Find A New Place To Be From Series Masterlist ongoing! - you sign a 13-week contract at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center for your latest position as a travel nurse. complicated reaches a whole new level when you quickly fall for your new boss Dr. Robinavitch
ONE SHOTS
Gash - robby shows up at your doorstep injured and you take care of him
Toxic!Perv!Robby - robby taking advantage of his young, pretty intern
Jack Abbot (requests open)
+ - camgirl!reader universe
SERIES
Toy Box Series Masterlist completed!- your husband works in the er on christmas night. you show up injured, and he's too busy to care for you. when his intern orders a psych eval for you, he refuses to acknowledge the stress you're under because of him.
ONE SHOTS
Public Profession - when an ob consult flirts with you, jack decides to make your relationship status very clear.
Maybe Someday* - you visit jack after a hard day in the er. to make you feel better, he helps you cross off the first thing on your maybe someday list.
+ Sergeant, MD * - you stop providing camgirl services to your clients when you start your residency. except you can't let go of your favorite client, who, as you quickly find out, is your new attending physician for the next four years. he recognizes you immediately and is ready to stake his claim
+ Happy Birthday, Sarge * - your video chat with SgtMD on his birthday. despite it being his special day, he gives you the gift of a lifetime. can be read as a companion piece to sergeant, md!
+ Confessional * - jack fucks you in the hospital chapel after a hard shift. can be read as a companion piece to sergeant, md!
+ On the Clock * - jack interrupts your dinner plans when he calls you into work. when he tries making it up to you on the rooftop, someone new finds out about your relationship. can be read as a companion piece to sergeant, md!
Strong and Sure - abbot worries about the amount of time you're spending at work, and he's got a sexy funny way of showing you.
The Worst Patients - doctors make the worst patients, but jack abbot might be the exception
Every Hour * - jack would rather be in pain than forfeit a summer day spent outside with you. when you realize what he's doing, you show him just how much fun summer can be without his prosthetic on.
DRABBLES
jack punishing you for disobeying him
pushing jack during an argument
ANIMAL KINGDOM
Andrew Cody (requests open)
SERIES
Boy Next Door (ongoing) - when you move next door to andrew cody, he decides to do some snooping into your life. when he makes a mistake that leaves you afraid to go home, he doesn't expect you to come to him for help. and he certainly doesn't expect to like it so much.
ONE SHOTS
Bartender x Andrew - andrew finds that he likes taking care of the new hire at his brother's bar, so he helps her with some... chores!
Like You - andrew starts to see more of himself in his son than he would like. you're there to prove to him just how special that is.
Sideways - you've got three missed calls from andrew and two cody boys in your er. pitt crossover!
THE EMPYREAN SERIES
Liam Mairi (requests open)
ONE SHOTS
As Long as You Know Me - as a child of the rebellion, your birthday failing on Reunification Day stirs up a swarm of emotion. When your friends try to celebrate, Liam comes to your rescue... in his boxers.
Garrick Tavis (requests open)
ONE SHOTS
Professor Tavis* - when hear about Garrick's new job from Xaden, you start to question why Garrick didn't tell you himself. He makes it up to you in the best way possible.
thank you to @pixopix for the super cute dividers <3
oh my god, coming back home to your mom's place and your bed smells... different. the sheets are made, everything's clean, but the vibes are just unusual. not bad! you don't want to deal with it just that moment, so you fall asleep the first night back and in the morning go to wash your sheets, air the place out. you go out with your old friends, come home, and it's back to the same vibes.
you shrug and accept that maybe it's always been like this?
stepdad!robby has been going in to jerk off in there while you were away and was personally offended that you were washing up in the morning so while you were out he went in and made it smell like sex and him all over again
THIS!!!!!!!! when i said there’s amazing things happening in my inbox—i meant it 🤭
stepdad!robby jerks off in your room
he waits for the second you and your mom are both out of the house and then he’s straight up the stairs and onto your bed. he doesn’t even need porn to get himself off, just being in your room, surrounded by your stuff and knowing how wrong it is, is enough to get him off.
sometimes, if he’s feeling particularly naughty he’ll get into your bed, under the duvet, laying with his head against your pillow as he pumps himself in his fist. then other times he’ll grab a pair of panties out of your washing basket and wrap them around his cock, spilling himself all over the delicate fabric before just throwing them away—he can’t leave any evidence behind of course.
he’s already downstairs at the kitchen table when you come down, bed sheets and pillowcases in hand ready to put them in the washer for the third time that week. robby’s eyes are flickering between you and the laundry, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
“doin’ laundry again?” he asks, bringing up the newspaper he’s reading to cover the lower half of his face, trying to hide his smirk.
“yea, i don’t know what’s up but like the vibes are off in my room, feels weird in there…you haven’t been in there have you?” you narrow your eyes at him, tilting your head.
he shakes his head, “nope.”
you’re not convinced but carry on loading the washer with your stuff, robby rolls his eyes as he watches you, thinking about how hard he worked to offset those vibes and you were ruining all his hard work.
oh well, he’ll just have to keep doing it until you stop noticing.
not doing taglist anymore :( if you want you can follow and turn on post noti’s on my updates blog @robinavitchslut-updates to be notified when i post a fic <3
woof y'all omg im so sorry i've been away!!!! i was out of town #forever. hopefully i can post more often now :) i am so excited to catch up on all the lovely fanfics i missed while i was away tehe
summary: jack would rather be in pain than forfeit a summer day spent outside with you. when you realize what he's doing, you show him just how much fun summer can be without his prosthetic on.
warnings: smut literally just mostly smut lol. jack being insecure about his leg and talks of prosthetic pain.
notes: in this pretend world grass isn't itchy and bugs don't exist. ok now enjoy!
masterlist 𓊔 request
A day off work in the summer is always a day well spent with Jack Abbot.
He’s waking up early to workout-- something you can always benefit from. Especially when he comes in afterward to wake you up with a cup of coffee. Smells mingle in the air: sweat, coffee, and the summer sun.
Afternoons are outside, always. Jack doesn’t get enough sunlight working nights, and you make sure he gets his healthy dose of vitamin D when you can. Usually, he works in the yard. He pulls weeds or mows the grass. If you’re lucky, he’ll do both things shirtless and you’ll get to call him over every hour to reapply sunscreen to his back.
The alarm goes off, so you put your book down and wave him over. He’s using the pool net to gather leaves and flowers that the breeze has blown in.
“Jack!” You call across the pool. You lift the sunscreen bottle in your hand and shake it, earning a small grin from him.
When he’s in your space, he gives a long exhale.
“How’s your book?” He presses a kiss to your lips.
Humming, you stand so that you can reach his upper body. When you’re on your feet, he lowers himself into your chair with a little grunt.
“You okay, Jack?” Your heart skips a beat when you realize how pained he looks. He’s getting older, you know that, but you didn’t think he was exhausted-from-an-hour-in-the-sun-old yet. With a concerned pout, you kneel before him and bring your water bottle to his mouth. “Here, drink something.”
A sweet smile finds his mouth as his dark eyes roam over your face. He takes the bottle from you and sets it on the ground next to your chair.
“‘M fine, sweetheart. Just my leg.” He leans back uncomfortably.
“The sweat?” You ask, looking down at the prosthetic limb. When he nods, you tilt your head. “Why don’t you take it off, baby?”
With narrowed eyes, he shakes his head. One hand comes down to massage his knee while the other cups your neck softly. You’re sweaty, too, from sitting out here with him. His thumb pushes back a bead of it that rolls from your hairline.
“I want to stay out here with you. Can’t do yard work with one leg,” he jokes. There’s a hint of something in his eyes, though. Something you don’t see often from Jack.
It’s vulnerable, almost a little insecure. Like he’s worried you’ll realize something you don’t like about him if he reveals a weakness to you. Despite the wedding, despite the house you own together, and despite the countless times you’ve seen him without his prosthetic on, his mind still gets the best of him sometimes.
And you get where he’s coming from. There’s been a decades-long internal battle for him over this injury. He’s lost something. Gotten it back in a way that everyone expects him to pretend is normal when it’s not.
The honest truth is that you’ve never really thought twice about his limb difference. When you met Jack, it’d been years since he lost the lower half of his leg. To you, he’s the same as he’s always been.
It’s affected parts of your own life, certainly. When you two had this home built, you had to consider little tid bits that would enable Jack to live as independently as possible. Your shower, for example. In it is a granite shelf that takes up half of the space. It’s a shower chair for him, but that fact isn’t obvious to anyone else. If someone came in who didn’t know that Jack was an amputee, they’d just think that the ledge in your shower was there for shampoo bottles or sex. Which it also was.
You’ve done little things like that to meet him where he’s at. Valued the shorter paths and learned to pay attention to what surfaces he’d have to walk on if you wanted to bring him to a restaurant or a bar.
Never has his situation ever been an issue for you, and when he lets himself think otherwise, you’re quick to dispel the anxiety.
“Don’t have to do yard work to stay out here with me,” you comment, already untying his sneakers.
“Oh yeah?” His chin tilts upward slightly as he meets your eyes.
“Yeah.” Your voice is a whisper.
“Well I can’t sit here with you,” he explains. He always has to tease you before sex. Make you work until you’re throwing yourself at him before he caves in. “We only have the one chair.”
The other chair, his chair, broke when he set a dumbbell down on the arm rest between sets and snapped it clean off.
“Don’t need more than one chair, baby.” Easily, you slide his prosthetic from his knee, and then the sleeve underneath it. The same motions you’ve acted out hundreds of times before. Then, you stand, pretending to adjust your bikini top. “You don’t mind if we share, right?”
“Share?” He pretends to contemplate it while his gaze roams shamelessly over your body.
“Please?” You bend down to put a hand on his bicep when really you’re just looking for an excuse to move your tits into his eyeline so he’ll agree.
“Sure. Since you asked so sweetly.” His arm is around your back and pulling you into his lap before you have time to move on your own.
He’s got you bridal style-- your legs are hanging over one of the chair arms while your head rests on his shoulder. You’re both warm and sticky with sweat. Your hands wind around his neck, fingers combing into the curls there that are slightly damp.
The sun brings out all of the freckles on his shoulders and cheeks.
While you’re taking in the sight of him, he’s slowly inching closer until there’s no room between you. His lips are soft and careful on yours. When you kiss him back just as slowly it draws a quiet groan from the back of his throat. His hand rests on the curve of your ass and squeezes.
That’s how Jack has always kissed. His mouth is slow and romantic. He takes his time there. He’s a gentleman.
But his hands have a mind of their own. From first contact, he’s trying to strip you down. He’s fondling your tits and slapping your ass and squeezing every inch of skin he can get his hands on. He’s a man starved.
So, maybe he’s a gentleman starved.
While the one hand kneads your ass, the other moves to the back of your suit to untie your top. It’s easy. One pull and the fabric is loose, releasing your breasts of the support and leaving the cute top hanging uselessly around your neck now. Of course, the next thing he does is undo that tie too so that it falls to the floor and he can get a full view of your tits.
His tongue pulls out of your mouth and into his own as he leans back to ogle you.
“So fuckin’ sexy.” Big palms grip both your boobs. “All mine.”
Helplessly, you nod.
“All yours,” you confirm.
That brings a cute smirk to his lips before his face is back on yours, pressing more aggressively now as he works his mouth against yours. A moan comes from your chest as he begins to roll your nipples between his forefinger and thumb with the perfect amount of pressure.
Your hips roll against his crotch once before you’re climbing off of his lap.
“What’re you-”
He cuts himself off when he watches you step out of your swimsuit bottoms. Immediately, he’s pulling his shirt over his head. Had you not been so eager, pulling his shorts off would’ve been an awkward maneuver, but instead of giving him any time, you’re reaching under his waistband and pulling his cock out with no issue.
“Need you, Jack.” You’re back in his lap, panting against his skin as you press hot kisses down the column of his neck. “Please, baby. Please.”
“You have me, sweet girl,” he murmurs into your hair before pushing you off of him and back to your feet. When you pout at him, he twirls his finger. “Face the yard. Back to me. I’ve got you.”
Obediently, you turn around so that your back is facing him. Jack strokes himself with his free hand while the other holds your waist to guide you down slowly, carefully. Your own arms grip the armrests as you lower yourself onto him, stopping when your wetness touches the tip of his dick.
“Jack.” It’s a desperate whimper.
“You’re ok, keep going. That’s it, c’mon, all the way.” He continues coaxing you further down until you’re situated with the base of his cock nestled all the way inside of you. You’re sitting spine-straight on his lap, hands white-knuckling the lawn chair.
Jack reaches a hand up and around you, running his palm up your thigh and onto your stomach, gently leaning back with you until you’re flush against his chest. Once you are, his mouth drops to your shoulder, biting softly before pressing a soft kiss there.
“Relax for me, sweetheart. It’s ok. Just gonna stay like this for a minute, yeah?” He coos, trailing his hand to your nipple and pinching it lightly. Your pussy tightens around him. “Atta girl, good job. Doing good for me, baby.”
As he continues toying with your tits, you slowly relax into him. Your body lightens as you unclench the chair. Your head rolls back onto his shoulder, angled to the side so he can hear your pretty pants and moans in his ear.
His ministrations quickly become too much. You’re squirming around in his lap, earning deep, frustrated growls from him.
“Sit still,” he orders, one hand coming down to secure your hip while the other continues to pinch and roll your nipples.
“‘M trying, Jack.” Your hips push hard into his lap as you brace yourself against his teasing. “Just feels s-so good.”
His chest rumbles against your back as he inhales shakily.
The way his hands are squeezing you harder, teasing you more, you can tell his resolve is wearing. You stop trying to stay still. You rock your hips in his lap, grinding yourself down onto his cock. Doing exactly what he told you not to.
“C’mon, quit-- fuck,” he groans into the skin of your shoulder. “Fuck, baby. You feel so good.”
Your motions are slow and controlled, though your upper body still twitches wildly as Jack continues to play with your tits.
The angle is difficult to maneuver in with your weight being solely on him. It gives way for you grinding, but not much else. Still, Jack tries to thrust himself up into you.
This is the most frustrating thing for him post-amputation. It isn’t the pain or the rashes and welts. It’s wanting to move his body the way he did before. Being able to stand from a chair and walk without crutches. Being able to pick you up while he carries you to the bed in a moment like this. It’s the freedom and impulsivity that he wants to exercise but finds himself unable to do.
Now he needs help with certain things. But he is determined not to need help with this. Pleasing you is a job he’ll always be capable of achieving. Even if the means to do it are a little unconventional.
So, when his body doesn’t let him fuck you in this position, he needs to find another.
Without warning, Jack pins you to his chest with a strong palm on your stomach and a cradling grasp around your head. Then, he uses his foot to push off of the ground and tip the chair backward into the pillowy grass that he just cut.
With the pillows on the back of the chair, he’s not worried.
A frightened squal leaves you as you and Jack fall backward. There’s a heavy thud and a crack of splitting plastic as both of you tumble into the grass.
Quickly, you pull yourself off of his dick and spring to your feet to check on him. As soon as you see that playful smirk on his face, you know that your husband had every intention of getting you both onto the floor.
In fact, he’s already positioned himself off of the chair and onto his back, propped up on one elbow while his other hand tugs his shorts and boxers all the way off. God, his body is unreal. Muscle consumes every inch of him, adorned by the handsome freckles that dot his skin.
When he catches you staring, he whistles.
“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.” He gives a flirty wink.
With a little giggle, you lower yourself to your knees and crawl the short distance to his body. That knocked much of the humor from his wandering eyes.
“My eyes are up here, sweetheart,” you mock when his gaze drops to your breasts. All he does in response is swallow hard as he meets your stare. Pouting, you continue, “you broke my chair again.”
“I’m sorry, doll.” Lust is heavy in his voice. His hands come to your waist, moving you on top of him. Now he’s flat on his back underneath you. His cock is wet against your thigh, still coated in your slick. “Let me make it up to you.”
Nodding, you roll your hips back and lean forward to connect your mouth with his. It’s all tongue from the moment you start. And as soon as it begins, he’s pushing you to sit up.
“Is that a fair trade?” He asks, spitting in his hand and pushing you up to spread his saliva between your legs.
“W-what?” You bumble as his pointer finger skims your clit.
“For the chair, sweetheart. Is this fair?” Your answer doesn’t matter, because he’s impatiently tapping your thigh, urging you to sit on his cock again. “Faster, baby. Keep up.”
“Yes. Yes, yes it’s fair.” Your vision swims as you nod quickly.
“Good.”
When you move to sink down onto him, he tightens his grip on your waist, making you pause. Instead of letting you lower yourself all the way, he keeps you suspended with barely the tip inside of you.
You’re trying to speak, to say anything, but the sudden slam of his cock against your cervix as he bucks his hips up into you takes your breath away. You inhale sharply in response, falling forward as he rams up into you again.
Suddenly, his movements stop.
“Sit up, baby. Wanna see y’tits.” His voice is breathy, desperate.
It leaves you no choice but to obey.
As soon as you’re upright again, he resumes his punishing pace. It makes your breasts bounce up and down each time he enters. Moan after moan spills from your lips. He’s breathing heavily, abs flexing with each motion. It’s fucking tantalizing. All you want to do is put your hands there. Prop yourself up and feel the constriction of his body as he fucks into you like he’s racing to finish. But he told you not to.
It’s impressive how long he manages to keep going before he needs a break.
When he does, he lowers his hips back to the ground and moves his hands from your waist. One finds your face, running his thumb across your parted lips as you pant from his intensity. The other rubs slow, firm circles to your clit.
Neither is any help for your racing pulse. Your head is thumping wildly under the summer sun as Jack coaxes you closer and closer toward climax. Slowly, you begin to rock your hips back and forth to release the tension that’s beginning to cord through your body.
“So pretty. All mine,” Jack murmurs, pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb.
“Jack,” you moan, his words swimming in your head as desire courses through you. “Feels s’good. Don’t stop.”
“Not gonna stop, sweetheart. Take your time. We’ve got all day.”
God you love having the day off with him.
You continue grinding your hips against him as he rubs your clit, letting his other hand trail down your body with fluttering fingers that send shivers up your spine.
As soon as he applies a little more pressure to your clit, there’s a pit deep in your stomach. Urgency races through you as you rush to tell him.
“J-just like that, please. So close, Jack,” you whine, hips rutting sporadically now as pleasure consumes you.
Jack doesn’t change anything at all. He keeps his pressure, keeps his pace, and keeps absentmindedly trailing his fingers along your sensitive skin. It’s an emergency department perk-- he’s great under pressure. He doesn’t rush to pick up his pace or make you feel like you’re not getting there fast enough. He’s confident in what he’s doing. And it’s so fucking hot.
“Jack.” You call his name like a prayer as your orgasm rises higher and higher, nearly bursting.
“I’m right here, baby. You’ve got it. Doing so good,” he praises. It makes your core tighten around his cock, earning a quiet groan from him that completely undoes you.
Your body crashes forward, hands bracing yourself on his chest as your own body heaves with heavy, ragged breaths. Jack’s fingers pinch your nipples, sending another jolt through you as your pussy squeezes around him.
As you slowly come down, Jack takes one of your hands and lifts it from his chest to press five soft kisses in the center of your palm.
You swallow, leaning forward to press a hot wet kiss to his mouth.
“Your turn,” you whisper against his lips. Your voice is high and whiny from your orgasm. It’s his favorite fucking sound in the world.
Five minutes later, Jack comes hard and fast with you bouncing on his cock under the heat of the summer sun. Once he’s finished inside of you, he props himself up onto his elbows with that cocky grin that comes from a lifetime of women fawning over him.
Not a day goes by that you’re not happy he chose you out of them all.
His head nods slowly as he surveys your body.
“So fuckin’ hot,” he mumbles. His thumb reaches out to catch a bead of sweat that drips between your breasts. Then, holding your gaze, he licks it from his thumb. A loud, mean laugh leaves him when he feels you clench around him at the sight. “Already wanting round two?”
Giggling, you shake your head and slowly lift yourself up on your knees until his cock falls out of you and lays on his stomach. His cum drips down your thighs as soon as you release him, making it the only thing you’re wearing now.
“God, I love you.” Jack lies flat like he’s been struck by you.
“I love you too, Jack.” You press a kiss to his jaw before climbing to your feet. “Be right back!”
He lies there waiting under the grueling summer sun while he thinks about how many more days off he gets with you.
As promised, you return to his side less than a minute later with his crutches. You’ve made no effort to wipe any of his cum from your body, and it’s down both legs now, having run all the way down to your feet, too.
“Shower’s already started,” you tell him as he sits up. Once he’s ready, you pass him his crutches and give him room to find his balance in the uneven grass. While he does, you grab his prosthetic and your book.
A moment later, he’s pressing a kiss to the top of your head and following you through your shared home to the shower. Under the cool water, his skin is warm on yours as he peppers you with kisses while he silently thinks about how fucking lucky he is to have found you.
summary: jack would rather be in pain than forfeit a summer day spent outside with you. when you realize what he's doing, you show him just how much fun summer can be without his prosthetic on.
warnings: smut literally just mostly smut lol. jack being insecure about his leg and talks of prosthetic pain.
notes: in this pretend world grass isn't itchy and bugs don't exist. ok now enjoy!
masterlist 𓊔 request
A day off work in the summer is always a day well spent with Jack Abbot.
He’s waking up early to workout-- something you can always benefit from. Especially when he comes in afterward to wake you up with a cup of coffee. Smells mingle in the air: sweat, coffee, and the summer sun.
Afternoons are outside, always. Jack doesn’t get enough sunlight working nights, and you make sure he gets his healthy dose of vitamin D when you can. Usually, he works in the yard. He pulls weeds or mows the grass. If you’re lucky, he’ll do both things shirtless and you’ll get to call him over every hour to reapply sunscreen to his back.
The alarm goes off, so you put your book down and wave him over. He’s using the pool net to gather leaves and flowers that the breeze has blown in.
“Jack!” You call across the pool. You lift the sunscreen bottle in your hand and shake it, earning a small grin from him.
When he’s in your space, he gives a long exhale.
“How’s your book?” He presses a kiss to your lips.
Humming, you stand so that you can reach his upper body. When you’re on your feet, he lowers himself into your chair with a little grunt.
“You okay, Jack?” Your heart skips a beat when you realize how pained he looks. He’s getting older, you know that, but you didn’t think he was exhausted-from-an-hour-in-the-sun-old yet. With a concerned pout, you kneel before him and bring your water bottle to his mouth. “Here, drink something.”
A sweet smile finds his mouth as his dark eyes roam over your face. He takes the bottle from you and sets it on the ground next to your chair.
“‘M fine, sweetheart. Just my leg.” He leans back uncomfortably.
“The sweat?” You ask, looking down at the prosthetic limb. When he nods, you tilt your head. “Why don’t you take it off, baby?”
With narrowed eyes, he shakes his head. One hand comes down to massage his knee while the other cups your neck softly. You’re sweaty, too, from sitting out here with him. His thumb pushes back a bead of it that rolls from your hairline.
“I want to stay out here with you. Can’t do yard work with one leg,” he jokes. There’s a hint of something in his eyes, though. Something you don’t see often from Jack.
It’s vulnerable, almost a little insecure. Like he’s worried you’ll realize something you don’t like about him if he reveals a weakness to you. Despite the wedding, despite the house you own together, and despite the countless times you’ve seen him without his prosthetic on, his mind still gets the best of him sometimes.
And you get where he’s coming from. There’s been a decades-long internal battle for him over this injury. He’s lost something. Gotten it back in a way that everyone expects him to pretend is normal when it’s not.
The honest truth is that you’ve never really thought twice about his limb difference. When you met Jack, it’d been years since he lost the lower half of his leg. To you, he’s the same as he’s always been.
It’s affected parts of your own life, certainly. When you two had this home built, you had to consider little tid bits that would enable Jack to live as independently as possible. Your shower, for example. In it is a granite shelf that takes up half of the space. It’s a shower chair for him, but that fact isn’t obvious to anyone else. If someone came in who didn’t know that Jack was an amputee, they’d just think that the ledge in your shower was there for shampoo bottles or sex. Which it also was.
You’ve done little things like that to meet him where he’s at. Valued the shorter paths and learned to pay attention to what surfaces he’d have to walk on if you wanted to bring him to a restaurant or a bar.
Never has his situation ever been an issue for you, and when he lets himself think otherwise, you’re quick to dispel the anxiety.
“Don’t have to do yard work to stay out here with me,” you comment, already untying his sneakers.
“Oh yeah?” His chin tilts upward slightly as he meets your eyes.
“Yeah.” Your voice is a whisper.
“Well I can’t sit here with you,” he explains. He always has to tease you before sex. Make you work until you’re throwing yourself at him before he caves in. “We only have the one chair.”
The other chair, his chair, broke when he set a dumbbell down on the arm rest between sets and snapped it clean off.
“Don’t need more than one chair, baby.” Easily, you slide his prosthetic from his knee, and then the sleeve underneath it. The same motions you’ve acted out hundreds of times before. Then, you stand, pretending to adjust your bikini top. “You don’t mind if we share, right?”
“Share?” He pretends to contemplate it while his gaze roams shamelessly over your body.
“Please?” You bend down to put a hand on his bicep when really you’re just looking for an excuse to move your tits into his eyeline so he’ll agree.
“Sure. Since you asked so sweetly.” His arm is around your back and pulling you into his lap before you have time to move on your own.
He’s got you bridal style-- your legs are hanging over one of the chair arms while your head rests on his shoulder. You’re both warm and sticky with sweat. Your hands wind around his neck, fingers combing into the curls there that are slightly damp.
The sun brings out all of the freckles on his shoulders and cheeks.
While you’re taking in the sight of him, he’s slowly inching closer until there’s no room between you. His lips are soft and careful on yours. When you kiss him back just as slowly it draws a quiet groan from the back of his throat. His hand rests on the curve of your ass and squeezes.
That’s how Jack has always kissed. His mouth is slow and romantic. He takes his time there. He’s a gentleman.
But his hands have a mind of their own. From first contact, he’s trying to strip you down. He’s fondling your tits and slapping your ass and squeezing every inch of skin he can get his hands on. He’s a man starved.
So, maybe he’s a gentleman starved.
While the one hand kneads your ass, the other moves to the back of your suit to untie your top. It’s easy. One pull and the fabric is loose, releasing your breasts of the support and leaving the cute top hanging uselessly around your neck now. Of course, the next thing he does is undo that tie too so that it falls to the floor and he can get a full view of your tits.
His tongue pulls out of your mouth and into his own as he leans back to ogle you.
“So fuckin’ sexy.” Big palms grip both your boobs. “All mine.”
Helplessly, you nod.
“All yours,” you confirm.
That brings a cute smirk to his lips before his face is back on yours, pressing more aggressively now as he works his mouth against yours. A moan comes from your chest as he begins to roll your nipples between his forefinger and thumb with the perfect amount of pressure.
Your hips roll against his crotch once before you’re climbing off of his lap.
“What’re you-”
He cuts himself off when he watches you step out of your swimsuit bottoms. Immediately, he’s pulling his shirt over his head. Had you not been so eager, pulling his shorts off would’ve been an awkward maneuver, but instead of giving him any time, you’re reaching under his waistband and pulling his cock out with no issue.
“Need you, Jack.” You’re back in his lap, panting against his skin as you press hot kisses down the column of his neck. “Please, baby. Please.”
“You have me, sweet girl,” he murmurs into your hair before pushing you off of him and back to your feet. When you pout at him, he twirls his finger. “Face the yard. Back to me. I’ve got you.”
Obediently, you turn around so that your back is facing him. Jack strokes himself with his free hand while the other holds your waist to guide you down slowly, carefully. Your own arms grip the armrests as you lower yourself onto him, stopping when your wetness touches the tip of his dick.
“Jack.” It’s a desperate whimper.
“You’re ok, keep going. That’s it, c’mon, all the way.” He continues coaxing you further down until you’re situated with the base of his cock nestled all the way inside of you. You’re sitting spine-straight on his lap, hands white-knuckling the lawn chair.
Jack reaches a hand up and around you, running his palm up your thigh and onto your stomach, gently leaning back with you until you’re flush against his chest. Once you are, his mouth drops to your shoulder, biting softly before pressing a soft kiss there.
“Relax for me, sweetheart. It’s ok. Just gonna stay like this for a minute, yeah?” He coos, trailing his hand to your nipple and pinching it lightly. Your pussy tightens around him. “Atta girl, good job. Doing good for me, baby.”
As he continues toying with your tits, you slowly relax into him. Your body lightens as you unclench the chair. Your head rolls back onto his shoulder, angled to the side so he can hear your pretty pants and moans in his ear.
His ministrations quickly become too much. You’re squirming around in his lap, earning deep, frustrated growls from him.
“Sit still,” he orders, one hand coming down to secure your hip while the other continues to pinch and roll your nipples.
“‘M trying, Jack.” Your hips push hard into his lap as you brace yourself against his teasing. “Just feels s-so good.”
His chest rumbles against your back as he inhales shakily.
The way his hands are squeezing you harder, teasing you more, you can tell his resolve is wearing. You stop trying to stay still. You rock your hips in his lap, grinding yourself down onto his cock. Doing exactly what he told you not to.
“C’mon, quit-- fuck,” he groans into the skin of your shoulder. “Fuck, baby. You feel so good.”
Your motions are slow and controlled, though your upper body still twitches wildly as Jack continues to play with your tits.
The angle is difficult to maneuver in with your weight being solely on him. It gives way for you grinding, but not much else. Still, Jack tries to thrust himself up into you.
This is the most frustrating thing for him post-amputation. It isn’t the pain or the rashes and welts. It’s wanting to move his body the way he did before. Being able to stand from a chair and walk without crutches. Being able to pick you up while he carries you to the bed in a moment like this. It’s the freedom and impulsivity that he wants to exercise but finds himself unable to do.
Now he needs help with certain things. But he is determined not to need help with this. Pleasing you is a job he’ll always be capable of achieving. Even if the means to do it are a little unconventional.
So, when his body doesn’t let him fuck you in this position, he needs to find another.
Without warning, Jack pins you to his chest with a strong palm on your stomach and a cradling grasp around your head. Then, he uses his foot to push off of the ground and tip the chair backward into the pillowy grass that he just cut.
With the pillows on the back of the chair, he’s not worried.
A frightened squal leaves you as you and Jack fall backward. There’s a heavy thud and a crack of splitting plastic as both of you tumble into the grass.
Quickly, you pull yourself off of his dick and spring to your feet to check on him. As soon as you see that playful smirk on his face, you know that your husband had every intention of getting you both onto the floor.
In fact, he’s already positioned himself off of the chair and onto his back, propped up on one elbow while his other hand tugs his shorts and boxers all the way off. God, his body is unreal. Muscle consumes every inch of him, adorned by the handsome freckles that dot his skin.
When he catches you staring, he whistles.
“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.” He gives a flirty wink.
With a little giggle, you lower yourself to your knees and crawl the short distance to his body. That knocked much of the humor from his wandering eyes.
“My eyes are up here, sweetheart,” you mock when his gaze drops to your breasts. All he does in response is swallow hard as he meets your stare. Pouting, you continue, “you broke my chair again.”
“I’m sorry, doll.” Lust is heavy in his voice. His hands come to your waist, moving you on top of him. Now he’s flat on his back underneath you. His cock is wet against your thigh, still coated in your slick. “Let me make it up to you.”
Nodding, you roll your hips back and lean forward to connect your mouth with his. It’s all tongue from the moment you start. And as soon as it begins, he’s pushing you to sit up.
“Is that a fair trade?” He asks, spitting in his hand and pushing you up to spread his saliva between your legs.
“W-what?” You bumble as his pointer finger skims your clit.
“For the chair, sweetheart. Is this fair?” Your answer doesn’t matter, because he’s impatiently tapping your thigh, urging you to sit on his cock again. “Faster, baby. Keep up.”
“Yes. Yes, yes it’s fair.” Your vision swims as you nod quickly.
“Good.”
When you move to sink down onto him, he tightens his grip on your waist, making you pause. Instead of letting you lower yourself all the way, he keeps you suspended with barely the tip inside of you.
You’re trying to speak, to say anything, but the sudden slam of his cock against your cervix as he bucks his hips up into you takes your breath away. You inhale sharply in response, falling forward as he rams up into you again.
Suddenly, his movements stop.
“Sit up, baby. Wanna see y’tits.” His voice is breathy, desperate.
It leaves you no choice but to obey.
As soon as you’re upright again, he resumes his punishing pace. It makes your breasts bounce up and down each time he enters. Moan after moan spills from your lips. He’s breathing heavily, abs flexing with each motion. It’s fucking tantalizing. All you want to do is put your hands there. Prop yourself up and feel the constriction of his body as he fucks into you like he’s racing to finish. But he told you not to.
It’s impressive how long he manages to keep going before he needs a break.
When he does, he lowers his hips back to the ground and moves his hands from your waist. One finds your face, running his thumb across your parted lips as you pant from his intensity. The other rubs slow, firm circles to your clit.
Neither is any help for your racing pulse. Your head is thumping wildly under the summer sun as Jack coaxes you closer and closer toward climax. Slowly, you begin to rock your hips back and forth to release the tension that’s beginning to cord through your body.
“So pretty. All mine,” Jack murmurs, pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb.
“Jack,” you moan, his words swimming in your head as desire courses through you. “Feels s’good. Don’t stop.”
“Not gonna stop, sweetheart. Take your time. We’ve got all day.”
God you love having the day off with him.
You continue grinding your hips against him as he rubs your clit, letting his other hand trail down your body with fluttering fingers that send shivers up your spine.
As soon as he applies a little more pressure to your clit, there’s a pit deep in your stomach. Urgency races through you as you rush to tell him.
“J-just like that, please. So close, Jack,” you whine, hips rutting sporadically now as pleasure consumes you.
Jack doesn’t change anything at all. He keeps his pressure, keeps his pace, and keeps absentmindedly trailing his fingers along your sensitive skin. It’s an emergency department perk-- he’s great under pressure. He doesn’t rush to pick up his pace or make you feel like you’re not getting there fast enough. He’s confident in what he’s doing. And it’s so fucking hot.
“Jack.” You call his name like a prayer as your orgasm rises higher and higher, nearly bursting.
“I’m right here, baby. You’ve got it. Doing so good,” he praises. It makes your core tighten around his cock, earning a quiet groan from him that completely undoes you.
Your body crashes forward, hands bracing yourself on his chest as your own body heaves with heavy, ragged breaths. Jack’s fingers pinch your nipples, sending another jolt through you as your pussy squeezes around him.
As you slowly come down, Jack takes one of your hands and lifts it from his chest to press five soft kisses in the center of your palm.
You swallow, leaning forward to press a hot wet kiss to his mouth.
“Your turn,” you whisper against his lips. Your voice is high and whiny from your orgasm. It’s his favorite fucking sound in the world.
Five minutes later, Jack comes hard and fast with you bouncing on his cock under the heat of the summer sun. Once he’s finished inside of you, he props himself up onto his elbows with that cocky grin that comes from a lifetime of women fawning over him.
Not a day goes by that you’re not happy he chose you out of them all.
His head nods slowly as he surveys your body.
“So fuckin’ hot,” he mumbles. His thumb reaches out to catch a bead of sweat that drips between your breasts. Then, holding your gaze, he licks it from his thumb. A loud, mean laugh leaves him when he feels you clench around him at the sight. “Already wanting round two?”
Giggling, you shake your head and slowly lift yourself up on your knees until his cock falls out of you and lays on his stomach. His cum drips down your thighs as soon as you release him, making it the only thing you’re wearing now.
“God, I love you.” Jack lies flat like he’s been struck by you.
“I love you too, Jack.” You press a kiss to his jaw before climbing to your feet. “Be right back!”
He lies there waiting under the grueling summer sun while he thinks about how many more days off he gets with you.
As promised, you return to his side less than a minute later with his crutches. You’ve made no effort to wipe any of his cum from your body, and it’s down both legs now, having run all the way down to your feet, too.
“Shower’s already started,” you tell him as he sits up. Once he’s ready, you pass him his crutches and give him room to find his balance in the uneven grass. While he does, you grab his prosthetic and your book.
A moment later, he’s pressing a kiss to the top of your head and following you through your shared home to the shower. Under the cool water, his skin is warm on yours as he peppers you with kisses while he silently thinks about how fucking lucky he is to have found you.
summary: jack would rather be in pain than forfeit a summer day spent outside with you. when you realize what he's doing, you show him just how much fun summer can be without his prosthetic on.
warnings: smut literally just mostly smut lol. jack being insecure about his leg and talks of prosthetic pain.
notes: in this pretend world grass isn't itchy and bugs don't exist. ok now enjoy!
masterlist 𓊔 request
A day off work in the summer is always a day well spent with Jack Abbot.
He’s waking up early to workout-- something you can always benefit from. Especially when he comes in afterward to wake you up with a cup of coffee. Smells mingle in the air: sweat, coffee, and the summer sun.
Afternoons are outside, always. Jack doesn’t get enough sunlight working nights, and you make sure he gets his healthy dose of vitamin D when you can. Usually, he works in the yard. He pulls weeds or mows the grass. If you’re lucky, he’ll do both things shirtless and you’ll get to call him over every hour to reapply sunscreen to his back.
The alarm goes off, so you put your book down and wave him over. He’s using the pool net to gather leaves and flowers that the breeze has blown in.
“Jack!” You call across the pool. You lift the sunscreen bottle in your hand and shake it, earning a small grin from him.
When he’s in your space, he gives a long exhale.
“How’s your book?” He presses a kiss to your lips.
Humming, you stand so that you can reach his upper body. When you’re on your feet, he lowers himself into your chair with a little grunt.
“You okay, Jack?” Your heart skips a beat when you realize how pained he looks. He’s getting older, you know that, but you didn’t think he was exhausted-from-an-hour-in-the-sun-old yet. With a concerned pout, you kneel before him and bring your water bottle to his mouth. “Here, drink something.”
A sweet smile finds his mouth as his dark eyes roam over your face. He takes the bottle from you and sets it on the ground next to your chair.
“‘M fine, sweetheart. Just my leg.” He leans back uncomfortably.
“The sweat?” You ask, looking down at the prosthetic limb. When he nods, you tilt your head. “Why don’t you take it off, baby?”
With narrowed eyes, he shakes his head. One hand comes down to massage his knee while the other cups your neck softly. You’re sweaty, too, from sitting out here with him. His thumb pushes back a bead of it that rolls from your hairline.
“I want to stay out here with you. Can’t do yard work with one leg,” he jokes. There’s a hint of something in his eyes, though. Something you don’t see often from Jack.
It’s vulnerable, almost a little insecure. Like he’s worried you’ll realize something you don’t like about him if he reveals a weakness to you. Despite the wedding, despite the house you own together, and despite the countless times you’ve seen him without his prosthetic on, his mind still gets the best of him sometimes.
And you get where he’s coming from. There’s been a decades-long internal battle for him over this injury. He’s lost something. Gotten it back in a way that everyone expects him to pretend is normal when it’s not.
The honest truth is that you’ve never really thought twice about his limb difference. When you met Jack, it’d been years since he lost the lower half of his leg. To you, he’s the same as he’s always been.
It’s affected parts of your own life, certainly. When you two had this home built, you had to consider little tid bits that would enable Jack to live as independently as possible. Your shower, for example. In it is a granite shelf that takes up half of the space. It’s a shower chair for him, but that fact isn’t obvious to anyone else. If someone came in who didn’t know that Jack was an amputee, they’d just think that the ledge in your shower was there for shampoo bottles or sex. Which it also was.
You’ve done little things like that to meet him where he’s at. Valued the shorter paths and learned to pay attention to what surfaces he’d have to walk on if you wanted to bring him to a restaurant or a bar.
Never has his situation ever been an issue for you, and when he lets himself think otherwise, you’re quick to dispel the anxiety.
“Don’t have to do yard work to stay out here with me,” you comment, already untying his sneakers.
“Oh yeah?” His chin tilts upward slightly as he meets your eyes.
“Yeah.” Your voice is a whisper.
“Well I can’t sit here with you,” he explains. He always has to tease you before sex. Make you work until you’re throwing yourself at him before he caves in. “We only have the one chair.”
The other chair, his chair, broke when he set a dumbbell down on the arm rest between sets and snapped it clean off.
“Don’t need more than one chair, baby.” Easily, you slide his prosthetic from his knee, and then the sleeve underneath it. The same motions you’ve acted out hundreds of times before. Then, you stand, pretending to adjust your bikini top. “You don’t mind if we share, right?”
“Share?” He pretends to contemplate it while his gaze roams shamelessly over your body.
“Please?” You bend down to put a hand on his bicep when really you’re just looking for an excuse to move your tits into his eyeline so he’ll agree.
“Sure. Since you asked so sweetly.” His arm is around your back and pulling you into his lap before you have time to move on your own.
He’s got you bridal style-- your legs are hanging over one of the chair arms while your head rests on his shoulder. You’re both warm and sticky with sweat. Your hands wind around his neck, fingers combing into the curls there that are slightly damp.
The sun brings out all of the freckles on his shoulders and cheeks.
While you’re taking in the sight of him, he’s slowly inching closer until there’s no room between you. His lips are soft and careful on yours. When you kiss him back just as slowly it draws a quiet groan from the back of his throat. His hand rests on the curve of your ass and squeezes.
That’s how Jack has always kissed. His mouth is slow and romantic. He takes his time there. He’s a gentleman.
But his hands have a mind of their own. From first contact, he’s trying to strip you down. He’s fondling your tits and slapping your ass and squeezing every inch of skin he can get his hands on. He’s a man starved.
So, maybe he’s a gentleman starved.
While the one hand kneads your ass, the other moves to the back of your suit to untie your top. It’s easy. One pull and the fabric is loose, releasing your breasts of the support and leaving the cute top hanging uselessly around your neck now. Of course, the next thing he does is undo that tie too so that it falls to the floor and he can get a full view of your tits.
His tongue pulls out of your mouth and into his own as he leans back to ogle you.
“So fuckin’ sexy.” Big palms grip both your boobs. “All mine.”
Helplessly, you nod.
“All yours,” you confirm.
That brings a cute smirk to his lips before his face is back on yours, pressing more aggressively now as he works his mouth against yours. A moan comes from your chest as he begins to roll your nipples between his forefinger and thumb with the perfect amount of pressure.
Your hips roll against his crotch once before you’re climbing off of his lap.
“What’re you-”
He cuts himself off when he watches you step out of your swimsuit bottoms. Immediately, he’s pulling his shirt over his head. Had you not been so eager, pulling his shorts off would’ve been an awkward maneuver, but instead of giving him any time, you’re reaching under his waistband and pulling his cock out with no issue.
“Need you, Jack.” You’re back in his lap, panting against his skin as you press hot kisses down the column of his neck. “Please, baby. Please.”
“You have me, sweet girl,” he murmurs into your hair before pushing you off of him and back to your feet. When you pout at him, he twirls his finger. “Face the yard. Back to me. I’ve got you.”
Obediently, you turn around so that your back is facing him. Jack strokes himself with his free hand while the other holds your waist to guide you down slowly, carefully. Your own arms grip the armrests as you lower yourself onto him, stopping when your wetness touches the tip of his dick.
“Jack.” It’s a desperate whimper.
“You’re ok, keep going. That’s it, c’mon, all the way.” He continues coaxing you further down until you’re situated with the base of his cock nestled all the way inside of you. You’re sitting spine-straight on his lap, hands white-knuckling the lawn chair.
Jack reaches a hand up and around you, running his palm up your thigh and onto your stomach, gently leaning back with you until you’re flush against his chest. Once you are, his mouth drops to your shoulder, biting softly before pressing a soft kiss there.
“Relax for me, sweetheart. It’s ok. Just gonna stay like this for a minute, yeah?” He coos, trailing his hand to your nipple and pinching it lightly. Your pussy tightens around him. “Atta girl, good job. Doing good for me, baby.”
As he continues toying with your tits, you slowly relax into him. Your body lightens as you unclench the chair. Your head rolls back onto his shoulder, angled to the side so he can hear your pretty pants and moans in his ear.
His ministrations quickly become too much. You’re squirming around in his lap, earning deep, frustrated growls from him.
“Sit still,” he orders, one hand coming down to secure your hip while the other continues to pinch and roll your nipples.
“‘M trying, Jack.” Your hips push hard into his lap as you brace yourself against his teasing. “Just feels s-so good.”
His chest rumbles against your back as he inhales shakily.
The way his hands are squeezing you harder, teasing you more, you can tell his resolve is wearing. You stop trying to stay still. You rock your hips in his lap, grinding yourself down onto his cock. Doing exactly what he told you not to.
“C’mon, quit-- fuck,” he groans into the skin of your shoulder. “Fuck, baby. You feel so good.”
Your motions are slow and controlled, though your upper body still twitches wildly as Jack continues to play with your tits.
The angle is difficult to maneuver in with your weight being solely on him. It gives way for you grinding, but not much else. Still, Jack tries to thrust himself up into you.
This is the most frustrating thing for him post-amputation. It isn’t the pain or the rashes and welts. It’s wanting to move his body the way he did before. Being able to stand from a chair and walk without crutches. Being able to pick you up while he carries you to the bed in a moment like this. It’s the freedom and impulsivity that he wants to exercise but finds himself unable to do.
Now he needs help with certain things. But he is determined not to need help with this. Pleasing you is a job he’ll always be capable of achieving. Even if the means to do it are a little unconventional.
So, when his body doesn’t let him fuck you in this position, he needs to find another.
Without warning, Jack pins you to his chest with a strong palm on your stomach and a cradling grasp around your head. Then, he uses his foot to push off of the ground and tip the chair backward into the pillowy grass that he just cut.
With the pillows on the back of the chair, he’s not worried.
A frightened squal leaves you as you and Jack fall backward. There’s a heavy thud and a crack of splitting plastic as both of you tumble into the grass.
Quickly, you pull yourself off of his dick and spring to your feet to check on him. As soon as you see that playful smirk on his face, you know that your husband had every intention of getting you both onto the floor.
In fact, he’s already positioned himself off of the chair and onto his back, propped up on one elbow while his other hand tugs his shorts and boxers all the way off. God, his body is unreal. Muscle consumes every inch of him, adorned by the handsome freckles that dot his skin.
When he catches you staring, he whistles.
“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.” He gives a flirty wink.
With a little giggle, you lower yourself to your knees and crawl the short distance to his body. That knocked much of the humor from his wandering eyes.
“My eyes are up here, sweetheart,” you mock when his gaze drops to your breasts. All he does in response is swallow hard as he meets your stare. Pouting, you continue, “you broke my chair again.”
“I’m sorry, doll.” Lust is heavy in his voice. His hands come to your waist, moving you on top of him. Now he’s flat on his back underneath you. His cock is wet against your thigh, still coated in your slick. “Let me make it up to you.”
Nodding, you roll your hips back and lean forward to connect your mouth with his. It’s all tongue from the moment you start. And as soon as it begins, he’s pushing you to sit up.
“Is that a fair trade?” He asks, spitting in his hand and pushing you up to spread his saliva between your legs.
“W-what?” You bumble as his pointer finger skims your clit.
“For the chair, sweetheart. Is this fair?” Your answer doesn’t matter, because he’s impatiently tapping your thigh, urging you to sit on his cock again. “Faster, baby. Keep up.”
“Yes. Yes, yes it’s fair.” Your vision swims as you nod quickly.
“Good.”
When you move to sink down onto him, he tightens his grip on your waist, making you pause. Instead of letting you lower yourself all the way, he keeps you suspended with barely the tip inside of you.
You’re trying to speak, to say anything, but the sudden slam of his cock against your cervix as he bucks his hips up into you takes your breath away. You inhale sharply in response, falling forward as he rams up into you again.
Suddenly, his movements stop.
“Sit up, baby. Wanna see y’tits.” His voice is breathy, desperate.
It leaves you no choice but to obey.
As soon as you’re upright again, he resumes his punishing pace. It makes your breasts bounce up and down each time he enters. Moan after moan spills from your lips. He’s breathing heavily, abs flexing with each motion. It’s fucking tantalizing. All you want to do is put your hands there. Prop yourself up and feel the constriction of his body as he fucks into you like he’s racing to finish. But he told you not to.
It’s impressive how long he manages to keep going before he needs a break.
When he does, he lowers his hips back to the ground and moves his hands from your waist. One finds your face, running his thumb across your parted lips as you pant from his intensity. The other rubs slow, firm circles to your clit.
Neither is any help for your racing pulse. Your head is thumping wildly under the summer sun as Jack coaxes you closer and closer toward climax. Slowly, you begin to rock your hips back and forth to release the tension that’s beginning to cord through your body.
“So pretty. All mine,” Jack murmurs, pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb.
“Jack,” you moan, his words swimming in your head as desire courses through you. “Feels s’good. Don’t stop.”
“Not gonna stop, sweetheart. Take your time. We’ve got all day.”
God you love having the day off with him.
You continue grinding your hips against him as he rubs your clit, letting his other hand trail down your body with fluttering fingers that send shivers up your spine.
As soon as he applies a little more pressure to your clit, there’s a pit deep in your stomach. Urgency races through you as you rush to tell him.
“J-just like that, please. So close, Jack,” you whine, hips rutting sporadically now as pleasure consumes you.
Jack doesn’t change anything at all. He keeps his pressure, keeps his pace, and keeps absentmindedly trailing his fingers along your sensitive skin. It’s an emergency department perk-- he’s great under pressure. He doesn’t rush to pick up his pace or make you feel like you’re not getting there fast enough. He’s confident in what he’s doing. And it’s so fucking hot.
“Jack.” You call his name like a prayer as your orgasm rises higher and higher, nearly bursting.
“I’m right here, baby. You’ve got it. Doing so good,” he praises. It makes your core tighten around his cock, earning a quiet groan from him that completely undoes you.
Your body crashes forward, hands bracing yourself on his chest as your own body heaves with heavy, ragged breaths. Jack’s fingers pinch your nipples, sending another jolt through you as your pussy squeezes around him.
As you slowly come down, Jack takes one of your hands and lifts it from his chest to press five soft kisses in the center of your palm.
You swallow, leaning forward to press a hot wet kiss to his mouth.
“Your turn,” you whisper against his lips. Your voice is high and whiny from your orgasm. It’s his favorite fucking sound in the world.
Five minutes later, Jack comes hard and fast with you bouncing on his cock under the heat of the summer sun. Once he’s finished inside of you, he props himself up onto his elbows with that cocky grin that comes from a lifetime of women fawning over him.
Not a day goes by that you’re not happy he chose you out of them all.
His head nods slowly as he surveys your body.
“So fuckin’ hot,” he mumbles. His thumb reaches out to catch a bead of sweat that drips between your breasts. Then, holding your gaze, he licks it from his thumb. A loud, mean laugh leaves him when he feels you clench around him at the sight. “Already wanting round two?”
Giggling, you shake your head and slowly lift yourself up on your knees until his cock falls out of you and lays on his stomach. His cum drips down your thighs as soon as you release him, making it the only thing you’re wearing now.
“God, I love you.” Jack lies flat like he’s been struck by you.
“I love you too, Jack.” You press a kiss to his jaw before climbing to your feet. “Be right back!”
He lies there waiting under the grueling summer sun while he thinks about how many more days off he gets with you.
As promised, you return to his side less than a minute later with his crutches. You’ve made no effort to wipe any of his cum from your body, and it’s down both legs now, having run all the way down to your feet, too.
“Shower’s already started,” you tell him as he sits up. Once he’s ready, you pass him his crutches and give him room to find his balance in the uneven grass. While he does, you grab his prosthetic and your book.
A moment later, he’s pressing a kiss to the top of your head and following you through your shared home to the shower. Under the cool water, his skin is warm on yours as he peppers you with kisses while he silently thinks about how fucking lucky he is to have found you.
summary: jack would rather be in pain than forfeit a summer day spent outside with you. when you realize what he's doing, you show him just how much fun summer can be without his prosthetic on.
warnings: smut literally just mostly smut lol. jack being insecure about his leg and talks of prosthetic pain.
notes: in this pretend world grass isn't itchy and bugs don't exist. ok now enjoy!
masterlist 𓊔 request
A day off work in the summer is always a day well spent with Jack Abbot.
He’s waking up early to workout-- something you can always benefit from. Especially when he comes in afterward to wake you up with a cup of coffee. Smells mingle in the air: sweat, coffee, and the summer sun.
Afternoons are outside, always. Jack doesn’t get enough sunlight working nights, and you make sure he gets his healthy dose of vitamin D when you can. Usually, he works in the yard. He pulls weeds or mows the grass. If you’re lucky, he’ll do both things shirtless and you’ll get to call him over every hour to reapply sunscreen to his back.
The alarm goes off, so you put your book down and wave him over. He’s using the pool net to gather leaves and flowers that the breeze has blown in.
“Jack!” You call across the pool. You lift the sunscreen bottle in your hand and shake it, earning a small grin from him.
When he’s in your space, he gives a long exhale.
“How’s your book?” He presses a kiss to your lips.
Humming, you stand so that you can reach his upper body. When you’re on your feet, he lowers himself into your chair with a little grunt.
“You okay, Jack?” Your heart skips a beat when you realize how pained he looks. He’s getting older, you know that, but you didn’t think he was exhausted-from-an-hour-in-the-sun-old yet. With a concerned pout, you kneel before him and bring your water bottle to his mouth. “Here, drink something.”
A sweet smile finds his mouth as his dark eyes roam over your face. He takes the bottle from you and sets it on the ground next to your chair.
“‘M fine, sweetheart. Just my leg.” He leans back uncomfortably.
“The sweat?” You ask, looking down at the prosthetic limb. When he nods, you tilt your head. “Why don’t you take it off, baby?”
With narrowed eyes, he shakes his head. One hand comes down to massage his knee while the other cups your neck softly. You’re sweaty, too, from sitting out here with him. His thumb pushes back a bead of it that rolls from your hairline.
“I want to stay out here with you. Can’t do yard work with one leg,” he jokes. There’s a hint of something in his eyes, though. Something you don’t see often from Jack.
It’s vulnerable, almost a little insecure. Like he’s worried you’ll realize something you don’t like about him if he reveals a weakness to you. Despite the wedding, despite the house you own together, and despite the countless times you’ve seen him without his prosthetic on, his mind still gets the best of him sometimes.
And you get where he’s coming from. There’s been a decades-long internal battle for him over this injury. He’s lost something. Gotten it back in a way that everyone expects him to pretend is normal when it’s not.
The honest truth is that you’ve never really thought twice about his limb difference. When you met Jack, it’d been years since he lost the lower half of his leg. To you, he’s the same as he’s always been.
It’s affected parts of your own life, certainly. When you two had this home built, you had to consider little tid bits that would enable Jack to live as independently as possible. Your shower, for example. In it is a granite shelf that takes up half of the space. It’s a shower chair for him, but that fact isn’t obvious to anyone else. If someone came in who didn’t know that Jack was an amputee, they’d just think that the ledge in your shower was there for shampoo bottles or sex. Which it also was.
You’ve done little things like that to meet him where he’s at. Valued the shorter paths and learned to pay attention to what surfaces he’d have to walk on if you wanted to bring him to a restaurant or a bar.
Never has his situation ever been an issue for you, and when he lets himself think otherwise, you’re quick to dispel the anxiety.
“Don’t have to do yard work to stay out here with me,” you comment, already untying his sneakers.
“Oh yeah?” His chin tilts upward slightly as he meets your eyes.
“Yeah.” Your voice is a whisper.
“Well I can’t sit here with you,” he explains. He always has to tease you before sex. Make you work until you’re throwing yourself at him before he caves in. “We only have the one chair.”
The other chair, his chair, broke when he set a dumbbell down on the arm rest between sets and snapped it clean off.
“Don’t need more than one chair, baby.” Easily, you slide his prosthetic from his knee, and then the sleeve underneath it. The same motions you’ve acted out hundreds of times before. Then, you stand, pretending to adjust your bikini top. “You don’t mind if we share, right?”
“Share?” He pretends to contemplate it while his gaze roams shamelessly over your body.
“Please?” You bend down to put a hand on his bicep when really you’re just looking for an excuse to move your tits into his eyeline so he’ll agree.
“Sure. Since you asked so sweetly.” His arm is around your back and pulling you into his lap before you have time to move on your own.
He’s got you bridal style-- your legs are hanging over one of the chair arms while your head rests on his shoulder. You’re both warm and sticky with sweat. Your hands wind around his neck, fingers combing into the curls there that are slightly damp.
The sun brings out all of the freckles on his shoulders and cheeks.
While you’re taking in the sight of him, he’s slowly inching closer until there’s no room between you. His lips are soft and careful on yours. When you kiss him back just as slowly it draws a quiet groan from the back of his throat. His hand rests on the curve of your ass and squeezes.
That’s how Jack has always kissed. His mouth is slow and romantic. He takes his time there. He’s a gentleman.
But his hands have a mind of their own. From first contact, he’s trying to strip you down. He’s fondling your tits and slapping your ass and squeezing every inch of skin he can get his hands on. He’s a man starved.
So, maybe he’s a gentleman starved.
While the one hand kneads your ass, the other moves to the back of your suit to untie your top. It’s easy. One pull and the fabric is loose, releasing your breasts of the support and leaving the cute top hanging uselessly around your neck now. Of course, the next thing he does is undo that tie too so that it falls to the floor and he can get a full view of your tits.
His tongue pulls out of your mouth and into his own as he leans back to ogle you.
“So fuckin’ sexy.” Big palms grip both your boobs. “All mine.”
Helplessly, you nod.
“All yours,” you confirm.
That brings a cute smirk to his lips before his face is back on yours, pressing more aggressively now as he works his mouth against yours. A moan comes from your chest as he begins to roll your nipples between his forefinger and thumb with the perfect amount of pressure.
Your hips roll against his crotch once before you’re climbing off of his lap.
“What’re you-”
He cuts himself off when he watches you step out of your swimsuit bottoms. Immediately, he’s pulling his shirt over his head. Had you not been so eager, pulling his shorts off would’ve been an awkward maneuver, but instead of giving him any time, you’re reaching under his waistband and pulling his cock out with no issue.
“Need you, Jack.” You’re back in his lap, panting against his skin as you press hot kisses down the column of his neck. “Please, baby. Please.”
“You have me, sweet girl,” he murmurs into your hair before pushing you off of him and back to your feet. When you pout at him, he twirls his finger. “Face the yard. Back to me. I’ve got you.”
Obediently, you turn around so that your back is facing him. Jack strokes himself with his free hand while the other holds your waist to guide you down slowly, carefully. Your own arms grip the armrests as you lower yourself onto him, stopping when your wetness touches the tip of his dick.
“Jack.” It’s a desperate whimper.
“You’re ok, keep going. That’s it, c’mon, all the way.” He continues coaxing you further down until you’re situated with the base of his cock nestled all the way inside of you. You’re sitting spine-straight on his lap, hands white-knuckling the lawn chair.
Jack reaches a hand up and around you, running his palm up your thigh and onto your stomach, gently leaning back with you until you’re flush against his chest. Once you are, his mouth drops to your shoulder, biting softly before pressing a soft kiss there.
“Relax for me, sweetheart. It’s ok. Just gonna stay like this for a minute, yeah?” He coos, trailing his hand to your nipple and pinching it lightly. Your pussy tightens around him. “Atta girl, good job. Doing good for me, baby.”
As he continues toying with your tits, you slowly relax into him. Your body lightens as you unclench the chair. Your head rolls back onto his shoulder, angled to the side so he can hear your pretty pants and moans in his ear.
His ministrations quickly become too much. You’re squirming around in his lap, earning deep, frustrated growls from him.
“Sit still,” he orders, one hand coming down to secure your hip while the other continues to pinch and roll your nipples.
“‘M trying, Jack.” Your hips push hard into his lap as you brace yourself against his teasing. “Just feels s-so good.”
His chest rumbles against your back as he inhales shakily.
The way his hands are squeezing you harder, teasing you more, you can tell his resolve is wearing. You stop trying to stay still. You rock your hips in his lap, grinding yourself down onto his cock. Doing exactly what he told you not to.
“C’mon, quit-- fuck,” he groans into the skin of your shoulder. “Fuck, baby. You feel so good.”
Your motions are slow and controlled, though your upper body still twitches wildly as Jack continues to play with your tits.
The angle is difficult to maneuver in with your weight being solely on him. It gives way for you grinding, but not much else. Still, Jack tries to thrust himself up into you.
This is the most frustrating thing for him post-amputation. It isn’t the pain or the rashes and welts. It’s wanting to move his body the way he did before. Being able to stand from a chair and walk without crutches. Being able to pick you up while he carries you to the bed in a moment like this. It’s the freedom and impulsivity that he wants to exercise but finds himself unable to do.
Now he needs help with certain things. But he is determined not to need help with this. Pleasing you is a job he’ll always be capable of achieving. Even if the means to do it are a little unconventional.
So, when his body doesn’t let him fuck you in this position, he needs to find another.
Without warning, Jack pins you to his chest with a strong palm on your stomach and a cradling grasp around your head. Then, he uses his foot to push off of the ground and tip the chair backward into the pillowy grass that he just cut.
With the pillows on the back of the chair, he’s not worried.
A frightened squal leaves you as you and Jack fall backward. There’s a heavy thud and a crack of splitting plastic as both of you tumble into the grass.
Quickly, you pull yourself off of his dick and spring to your feet to check on him. As soon as you see that playful smirk on his face, you know that your husband had every intention of getting you both onto the floor.
In fact, he’s already positioned himself off of the chair and onto his back, propped up on one elbow while his other hand tugs his shorts and boxers all the way off. God, his body is unreal. Muscle consumes every inch of him, adorned by the handsome freckles that dot his skin.
When he catches you staring, he whistles.
“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.” He gives a flirty wink.
With a little giggle, you lower yourself to your knees and crawl the short distance to his body. That knocked much of the humor from his wandering eyes.
“My eyes are up here, sweetheart,” you mock when his gaze drops to your breasts. All he does in response is swallow hard as he meets your stare. Pouting, you continue, “you broke my chair again.”
“I’m sorry, doll.” Lust is heavy in his voice. His hands come to your waist, moving you on top of him. Now he’s flat on his back underneath you. His cock is wet against your thigh, still coated in your slick. “Let me make it up to you.”
Nodding, you roll your hips back and lean forward to connect your mouth with his. It’s all tongue from the moment you start. And as soon as it begins, he’s pushing you to sit up.
“Is that a fair trade?” He asks, spitting in his hand and pushing you up to spread his saliva between your legs.
“W-what?” You bumble as his pointer finger skims your clit.
“For the chair, sweetheart. Is this fair?” Your answer doesn’t matter, because he’s impatiently tapping your thigh, urging you to sit on his cock again. “Faster, baby. Keep up.”
“Yes. Yes, yes it’s fair.” Your vision swims as you nod quickly.
“Good.”
When you move to sink down onto him, he tightens his grip on your waist, making you pause. Instead of letting you lower yourself all the way, he keeps you suspended with barely the tip inside of you.
You’re trying to speak, to say anything, but the sudden slam of his cock against your cervix as he bucks his hips up into you takes your breath away. You inhale sharply in response, falling forward as he rams up into you again.
Suddenly, his movements stop.
“Sit up, baby. Wanna see y’tits.” His voice is breathy, desperate.
It leaves you no choice but to obey.
As soon as you’re upright again, he resumes his punishing pace. It makes your breasts bounce up and down each time he enters. Moan after moan spills from your lips. He’s breathing heavily, abs flexing with each motion. It’s fucking tantalizing. All you want to do is put your hands there. Prop yourself up and feel the constriction of his body as he fucks into you like he’s racing to finish. But he told you not to.
It’s impressive how long he manages to keep going before he needs a break.
When he does, he lowers his hips back to the ground and moves his hands from your waist. One finds your face, running his thumb across your parted lips as you pant from his intensity. The other rubs slow, firm circles to your clit.
Neither is any help for your racing pulse. Your head is thumping wildly under the summer sun as Jack coaxes you closer and closer toward climax. Slowly, you begin to rock your hips back and forth to release the tension that’s beginning to cord through your body.
“So pretty. All mine,” Jack murmurs, pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb.
“Jack,” you moan, his words swimming in your head as desire courses through you. “Feels s’good. Don’t stop.”
“Not gonna stop, sweetheart. Take your time. We’ve got all day.”
God you love having the day off with him.
You continue grinding your hips against him as he rubs your clit, letting his other hand trail down your body with fluttering fingers that send shivers up your spine.
As soon as he applies a little more pressure to your clit, there’s a pit deep in your stomach. Urgency races through you as you rush to tell him.
“J-just like that, please. So close, Jack,” you whine, hips rutting sporadically now as pleasure consumes you.
Jack doesn’t change anything at all. He keeps his pressure, keeps his pace, and keeps absentmindedly trailing his fingers along your sensitive skin. It’s an emergency department perk-- he’s great under pressure. He doesn’t rush to pick up his pace or make you feel like you’re not getting there fast enough. He’s confident in what he’s doing. And it’s so fucking hot.
“Jack.” You call his name like a prayer as your orgasm rises higher and higher, nearly bursting.
“I’m right here, baby. You’ve got it. Doing so good,” he praises. It makes your core tighten around his cock, earning a quiet groan from him that completely undoes you.
Your body crashes forward, hands bracing yourself on his chest as your own body heaves with heavy, ragged breaths. Jack’s fingers pinch your nipples, sending another jolt through you as your pussy squeezes around him.
As you slowly come down, Jack takes one of your hands and lifts it from his chest to press five soft kisses in the center of your palm.
You swallow, leaning forward to press a hot wet kiss to his mouth.
“Your turn,” you whisper against his lips. Your voice is high and whiny from your orgasm. It’s his favorite fucking sound in the world.
Five minutes later, Jack comes hard and fast with you bouncing on his cock under the heat of the summer sun. Once he’s finished inside of you, he props himself up onto his elbows with that cocky grin that comes from a lifetime of women fawning over him.
Not a day goes by that you’re not happy he chose you out of them all.
His head nods slowly as he surveys your body.
“So fuckin’ hot,” he mumbles. His thumb reaches out to catch a bead of sweat that drips between your breasts. Then, holding your gaze, he licks it from his thumb. A loud, mean laugh leaves him when he feels you clench around him at the sight. “Already wanting round two?”
Giggling, you shake your head and slowly lift yourself up on your knees until his cock falls out of you and lays on his stomach. His cum drips down your thighs as soon as you release him, making it the only thing you’re wearing now.
“God, I love you.” Jack lies flat like he’s been struck by you.
“I love you too, Jack.” You press a kiss to his jaw before climbing to your feet. “Be right back!”
He lies there waiting under the grueling summer sun while he thinks about how many more days off he gets with you.
As promised, you return to his side less than a minute later with his crutches. You’ve made no effort to wipe any of his cum from your body, and it’s down both legs now, having run all the way down to your feet, too.
“Shower’s already started,” you tell him as he sits up. Once he’s ready, you pass him his crutches and give him room to find his balance in the uneven grass. While he does, you grab his prosthetic and your book.
A moment later, he’s pressing a kiss to the top of your head and following you through your shared home to the shower. Under the cool water, his skin is warm on yours as he peppers you with kisses while he silently thinks about how fucking lucky he is to have found you.
summary: jack would rather be in pain than forfeit a summer day spent outside with you. when you realize what he's doing, you show him just how much fun summer can be without his prosthetic on.
warnings: smut literally just mostly smut lol. jack being insecure about his leg and talks of prosthetic pain.
notes: in this pretend world grass isn't itchy and bugs don't exist. ok now enjoy!
masterlist 𓊔 request
A day off work in the summer is always a day well spent with Jack Abbot.
He’s waking up early to workout-- something you can always benefit from. Especially when he comes in afterward to wake you up with a cup of coffee. Smells mingle in the air: sweat, coffee, and the summer sun.
Afternoons are outside, always. Jack doesn’t get enough sunlight working nights, and you make sure he gets his healthy dose of vitamin D when you can. Usually, he works in the yard. He pulls weeds or mows the grass. If you’re lucky, he’ll do both things shirtless and you’ll get to call him over every hour to reapply sunscreen to his back.
The alarm goes off, so you put your book down and wave him over. He’s using the pool net to gather leaves and flowers that the breeze has blown in.
“Jack!” You call across the pool. You lift the sunscreen bottle in your hand and shake it, earning a small grin from him.
When he’s in your space, he gives a long exhale.
“How’s your book?” He presses a kiss to your lips.
Humming, you stand so that you can reach his upper body. When you’re on your feet, he lowers himself into your chair with a little grunt.
“You okay, Jack?” Your heart skips a beat when you realize how pained he looks. He’s getting older, you know that, but you didn’t think he was exhausted-from-an-hour-in-the-sun-old yet. With a concerned pout, you kneel before him and bring your water bottle to his mouth. “Here, drink something.”
A sweet smile finds his mouth as his dark eyes roam over your face. He takes the bottle from you and sets it on the ground next to your chair.
“‘M fine, sweetheart. Just my leg.” He leans back uncomfortably.
“The sweat?” You ask, looking down at the prosthetic limb. When he nods, you tilt your head. “Why don’t you take it off, baby?”
With narrowed eyes, he shakes his head. One hand comes down to massage his knee while the other cups your neck softly. You’re sweaty, too, from sitting out here with him. His thumb pushes back a bead of it that rolls from your hairline.
“I want to stay out here with you. Can’t do yard work with one leg,” he jokes. There’s a hint of something in his eyes, though. Something you don’t see often from Jack.
It’s vulnerable, almost a little insecure. Like he’s worried you’ll realize something you don’t like about him if he reveals a weakness to you. Despite the wedding, despite the house you own together, and despite the countless times you’ve seen him without his prosthetic on, his mind still gets the best of him sometimes.
And you get where he’s coming from. There’s been a decades-long internal battle for him over this injury. He’s lost something. Gotten it back in a way that everyone expects him to pretend is normal when it’s not.
The honest truth is that you’ve never really thought twice about his limb difference. When you met Jack, it’d been years since he lost the lower half of his leg. To you, he’s the same as he’s always been.
It’s affected parts of your own life, certainly. When you two had this home built, you had to consider little tid bits that would enable Jack to live as independently as possible. Your shower, for example. In it is a granite shelf that takes up half of the space. It’s a shower chair for him, but that fact isn’t obvious to anyone else. If someone came in who didn’t know that Jack was an amputee, they’d just think that the ledge in your shower was there for shampoo bottles or sex. Which it also was.
You’ve done little things like that to meet him where he’s at. Valued the shorter paths and learned to pay attention to what surfaces he’d have to walk on if you wanted to bring him to a restaurant or a bar.
Never has his situation ever been an issue for you, and when he lets himself think otherwise, you’re quick to dispel the anxiety.
“Don’t have to do yard work to stay out here with me,” you comment, already untying his sneakers.
“Oh yeah?” His chin tilts upward slightly as he meets your eyes.
“Yeah.” Your voice is a whisper.
“Well I can’t sit here with you,” he explains. He always has to tease you before sex. Make you work until you’re throwing yourself at him before he caves in. “We only have the one chair.”
The other chair, his chair, broke when he set a dumbbell down on the arm rest between sets and snapped it clean off.
“Don’t need more than one chair, baby.” Easily, you slide his prosthetic from his knee, and then the sleeve underneath it. The same motions you’ve acted out hundreds of times before. Then, you stand, pretending to adjust your bikini top. “You don’t mind if we share, right?”
“Share?” He pretends to contemplate it while his gaze roams shamelessly over your body.
“Please?” You bend down to put a hand on his bicep when really you’re just looking for an excuse to move your tits into his eyeline so he’ll agree.
“Sure. Since you asked so sweetly.” His arm is around your back and pulling you into his lap before you have time to move on your own.
He’s got you bridal style-- your legs are hanging over one of the chair arms while your head rests on his shoulder. You’re both warm and sticky with sweat. Your hands wind around his neck, fingers combing into the curls there that are slightly damp.
The sun brings out all of the freckles on his shoulders and cheeks.
While you’re taking in the sight of him, he’s slowly inching closer until there’s no room between you. His lips are soft and careful on yours. When you kiss him back just as slowly it draws a quiet groan from the back of his throat. His hand rests on the curve of your ass and squeezes.
That’s how Jack has always kissed. His mouth is slow and romantic. He takes his time there. He’s a gentleman.
But his hands have a mind of their own. From first contact, he’s trying to strip you down. He’s fondling your tits and slapping your ass and squeezing every inch of skin he can get his hands on. He’s a man starved.
So, maybe he’s a gentleman starved.
While the one hand kneads your ass, the other moves to the back of your suit to untie your top. It’s easy. One pull and the fabric is loose, releasing your breasts of the support and leaving the cute top hanging uselessly around your neck now. Of course, the next thing he does is undo that tie too so that it falls to the floor and he can get a full view of your tits.
His tongue pulls out of your mouth and into his own as he leans back to ogle you.
“So fuckin’ sexy.” Big palms grip both your boobs. “All mine.”
Helplessly, you nod.
“All yours,” you confirm.
That brings a cute smirk to his lips before his face is back on yours, pressing more aggressively now as he works his mouth against yours. A moan comes from your chest as he begins to roll your nipples between his forefinger and thumb with the perfect amount of pressure.
Your hips roll against his crotch once before you’re climbing off of his lap.
“What’re you-”
He cuts himself off when he watches you step out of your swimsuit bottoms. Immediately, he’s pulling his shirt over his head. Had you not been so eager, pulling his shorts off would’ve been an awkward maneuver, but instead of giving him any time, you’re reaching under his waistband and pulling his cock out with no issue.
“Need you, Jack.” You’re back in his lap, panting against his skin as you press hot kisses down the column of his neck. “Please, baby. Please.”
“You have me, sweet girl,” he murmurs into your hair before pushing you off of him and back to your feet. When you pout at him, he twirls his finger. “Face the yard. Back to me. I’ve got you.”
Obediently, you turn around so that your back is facing him. Jack strokes himself with his free hand while the other holds your waist to guide you down slowly, carefully. Your own arms grip the armrests as you lower yourself onto him, stopping when your wetness touches the tip of his dick.
“Jack.” It’s a desperate whimper.
“You’re ok, keep going. That’s it, c’mon, all the way.” He continues coaxing you further down until you’re situated with the base of his cock nestled all the way inside of you. You’re sitting spine-straight on his lap, hands white-knuckling the lawn chair.
Jack reaches a hand up and around you, running his palm up your thigh and onto your stomach, gently leaning back with you until you’re flush against his chest. Once you are, his mouth drops to your shoulder, biting softly before pressing a soft kiss there.
“Relax for me, sweetheart. It’s ok. Just gonna stay like this for a minute, yeah?” He coos, trailing his hand to your nipple and pinching it lightly. Your pussy tightens around him. “Atta girl, good job. Doing good for me, baby.”
As he continues toying with your tits, you slowly relax into him. Your body lightens as you unclench the chair. Your head rolls back onto his shoulder, angled to the side so he can hear your pretty pants and moans in his ear.
His ministrations quickly become too much. You’re squirming around in his lap, earning deep, frustrated growls from him.
“Sit still,” he orders, one hand coming down to secure your hip while the other continues to pinch and roll your nipples.
“‘M trying, Jack.” Your hips push hard into his lap as you brace yourself against his teasing. “Just feels s-so good.”
His chest rumbles against your back as he inhales shakily.
The way his hands are squeezing you harder, teasing you more, you can tell his resolve is wearing. You stop trying to stay still. You rock your hips in his lap, grinding yourself down onto his cock. Doing exactly what he told you not to.
“C’mon, quit-- fuck,” he groans into the skin of your shoulder. “Fuck, baby. You feel so good.”
Your motions are slow and controlled, though your upper body still twitches wildly as Jack continues to play with your tits.
The angle is difficult to maneuver in with your weight being solely on him. It gives way for you grinding, but not much else. Still, Jack tries to thrust himself up into you.
This is the most frustrating thing for him post-amputation. It isn’t the pain or the rashes and welts. It’s wanting to move his body the way he did before. Being able to stand from a chair and walk without crutches. Being able to pick you up while he carries you to the bed in a moment like this. It’s the freedom and impulsivity that he wants to exercise but finds himself unable to do.
Now he needs help with certain things. But he is determined not to need help with this. Pleasing you is a job he’ll always be capable of achieving. Even if the means to do it are a little unconventional.
So, when his body doesn’t let him fuck you in this position, he needs to find another.
Without warning, Jack pins you to his chest with a strong palm on your stomach and a cradling grasp around your head. Then, he uses his foot to push off of the ground and tip the chair backward into the pillowy grass that he just cut.
With the pillows on the back of the chair, he’s not worried.
A frightened squal leaves you as you and Jack fall backward. There’s a heavy thud and a crack of splitting plastic as both of you tumble into the grass.
Quickly, you pull yourself off of his dick and spring to your feet to check on him. As soon as you see that playful smirk on his face, you know that your husband had every intention of getting you both onto the floor.
In fact, he’s already positioned himself off of the chair and onto his back, propped up on one elbow while his other hand tugs his shorts and boxers all the way off. God, his body is unreal. Muscle consumes every inch of him, adorned by the handsome freckles that dot his skin.
When he catches you staring, he whistles.
“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.” He gives a flirty wink.
With a little giggle, you lower yourself to your knees and crawl the short distance to his body. That knocked much of the humor from his wandering eyes.
“My eyes are up here, sweetheart,” you mock when his gaze drops to your breasts. All he does in response is swallow hard as he meets your stare. Pouting, you continue, “you broke my chair again.”
“I’m sorry, doll.” Lust is heavy in his voice. His hands come to your waist, moving you on top of him. Now he’s flat on his back underneath you. His cock is wet against your thigh, still coated in your slick. “Let me make it up to you.”
Nodding, you roll your hips back and lean forward to connect your mouth with his. It’s all tongue from the moment you start. And as soon as it begins, he’s pushing you to sit up.
“Is that a fair trade?” He asks, spitting in his hand and pushing you up to spread his saliva between your legs.
“W-what?” You bumble as his pointer finger skims your clit.
“For the chair, sweetheart. Is this fair?” Your answer doesn’t matter, because he’s impatiently tapping your thigh, urging you to sit on his cock again. “Faster, baby. Keep up.”
“Yes. Yes, yes it’s fair.” Your vision swims as you nod quickly.
“Good.”
When you move to sink down onto him, he tightens his grip on your waist, making you pause. Instead of letting you lower yourself all the way, he keeps you suspended with barely the tip inside of you.
You’re trying to speak, to say anything, but the sudden slam of his cock against your cervix as he bucks his hips up into you takes your breath away. You inhale sharply in response, falling forward as he rams up into you again.
Suddenly, his movements stop.
“Sit up, baby. Wanna see y’tits.” His voice is breathy, desperate.
It leaves you no choice but to obey.
As soon as you’re upright again, he resumes his punishing pace. It makes your breasts bounce up and down each time he enters. Moan after moan spills from your lips. He’s breathing heavily, abs flexing with each motion. It’s fucking tantalizing. All you want to do is put your hands there. Prop yourself up and feel the constriction of his body as he fucks into you like he’s racing to finish. But he told you not to.
It’s impressive how long he manages to keep going before he needs a break.
When he does, he lowers his hips back to the ground and moves his hands from your waist. One finds your face, running his thumb across your parted lips as you pant from his intensity. The other rubs slow, firm circles to your clit.
Neither is any help for your racing pulse. Your head is thumping wildly under the summer sun as Jack coaxes you closer and closer toward climax. Slowly, you begin to rock your hips back and forth to release the tension that’s beginning to cord through your body.
“So pretty. All mine,” Jack murmurs, pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb.
“Jack,” you moan, his words swimming in your head as desire courses through you. “Feels s’good. Don’t stop.”
“Not gonna stop, sweetheart. Take your time. We’ve got all day.”
God you love having the day off with him.
You continue grinding your hips against him as he rubs your clit, letting his other hand trail down your body with fluttering fingers that send shivers up your spine.
As soon as he applies a little more pressure to your clit, there’s a pit deep in your stomach. Urgency races through you as you rush to tell him.
“J-just like that, please. So close, Jack,” you whine, hips rutting sporadically now as pleasure consumes you.
Jack doesn’t change anything at all. He keeps his pressure, keeps his pace, and keeps absentmindedly trailing his fingers along your sensitive skin. It’s an emergency department perk-- he’s great under pressure. He doesn’t rush to pick up his pace or make you feel like you’re not getting there fast enough. He’s confident in what he’s doing. And it’s so fucking hot.
“Jack.” You call his name like a prayer as your orgasm rises higher and higher, nearly bursting.
“I’m right here, baby. You’ve got it. Doing so good,” he praises. It makes your core tighten around his cock, earning a quiet groan from him that completely undoes you.
Your body crashes forward, hands bracing yourself on his chest as your own body heaves with heavy, ragged breaths. Jack’s fingers pinch your nipples, sending another jolt through you as your pussy squeezes around him.
As you slowly come down, Jack takes one of your hands and lifts it from his chest to press five soft kisses in the center of your palm.
You swallow, leaning forward to press a hot wet kiss to his mouth.
“Your turn,” you whisper against his lips. Your voice is high and whiny from your orgasm. It’s his favorite fucking sound in the world.
Five minutes later, Jack comes hard and fast with you bouncing on his cock under the heat of the summer sun. Once he’s finished inside of you, he props himself up onto his elbows with that cocky grin that comes from a lifetime of women fawning over him.
Not a day goes by that you’re not happy he chose you out of them all.
His head nods slowly as he surveys your body.
“So fuckin’ hot,” he mumbles. His thumb reaches out to catch a bead of sweat that drips between your breasts. Then, holding your gaze, he licks it from his thumb. A loud, mean laugh leaves him when he feels you clench around him at the sight. “Already wanting round two?”
Giggling, you shake your head and slowly lift yourself up on your knees until his cock falls out of you and lays on his stomach. His cum drips down your thighs as soon as you release him, making it the only thing you’re wearing now.
“God, I love you.” Jack lies flat like he’s been struck by you.
“I love you too, Jack.” You press a kiss to his jaw before climbing to your feet. “Be right back!”
He lies there waiting under the grueling summer sun while he thinks about how many more days off he gets with you.
As promised, you return to his side less than a minute later with his crutches. You’ve made no effort to wipe any of his cum from your body, and it’s down both legs now, having run all the way down to your feet, too.
“Shower’s already started,” you tell him as he sits up. Once he’s ready, you pass him his crutches and give him room to find his balance in the uneven grass. While he does, you grab his prosthetic and your book.
A moment later, he’s pressing a kiss to the top of your head and following you through your shared home to the shower. Under the cool water, his skin is warm on yours as he peppers you with kisses while he silently thinks about how fucking lucky he is to have found you.
goodness gracious it’s been a hot minute! i’m sorry for the slow week, i graduated college and started working full time so it’s been a little crazy! i will post something by the end of tonight trust 🫰
WOOF being tipsy on this website is dangerous!!! i just want to give you all my instagram and be bffs!!!! anonymity be damned!!!!! maybe instead i’ll just write a lil smutty blurb tbd 🫰🫰🫰
summary: doctors make the worst patients, but jack abbot might be the exception
warnings: phew um ok y'all we've got a little malpractice, little unethical therapy boundaries, little immoral client/therapist relationship... also pittsburgh pirates tw
masterlist 𓊔 request
Doctors always make the worst patients.
There’s no question about it. They’re certain they know best, they’re reluctant to accept help, and most of all, they’re clueless.
Seriously, you once treated a doctor who had persistent panic attacks when confronted by her surgical attending. She swore up and down that there was no anxiety there. That it was just an illness that spontaneously consumed her each time she saw the older woman.
It wasn’t until she finally projectile vomited all over said attending that she agreed that maybe she had a little anxiety.
Unfortunately, Jack Abbot wasn’t much better.
For starters, he was always at least twenty minutes early no matter how insistent you were that he didn’t need to be.
And when your previous client, a young male resident from plastics, leaves your office, Jack stands. He starts for your room before you’ve invited him. He’s shoulder-checking the other man like this means something.
“Good morning, Dr. Abbot.” You shut the door behind him. He never takes his seat before you do.
“How many times are you going to make me ask before you stop calling me that?” He raises his eyebrows in an annoyingly-handsome fashion.
You take your seat in your large arm chair, and he sits on the loveseat across from you. He’s not in his scrubs today. Actually, you’ve only ever seen him in those once, and it was when he used one of his scarce breaks to swing by your office and reschedule with you after getting called in for a double.
Apparently, wearing scrubs makes him cranky. According to him and him only.
So, he’s usually dressed like this-- denim jeans and a plain-colored tee. Today, it’s a dark grey.
“I like the lighting in here today,” he comments as you drag a sip of your coffee. “It’s nice. Brighter than usual.”
You hum, nodding as you set the paper to-go cup back on your table.
“Thank you! I like it, too. I can’t have the windows open for privacy since we’re on the first floor, but I got these fancy new one-way glass filters that let the light in,” you share.
Some therapists may not feel comfortable engaging in such conversational topics with their clients, but it’s the only method you find Jack responds to. If you come at him too clinically, he responds equally as professional, and then nobody gets anywhere in your hour sessions.
“It looks nice. When did you have time to do that?” He shifts his gaze from the window to you.
Jack Abbot likes to stare.
“I did it yesterday evening,” you reply, adjusting your posture again. “The sun was long-gone by then which made it feel a little silly. This morning, though… it looked beautiful. I feel like I need some plants in here now or something.”
He chuckles, nodding as his eyes sweep over the room for what must be the hundredth time. It’s a result of his military background. Always so observant, so cautious of what may lurk in the shadows.
You’ve had around ten weekly sessions with him so far, and he’s made huge progress in his ability to be vulnerable with you. Still, you often find yourself tip-toeing around his thoughts until midway. Today, you’re determined to ease back on the chit chat and get into him sooner.
“You did a good job on it.” He nods in approval.
“Well, thank you. So, wh-”
He’s never interrupted you before.
“When did you do it?” He cocks his head like he’s examining you closely, ready to note any minute facial expression you may make.
You frown, leaning back slightly against the plush cushion.
“What? My window?” You grab your coffee again, sipping while he nods once more. You’re certain you already answered this question.
“You consulted on a patient in the ER this morning at 1:42 a.m.,” he says it as if it’s an explanation. Your mouth pops open, eyes widening at his pinpoint accuracy. Before you can comment on the inappropriateness of his topic, he starts again. “Don’t tell me you came back up here after an ER rotation to put up a window film. Is that why you’re so tired? You’re pulling a double?”
His astute observations shouldn’t surprise you anymore. Yet, Jack always finds a way to shock you with just how much he sees.
“This isn’t an appropriate conversation,” you reply.
“Sure it is. We’re both doctors. But I don’t need four cups of coffee before 10 a.m. to function on a normal day, and usually you don’t, either.” His head nods to your small trash bin that yes has three travel cups of coffee from the hospital stand. The fourth is currently in your hands.
“If you don’t make your point, Dr. Abbot, I’m going to have to insist that we move away from this conversation.” Each time you try to be firm with him, it earns you nothing but the sight of that smug grin on his face.
It’s hard not to let your gaze linger as he hooks an arm across the backboard of your sofa.
“You just work a lot, I’ve noticed.” Is his final remark on the matter. “You’re young, it takes a lot out of a person.”
“Speaking of work,” you segue in the most unsubtle way, “how have you been doing with the fewer shifts?”
“It’s a lot of time to fill.” His voice is even as always. He never waivers.
You nod, humming, waiting for him to continue. He doesnt. He almost never does.
“How are you filling it?” You prompt.
You miss the boyish gleam in his eyes when you ask it.
“Not much. I added another workout in. Take my dog for an extra walk. I’ve tried sitting down to read a book, but I can’t focus. I’m thinking about what’s going on here the whole time I’m at home,” he finally confesses.
“‘Here’ meaning the emergency department?” You clarify. If he meant here as in here, with you, that would complicate things.
“Right.” The lie falls easily.
You nod, taking note.
“Dr. Abbot, I’d like you to hear me out for a second here,” you start hesitantly, “but have you ever considered exploring more social avenues? I understand that you have other priorities, but meeting new people can be a really productive use of your time.”
“How?” You knew this would take some convincing.
“Maybe you could invite a friend to workout. Join a pick-up basketball game? You could always go to a Pirates game and talk with the person next to you,” you suggest.
A sour expression twists his face. It’s the most offended, perhaps, that you’ve ever seen him look.
“A Pirates game?” He leans forward. “C’mon. Don’t tell me you think so lowly of me.”
Raising your eyebrows, you thumb the hem of your skirt. Jack Abbot is a charming motherfucker, and when he gets on these playful little tangents with you, it can be hard to remember where you stand.
“Is the offense there the setting or the team?” You tilt your head and he mimics, tilting his to match. “Tread lightly, Dr. Abbot. Before this is a safe space, this is a Pirates sanctuary.”
Loudly, he laughs.
“You can’t be serious. How can someone so intelligent be so wrong about something this important?” His eyes are wide and you see it then.
That hint of something that you’ve only seen in them once before. Like his guard has fully collapsed and he’s letting you in to see a little glimpse of the man who lives locked away inside of him.
It’s gone as soon as it came.
“Yankees?” You guess, looking out the window filter. “Giants?”
“No and no. You’ve offended me three times now, sweetheart.” It falls from his lips so naturally that he doesn’t have time to stop it.
“Dr. Abbot--”
“Shit, I’m sorry.” The smile is wiped from both of your faces. A sobering wave crashes over the room as you both sit in silence for a moment.
It was inappropriate. You shouldn’t continue professionally. Not when you’re this certain he has romantic feelings for you.
Selfishly, immorally, you’ve grown a little attached to him. You’re not ready to let him go. You’ve been overlooking all the flirty comments and confessions to make this work. But this was undeniable. Indisputable.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says after a long silence.
When you meet his eyes, he’s already looking at you. Those dark eyes are burning with such intensity that it makes your stomach twist.
“How did you mean it?” Your clinical voice is in full effect now. The boundaries are unblurring. You’re drawing the line in the sand because you have to.
“Not like that,” he replies. Frustration, clearly with himself, is evident in his tone.
“Can you elaborate?” You push. It’s your job to push.
He inhales deeply.
“It’s just a habit,” he lies. “It won’t happen again. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That was a complete violation of our boundaries, but it wasn’t meant to be.”
You take a moment to sit with it. First, you appreciate the communication. At the beginning of your time with Jack, you could barely get more than four words in a sentence, and now he’s much more expressive.
Then, you contemplate how to proceed. You decide that you can talk it out, medical professional to medical professional.
“I understand. Do you think it’s ethical to continue our therapist-client relationship? If not, I have plenty of incredibly talented colleagues who would be open to taking you on as a client.”
“I want to stay with you,” he replies, not too quickly. Still, your pulse quickens. “There’s no lines being crossed. It was just a slip of the tongue, really. I’m sorry.”
Nodding, you take another sip of your coffee.
“Alright then, let’s get back to it. I believe you were talking about how much you love the Pirates?”
A howling laugh fills your office, and you know you’ve made the right decision for yourself. A selfish decision, one you’ll probably come to regret when you’re not right in front of the most handsome man you’ve ever seen while he enthusiastically berates the Pittsburgh Pirates.
