give you some of the doting you've been quietly begging for all night
"This little pussy feels so good, sweetheart. So warm and tight around me. Fuckin' made to take this cock, weren't you honey? Yeah? Made to be a good girl for your daddy." <33
dr. baby in the house
Jack's little daughter finds his stethoscope and decides she's going to be him to take care of him // fic directory // jack's heart problems (nsfw)
“Dada. I check.”
Jack looks up to see the toddler daughter you gave him in the doorway. There’s batter on her cheek, which makes sense considering he can smell you making pancakes from the kitchen. He has every reason to lick what you’re covered in off of you when breakfast is ready.
“What are you checking, baby—”
His heart registers what she’s holding before his brain can. The pulse of it balloons in his throat, and yeah…he’s pretty fucking ridiculous in not being able to handle what he’s looking at.
She’s clutching his stethoscope in both hands. You’d think she’s found buried treasure.
…Which she has. The thing’s a hundred and fifty bucks, and Jack’s sure he had it tucked away somewhere where she’s not supposed to be.
“I try and find Mommy one. She hide too goooddddd. I like her one. Her so pretty.”
Jack’s dangles almost to Chubby’s knees. The slick, black tubing bounces against her tiny shins.
She runs up to him with her face, full cheeks and all, completely serious. Okay. Whatever. It’s only fair she treats her unapproved act of exploration as a triumph. What’s not fair is that he can already hear your laughter coming down the hall.
Resentfully beautiful music. Fuck off, kiddo.
“I hafta check.”
“Check what?”
Chubby stares at him like he’s the stupidest fuck in the world. Which, okay. He should’ve guessed what she meant with what she’s holding.
“Your heart!”
Jack closes his eyes when she thrusts the stethoscope towards him. When he opens them, maybe five seconds later, his baby’s still holding it out.
You suddenly appear with a spatula in one hand, batter on your hands insanely lickable. Jack could roll his eyes, but he just hauls Chubby up onto his lap.
There’s a world he’s pretty fucking terrified of, one where he’s older and it didn’t take him that long to be older, sicker—a worse heart, and your daughter’s twenty and you’re so much younger than him, and there’s a life he’s pushing both of you to take care of. That world’s orbiting towards him. It’ll be here soon.
But he doesn’t think you’ll forgive him if you ruin this moment with his mental ailments, kiddo. He’ll play Doctor with the girl.
“Ms. Doctor, mind if Mommy consults?”
Chubby nods at you, and Jack puts in the earpieces for her. His mouth thins out into a smile he can’t help but wear despite the future, because he’s here now. Now is pretty fucking beautiful.
You crouch when she gets herself tangled. Jack doesn’t even know how that happened.
“Like this, baby—”
“I know, Mommy.”
“Hey, be nice.”
Jack mutters as Chubby whines with all the desperate independence that implies that she wants to do this all on her own. That might be his contribution of DNA at work. Could be yours. Stubborn nurse that ruined him the first day he met you, and now he’s a patient of your chubby, mini hybrid.
She presses the chestpiece bell to Jack’s chest way too high for her to hear a heartbeat, but she gasps anyway.
“It loud!”
“A little lower.”
Jack guides her small hand and the chestpiece bell just above his heart. He swallows.
He can see his and your Chubby stilling with all the concentration of…him. Of you. She’s hearing his body from the inside, and he watches her watching him.
She tilts her head.
How many lives did he save to deserve the one he has with you and her? Not enough.
Jack questions her quietly, because God-fuck, his voice might crack if he’s any louder.
“What’s your diagnosis, baby?”
Chubby listens to his heart for a couple more seconds.
She taps Jack’s chest.
“It say boom bum boom boom cause it love me and Mommy.”
Jack nearly swallows his tongue, because that…how the hell does she even come up with that? You laugh, and he’s betting you’re smiling so hard that it’s a pain. This is a pain. This is absurd.
“It say you need pancakes too. Mommy, I check you now. Lie down.”
This is what he’ll never deserve, but God help anyone who tries to take this away from him.
Jack decides, for your sake, to command you around as you get ready for bed. Of course, sleep does not come.
cw: just some roughfucking, dirtytalk, slight degradation, smut, MDNI, dom!jack, dom/sub dynamics, a lil bit of oral (f receiving) // just a lil tidbit of filth with a caring man who is definitely not taking advantage of sleepy's (reader's) fatigue // fic directory // word count: 1.2k
Jack decides that he has no choice but to take the reins away from you after a hectic, short-staffed shift where you ended up taking on charge-nurse duties for most of it. When it’s time to go home, he can tell you’ve been wrung out like a dishcloth.
Right? You were too good at taking them on. The reins, he means.
You spent twelve hours triaging everyone else’s feelings on top of their injuries, redirecting chaos, making a million decisions a minute with a bubbly smile and a flirt for him every time you passed, a wet-mouth peck to go along with.
Because you were torturing him just as much as you were doing everything else, his girl’s a multi-tasker.
But now, there’s practically nothing left of you, kiddo. Poor fucking girl. Jack’s gotta let you surrender the control you’ve been wielding all shift. It’s a sacrifice he can handle. Definitely.
Nothing selfish about wanting to take over while kiddo’s helpless in his truck's seat. She just needs him sometimes.
“Where are my shoes—”
“Shut up. They’re in the backseat. You don’t need them right now.”
So, Jack decides “taking the reins” makes fucking the lights out of you.
When you’re nothing but his to control.
“Sit still, Sleepy.”
Jack tugs your socks off and massages your arches. You sigh. You don’t think you’ll ever not be thrilled by how easily he does this. Your entire awful, awful, heavy day weighs nothing to Jackie. He’s just removed you from it completely, already slipping into the role you’ve been craving to have him in all day.
Well, the role you’ve both been craving.
“Now stand up.”
You do, swaying slightly as his warm, large hands guide yours to the hem of your scrub top.
“Lift your arms.”
You do, and your tits spill free, nipples already pebbling when he peels your scrub top and undershirt over your head. Jack sighs low.
“I knew you weren’t wearing a fucking bra.” He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your scrub bottoms. “Panties next. Or are you not wearing those either?”
Jack’s stripping you for him, but he’s also stripping you out of the day you thought you could handle. He steers you back to the bed as he slides your scrub bottoms and underwear down your legs and pulls them off. You’re on your back with the pillows propping your head.
“Arms above your head. Stay like that.”
The instructions pool between your thighs. Jack strips off his own shirt, and you want to paint the pale, thick, freckled planes of his chest. But you know he’d never sit still for that.
He sheds his jeans, his tight boxer briefs, and you could whimper at how his cock’s already half-hard.
You do when you swear that you watch his shaft thicken as he climbs onto the bed.
“Spread your legs for me.”
The gravel of Jack’s voice drops lower, and you have no complaint in parting your thighs and exposing your cunt.
Your breath hitches when he grips your knees to hold you open.
“Don’t move unless I say so.”
He leans in, pressing his beautiful, stubbled mouth to your inner thigh, kissing upward slowly with his breath hot against your skin. Your breath hitches again as his lips brush your folds.
Oh God, Dr. Abbot.
Jack, Dr. Abbot, Jackie, Daddy—he pauses pretty cruelly, you think. Only to look up with unblinking eyes.
“Tell me you’re mine tonight.”
…Well. You can’t. Not even as your walls clench around nothing.
“I’m yours every night, Jack.”
Jack blinks. What might be even more cruel is that he takes that as his cue.
“Jack!”
His tongue flicks, flicks, flicks, licking your clit in harsh stroking before he dives into your slit.
He sucks gently, the pink of him lapping up, his fingers digging into your thighs to keep you pinned. There’s already a slickness gushing out of you.
When you squirm, he pulls back.
“Hands stay up. Good girl. Just needed to taste the result of your hard work tonight. But I know what you need.”
Jack rises to bring you on his lap. He guides your hands to his now fully erect cock, and makes you stroke it once before lining it up with your cunt.
“Beg for it, baby.”
Your voice is breathless.
“Please, Jackie. Fuck me—”
He pushes in slowly at first, inch by inch, as you feel your wetted walls clench around him. It’s a beautiful burn as he’s swallowed by your cunt, and once he’s buried deep with your grip, he groans low in his throat and thrusts.
Always steady at first, then harder, hips snapping up.
“Fuck, you’re so good.”
Jack’s grunt is rough and barely above a rumble, his words tumbling out between breaths and clenches. “Such a good nurse, handling all that shit today...taking care of everyone.”
He pounds into you as you can only cry out. The break creaks, and his cock stretches you with each drive.
Take me over and never let me go, Jack.
“So fucking good at this, too. Taking my cock like you were made for it.”
His praises come in low grunts, but if you were completely out of it, they’d be lost in the slap of skin on skin.
“Feels so damn good inside you, Sleepy. Tight little pussy gripping me. You’re perfect. You’re the only thing to kill me.”
“Jack, keep...harder—”
You’re surprised he allows that demand when you’re supposed to be listening to him, but he does rut deeper, faster. His fat, low-hanging balls slap against your ass.
You arch over him, chasing the high in the pathetic roll of your hips. Jack takes one hand to curl on your back, the other to smack where you’re already being smacked. Your ass jiggles even more than it already does.
Sweat beads on his lightly wrinkled forehead. His muscles flex with every thrust.
“Such a mess after bossing everyone around all day.” His words are now spilling out relentlessly between heavy breaths, and your pebbled nipples smashing against his pecs as he pulls you into him—like he could hide you inside his stomach…it’s a perfect sting.
“Taking charge like you own the place…but look at you now, Sleepy—dripping for my cock. Think you're so tough, handling all that chaos, but you're just a needy fucking whore when I get my hands on you.”
And why would kiddo ever let me near her?
Your moans spur Jack on, so does the way you’re about to cum on him. He fucks fast. Shorter bucks. He buries his face in your neck the way he buries his cock in your staining cunt.
“You’re the best nurse we have. You know that? Saving lives and shit…but—”
His words are firing off in low, pathetic grunts.
“You’re even better at this—”
You arch even more, body trembling as you cum first, a high of nerves washing over you as your cunt pulses wildly around him. That might be what sets him off, because he merely drives in you one last time after a few impossibly quick thrusts.
Jack buries himself to the hilt of you, all his yapping praises and grunts disappearing into his soft chokes, and with a shuddering groan…
He bursts with his ropes of hot, milky-white cum deep inside you.
Jack collapses backwards, pulling you down with him. His mouth finds yours in a desperate kiss, and your tongues tangle as they lap each other up.
This is what happens every other time he empties himself enough you.
“You gotta take it easy, kid.”
“On me…or on you?”
…You’ve milked the shit out of Jack. He’ll let that one slide.
he doesnt even realise hes doing it. the money in his bank account is practically infinite and everybody knows it, he is an ex veteran and doctor after all.
it starts with him buying you coffee on his way to work. then when you guys started seeing eachother outside of work he would start buying you breakfast or dinner. you would always offer to pay, split the bill, but he would always say ‘dont worry about it’ andhand over his black amex like it was nothing.
then once you guys got serious he would start taking you to nicer places. places you never though you would be able to afford. you would feel bad, try ordering the cheapest thing on the menu, but he would notice immediately and ask the waiter to comeback in five.
then he started buying you clothes, jewellery. jack said he wanted you to be happy, and joked that you were ‘always complaining’ about having nothing to wear when he takes you out. you tell him you feel bad, you dont like draining his bank account. ‘baby this is nothing, i just want you to feel good. i like making you feel good.’ he would reply as his hand slid up your thigh. ‘if youre uncomfortable just tell me. ok?’ you climbed onto his lap and took his head into your hands. running your hands though his grey curls.
‘so what…are you my sugar daddy?’ you joked. a smirk grew on his face, ‘is that what you want, huh?’ he started pulling your shirt up over your head, ‘an excuse to call me daddy?’
warnings : implied sexual content in the last paragraph, other than that: pure fluff !
a/n : jack is such a girl dad, i had to write something about it
—
ೀ the first time you held your daughter, you did shed tears but Jack was a complete mess. His hands, usually steady as his job required it, trembled as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your daughter’s tiny ear. He looked from the bundle in his arms to you, his eyes glassy and bright with a vulnerability he rarely showed the world “You did it, y/n” he whispered, his voice cracking. “We did, Jack” you smiled at him and he lowered himself to plant a kiss on your forehead. He couldn't believe he was worthy of you giving him a life he was ready to give the entire world to.
ೀ the first time a diaper needed changing at home, Jack was surprisingly immediately a pro at it. You were reaching for the wipes, exhausted and still sore from labor, when he gently nudged your shoulder. “I've got it” he said, already rolling up his sleeves. He pinned the tabs with surgical precision while humming a low, gravelly tune to keep your daughter calm. He looked up and gave you a small, tired smirk, assuring you he’d take care of it as often as he could. “Go sit down. You’ve done enough heavy lifting for ten lifetimes.”
ೀ the first time waking up at night for the baby hit hard, the sound of her crying echoed through the quietness of the apartment at 3:00 am. You started to shift, but Jack’s arm was already across you, tugging you back in and pulling the bedsheet up your shoulders. “I got it.” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. “Get some sleep.” You watched his silhouette leave. After fifteen minutes you went to check on them and you saw Jack swaying rhythmically with the baby against his bare chest. “Don’t worry princess, dada is here, you have nothing to be afraid of. I’ll protect you from the whole word if I need to.” He walked around, until her screams turned into soft, rhythmic huffs of breath. He stayed awake long after she fell asleep, sitting down on the rocking chair and just watching the rise and fall of her chest.
ೀ the first time that Jack had to leave you to go to work, he was on the verge of simply quitting his job. He was fully dressed up, but he kept finding excuses to linger by the cradle, checking the locks and the heater. You eventually had to push him outside the door, laughing as he grumbled about “five more minutes.” He didn't leave before he kissed yours and your baby’s foreheads with a lingering, protective firmness, making sure to repeat for the fiftieth time to call him if anything happens. But the sight when he came back in the morning was definitely worth it : you were asleep on the bed with a finger inside your baby's crib and your daughter who was also sound asleep, holding your finger with her whole fist. Your hair was sprawled across the pillow and your cheeks were slightly flushed. Jack took the quickest shower and then kissed both of you before spooning you from behind, anchoring himself to his family.
ೀ the first time giving solid food to your daughter was extremely stressful for Jack who was looking out for any signs of choking with an intensity that was almost comical. He sat on the edge of his seat, knuckles white as he watched her take a spoonful of mashed fruit. “Is that too thick? I think it's too thick” he muttered, leaning in so close he was blocking the light. “Jack, she’s doing extremely well, but you’re going to start make her doubt herself with your intense staring” You caught his hand and calmed him down, promising him that she was doing just fine. Eventually, he relaxed enough to laugh when she sneezed and sent a spray of pear puree right onto her little table.
ೀ the first time your baby showed signs of teeth resulted in a week of fussiness and restless nights. Jack spent hours tirelessly freezing damp cloths for her to chew on, walking her laps around the room to distract her from the ache. When he finally felt that tiny, sharp ridge against his thumb, he beamed as if she’d won a battle. “There it is. My little princess getting her weapons” he joked, though his eyes remained soft as he watched her finally drift off to sleep.
ೀ The first time for your baby to walk, the world seemed to stop for both of you. She pulled herself up on the edge of the table, wobbled on her chubby legs, and then lunged toward Jack’s outstretched arms. She took three precarious steps before collapsing into his chest. Jack let out a triumphant shout that probably echoed through the upper floor, hoisting her high into the air. He spun her around, his laughter loud and genuine, looking at you with a face full of pure, unadulterated pride.
ೀ the first word being “mama” was a moment of pure joy for you, but Jack spent the rest of the day repeating “dada” to your daughter with the persistence of a man on a mission. Every time she babbled back at him, he’d point to his chest and say it again, more clearly this time. “C’mon princess, I know you know it, da-da” he muttered to her, though he couldn't hide his grin when she eventually grabbed his shirt and let out a sound that was close enough for him to claim victory.
ೀ the first birthday of your daughter wasn't a grand party, it was private and quiet within the safety of your family and closest friends. There was a small cake, a few hand-carved wooden toys Jack had spent weeks perfecting, and a sense of permanence he had never dared to dream of. As she sat between you both, covered in frosting and grasping at a ribbon, Jack wrapped his arm around your waist. He looked at the life you’d built “One year down. A lifetime to go.” Your daughter giggling for the first time at the sight of Jack kissing you.
ೀ bonus : the first time you were left alone happened when your parents took your daughter for the weekend, and you and Jack finally treated yourselves to a night out at a fancy restaurant. You wore a beautiful dress that made Jack’s jaw drop, and he cleaned up remarkably well in a sharp suit. The evening went by smoothly and the food was delicious, but you still found yourself checking your phone “just in case” every few minutes. Each time, Jack would reach across the table, squeeze your hand, and gently assure you she was in good hands. However, the second you were back home, the atmosphere shifted completely. Jack’s hands were all over your body the moment the door clicked shut, his lips glued to your neck as he led you toward the bedroom. He laid you down gently on the sheets, slowly trailing his fingers over your skin as he helped you out of your dress. When you were down to your underwear, he suddenly whispered, “Wait” and made a quick trip to the bathroom for a condom. But when he returned, he stopped in his tracks, the silence of the house had finally caught up to you, and you were fast asleep. He chuckled softly to himself, tossing the condom onto the nightstand before stripping off his own clothes. He climbed in beside you, pulling the heavy covers over both of your bodies. “Goodnight, baby” he whispered against your hair, falling asleep by your side in the quietest the room had been in a year.
After a long shift that takes the life out of you and Jack, you start the morning with a scalding hot shower as you tiredly, lazily, jerk Jack off.
This is the routine before you and he collapses in bed after bad cases. Hidden in the steam and pressured driplets is you resting your head on Jack's wet shoulder, pumping away at his fat cock that pulses sticky with the water that traces every cunt-hungry vein.
"Don't drown, baby."
Jack wipes the water from your nose that only nuzzles into his neck as a response. He swallows at a particularly tight twist that ends with your thumbs rubbing slow circles over his tip slit.
You don't know this, because he's always spending too much of his five-decade-old heart touching you, but Jack's the most touchy when he's showering with you.
As your fingers go soft around him, he runs his pointer finger along your bicep over and over, studying the way your skin sits under the water and thinking if he'd settle well under you. Your skin, he means.
Probably not. He's too much of a wrinkled, gruff old fuck for that. You should put a bullet in his head for him having that thought in the first place.
His finger trail turns into a palm rubbing up and down your back, pushing you and your tits to his body, cooping up the way you're so damn eager to please him even when you're about to pass out against him.
Not that you've never minded when he's taken you while you're knocked out. You promise you it's quite the opposite.
He's too much of a wrinkled, gruff old fuck to retire under kiddo's skin, but he smothers her with his body like he can. Ha.
"Let's finish this in bed, kid---"
"No."
His stubborn whore nurse. Alright. Keep turning his cock into nothing but a swollen "matured cum monster" that's made for your throat and pussy and nothing else.
...He didn't think to punish you when you invented that name for him. He was too baffled.
"Jack---"
"Alright, keep doing what you're doing. Daddy will keep the water out of your lungs."
You continue to pump, wonderingly tiredly, as to why he keeps groping you, or watching how his finger makes an indent in your skin. So, you take your free hand to snake around his waist, and suddenly, you're groping his ass.
"Okay. I trust you."
Jack pushes his face to your shoulder as he taps a fatigued rhythm on your ass cheek, only studying.
He sniffs, trying to take in your scent before it washes away.
"Well, you're too tired to know that you shouldn't."
You shouldn't, because he'll never let you go and never want to not study your skin for hours on end after you’ve fallen dead asleep. But he'd rather be the one to drown in this tub if you didn't. He might if you ever don't.
Jack Abbot has not gotten laid in a long, long time. (f!reader)
Can you blame him? The man is a fifty-year-old widower of five years with a job that takes up way too much time for him to put any real effort into putting himself out there or learning the apps.
Jack hasn't had a dry spell this long since he was... well, a virgin. Needless to say, he's starting to get desperate. He feels like a teenager again, getting hard way more easily than a man his age should an jerking off multiple times per week,
Worst of all is that he knows exactly who he wants to help with this issue. You're an R2 on night shift, a capable and talented doctor who does very little to hide your attraction to Jack. It's okay, though. Hell, it's actually endearing. You're so skittish around Jack, acting like just being in the same space as him is going to let him know that you want him to fuck your brains out (it did, in fact).
So, it's not a matter of if he's going to fuck you, but when.
Jack makes sure to complain to Robby when you're in earshot, making you hear just how sad and lonely his existence is. He doesn't lay it on too thick though, doesn't do the douchebag thing of complaining about blue balls or missing the feeling of a nice, warm cunt. Sympathy is what he's looking for here.
You're quick to take the bait. You may be a smart doctor, but Jack is persistent and has a smile that can make a nun blush. After mentioning to Robby how he only ever has to make one side of the bed when he wakes up, you approach him. You invite him to your house for dinner. Apparently, you make a killer carbonara. Not that a bad carbonara would stop him from showing up, though, not when he's finally going to get laid.
Dinner is nice. Your carbonara is good, but Jack's sure that the best tasting thing in this house isn't pasta, but the woman who made it. He pounds back a plate, then another at your insistence, and follows as you not-so-innocently lead him down the hall to your bedroom.
Jack wastes no time, but he is a gentleman, so he takes a moment to eat you out. It's been a while since he had a cunt at his disposal, after all. He lays you down on your bed, throws your legs over his shoulders, and dives in. You moan above him like it's the best goddamn head you've ever gotten, meanwhile Jack is trying not to blow a load in his pants.
When you come, Jack is sure to slip a third finger in your pussy to remind you how good it feels to be stretched. He can only imagine his cock in the place of his fingers, which is maybe why the second you still, Jack is unfastening his jeans.
You don't let him get very far before your hand lands on his own at his waistband.
"Sorry, Jack," you fake a wince. To his utter horror, you button his goddamn pants. "But I don't fuck on the first date."
He scrambles to his feet, "What do you mean? Sweetheart, I haven't gotten laid in years."
You smile sweetly and kiss Jack so nonchalantly that he almost forgets that his mouth is still filled with the taste of your cunt. You croon, "Then surely you can last another day or two."
Thinking about Jack abbot seeing you cry after sex. Wc: 0.6k
Warnings: suggestive, mdni, ass play. Fem!reader
Your back felt exposed, there’s this little muscle in your thighs that ache. And over all you feel sick.
Sick with overwhelming emotions that are just too big to handle for your dizzy brain. Jacks hands should be soothing when they slide up and down your naked sides. His just slightly colder hands running along your warmer flesh. Still sitting on his lap after you rode him into heaven on the couch.
But they’re not soothing. There overwhelming. And sometimes your legs would still jerk in a funny way with overstimulation. Panting and coming down from that amazing high.
Somewhere between your second and third orgasm your brain just died, turned off and now it’s rebooting into overdrive.
The first time Jack made you cum was on his fingers. Soft and achingly slow build up. It was a surprise that the feeling felt so big with such a small pace. Then the second time was on his dick. Getting to ride at your own pace while his mouth was occupied flicking your nipples.
And then finally the third time. When Jack was still bricked up and pushing up his hips from below you, his hand dropped a fraction on your ass for his finger to just accidentally slip into your unused ass hole. But it was no accident when Jack looked at you and whispered “you like that?”
You probably shouldn’t, it burns, and there’s a deep ache in your stomach when he reaches the first joint of his finger in your ass. But shit, it feels weirdly filling.
And now all of those memories and feelings just come crashing down onto you in the middle of the living room.
Jacks whispering soft praise into your hear. Something along the lines of; “that’s it. Good girl. So good f’me.” But it kinda all fades out.
Does he even know how much he’s affected you? Jack abbot is your whole world and you just let him rock your body ten ways to Monday. That should be scary, but you can’t help but feel comfortable around him. And that’s even scarier.
Tears start to prick your eyes, they’re hard to come by because nothings really wrong. But you’re still catching your breath and dopamine levels are dropping.
And when Jack presses a kiss to your cheek he feels the salty liquid on his lips. Pulling away to look into your eyes.
“Hey… hey— what’s wrong?”
You shake your head. Nothings wrong. But if you just sob out an I love you so much right now it would be kinda cheesy.
“I don’t… I don’t know.”
“Okay.” Jack nods and you feel him shift from underneath you, sitting up straighter and looking over your body for any injuries. “Does something hurt?”
You shake your head and Jack doesn’t know that his hands that are still working up and down your hips have your heart beating faster, makes your body feel warmer.
“Okay. Okay. You’ll tell me when you figure it out right?”
Nodding you slide off his lap. Sinking in right next to him seems better. Head on his shoulder but his arm hooks around your waist to shift you halfway on-top of him.
“Don’t scare me like that.” He whispers into your ear, and presses a long, lingering kiss to your hairline. “Nothing bad can happen to my girl.”
Biting back a grin you try to focus more on what’s happening outside of your body than in, otherwise you might throw up because of all his sweetness.
“I just… I got emotional…”
“Yeah.”
Jack wipes away the last of your tears with his thumb before leaning in for a sweet kiss. Quick but meaningful.
“Fucked you that good did I?”
“You did.”
And Jack doesn’t know what to do when you agree with him. So he makes this little face and a roll of his eyes while he settles in deeper into the couch. Tapping your torn ass in rhythmic little motions that could put you to sleep.
jack with a chronically online younger!reader...walk with me
like you can't sleep, so obviously you reach for your phone, careful not to wake jack beside you, and open tiktok.
jack stirs a bit, eyes opening and adjusting to the bright light coming from your phone.
"jesus kid...it's the middle of the night.." he grumbles, arm coming to wrap over your waist, pulling you close to him.
you let out a little yelp, making jack smile, giving him cuteness aggression at what little it took to get a reaction out of you.
he pulls you in even closer, spooning you in a way that prevents you from being able to wriggle out of his grasp, phone discarded to the side.
jack kisses your shoulder, and you can feel his wide grin, clearly pleased with himself that he managed to get you off the damn phone, and he hums with content.
"see, isn't this better, sweetheart?" he says, while squeezing the side of your hip.
"jack 's too deep..." you whine. well, as much as you can, with your tongue pushed up against his. any noise you make gets muffled by the erotic sounds of slurping and saliva exchange between your mouth and his.
"i know baby..." he coos back, tipping your jaw upwards to keep the kiss going while reassuring you and fucking his cock deep and so, so slowly into your poor hole. his chest is pressed against your back, one arm hooked around your neck. the hand of that arm is holding your face so he can control the kiss, while his other arm is braced beside you, fingers clutching your bedsheets each time his cock is sucked in deeper with your velvety walls.
it's just so soft inside you today. he doesn't know if he's losing his mind or something, but your pussy is just devouring his cock, milking him with those soft muscles and creamy walls and making each thrust feel like heaven. he honestly hates pulling back and letting his cock not fill you even for a moment. so he keeps his thrusts short, wanting to stay deep. so deep that you can't take much more of it.
the thick head of his cock is pressed firmly against your sweet spot, pressing down and putting pressure on your weak insides. you claw pathetically at his arm, needing some relief from being so full, but he won't give it to you. he just wants to stay buried inside, keeping you stuffed to the hilt. "you can take it sweetheart. be good and patient and i'll let you sit on my face after this, kay?"
contents: smut! twitter was asking for an erectile dysfunction fic so i started drafting and well, this might have been my calling. ED, a little blue pill, drug talk (jack’s on depression meds), some wine consumption, a whole host of second-hand embarrassment for jack, world’s best wife in the reader, and of course ED wasn’t enough… loosely inspired by 02x02.
[jack abbot x fem!reader. wc: 7.2k ]
masterlist | other jack abbot fics
He was a doctor—of course he read the side effects of his pills. Right?
Right?
God. Jack could barely think for himself let alone think what the fuck was on the prescription label. He especially couldn’t think straight when you were on top of him, fingers carding through his curls, and your chest pressed against his own.
Everything would be fine. Everything is fine.
It wasn’t fine. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him and when Jack Abbot’s internal alarm bells went off, anyone in a ten mile radius could hear them. All it took was one look, a not fully present kiss, and you knew something was amiss.
“Jack?” You murmured softly in his ear. He loved the feel of your breath; the warmth your body brought to his.
He swallowed hard. His jaw tensed as his chest shuddered in immediate nerves and your hands moved to cradle his face instead. Jack’s eyes avoided you like the plague, sticking to a spot over your shoulder in the direction of the tv.
“Yeah?” He barely whispered.
“Are you okay?”
Oh, goddamnit. Shit.
Everything was really not fucking fine.
Jack hated when his shifts never lined up with your schedule. Summer’s were easier, so were those few breaks you’d get during the year, but most weeks it felt like you were ships passing in the night.
You were his wife, not a “sometimes companion” depending on the day. So, when he had off, there was nothing he loved more than being at your side. Watching mindless television, going to the grocery store, listening to you complain about your job, and everything in between. He loved it. Jack never thought that chance would come again and when it did, he promised himself that the time he gave to you would be nothing short of devotion.
And, when the time to “love” became a little more intimate, Jack gave you everything you could ask for. You’d never had a more generous lover, in all sense of the word.
He cared so deeply about you that he was too easily forgetful about his own needs. Jack never liked when you tried to make it all about him—he’d had enough attention in the last twenty years to last him a lifetime in solitude. In return, Jack’s altar was beside you, on top of you, under you, and anywhere near you.
Therefore, when he sacrificed his time away from you to save the lives of strangers, it was only right for him to recompense through the most natural form of intimacy.
But it had been five days. Five days of back to back night shifts where he left you sleeping in bed and you left him walking out the door with your work bag in hand. There had been a light in the distance, Saturday, when his schedule finally broke and you were both off to enjoy each other’s company.
He cooked, you cleaned, and then you’d both retired to the sofa where your feet landed in his lap and a movie you’d seen a thousand times played quietly as days-long lodged conversations started to flow.
Then, you shuffled into his lap and Jack knew something was wrong before even started.
His lips met yours and you melted. You’d been so quick to fall into him, wrapping your arms around him, and pressing down into his lap that it felt needy. Tilting his head back, your fingers pulled at his curls to open him up to you. His kiss deepened and you couldn’t fight the smile on your face.
You laughed, breaking apart.
“What?” Jack asked incredulously. His eyes darted between yours as your hand brushed back his hair.
“Nothing.” You shook your head. “I just love you.”
Jack’s hands ran up and down your sides gently. “Well now it’s cheesy if I say it back.”
“No.” Your nose bumped into his. “You could never make it cheesy.”
“I’m pretty sure I could,” Jack admitted with a peck. He let his hands wander down your sides, feeling the skin of your ass before smoothing down your legs and holding them down on himself. “I love you.”
“How much?”
“Eh. ” He shrugged causing you leaned back and swat at his chest immediately before pressing into his pecs with your palms.
“Cruel,” you gasped. “You’re just evil.”
“I don’t know about that.” He removed his hands from you and placed his on top of yours. “But I don’t think a measurement exists for how much I really do.”
Not cruel. Just utterly adoring beyond comprehension.
You leaned in, kissing him again and again and each one ended longer than the last. He brought your hands back to his hair and encouraged a rougher grip. Jack’s tongue was the first to ask for silent permission to which you welcomed it with your own.
You couldn’t remember the last time you made out like teenagers on the couch.
And for ten minutes, you did only that.
Lips swollen and blood rushing in your body, there was something exhilarating about having waited so long to have sex this week. Five days wasn’t a world record for either of you but it felt like a necessary end to it.
Only you were expecting to feel something after ten minutes.
One of your hands slipped from his shoulders and entered the few inches of space between your bodies to grope him above his sweats. You had felt that simply being on top wasn’t enough—you would have felt his erection if you did—but this was the second time in three weeks that grinding on him didn’t work in getting him aroused.
Jack’s attention broke away from your lips and to your neck. His stubble grazed your skin with a roughness you’d only accept from his face. He lathered and sucked, teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you feel his desire through his lips.
As you met his groin, you felt the outline of his cock still limp between his spread legs. Gently trailing to the head, you molded your hand around it and rubbed to the base. Jack’s forehead fell to your shoulder and you couldn’t help but be satisfied, leaning your own into him.
Jack. Your Jack.
Your hand never stopped going. Slowly, you felt the minutes pass and you put more pressure in your grip and the air around Jack began to change. His kisses stopped, your fingers intertwined with his curls at the base of his head weren’t met with the same sighs, and his own hands loosened their grasp.
On the inside, Jack was having an existential crisis.
He knew it was going to happen.
It was the same goddamn thing from three weeks ago and he’d wrote it off as some kind of fluke. He was tired. He’d worn himself thin from a bad night and three weeks ago, sex wasn’t in the cards he’d been dealt. But now? Again?
Jack dug his forehead further into your shoulder to think—which was practically impossible for him to do in this state. Yet he tried. He thought back on any changes to his body and any signs he might have missed but the only possibilities he could think about were his age and his meds.
If it was his age, he was just about ready to croak off now. 50. Jack was only 50 fucking years old and he never imagined what the hell life would be like with erectile dysfunction at this age. He’d take it to his grave, he swore to God, but there was one other problem that he just couldn’t shake.
Those meds.
A switch from his therapist a few appointments ago to Zoloft, which was what he was supposed to be taking for years. But just like good medicine, sometimes finding the right balance was hard and it took time.
His therapist had warned him, right?
He was a doctor—of course he read the side effects of his pills. Right?
Right?
God. Jack could barely think for himself let alone think what the fuck was on the prescription label. He especially couldn’t think straight when you were on top of him, fingers carding through his curls and your chest pressed against his own.
Everything would be fine. Everything is fine.
It wasn’t fine. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him and when Jack Abbot’s internal alarm bells went off, anyone in a ten mile radius could hear them. All it took was one look, a not fully present kiss, and you knew something was amiss.
“Jack?” You murmured softly in his ear. He loved the feel of your breath; the warmth your body brought to his.
He swallowed hard. His jaw tensed as his chest shuddered in immediate nerves and your hands moved to cradle his face instead. Jack’s eyes avoided you like the plague, sticking to a spot over your shoulder in the direction of the tv.
“Yeah?” He barely whispered.
“Are you okay?”
Oh, goddamnit. Shit.
Everything was really not fucking fine.
He was falling apart. Jack couldn’t even look you in the eye because now he couldn’t have sex with his beautiful fucking wife and the world was basically ending.
“Yeah,” he barely squeaked out.
You saw through him and he could feel the pity in the way your thumbs rubbed softly on his cheeks.
“I think I need to use the bathroom,” he blurted out and discarded you to the side of the couch.
In his first attempt to stand, Jack struggled to gain momentum off the couch and the redness of embarrassment from another one of his problems inched up the back of his neck like a rash.
Holy shit, he thought. This is the worst day of my life.
He tried harder the second time to avoid your helping hands and rushed off to the bedroom, shutting the door so hard it reverberated throughout the house. Beelining for the sink, Jack’s hands strained the edges of it until his knuckles were white.
“What the fuck!” He scolded himself in a brash whisper. “What the fuck is wrong with you!?”
This wasn’t happening to him. This was all a dream. A really, god awful, terrible, no good dream that would be over in a matter of minutes. He’d wake up, sun shining, and never deal with this again.
He slapped a hand across his face. It was not a fucking dream.
“Holy shit,” Jack’s words were now nothing but saddened, pathetic whimpering. “This is not fucking happening to me right now.”
From outside the door, you leaned against the frame and let him wallow. Those little blue pills in the back of the cabinet had been pushed away out of spite and this time, you knew he just needed to face the reality of his situation. But that reality was hard to fathom after a lifetime of one activity never having been a problem. He couldn’t have just this one thing?
Jack opened the cabinet and pulled out his Zoloft bottle. Unraveling the prescription label, his eyes raced down to side effects and right there “Erectile Dysfunction” laughed at him. He tossed the bottle in the sink.
“Jack?” You knuckles rapped against the door. “Are you alright in there?”
“Fine!” He replied too quickly.
“Can I come in?”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’d rather you not.”
“You’re not gonna dump your meds are you?”
“No,” his tone was still sad. “That’s probably a bad idea.”
Jack could hear your hum. He imagined the look on your face and how you’d probably kick him to the curb now that he was completely defective.
“Jack, I think you need to talk to me about this.”
“No,” he drug out the word. “I don’t think so.”
“Honey.”
He said your name firmly in return.
“I’m coming in.” You didn’t give him any time because as soon as he got a syllable out, the door was open.
Jack’s eyes caught yours in the mirror.
“It’s okay, Jack.”
He shook his head. “It’s not.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Well that’s easy for you to say,” he couldn’t help the attitude that slipped out. “You don’t have a broken fucking dick.”
“I don’t have a dick but I do have a libido.”
“It’s not that, baby,” Jack sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to have sex. I do. Very badly, might I add. But it’s like this—” he pointed to his brain “—just doesn’t want to work and tell the other parts of my body to do their jobs.”
Your brows furrowed in concern. “Is it the nightmares again?”
“No.” He shook his head and realized that you didn’t fully grasp it because of two things: you weren’t in healthcare and you didn’t have PTSD like he did. “They’re fine. They’ve been fine.”
“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me, Jack.”
You approached him, settling for resting your hand along his back and feeling his tense muscles underneath the fabric of his tee.
“A side effect of the meds,” he gestured weakly to the bottle in the sink. “I can’t get it up.”
“That’s one way to put it,” you mumbled and picked up the bottle.
“My doctor gave me—“ Jack didn’t want the words to form.
Your rubbed soothingly on his back. He loved you so much.
“What did he give you?”
Jack reopened the cabinet and shuffled items to the side before landing on a small white bottle with VIAGRA plastered in blue on the front. His stomach lurched at the thought of needing to take one. Jack held it tightly in his fist in a refusal to show you.
You saw the bottle immediately when he brought it home. Jack was never as sly as he thought he was. He tried hiding your engagement ring for six weeks before proposing but you found it the day after the purchase because he stuffed it the garage where he kept all the spare keys.
He just hadn’t thought that maybe you’d lock your keys inside of the house one day.
Still, he clutched onto the white bottle as though if he dropped it, his problem wasn’t real. He could keep trying. Maybe it would just take a little bit longer than normal but eventually, he’d get hard and you could sail smoothly into the night.
“Are you gonna show me?” You asked patiently.
“I don’t really want to.”
“I’m not embarrassed if you need to use one, you know?”
His eyes pinched closed. “I feel like a fucking failure.”
You exhaled deeply, placing your hand over his fist, and dipping your head to better look at him.
“Look at me, Jack.”
He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.
“Jack,” you pressed once more. “Look at me.”
“This has never been a problem,” he said lowly. Jack’s tone lingered on disappointment but aired a frustration that sounded sexier than he meant it. “I don’t know why I can’t be normal in this one fucking way but of course not! Of course not. No… the goddamn leg just wasn’t enough. The stupid fucking depression and the nightmares and my joint pain isn’t enough!”
Jack rarely yelled. He bottled everything inside until it was ready to explode and it was just leaking out of him like a dam bursting.
“None of that is your fault,” you assured.
“What does it matter if it was?” He loosened the grip on the bottle and it rolled into the sink beside the Zoloft.
“Jack. I don’t care if we have sex tonight, okay? It’s not the end of the world for me.”
“It sure fucking feels like it for me.”
“I know it does,” you empathized. “But if you’re not ready to try the pills, then we don’t have to do anything. I can wait for you.”
“I don’t deserve you,” Jack whispered. “This is so inconvenient.”
“What would life be without them?”
He breathed in as your hand continued to rub his back and calm him down. Jack glanced down at the bottle, cursing the elephant in the room. He mumbled underneath his breath and even though you were standing beside him, you didn’t catch it.
“What?”
“It takes…” his words were muffled again.
“Are you having a stroke?” You asked honestly.
“No,” he heaved. “If I take one… it would take around an hour to work.”
“Okay,” you replied cautiously. It was his choice, you made that clear.
“And it’s not like… magical. Plus we had a whole bottle of wine with dinner and that might make it worse.”
“Trying to get hard or the erection?”
“Both?” He said like it was a question. He’s the doctor. He should know.
“If you wanted to try it, and it doesn’t work out, then you never have to use one again.”
Jack hummed. “I might have to eat you out for awhile.”
“Jesus,” you laughed. “Don’t try to be sly about it.”
His lips quirked into a small smile, one you’d missed seeing in his despair. Jack picked up the bottle and unscrewed the cap.
“I swear to God that if anything goes wrong, I will jump off the fucking roof.”
“You can’t say that,” you lamented. “You’re literally the last person who should joke about that.”
“I’m kidding.” He popped a pill into his mouth. “I can’t let you fall in love with someone else.”
“How kind of you to think about me.”
Jack flipped on the sink, cupped his hands under the faucet, and swallowed the pill in one gulp. There was no turning back now.
“Well?” You asked him as he wiped his mouth dry.
“Well what?”
“You want to finish what you started?”
He locked eyes with you in the mirror and opened his mouth to object to the statement. You climbed into his lap. You kissed him first. But he saw a glimmer of hope that maybe the little blue pill would be a good thing for the both of you tonight and forgot about it. Jack nodded instead.
“Get on the bed.”
Whatever the little blue pill did, it gave Jack an ounce of courage back and fuck, could you feel it.
Jack had been on you from the moment you laid down on the bed. In silence, he stripped off your clothes one by one and settled between your thighs ready to give. And for the past thirty minutes, you’d been close twice before he drew back and smiled at you as his cheek rested against your leg.
Every time he did, you had to look away.
He was so sweet. Jack, the man who does anything for anyone, looked at you like you held the moon.
You fought a grin by biting down on your lip and had your arm flying over your eyes to shield his own impenetrable stare from reaching you. And then his mouth was on you again, tongue lightly flicking your clit as he slipped two fingers inside.
You writhed, body shaking lightly in pleasure as his hands grew more firm around your thighs and minimized any distance between you. Jack figured if he could lay atop the mattress and grind into it that it would replace the need for you to jerk him off for five minutes, and he was right.
The combination of periodically rutting against the mattress, listening to your sweet sounds, and feeling you squeeze his fingers was sheer poison.
He curled his fingers up inside of you, sliding them in and out in the same direction until your moans turned into a whine that spelled out his name.
“Jack,” you breathed in heavily.
Your hand fell from your eyes and trailed over one of your breasts, squeezing it, pinching the nipple just hard enough before fanning out on the comforter. Jack removed his fingers to let his tongue sink lower, pushing into you softer and wetter than before. His mouth devoured you; a sickening slurp of his saliva and your wetness had your mouth falling open, silent in disbelief that not an hour ago, you didn’t think this was going to happen.
“S-shit, Jack.”
He slowed down, sparing a glance at your face before deciding to back off. His pointer finger replaced where his nose was grazing your clit. Jack pressed down there, moving in small circles as your hips moved with him.
“That feel good?” He asked softly.
“I think that fucking pill gave you superpowers,” you spat out fast. “Holy shit.”
“Magical” his ass. It was certifiably otherworldly.
“Might just have been a long time since we’ve done this.”
You agreed, moaning a “yeah” in reply.
“Sweetheart,” Jack said like a question. “I hate to do this to you…”
“What?” You sat up so quickly that you got a little dizzy. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Jack couldn’t hide his blush. There was no easy way to say “I’m hard now, let me fuck you” after having a meltdown.
His throat bobbed and you caught it.
“You ready?”
Jack nodded and you retuned it with a nod of your own. “Okay, yeah. Alright—”
“Why does this feel like I’m losing my virginity again?” He joked. His laugh barely sounded like one because the second he sat up on his knees, his erection was all he could look at.
Jack had never been embarrassed by his cock before.
“If this is how you lost your virginity, I’d be a little nervous,” you scoffed. “Sit back against the headboard.”
He didn’t argue with you which was a rarity it terms of control. Nothing was really in his control right now and it was making his anxiety shoot through the roof.
Jack shuffled back to the headboard and slipped off his shirt. He helped you pull down his sweats carefully and even though he didn’t feel like you had to be, he was grateful for your gentleness. At the sight of his prosthetic, you tipped your head knowingly at him.
“Why didn’t you take this off yet?”
“I forgot,” he feigned innocence.
“Mhm,” you judged and took it off for him. “Sure you did.”
With his prosthetic resting on the floor against the bedside table, you resumed your position in his lap and wrapped an arm around his shoulder while your free hand wrapped around him. You’d never been with someone who needed to take a Viagra before. Jack felt different and you knew how he felt in your hands.
His dick felt firmer—less like his own and more like one that was being controlled.
Your hand went from tip to base and back and he jolted.
“Sorry,” he apologized. “It’s like my nerves are on fire.”
“Does it feel bad?”
His nose brushed yours as he shook his head. Jack didn’t tell you to stop so you kept pumping him mildly.
“It feels really fucking good, actually.”
“Yeah?” You smiled.
“Yeah.”
Jack kissed you with everything he could muster. He gripped your bare hips tightly, sinking his fingers into your skin until he felt like you weren’t going to disappear. You put more tension in your fist and he groaned, precum escaping him and making your job easier.
“Do you feel like you’re ready?” You kissed him lazily, pulling on his bottom lip enough for it to bounce back.
He chased your lips. “What if—”
“Honey,” you soothed. “We’ll get there, okay?”
“Okay,” he accepted. He nodded, looking you in the eye and giving you the reassurance he also needed.
Lifting up in his lap, you guided him to your entrance and sunk down slowly. The feeling was overwhelming and you both needed time to adjust. Jack’s head fell back against the bed frame as far as he could go, clenching his jaw enough where the muscles strained on his face.
“You’re fine, Jack,” you cooed in his ear. Soft pants met his cheek as his hardness was unlike anything you’d experienced. “Breathe, baby.”
Your nails raked the base of his skull.
“Keep going,” he bit out. “You’re squeezing me so tight.”
“I guess we’ve both been ‘rejuvenated,’ huh?”
Jack wasn’t overly appreciative of your humor but you moved anyway, testing the waters of your bounces and grinds before settling into a rhythm that suited you. His cock stretched you wide and every time you sank back down, it was as though he never filled you in the first place. A spark of exhilaration bloomed. This was so different, so minutely different, that it felt new.
Jack’s hands groped your ass to help ease the strain on your thighs the longer you went. His lips swapped duties between connecting with yours and finding the skin of your neck, collarbone, and chest peppered with affection. Jack listened to your soft mewls. He soaked in the whispers of sweet nothings and the shaky gasps you couldn’t help.
He wanted you close.
Jack needed you to mold into him like he was showered in rain. He pulled you close; arms wrapped up around you so tight there was no escaping his embrace.
He nipped at your chin. Low and rough, Jack spoke to you. “I love you so much.”
Jack’s nose trailed up your cheek, bumping into yours and seeking your lips again.
“You have no idea how much I love you.”
“Jack,” you whined with a grin. A shake in your legs had him running his hands over your back, soothing you now instead.
“I know you’re ready, baby.
“Yeah,” you nodded. “I’m close.”
“What do you need from me?” He asked willingly.
You shook your head. “I-fuck, nothing. I just—”
Jack bent his knees the best he could and the angle his cock was hitting changed on a thrust. Deep and unforgiving, your fingernails dug into his skin hard. Jack murmured appreciation, egging you on to the finish line and neglecting himself.
You were too wrapped up in the feeling. The building of a week, the racing of your heart, to think for a second that he was nowhere near close to his orgasm.
“Come on, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
He felt the falter in your hips.
Your orgasm shook you from Heaven to Hell and back—even if believing it was hard to fathom. Jack’s hand flew to the back of your head, holding you into him as the aftershocks of muscle spasms lingered seconds after your breathing began to settle. You returned his kisses with your own against his neck and shoulder. The freckles on his body were reminders of all the places he had ever been kissed and you were adding to that—on top of ones that already existed, beside them, and in the spaces that laid empty of any.
He wouldn’t remember them in every lifetime but you liked to imagine that all of his freckles were kisses from you.
As your brain recovered from the fuzzy glow and you realized that Jack was still rock hard inside of you.
“Do you want me to—”
“No,” Jack cut you off. “No, it’s fine. It’s just… I think it takes time.”
“But now you haven’t even…” you trailed your response with a flick of your eyes downwards. “I can’t leave you like that.”
“Baby, it could take an hour.”
You glanced at the alarm clock on his side of the bed. The time read 11:47.
“We’ve got time.”
Jack shook his head. “I’m not gonna let you give me a handy for an hour.”
“Hey,” you tugged on his earlobe lightly. “I’ve got a mouth too.”
“It’s fine,” he reassured but you weren’t buying it. His mouth quirked to the side in thought. “Would you hate me if I asked you to clean up alone?”
You ran your thumb along his jawline.
“I could never hate you, Jack. I’ve lived this long, I think I can handle one less aftercare shower.”
“It makes me feel like an asshole.”
“You’re not. I promise you.”
Carefully, you lifted up from his lap and let him slip out. You avoided looking at him so he didn’t find another reason to be embarrassed about something that impacted millions of men—especially those who were on medication for concerns far more important than simply erectile dysfunction.
He watched you disappear into the bathroom and shut the door with a click before he put his pillow to his face and yelled into it.
The prescription tag read as follows:
Prolonged erection greater than 4 hours and priapism (painful erections greater than 6 hours in duration) have been reported infrequently since market approval of VIAGRA. In the event of an erection that persists longer than 4 hours, the patient should seek immediate medical assistance. If priapism is not treated immediately, penile tissue damage and permanent loss of potency could result.
Jack had to put his readers on to even see the label.
“… if priapism is not treated immediately, penile tissue damage and permanent loss…” he repeated the label back to himself to make sure he read it correctly.
His eyes flitted to his phone, touching the screen to light up a big 7:30 AM and a picture of both of your smiling faces beaming back at him.
This might not have been the actual worst day of his life but it was second.
His crutches clicked against the floor as he approached your side of the bed. He hated waking you up when you were clearly dead to the world. Laid face first into your pillow, he rested a hand on your back and shook you gently.
“Baby?”
You barely bristled. He repeated the action, calling out your name louder.
“Hm?” You grumbled in slight annoyance.
Jack shifted uncomfortably on the bed, wincing as he turned wrong and made his sweatpants tighter than they already were.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he started and realized how quickly those were the wrong words. You sat up abruptly, face twisted in concern as he tried not to cry from the pain his fucking dick won’t stop causing.
“What!?” You searched his face for an answer. “What happened!?”
“You gotta calm down.” Jack moved his arm to block your view.
“About what? What’s wrong?”
“I seem to be having a little… complication.”
Your brows furrowed. “A complication?”
Jack clicked his tongue with a nod. Your eyes darted down too obviously to his pants and back to his face. His erection was blatant. It practically waved at you from behind his arm.
“Does it have anything to do with that?” You said above a whisper. “Why do you have such bad morning wood?”
Jack groaned, again, completely at odds with himself.
“Remember when we had that bottle of red with dinner?” You nodded. “Well it turns out that sometimes while meds can cause the problem, mixing alcohol with the little blue pill causes… other problems.”
“And this can’t be solved with an orgasm?”
“Not after more than six hours.”
Your eyes bugged out of your head. “Six hours!? Jack, what the fuck!”
“I thought it was going to go away!”
You swiftly moved out of bed and shrugged on a sweatshirt. Jack watched you pilfer the room for socks and shoes and leggings and just sat there helplessly on the edge of the bed with his crutches one inch from sliding off of it. You didn’t say anything and that made it worse for him.
“I’m sorry,” Jack spoke up.
“What are you sorry for?” You opened his drawer and pulled out a fresh tee. “It’s not your fault.”
“It feels like it is.”
“Well it’s not, Jack. So stop apologizing and get your leg on.”
“I can’t bend over.”
You tossed the shirt to him. “We’re going in.”
“Where?”
“The ED.”
“No,” he said with a nervous laugh. “No the fuck we are not.”
“You say that like you have a choice, Mr. Abbot.” Oh. He didn’t like that. “Turns out that doctors are truly the worst patients. Your night shift is gone, Robby’s gotta be—”
“I am not letting Robby see me like this.” The thought repulsed him so badly that it made his skin crawl.
“Then someone else will help us,” you clarified. “The longer we wait the worse I’ll assume it will be for you. I’m not driving you to Presby or Mercy when I know the ones that can help you the best.”
“I’ll never live this down.” His eyes filled with ashamed tears and every now and then, you’d seen Jack down on his luck.
A terrible shift, a long week, anniversaries he’d rather not have… but he stared at you from the bed and he looked so small. His salt and pepper hair was flat from restless sleep and the scruff on his face couldn’t hide the jumble of thoughts pouring out of him. You moved to stand in front of him, grasping his face between two hands, and forcing him to look you in the eye.
“You are the strongest, most resilient man I have ever met. You’ve taken care of me more times than I can count and now, it’s my turn to help you the best way I know how. This is bad now, yeah… it is,” you nodded in agreement, “but it’s not forever. After this, you’ll call your therapist and tell him what happened and we will try again when things are better.”
A tear steamed down his cheek and you wiped it away with your finger.
“It’s okay to be embarrassed, honey.”
“I’m gonna make this up to you,” Jack settled. “I promise.”
“Okay.” You didn’t need him to. However, if it made him feel better, sure. Your hands tapped his face twice before letting go. “Let’s go, Soldier.”
The PTMC Emergency Room wasn’t an unfamiliar sight, but it wasn’t one you frequented.
It bustled with far too much chaos and while your own career had its fair share, there was something about Jack’s place of work that made you feel ill just looking at it. Death, hurt, pain, and suffering wrapped up in four walls, some windows, and doors.
And now Jack sat outside of it in a wheelchair because he refused to go in on his crutches.
“Just go in and tell Dana I’m out here.”
“Someone is going to have to come and get you anyway, so just come with me.”
Jack begged, “please.”
“Jesus Christ.”
Luckily, Dana was talking with a young nurse at the hub when the ambulance bay doors opened wide. You kept in a straight line to her, not distracted by the sounds and the yelling coming from one of the many rooms. Dana was halfway through a sentence when she glanced over her shoulder and did a double take.
“Hey stranger,” she beamed. “I haven’t seen you in a long time.”
The young nurse beside her, Emma, smiled at you in the awkward way you did when you didn’t know someone’s friend.
“Hi Dana,” you greeted.
“Jack’s not here,” her eyes questioned you. Jack had been scheduled off for the next couple days so there was no telling where he’d be other than at his house.
“Well,” you let out a loose, barely amused chuckle, “funny you should say that.”
“Is he okay?”
“Not really… I just—we just—need this on the down low, alright? He really doesn’t want anyone to know he’s here.”
She nodded understandingly and grabbed an iPad from the counter. “Where is he?”
“Out in the ambulance bay. I put him in a wheelchair.”
“Should I get Robb—”
“No!” You said loudly and shook your head. “God, no. Sorry.”
Emma jumped at the sound and her eyes darted to the bay. “Can I help?”
Your face scrunched. Jack would rather not traumatize a new nurse so early in the shift.
“Is Donnie around? Or Dr. Al-Hashimi?”
“Yeah.” Dana patted Emma on the shoulder. “Go get ‘em and we’ll put Dr. Abbot in Room 7.”
Dana rounded the hub and put a hand on your shoulder. As she stepped further away, she pressed about the situation.
“You know, you two aren’t getting any younger. You can’t go at it like rabbits.”
“Dana,” you scolded with a smile. “That’s—that’s not it.”
“What happened?”
All that was needed to be said were three little words:
“Little blue pill.”
Jack heard the hiss of the ambulance bay open and Dana walked up to him with a laugh buried in her throat. Jack was wearing a hat and glasses like a superhero in disguise and his backpack flipped over so no one could see the name angled in his lap.
“Don’t fucking say it, Evans. Don’t.”
“I’m not!” She held up her hands in defense.
“Dana said she’s gonna help. No one needs to know.”
You grabbed his crutches off the wall and followed closely as Dana wheeled him into Room 7 and pulled the curtains. She left still fighting amusement as Donnie entered with Baran.
“Dr. Abbot,” she said fondly. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”
“I think we both had different ideas about how today would go.”
Jack took off his glasses and hat, passing them off to you. The bag stayed lumped in his lap.
“So, what brings you in today?”
There was a second of silence and then:
“I seem to have a bit of a… priapism problem.”
Baran’s eyes widened and Donnie hesitated putting on his second glove.
“And how long has the erection lasted?” Jack hated how she pronounced the word loud and clear. He looked at you, shrugging for a loose approximation of time.
“Maybe around… since 11 or so?” You informed.
“So somewhere around 8 hours?” She asked and motioned for Donnie to put the bed rails down. “Does that seem accurate?”
You both nodded. Donnie wheeled Jack over to the bed and he hesitated, looking at you to help him instead. You handed Jack his crutches and as he stood, both Donnie and Baran tried to be respectful and looked away from Jack’s body.
“Dr. Abbot, I’m going to have to ask you some questions about your medical history, medications, and so forth. Is that okay with you?”
“I think you can just call me Jack now,” he grunted as he shuffled onto the bed.
“Can you tell me what medications you take?”
“I-uh, take um, 100 mg of Zofolt, 3 mg of Prazosin for sleeping, and Cyclobenzaprine as needed, 5 mg three times a day, but I haven’t needed it lately.”
“And for the priapism problem?” She slipped on her own gloves.
“I took one Viagra.”
“Have you taken one before?”
“No,” Jack admitted. “My therapist changed one of my medications to Zoloft two months ago and ordered it as a precaution.”
Baran nodded in understanding and as she sat down on a stool and rolled closer, Jack’s hand shot out to yours and squeezed tightly.
“Did he explain the side effects of taking those medications together?”
“Yes,” Jack recalled. “But we must have had… three glasses of wine last night and I’m pretty certain that’s the reason it won’t go away. A reaction, if you will.”
“You’re not wrong.” She smiled at him kindly, then to you.
“How long have you been married? I don’t think we’ve ever met.”
“Six years,” you told her. “And it seems we’re always finding something new to experience together.”
“It’s a good thing,” Baran assured. “Imagine living a life where it’s normal and boring all the time. At least you’ll be able to laugh about it later.”
Her eyes found Jack’s and he knew she needed to look at him more closely.
“What happens in this room, Dr. Abbot, stays in this room. Got it?”
He nodded and focused on a spot across the wall as Donnie hovered behind Baran. Your hand covered his, rubbing gentle circles to ease the discomfort.
“Was this a special occasion or something?” Donnie asked Jack. “Or just a regular Saturday night for you two?”
“Just a Saturday night,” he said shyly. Jack, being bashful? You relished it.
“I gotta say Doc, your wife’s a lucky woman. Who knew Dr. Abbot hit the genetic lottery.”
The blush that overtook his body was a deeper red than his penis. Your hand flew to your mouth, covering the choked laugh before it could escape but Donnie was grinning like the Cheshire Cat and keeping it in was practically impossible. Baran bit down on her tongue.
But Jack knew how to bite back too. “If your idea of the genetic lottery is a guy with 1.75 legs, then sure. Whatever floats your boat.”
“Okay.” Baran finished her inspection.
“I have a feeling this isn’t a cold compress kind of procedure,” Jack wished.
Baran shook her head.
“We’re going to need to aspirate.”
Jack was back on his crutches after an hour with a soreness that would last hours.
“I don’t think I need to tell you what you can and cannot do in the next 24 hours,” Baran opened up the curtain and immediately Jack locked eyes with Dana.
“No, you don’t.”
“Maybe also speak to your therapist about the prescription the next time you go?”
Jack gave you a closed mouth smile. “I already heard that from this one.”
“She knows what she’s talking about it seems,” Baran nodded in approval.
The door opened up and Donnie held it for Jack to escape from. The RN held out his fist, asking Jack wordlessly to bump it.
Jack obliged.
“My man,” Donnie grinned. He slapped a hand on Jack’s shoulder before walking to a computer.
“I’m never filling in for day shift again, ever,” Jack told you over his shoulder.
“All good, Jack?” Dana asked from the hub as you both passed by.
“Never better.” Jack kept going towards the door.
“Thanks Dana for your help,” you said appreciatively. “If he never tells you, he’s thankful too. And I’m sure it won’t happen again.”
The doors to Trauma Bay 2 opened with a whoosh. Jack, still on the slow run on his crutches out of the ED never looked back, but Robby caught sight of him as he sanitized his hands.
“Woah!” He exaggerated. “What’s Jack doing here?”
“He’s going home,” Dana informed and you gave a small wave to Jack’s work wife. He hated when you called Robby that but it didn’t make it any less true.
“Just a little accident.”
“Jack!” Robby called after him but Jack didn’t care.
“Adios! Goodbye!” He said your name loudly followed by a “hurry up!”
You tapped the counter. “Sorry. The princess needs a ride home.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to call him that,” Robby laughed.
“It’s the least of his problems right now.”
They watched you trail behind your husband who, once through the second door, turned and waited for you patiently. You kissed him gently before walking out of view and inside of the PTMC, the world continued to turn.
Robby looked at Dana with a question and Baran walked away before he could ask her anything remotely related to Jack. But Donnie… Donnie just can’t keep anything to himself.
He turned to Robby in his swivel chair.
“Did you know Abbot’s packin’ heat down there?”
A/N: i wrote this straight over three days after not writing for about a year. crazy how that works, huh?
i hope the twitter divas find this.
comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! it keeps us writing!
You’ve always been there, for as long as Eddie can remember, too soft, too warm for the cold trailer park you both grew up in.
A/N: sexual content in this! I’m really bad at writing it bear with.
He first saw you when he was six. Eddie was walking back to his trailer with his mom, who had a bright smile on her cheeks no matter the day. Even when it was really stormy, and the clouds roared and thundered at nighttime, she sat humming happy into Eddie’s wild curls. She spotted you before he did, crouching down beside him and pointing to you sat on your nana’s trailer stair.
“Eddie baby, be a good boy and speak to the girl,” Elizabeth spoke, her warm hands rubbing his small arms. Eddie retreated back into her, eyes unsure. She hums like all mothers do. “Her nana’s very sick, and she gets lonely all by herself,” Eddie looks up at his mother’s eyes. “She needs a kid to play with,”
Eddie blinks, unsure. His six year old brain wracking to work you out, sat on your porch steps playing with your plaits. He sighs out and nods, leaving his mother’s arms a striding over.
“My mommy says you wanna play,” Eddie speaks, shuffling his boots on the grass. You look up, eyes wide. You look over to his mom, a warm figure stood at their trailer with a tilted head and sunshine smile. “So you can come play, if you want,”
You look back at your trailer, nana asleep on the couch again.
“I can play?” You speak timid, to which Eddie nods, offering a shrug. Upon his admission, you smile wide. Probably the most wide you’ve smiled in a long, long time. You both toddle over to Elizabeth, and she smiles, eyes sparkling like the beautiful actresses on the tapes your nana loves. She’s so pretty, you think. So lovely and pretty.
“My mama has biscuits for us,” Eddie speaks, confident now, showing off. He’s never had a friend so close to home. The kids at school call him names, but you look at him with wide eyes and a shy smile. Elizabeth follows you both in, his trailer is almost identical to yours, but it’s yellow you think. Yours is blue, always dark, but this trailer has mugs on the walls and soft music playing. “And she has songs we can hear,” Eddie rambles on settling on the floor where his figurines are. “I like to play fairytales, we can be whoever we want.”
You can’t speak, just take in his words, trying to understand. The kind woman brings you both some hot chocolate and these delicious looking cookies.
“What’s your name?” Eddie announces the question as he sets up his makeshift castle for the figurines, concentrating. “‘m names Eddie,”
“Eddie,” you repeat slowly, blinking. You watch as he sets up the pieces on the floor. As you tell him your name, he nods. The beautiful woman is sat on the couch, humming something as she watches behind a mug.
“We can play fairytales and then I can show you my favourite songs,” Eddie trails off, tongue poking out in concentration as he assembles to castle, hand drawn with marker onto cardboard pieces.
“Cool,” you sit up properly, playing with a figurine of an elf, holding it up. “Can I be this?”
“You can be the elf and I am the wizard, an we can save the kingdom from these ogres..”
Later, the beautiful woman who you learn goes by Elizabeth, guides you and Eddie into the main bedroom of trailer. A simple double bed with a messy set of drawers in the corner.
“Eddie, show your new friend those songs I played you,” she speaks, voice measured, slightly on edge. Eddie looks up, eyes wide. The sound of a car parking outside sounds, and a slam of a door. “Be a good boy and show her. I’ll be back soon,”
Eddie nods and Elizabeth pokes your nose in a way that makes you feel all happy inside. She closes the door, and Eddie sighs out taking you over to the record player. He carefully takes out a record, as if he is recreating something he was taught. The sound of shouting starts, a cold, hard voice sounding the trailer. Guitar and drums fill the space, taking your attention back.
“Is your mommy okay?” You ask, and Eddie focuses on the turning record.
“They do this every time he comes home,” Eddie speaks, sitting on the floor, and you quickly follow. “I just sit in here and listen.”
It’s a lot for two six year olds. World of adulthood raging through the walls as the Blues music pulses.
“We can listen together,” you respond, smiling, Eddie looking up and nodding quickly, a smile spreading to his face.
“Yeah,” he nods, eyes lit. “We can.”
○・*。●．。・*○・。●*．*｡
One day, the beautiful woman isn’t there at Eddie’s trailer. Eddie is crying into your lap, and you hold him as tight as a six year old can. Two men argue loudly in the other room.
“Do you want the songs on?” You ask quiet and Eddie sniffs, shaking his head, curls tickling your stomach. “Maybe we play the loud enough— your mama will come back and dance with us,”
“My mama isn’t coming back,” Eddie whispers, his small voice into your lap. “Wayne says she’s gone to Heaven, where she listens to songs all day long.”
“That sounds like fun,” you speak, and he lets out another whimper.
“She left me down here, I wish she took me with her, to listen to the songs all day long,” his words hurt you, deep. A feeling of deep sadness you didn’t quite understand yet as a six year old, imagining life without your best friend.
“Then who would I listen to the songs with?” You speak, voice high. Eddie shuffles and hugs you closer.
○・*。●．。・*○・。●*．*｡
School is difficult for you both. Eddie can’t protect you from the girls that giggle at you in the locker room, or from boys that tug at your plaits. He gets told off, a lot of the time because the twelve year old can’t help to shove the boys that slam your locker shut, or put slugs in the girl’s shoes.
“Can’t keep gettin’ in trouble cos of me,” you speak quietly as Eddie walks you both home, “I don’t want you in detention every break. We can’t play,”
“They deserve it,” Eddie insists, the boy crossing his arms. “They’re mean to you,”
You stay quiet, biting your bottom lip as you both approach his trailer. His father’s truck was there. Fear flashes over Eddie’s eyes like it always does when Al is home.
“Do you wanna come to mine? Nana’s asleep, we can hang out in my room—,”
A door is burst open, and Al Munson trudges out of the trailer, his brother Wayne behind him. As soon as Al spots Eddie, he grabs the boy’s collar.
“Had your teacher call me today,” his father’s voice booms, the noise always making you jump. “Says you been misbehavin’— didn’t raise you to be gettin’ caught,”
“For Christ’s sake Al—,” Wayne interupts, shoving Al back, making the man stumble. “Leave it, I’ll speak to ‘im,” Wayne gestures to us to get into the trailer, and you and Eddie run in. Eddie notes the empty glass bottle of whiskey. You frown and tug at Eddie’s sleeve.
“Your dad is angry at you because of me,” you speak quiet, guilt drowning your words. Eddie huffs and collapses onto the couch, angry.
“Don’t care,” Eddie shrugs, arms crossed. “Couldn’t give a shit what he says,”
“Eddie,” you widen your eyes at his use of words, still new to all these curse words used at school, or here in this trailer. Eddie smiles apologetically. Wayne sighs deeply as he steps in, boots hard on the carpet floor.
“You kids want some burgers?” Wayne claps and moves over to the freezer, pulling out some frozen burgers. Wayne always feeds you, is so kind. He always drops off things for you and your Nana. “And slugs, really boy? Frogs are a much better choice for those nasty kids,”
You both let out a harmony of giggles.
○・*。●．。・*○・。●*．*｡
It’s summer of you and Eddie’s thirteenth year that you get your period. You had learnt about it in health class, but all the girls had got theirs, proclaiming themselves as mature ladies. Sweat clings to your chest as you listen to Eddie imperfectly play some chords on the new guitar Wayne thrifted for him. He’s saying something, but your brain drifts, wincing at a pain that blooms in your lower stomach.
“Are you listenin’— what’s wrong?” Eddie looks over, to you sat up, arms around your belly.
“Nothing,” you snap, blinking before shuffling, “I should probably be heading—,” Embarrassment was flooding now, reddening your cheeks as you feel the puddle form under your lap. Eddie only frowns with his stupid puppy eyes, and crawls up.
“Not nothing,” Eddie points out, looking over you. “Are you sick?”
“I’m not sick— I just—,” you swallow, shuffling, but feeling the problem only get worse, the pain dull and present. “Eddie I— think I’ve started my period, and I’m really embarrassed, so lay off making fun of me and—,”
Eddie blinks, face understanding. He looks to you lap momentarily. The thirteen year old stands, determined.
“Should I get Wayne? He can help— we have pain killers somewhere,” Eddie reminded you of his mom, so caring. Even at such a young age, you didn’t understand it yet. You nod, cheeks red and eyes prickled with tears, sat timid on his bed. Eddie brings Wayne into the room, his uncle wearing a smile.
“Hey there little lady,” Wayne almost coos a tone you’ve never heard him speak, and gestures to Eddie to go to his drawer. Eddie follows his instructions and gets out some of his spare clothes. “Let’s get you comfortable, d’you wanna use our hot water for a shower?”
You shyly nod, eyes prickled with tears. Wayne helps you up and into the bathroom. “M sorry for the stain, Wayne—“
“—hush now,” Wayne huffs, helping you into the bathroom. “Have a shower, I’ll make us all some of my famous mac and cheese. Eddie’s a big boy, he can handle washing his own sheets.”
That evening, you and Eddie watch his VHS copy of The Evil Dead, your head on his shoulder as you both eat mac and cheese. Eddie’s buzzed hair tickles your forehead, but you don’t seem to mind.
○・*。●．。・*○・。●*．*｡
“But I wanna go!” You huff and cross your arms, watching Eddie shuffle around in his room. You had just turned 16, invited to your first ever party. Stacey Hemming was throwing one for her sweet 16th, the whole school going. “I’ve never been to a party, and my nana has someone to look after her tonight—,”
“— nothing good happens that those parties, believe me,” Eddie scoffs, finally finding his weed stash. “I’m just going to sell, I’ll be back earlier and we can go to the movies or something,”
Eddie knew you had never drunk, only a bit of his beer when you both were watching horror movies. He saw what drinking did to people, his dad. He wouldn’t wish that on you, someone of pure and too good.
“Please Eddie— please,” you try, shuffling towards him, eyes wide. He huffs as he stares down at you, unable to resist your sad, doe eyes.
“Okay fine. But you stay with me okay? No wandering off, and I mean it,” he boops your nose, finally smiling at the sight of your happy expression.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you squeak and wrap your arms around his neck, face against his neck. Eddie froze, letting his hands wrap around your waist. “I promise I’ll be good,”
The party was loud, but you were so excited. Eddie stood by you while you got some punch, Eddie insisting on tasting it before to check it wasn’t too strong.
“Only one cup alright?” Eddie murmured in your ear, and you let out a scoff. Who was he to dictate everything you did just because you were younger?
“I can decide however many cups I want,” you snap, and Eddie recoils slightly, only to huff louder. “Go and sell— since that’s all you come here for.”
“I’m here to look after you—“
“—I’m capable of looking after myself— god,” you speak, exasperated, “I’m not a baby, I don’t need you hovering over me every five minutes,” Eddie’s face twitches, barely.
“Fine. I’m gonna do what I came to do, sell, do whatever,” Eddie huffs and walks off, wandering into the garden where he usually sells at these parties. You blink back some tears, before downing the punch and going for another.
You can’t tell when you went off the deep end, last thing you remember is taking that second cup of punch. You stumble onto a couch, sat awkwardly as you mumble nonsense. Head spinning, a voice brings you back.
“Yo— is that the weird girl from the trailer park? Friends with the freak—,”
“—such a waste man, I’d totally—,”
A body pulls you up, which you can smell is Eddie through your drunken haze. Eddie pushes past the jocks, and fresh air hits you.
“Okay, sweetheart, had a bit too much huh?” Eddie murmurs, his voice soothing. You mumble incoherently, something Eddie can’t work out. “Let’s get you back—,”
As Eddie tries to get you into the van, you throw up all over the grass. Eddie grimaces, using his sleeve to wipe your mouth, hushing your words.
“Sorry— m’ so sorry—,” you mumble, coughing. Eddie sighs and gets you into the van, miraculously. He isn’t known to be too athletic, and it surprises him.
“Stop saying sorry,” Eddie’s voice is stern, but has that buttery Munson softness glazed over it.
“Sorry, ‘die— m so—,”
“What did I say?” You shut up at his words, and he climbs into his seat, driving you both back to the trailer park. Eddie helps you into his trailer, directing you into the bathroom. “Okay, try and throw it all up for me alright? I’m gonna get you some fresh clothes—“
“—stay,” you mumble, coughing as you collapse against the toilet seat. Eddie sighs, crouching, and moving your hair out of your face. You still looked beautiful, spit and punch over your dress, you always did. He always thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world.
“I’m coming back,” Eddie promises as you turn to throw up. He moves quick in getting some water and some of his pyjamas with the least holes in. Gently, he wipes your mouth, changing you. You comply, a dazed smile on your face as he pushes a jumper over your head. “What’you smiling about sweetheart?”
“M— just, you’re m’ best friend, and I love you,” you speak, truthfully, wrapping arms around his neck. “Bestest friend in the entire world,”
Eddie hugs you back, kissing your sweaty neck once.
“Okay, bed time,” Eddie concluded, helping you into his room, tucking you in. You were completely pliant now, eyes shut happily against his pillow. Eddie sits next to you, hand over your cheek. “Sleep it off.”
“Are you staying?” Your voice is small, tiny even.
“‘Course I am, I always will,” Eddie hums, smiling down at your soft features. As you drift off, Eddie frowns. You’ve always been there, for as long as Eddie can remember, too soft, too warm for the cold trailer park you both grew up in.
How those stupid jocks at school spoke about you, he would do anything so they wouldn’t see the light of day for that. You’d chide him, though, say there’s always room for people to improve and change, even the jocks and cheerleaders. As he lays next to you, hand barely touching your back, he knows he can’t protect you forever, and that thought alone keeps him awake all night.
○・*。●．。・*○・。●*．*｡
It’s not surprising really, that you get asked out when you turn 18. Eddie thinks you’ve always been gorgeous, prettiest in Hawkins. Of course those airhead jocks are late to that party. Eddie can’t rid the scowl off of his face as you talk to hellfire about that stupid date you have tonight.
“Guys, Andy is different, he’s new, he only hangs out with the jocks because he plays sports,” you defend, sipping some water. They all don’t look convinced, but happy to see you smile. Gareth shoots Eddie a head tilt and a smile.
“Why the long face, is that, jealousy I smell?” Gareth teases, and Eddie flings a pretzel his way.
“No, nothing could compel me to be jealous of those meatheads,” Eddie drones, but he can’t meet your eyes, and can feel them saddening by the minute. “I’m just pissed you’re missing Hellfire tonight, it’s an important part of the campaign.”
“It’s one night, and I promise to make it up to you,” you pout, squeezing his arm. Eddie can’t be mad at you for long, and the second he sees your frown he caves. “I’ll bring you all some cookies next Friday,” That earns smiles from the table, and Eddie huffs out a noise.
“Do you have makeup on?” Eddie suddenly blurts, eyes scrutinising over your cheeks. You look so pretty, always so pretty.
“Oh um, yeah?” You speak, flustered. “I just thought— I dunno. Try it out for my date.”
“Doesn’t look like you,” Eddie lies easily, mastering an air of nonchalance that kills him inside. The makeup isn’t drastic, it just highlights your already beautiful features he thinks.
You turn to your food, face falling into a sad expression. Eddie can’t bring himself to speak anymore, that was supposed to disconnect him from his pit of jealousy, but it somehow made it worse.
Eddie got back from Hellfire late, just missing the rain. He waves off Wayne as he sets off for the night shift, switching the tv on and watching some random telemarketers talk about some new leg warmers as he lights up a joint. Peace, Eddie thinks. For about 5 seconds until his mind wanders to you, your lovely face, how lovely you probably look for that stupid, airhead who doesn’t know one thing about you. Doesn’t know how to make you smile, or how to make you laugh loudly. Eddie’s thoughts are interrupted, hearing a quiet knock at his trailer. He sits up, confused. He doesn’t remember a customer coming this late, or think his clientele would make the trouble in this rain. He trudges up, opening the door to see you standing shivering, arms around yourself. Your dress is ruined, hair soaked, and tears matting your eyelashes into clumps. Eddie almost pushes you in, slamming the door.
“Jesus, what are you doing here? I thought you were with— Andrew, Andy was it?” Eddie rambles as he tugs off your denim jacket, and switches on a heater for you to sit near.
“Yeah, Andy he—,” you sniff, unable not to let the tears fall wholly now. “Stood me up. Didn’t show up at the diner, and I don’t drive, so.”
“Shit, sweetheart, you should have called me on the pay phone.” Eddie shakes his head, rubbing your arms as he attempts to warm you up. “Let’s get you into a change of clothes,”
Eddie lets you change in the bathroom, pacing the living room. God, what a dud that Andy guy was. He could just imagine your sad face as you realised he wasn’t coming. Eddie was gonna murder that guy. You shuffle out shyly, and Eddie gestures to the couch.
“I made you some hot cocoa, I don’t make it as good as Wayne does but I tried,” Eddie mumbles sheepish, and you smile small, sitting on the couch. Eddie snuffs out his joint, hand moving to your back, rubbing to warm you up.
“I’m sorry I missed hellfire,” you speak quiet, embarrassed. “For a guy that didn’t even like me enough to show up.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Eddie speaks quick, shaking his head. He looks over your dejected expression.
“So stupid, I was gonna. Nevermind—,” you begin, but Eddie can’t help himself. He shuffles closer.
“It’s just me,” Eddie murmurs softly, a tone he only uses for you. Plus his guitar. You blink, sniffing and breathing out.
“Had this stupid plan to lose my virginity tonight, got all prepared and I—,” you laugh wetly, cheeks red, “— feel like an idiot. No guy is ever gonna like me enough to want to do that with me,”
Your words make Eddie’s heart crack in two. He can’t believe you can’t see what he’s seen for years.
“Any guy should be counting his lucky stars, to even be sat near you,” Eddie interrupts you before you can detest. “I know you don’t believe me, but trust me when I say, you’re one in a million, sweetheart,”
You blink, eyes unable to break away from his. After a small silence, Eddie speaks, voice murmuring that sweet tone he uses with you, and only you.
“You have this, cute nose twitch thing. That you do when you’re thinking really hard about something,” Eddie’s voice turns wistful, “That’s just one of the million beautiful things about you, I could go on, but we’d be here all night—,”
You lean forward and kiss him, a moment of bravery. He doesn’t stop you, just lets it happen. His mind is telling him stop, ward her away from his mess, but when you pull away, his hand moves to your cheek. Your eyes closed, not wanting to see any sign of rejection, and Eddie breathes heavily, forehead onto yours.
“Sweetheart—,”
“—please Eddie,” you murmur, hand clutching his shirt. “You’re the only guy I trust, with everything I have,” your words come out jumbled.
Eddie nods, breath shallow as he pulls you gently back into him, kissing down your jaw and neck. He can’t stop, your small sounding whimpers just egging him on, thinking what other noises he can pull out of you. You tug on your dress, and his hand moves to stop you, head cocking to gesture to his room.
He guides you in, a room you felt utmost safe in, since you were six. Eddie sits on the bed, pulling you to stand between his legs. His eyes don’t disconnect from yours as he guides you to take off his shirt. You swallow, you’ve seen him shirtless a hundred times over the years, but it’s different here, the moonlight shifting over his pale tattooed skin.
“Eddie, take off my dress,” you murmur, waiting patiently as his hands drift to the straps of the floral dress. He unzips the back, letting it fall. It’s dark in his room, but there’s a holy light coming from you, your figure like a prayer to him, what he’ll follow for the rest of his life. Eddie kisses down your neck, arms around your waist, letting you get a feel of his curls.
“You’re so beautiful, so lovely,” he mumbles, as he gives your breasts attention. It’s all a new feeling, and he knows that, a hand grounding you as it rubs your back. “It’s just me,” he repeats, watching as you let out another sound, a chorus of whines he wants to hear forever.
He has you laid on his bed, fingers light on your cotton underwear. You nod, and he pushes them down, taking is time to properly look at you.
“Eddie—,” you smile bashful, chest blooming with pink. Eddie’s got the biggest smile on his face as he traces where your thigh meets your fold.
“Just admiring, baby,” it’s the first time he’s used that, baby, and the feeling makes you preen. Eddie notices because he knows all your tells already, and kisses down your stomach. “M’ gonna get you ready, is that okay lovely?”
“That’s okay,” you breathe out, and arch as his mouth connects, just a mess of curls over your pelvis. The feeling is like nothing else, making you let out uncontrolled noises of pleasure as he uses both his mouth and fingers. “Oh— wow,” you can only breathe out, watching him. “I— Jesus Christ, Eddie—,” you whine, hand in his hair as he brings you to something you don’t quite understand, but it makes you feel as though you’ve wet yourself. You begin to sit up—
“—s’alright,” Eddie hums, kissing the side of your thigh once. “Not pee,” He can always read your mind, you curse and love him for it. “Something much better.” Eddie reaches for a condom, and rises to lean over you again, hand moving to stroke your cheek.
“You can say no, at any point alright?” Eddie speaks, “Hear me?”
You just nod. “I’m saying yes.”
Eddie nods back, breathing out as he slides the rubber on. You can’t help but think how experienced he is, this seems second nature to him. Eddie kisses your cheek, whispering in your ear.
“It’s just me, just Eddie,”
“Just Eddie,” you repeat, nodding as he breached finally, and you let out a squeak. “Hurts,”
“I can stop—,”
“No— don’t stop,” you whimper, clutching his biceps. He moves slow, careful.
“I know, I know,” Eddie hums into your cheek, hand securely on your thigh, getting you into a better position. It words, because you let out a sound Eddie can only think happens as someone enters the gates of Heaven. “That’s it, that’s the spot huh?”
“Feels good—,” you whisper, eyes shut as he continues. Eddie finds this moment to kiss you, and you oblige, a bit dazed so he takes control, kissing slowly to the rhythm you’ve both created. After a while, he begins to feel that tightness. “M’— Eddie—,”
“I know— I, shit,” Eddie groans, kissing your neck, jaw, wherever he can manage, “I’m close, together okay?” You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck as he moves slightly faster, bringing you both to your finish. Eddie slowly collapses onto the bed next to you, slinging you condom into the trash. You breathe slow, eyes blinking to see Eddie sat up and looking into his bedside table. It’s quiet, and you can’t find it in yourself to speak. “Let me clean you up.”
His hands are soft as he glides the tissue between your legs, taking care in wiping you clean. You still can’t find the words, just stare at his form as he takes care of you.
“Was it good for you?” You speak quiet, timidly as he bins the tissue. He turns, bringing the covers over you both.
“So good,” Eddie nods, bringing you to rest on his chest, warm, safe. “You’re an angel, always thought so.” His voice sends you to sleep, drifting off onto his pale chest, breathing to the beat of his heart.
○・*。●．。・*○・。●*．*｡
Eddie wakes up before you. As the sunlight hits your back, he sits up, rubbing his hands over his face. Panic settles, cursing himself as he gets up to push on some boxers and a shirt, he can hear Wayne get in from work. The noise doesn’t wake you up, but the sound of him hitting the dresser does as he pulls up some joggers. You mumble something, blinking awake.
“Eddie? S’so early—,”
“—Wayne is back, so.” He manages, unable to look at you. Unable to see what his greed has done, ruined it all between you. “We need to get up,”
You were so warm, now coldness settles in your belly as you reach for your underwear, hands shaking as you listen to him clean up the bedroom. Wayne trudges around in the kitchen, and Eddie throws you your dry dress from last night. You haphazardly catch it, pulling it on.
You stand, a slight ache makes you wince. Eddie doesn’t even wait for you as he leaves his room, speaking to Wayne. You can feel your heart jackrabbit, unable to even comprehend what’s going on. You slip on your converse, blinking away tears as you leave his room. Eddie is sat on the counter, leg bouncing as he sips coffee, staring at the table.
“Oh, hey there honey,” Wayne cheerfully speaks, always happy to see you. “Eddie didn’t tell me you slept over, m’ making pancakes, got a raise at the plant—,”
“— she was just leaving,” Eddie finishes for him, eyes on his mug as he sets it down. A fresh amount of tears line your eyes, hands shaking as you grab your jacket.
“Nana needs feeding, anyway,” you manage, voice clouded with wet tears as you leave their trailer. Static can’t escape your ears as you rush to your trailer. You feel dirty, most of all, ignoring your nana as she calls out from her chair, heading for the shower. She can’t hear you sob under the shower head, sat in the bath with your head in your knees.
Eddie can’t escape the sinking feeling all weekend. He can’t sleep, skips the Hideout on Saturday, lays in bed most of the weekend. A tries to smoke, high away the feelings of contempt for himself, but he can’t bring himself to stop thinking about your face, the tears he’d produced himself. He had one rule for himself, protect you from everything, and he couldn’t even protect you from himself. On Monday, you don’t show up and it eats at Eddie even more. Jeff asks him if he knows why, and Eddie has to shrug, the action scraping away at his heart.
On his way back from school, he stops at your trailer. He can’t lose you, not like this. He knocks heavily.
“Sweetheart? It’s me, open up alright? I need to know if you’re okay—,”
You open the door, eyes bloodshot. Eddie lets out a sound at seeing you.
“You just— you didn’t come to school today, I just thought—,”
“Nana had an episode,” you speak, voice devoid of your usual joy he loves so much. “Not everything is about you.”
“Oh, I—, yeah, it isn’t,” Eddie speaks, feeling even more like a piece of shit than he already did. He lamely drops his hands from reaching for you. “Can I come in?”
You just walk in, leaving the door open. He follows, and watches as you cross your arms, tired.
“What?”
Eddie’s hands jitter as he paces.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, for what I did, leaving it like that, I’m an asshole, that’s exactly why I shouldn’t have done what I did—, that night,”
“So you regret it.” You speak, eyes on his, angry. He’s never seen you angry since he met you.
“No! No I don’t—,” Eddie curses, “I’m fucking it up again, because that’s all I do, and you’re so good, too good actually, for this town, for me—,”
“You made me feel used,” you cut him off, sitting on your couch, eyes on the wall. “No one, not even Andy made me feel like that. You did, Eddie. The one person I thought cared the most about me.”
Eddie collapses to the floor, hands on your knees.
“I know, and I’m sorry, I didn’t— know how to process what happened, I’m no good, I’m not someone you want, someone you deserve,”
“You don’t get to decide that for me,” you speak, stern. “I’ve let you protect me all my life, and I’m not stupid,” you finally meet his eyes, “I chose you to do that with because I wanted to, and I should regret that choice because of how you shrugged me off but I—,” tears catch your words but you persist. “I don’t regret it, even though it seems like you do.”
“I don’t— Jesus. I could never—,” Eddie speaks, voice high. “That night was the best night of my life, I thought I was on cloud nine, because I’ve adored you since I saw you on your stupid porch, and my mom saw it too.” Eddie takes a breath, before continuing. “I panicked because I thought I wasn’t the guy you deserved. I have a whole lot of baggage.”
“Baggage that I’m a part of,” you cut him off, “I was there, with you through all of that. No amount of your baggage went through my head when I chose you that night.”
Eddie listens, and his head falls to rest on your knees. You stare down, sighing out, sniffing.
“I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers into your knee, kissing it as if he can’t help himself. “Will you begin to forgive me? I miss you so much.”
“I can forgive you,” your voice makes him look up, eyes wide. “If you stop telling me what I deserve, and let me decide that it’s you that I want, that’s I’ve always wanted.”
Eddie nods, kissing up your thigh, rising to collapse onto the couch over you and hug you tight. Warmth fills your stomach again, that warmth only Eddie can bring.
“My lovely— my sweetheart,” he mumbles into your neck, and you smile, finally. “Sunshine of life—,”
“— okay, that’s enough of that,” you giggle as he looks down at you, eyes full of adoration, all goey. “We’ll both be dead if we wake nana up.”
Eddie lets out an amused snort, hugging into you again.
“Never gonna let you go.” He vows, settling his weight as breathing you in.
“Promise?” You ask, still a bit on the fence. He brings his head up from your neck to face yours, hand stroking your cheek.
“Promise,” Eddie nods, and kisses your face all over.
Eddie always thought you were too good for this town, but could get used to the feeling that you wanted him. How it was always meant to be.
○・*。●．。・*○・。●*．*｡
A/N: this was inspired by an ask submitted by the lovely @darth-aragorn , I hope you like it ❤️
(content : nsfw, piv, age gap implied, jack is very weak for u, nickname “sweet girl” used, ERECTILE DISFUNCTION JACK ABBOT DEFENDER)
he’s truly something. you dont even know how you got him. but you did. he’s wrapped around your damn finger and you dont even know how much.
when you’re not looking, he’s watching you. with those big puppy dog eyes. it’s like you’re one of those big spirals that hypnotize people. jack is your victim.
he tries to act all big and tough for you. your protector. your old man. he wants to be tough on you when you’re a reckless little thing. but when he sees those lashes bat at him, it’s difficult for him to keep up the demeanor.
especially when you’re crying.
especially while he’s ruining you.
“ohhh, baby..” he coos, driving into you so fast you can’t keep up. don’t worry. that’s why he’s here, holding onto your hips and pulling you back against him. “don’t give me those eyes.. god-.. you know i can’t take it..”
if you thought you were the messed up one in this bed, you’d be very wrong. yeah, it feels godly. yeah, it’s sending you to whole new dimension. yeah, your eyes are filled with tears and drool is pooling down your chin but nothing you’re feeling lives up to the warm, wet, spongey home his cock found. the sounds you’re making doesn’t make things easier for him.
he’s trying everything to prevent himself from blowing his load too quickly. long division in his head, imagining one of his cases from the night prior. it works for a bit, yet you always pull him back to reality.
“ja..aaack… ah-!!” you gasp out once he hits a spot deeper than you had ever imagined.
his hips stutter to a stop at the moan that leaves your lips. your sight clears up a bit and you notice his eyes are slammed shut, the crow’s feet on either side sunken in deep.
“jack..” you stare up at him, heart beating quick in fear. did you accidentally hurt him? “jack? what’s wrong?”
“shh..” he shakes his head immediately, holding your hands above your head on the mattress. his fingers were tight around yours, almost hurting. “please-.. please shut up..”
your eyebrows furrow. “baby, please what happe-“
“sweet girl, i swear to god if you don’t stay quiet i’m gonna cum inside you.”
his words came out quickly and through gritted teeth. it was said so seriously, as if he was telling you you were about to die. your lips tighten into a straight line, trying to hold in the laugh bubbling up in your throat.
one eye cracks open, peaking at your expression.
“it’s not funny,” he grumbles, dropping his head down into the crook of your shoulder. “if i finish now we won’t be able to go again for awhile..”
letting out a little laugh, you scrape your fingers through the bottom of his scalp. “think i can’t handle it, old man?”
you feel him huff into your skin, scooping your ass up into his hands to bring you closer. he catches you off guard by slamming back into you, causing you to scream out.
in the end, jack abbot’s got you. even if he can’t resist your pretty face.
“i’ll show ya just what this old man can do..”
a/n: sorry if this was a lil boring .. tryna get my reigns back after my break. (: love ya .
