based on this request
wc: 1.2k
pairing: jack abbot x wife!reader
summary: jack has always liked privacy, but one of his biggest secrets is revealed one random afternoon.
c.warning: established relationship (married); mentions of minor injury and minor car accident; reader is a mother; no other warnings i think but if i missed something let me know!
a/n: gooooood it's been so long since i last wrote for jack. i missed him so much! i hope you liked this!
masterlist | requests
for years, jack’s personal life has been locked inside a vault. of course he’d mention you, his wife, from time to time. but always in passing and never waiting too long for his coworkers to asks any personal questions. and it’s not because he doesn’t love you, god knows he’s obsessed with you. but a small, overprotective part of him thinks that by distancing himself from you and your kids when he’s at work he manages to keep you away from the hospital.
he has spent a decade building a wall between his grueling work and the life he cherishes waiting for him back home.
but tonight, the universe has different plans for him.
you sit on the edge of the crinkling paper of the examination table in exam room 4, a dull, throbbing ache radiating down the left side of your neck. every time you try to tilt your head, a sharp reminder of the sudden impact flashes through your muscles. a minor fender-bender on the way home from your daughter's hockey practice left you with a stiff, aching neck, but thankfully, nothing more. next to you, your twelve-year-old daughter is swinging her legs off a plastic chair, her hockey gear bag resting by her feet. she’s still wearing her team jersey and, next to her, your five-year-old son is entirely unbothered by the clinical surroundings, happily coloring on a piece of scrap paper. the minor accident had sent your heart into your throat, but as you look at your children, the overwhelming wave of maternal relief keeps you grounded.
"it seems to be nothing more than a little muscle strain," dr shen says softly, his gloved hands expertly palpating the base of your skull, his expression a soothing balm to the lingering adrenaline in your veins. shen steps back, charting something on his tablet with a soft, reassuring smile. "the kids are completely clear, not a single mark or tender spot on either of them. i’m going to order a mild anti-inflammatory for you and then you are free to go home and rest."
"thank goodness," you sigh, reaching down to ruffle your son's hair. "i just wanted to be absolutely sure they were okay."
outside the glass doors of the exam room, jack is walking fast, clipboard in hand, listening to an intern rattle off a patient's vitals.
“send for dr. fitz, he’ll know what to do. and call me when you get the results. what’s the state of the girl in bay one?”
jack turns then towards the intern as she starts listing the latest lab results on the young patient that just arrived a few minutes ago. he is in full doctor mode. focused, distant, and professional.
that is, until he passes the curtain of your bay, a sudden movement catching his eye. it’s a high, dark auburn ponytail swinging back and forth. a very specific, familiar ponytail.
the same one he usually fights with on his days off as he helps his daughter get ready for practice, earnestly trying to avoid any bumps or stay hairs hanging from the ponytail. jack stops dead in his tracks, causing the intern to almost crash into his back.
jack looks through the pale curtain, eyes widening. the clipboard in his hand feels suddenly too heavy. and it only gets worse once he notices a second head poking though the curtain, this time his baby boy. his entire world is sitting right now in exam room 4.
he abandons the intern mid-sentence, pulling the curtain aside, his usual collected demeanor completely evaporating.
"jack?" shen looks up, surprised by his sudden entrance.
but jack isn't looking at him. he rushes straight to the side of the table, his eyes scanning you from head to toe, wide with a rare, raw panic. "what happened? are you okay? are the kids okay?"
"hey, breathe," you say instantly, reaching out to catch his hand. your fingers lace into his, and the grounding touch immediately lowers his shoulders, though his chest is still heaving. "we're okay. i promise. just a stupid little bumper-to-bumper on the way home from the rink. someone short-braked ahead of us."
your daughter rolls her eyes playfully. "mom took the hit like a champ, dad. you should be proud."
"daddy!" your five-year-old chirps, abandoning his coloring page to scramble off the chair and throw his arms around jack’s leg.
jack immediately drops to one knee, wrapping his strong arms around your son, burying his face in the boy's hair for a brief, fiercely protective second. he looks up at your daughter, reaching out to squeeze her knee. "you're sure you're both okay? nothing hurts?"
"we're totally fine, dad," she reassures him, giving him a warm smile.
only then does jack stand back up, turning his attention fully to you, eyes glowing with adoration and relief. his hand cups your cheek, his thumb gently brushing across your cheekbone. "and you? your neck?"
"just a little stiff," you murmur, leaning into his touch, completely accustomed to how deeply he cares for his family, even if he keeps it hidden from the rest of the world. "dr. shen was just checking me out. he says we’re good to go."
speaking of which… the room is entirely silent as four sets of eyes turn to the doctor.
you look past jack’s shoulder and notice that dr shen is standing there, his jaw slightly slack. on the other side of the curtain, the intern who had been following jack is staring open-mouthed, and a bunch of other nurses, including lena, have paused in the hallway, completely transfixed by the scene.
the great private dr. abbot is currently looking at you with a softness none of them knew he possessed, his hand resting tenderly on your waist while a local little league hockey player calls him dad.
jack blinks, finally realizing the audience he has gathered. he straightens up, but he doesn't let go of your hand, the other one resting on top of your son’s head. he clears his throat, the faint trace of a rare, boyish smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he looks at his stunned colleague.
"john," jack says, his voice regaining its usual steady cadence, though it's much warmer now. "i believe you've met my wife. and these are our kids."
shen blinks, a massive grin suddenly breaking across her face. "your kids? jack, you have a whole family!”
“i do,” he says, smiling softly.
“and you didn’t think of sharing that information with the group.”
"i like my privacy," jack defends himself. he looks down at his kids, then back to you, the sheer relief of knowing you are all safe overtaking any awkwardness about his secret being out. he leans down, pressing a lingering, sweet kiss to your lips right in front of the entire observation window. " i'm glad you're all safe."
"we are," you whisper, smiling against his lips. "now, can you sign our discharge papers, dr. abbot? we want to go home."
"consider it done," jack says softly. he turns to the staring interns outside with a mock-stern raise of his eyebrows, and they instantly scramble back to work, whispering excitedly among themselves.
as jack helps you down from the table and gathers your son into his arms, you know his quiet, mysterious reputation at the hospital is officially over, but seeing the proud, contented smile on his face as he walks his family out, it’s clear he doesn't mind one bit.
Divorced dad!Ghost noticing his new younger neighbor talking to his 4 year old daughter Emily, cooing over a frog she found while you tell her not to kiss it because it wont turn into a frog prince (duh), cigarette in hand as he silently watches.
That sundress does nothing to hide your frame, the swell of your breasts peeking out the top of the dress, a pretty necklace hanging in your cleavage, his cock chubs up nicely in his work pants, wishing he could just bend you over and take you in the middle of the street. He'll settle for just this for now.
30 minutes later Emily drags you to Simon to introduce you as "the pretty lady from next door" and you awe at her before sticking your hand out for a handshake towards the big brute.
He extends his thick calloused hand and shakes it firmly, feeling how soft your hand is, he feels no ring... good. He'll change that soon.
You end up talking for a while exchanging numbers before heading off to wherever you were going before.
Ghost stares at the phone number you gave him before quickly shutting his phone off, already anticipating the next time he sees you.
pre-shift rituals
or: jack takes to semi-motorboating you before taking on the night.
Instead of simply clocking into the night shift like the very competent medical professionals you and he are, you're perched in Jack's lap in the driver's seat of his truck. The heat's cranked high, just to egg on the way you two sloppily make out with each other.
Jack gets even sloppier when you begin to grind on him, a wetter, swirling tongue as he mashes his lips into yours while your ass moves with your scrubbed-clothed cunt.
But somehow, what started as tongue dancing softens into something worse. Less filthy. Just as?
Even more so, with how serious your old man boy takes it.
"You're a good man, Jackie."
Jack buries his face in your tits with his arms locked around you.
You feel his breath smothered against your chest. You wonder if he takes your praises just as seriously. He damn well should! This is the pre-game ritual, what you and Jack do before the ER sinks its nails into him.
"You're gonna be good tonight."
You cup the back of his head as he scoffs. His mouth purses against the top of your tit when he does.
God, you love this in a way that's too horny for how routine and calming this is for him.
...Not that there haven't been moments where the ritual ends with him trying to find his way up inside your cunt, forcing you to moan quietly as you bounce between his belly and the wheel. But tonight, you think he just needs you settling him before the battle of the Pitt.
"M'good, baby."
You smile at the smushed, gruff assurance. It tickles. You smooth your hand over his curls.
"You’re gonna be gentle. You're gonna drink water. You’re gonna take your meds when your alarm goes off."
Jack just sits there, taking your praises like he's been starving for your voice all day...even though you've been with him all day. And you're about to spend a 12-hour shift with him. Funny doctor.
My Jackie.
He rubs his cheek against your breasts, pressing down further.
"Okay. I'll do that. I always do that."
He does whatever the hell you want him to, kiddo. With how many times he's engulfed you in the seat of his truck with his face nuzzled in your tits, you should know by now.
Pleaseeeee do more of the portal pussy with tf141🙏🙏
cw freeuse
it’s a ritual everyone must go through. hell, it’s the military, place where egotistical men get off on the power of being older- it would be weird if there wasn’t any type of hazing.
so when the new recruits come, the team finds the perfect opportunity where you’re home on leave to have some fun since youve up and left them dry without a nice cute body to dump their loads on or in.
they have the group of young men line up, each one standing with both resolve and tension. they await their fates as ghost walks up and down the line. tension hangs in the air…would they be cleaning the bathrooms? punched in the gut? who knew?
ghost approaches the man at one end, muscular, probably of latin descent with jet black hair. and that’s when ghost extends his hand with your pussy in it. the recruit doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t even let his eyes drop down to the toy.
“know what this is, recruit?”
the recruit swallows. “yes, sir.” there’s a pause. “a pocket pussy, sir.” yes, a portal pocket pussy.
“good.” he takes the recruits hand, shoving the toy onto his grasps. “show me what you can do.”
and thats when the recruit finally shows some type of reaction, glancing back up and down from the pussy in hand to the ice cold stare of his Lieutenant. “you mean….use it? sir?”
theres a moment of hesitation but with three of his superiors there, nothing could be done, so the recruit slowly brings his fingers up and down the silicon slit that feels just a little too real to be considered silicon. technology must have advanced quickly!
price looms over the shoulder of the recruit, eyes narrowing on his careful choices. “c’mon son, you a virgin? that how you fuck a lady?”
so the recruit swallows his inhibitions and sinks two fingers into the warm cunt. hes immediately met with a lewd squelch and his fingers burn with a heat that he assumes is his own embarrassment. and hes so enamored with the way the toy seems to squeeze around him that he doesn’t even notice three particular stares watching the way the toy magically gets wetter and wetter.
and then he passes it down the line as instructed to do per captain’s orders. the next recruit is much more eager, his dick already out as he slaps his hardened length against the plush cunt of the toy. he’s nudging the clit with his tip before sinking his average dick into the cute little hole thats just made with so much detail for a toy!
then theres a man whos pushing in the base of his knife into the hole, collecting the drippings and shoving it back in with the tenderness of a brick. then a boy who can only swipe frantically across its clit. then some brute who’s humping his dick lamely into the soft opening. one by one, they pass down the toy- some determined to show “skill,” and others just wanting an excuse to get off.
and then theyre nearing the end of the line. soap takes the toy and puts it in the recruits hand. the recruit doesnt hesitate, but calmly brings the toy to his lips. he experimentally blows against the clit and miraculously, it twitches. theres a soft kitten lick at the bundle of nerves before he engulfs it all into his warm mouth, sucking tenderly on the throbbing bud.
he pants softly against the sopping cunt, slipping in two fingers subtly and curling them up in an excruciatingly slow pace. “horny fuck,” says soap, but the recruit ignores him, spitting down the slit before feverishly taking whatever can fit into his mouth.
“at least the boy is committed,” remarks ghost, crossing his arms as he observes the way the recruit is practically grinding his own face into the toy, nose tapping on the underside of the clit with every press of his tongue.
if someone needed to know the meaning of addiction, this was the epitome of it- the way he was sucking on you deliriously, with no intent of stopping, licking and swallowing every bit of arousal that was produced. and it probably would have kept going, if not for the sudden squirt of the toy that sends the recruit pulling back from shock.
everyone stares in awe, and even more so from three particular men. its quiet and the only sounds that can be heard is the filthy drips of squirt falling onto the ground. “didnt know she could do that…” soap mumbles softly. “you ever…?”
and before he can even finish asking the question, ghost answers in one of the most unpleasant tones ever heard, “no. never.”
the recruit wipes his chin with the back of his hand, lowering the pocket pussy. “some toy youve got. didnt know they made those features.”
price stands curiously, approaching the recruit with an unreadable expression. “whats your name, son?”
and the recruit doesnt back down but rather, he stands tall. “kyle garrick, sir.”
~bonus~
*reader sending a picture of soaked through jeans to the tf141 group chat with the caption “you fuckers.”*
ㅤㅤ ㅤ⭑ pairing. widower!jack abbot x charge nurse!reader
ㅤㅤ ㅤ⭑ about.
after almost two weeks off, you came back for the night shift. however with your luck, it started as a terrible night—one you could only hope would get better. (wc: 13.400)
ㅤㅤ ㅤ.ᐟ warnings.
smut. fluff. domestically. age difference (eleven years). car accident (nothing major). medical inaccuracies. canon medical procedures. injuries. bruises. some insecurities. chubby reader.
ㅤㅤ ㅤᯓ first part. duo masterlist. main masterlist.
It wasn't like you to be late, so you forced your legs to move faster even as sharp pain flashed through your hip and thigh. Of all days for this to happen, it had to be today—your first shift back after a week and a half of medical leave. And now you were walking into the emergency department nearly an hour late.
Of course, on the very day you were finally coming back to work, you'd been hit by a car.
It hadn't been a major accident, and it hadn't even been the driver's fault… but the impact had still been hard enough to hurt, and most likely bruise.
You'd already been running late, so you'd rushed across the street without noticing the light turned green. One second you were hurrying toward the crosswalk, the next a car had slammed into you or rather, you had slammed into it. The vehicle hadn't been going very fast, but it had hit you hard enough to knock you onto the pavement.
Your elbow had taken the fall on the concrete while your hip had taken all the car's force straight into it. On the floor, you felt the little pebbles breaking your skin while you could already imagine the giant bruise on your hip.
A crowd had gathered almost instantly, trying to assess your injuries as if you weren't a nurse yourself. Some people had even suggested calling an ambulance—which you fiercely refused, insisting you were fine and explaining you worked at a hospital anyway.
It had taken several minutes of convincing—and you showing off your nurse badge from PTMC—before the crowd and the driver finally let you leave, especially since the poor man looked terrified you were about to sue him. You'd reassured him repeatedly that you wouldn't, because the accident had absolutely been your fault and you definitely didn't have the money to pursue anything of this sort.
Still fifteen minutes away from the hospital, you'd texted Dana to let her know you were running late but were still coming in. Since being late was completely unlike you, you already had five missed calls from different staff members by the time you arrived, so you asked Dana to warn them you were coming as well. She only replied with a simply "Okay".
The moment you stepped inside, you headed straight for the staff room as quickly as you could. You shoved your dinner into the fridge, peeled off your jacket, tossing it onto the coat rack before a sharp sting shot through your elbow—the opposite side from where your hip ached.
Looking down, you realized the skin was scraped raw and streaked with drying blood.
"Argh, I don't have time for this," you muttered with a sigh, heading for the sink.
You rinsed the scrape under cold water, biting back a groan as the sting intensified, then dried it carefully with a paper towel. It had already stopped bleeding—it was only a minor wound—but it still looked rough.
Shaking your head, you grabbed the white long-sleeved shirt you always kept in your bag. As quickly as possible, and without flashing any of your coworkers, you pulled it on beneath your scrubs to cover it—hoping hard it wouldn't taint the shirt.
Finally satisfied that your injuries were hidden well enough, you left the room and headed straight for the nurses' station.
"I'm so sorry," you said as you approached Dana, who looked up at you over the rim of her glasses.
As gentle as ever, she pulled you into a quick hug and assured you it was fine—that these things happened to everyone. Even so, you could see the exhaustion on her face. It must have been a rough day shift, which usually meant an even rougher night ahead. You silently prayed for a quiet evening.
"I'll come in early next shift if you're working," you promised as she gathered her things after explaining what had happened today.
"You don't have to, sweetie. Just make sure you're alright," Dana replied with a soft smile before heading out for the night.
"Better yet, come in at seven-thirty tomorrow morning, okay? So I don't feel so bad," you teased, giving her your best puppy eyes.
"Don't threaten me with a good time, kid," she joked, shaking her head with a laugh.
After she left, you immediately went to Shen and asked how the beginning of the night had been. He assured you everything was running smoothly while sipping his usual coffee. His nonchalance used to annoy the hell out of you, but over time you'd gotten used to it. It was oddly soothing to have someone this chill and relax while everything around here always turned into chaos.
You also knew Jack was working tonight, and you were doing your absolute best to avoid him.
First, because you knew he'd immediately notice something was wrong with you as he noticed everything. And second, more importantly, because of the very last text he'd sent you.
Good girl.
Two fucking words that had haunted you for the past week and a half.
Sometimes you'd be grocery shopping or curled up on the couch reading, and suddenly your mind would drift back to that text. Instantly, warmth would spread through your entire body going straight between your legs.
It was absolutely ridiculous how two simple words could affect you so much, but you couldn't deny the reaction they triggered.
Your cheeks would burn so hot it almost felt suffocating and you'd suddenly have the overwhelming urge to slip your fingers beneath your panties.
Which was exactly why avoiding Jack Abbott seemed like the smartest possible decision.
Four days ago, when you'd returned to have your stitches removed, you'd specifically chosen to show up during the day shift, when you knew he wasn't scheduled. You knew how unpredictable he could be—showing up on his days off and lingering around the hospital for hours wasn't unusual for him—but arriving at one in the afternoon had felt like a safe bet that he'd hopefully be in bed... or just far from the hospital.
And thankfully, you had been right.
Getting the stitches removed had been quick, and you'd been more than happy to chat with Samira while she worked. You'd insisted a student nurse could handle it, but she'd waved the idea off, claiming she needed the break. Naturally, you'd indulged her.
Now, walking through the department with an iPad in hand, checking that every patient was where they should be, receiving the right treatment, eating properly, and generally comfortable, you found your thoughts drifting back to Jack once again.
The number of time you had imagined his deep voice saying those two words were shameful, but you couldn't help it. If anything it had been the bastard's fault and he should be the one feeling guilty. If guilt was even what you were feeling.
Shaking your head, you forced yourself to refocus. At home, obsessing over him was one thing—you weren't responsible for an entire staff and people's lives there. But this was work. Here, you needed to stay professional.
Hearing your name, you turned toward the sound and met Mateo's eyes. You gave him a small nod, waiting for him to speak.
"North 12 is getting discharged, and South 3 is still waiting on results, but upstairs isn't answering," Mateo explained as he pulled off his gloves and tossed them into a nearby trash can.
"Okay, I'll call when I get the time," you replied, already discharging North 12 on your iPad.
Still sensing Mateo lingering beside you, you looked up with a raised eyebrow. "Anything else?"
"Huh…" he started, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Abbott's looking for you."
"Tell him I'm busy," you answered as casually as possible before turning back to your screen.
The second Mateo was out of sight, you bit down hard on your lip, trying to control the immediate reaction that shot through your body at the mention of the older man. You usually weren't like this. But Jack was just… something else.
Maybe it was the way he carried himself so effortlessly, never ashamed of his actions, never trying to hide his interest in you. He was confident about it—openly so—and somehow that only made him more dangerous.
God, that old man was infuriating.
After finishing your rounds, you were almost surprised by how calm the night still was despite the packed waiting room and ED. Returning to your desk, you sat down to update the department board—which beds were free, who was waiting on scans, who was ready for transfer, and who still needed treatment.
"Vivi," you called as she passed by.
She immediately stopped and turned toward you.
"North 7 needs blood test."
"On it," she replied with a bright smile before hurrying off.
Watching her leave, you shook your head fondly. You really did have an incredible team of nurses. Then you sensed someone approaching.
Looking up, you saw Abbott making his way toward your desk, hands clasped behind his back in that rigid military posture of his.
You were absolutely not prepared to talk to him, especially not in the middle of the ER but there was no escaping now. Short of divine intervention, you were trapped.
And somehow, you got exactly that.
Behind you, the red emergency phone rang loudly enough to cut through the chaos of the department. Abbott glanced toward the phone with a raised eyebrow while you immediately rolled your chair back and stood.
"PTMC Emergency, charge nurse," you answered, deliberately looking anywhere except at Jack, who remained standing directly in front of your desk.
As the paramedic spoke, your brain instantly started reorganizing the ER—eyes running everywhere in the room except on Abbot. "We'll be ready."
The second you hung up, you turned back, relieved to see Abbott had been joined by Ellis.
"Bar fight incoming," you summarized quickly, already moving toward the trauma bays. "One guy has part of a beer bottle lodged in his skull, and the other's unconscious with an open radius fracture."
Leaving the doctors behind, you pushed open the door to Trauma 1 and found Shen and Toomarian working on a patient who, thankfully, didn't seem critical.
"We need the room in two minutes," you said.
Your nurses immediately nodded.
"Alright, boss," Shen replied before looking back at his patient. "Let's go on a little trip!"
You rolled your eyes at his complete lack of seriousness while walking back toward the desk, only to hear an enthusiastic "Weeee!" behind you as Shen rolled the patient out of the room.
Taking the phone out of your breast pocket, you quickly composed the neuro number before putting the phone to your ears.
"Dr. Walsh," a voice answered on the other end of the phone a moment later.
"Was supposed to call neuro," you replied, confused as to why she had picked up instead.
"They're tied up. What have you got?" Emery asked immediately, skipping all pleasantries.
"Open head trauma with the bottle still embedded, and another patient with a open fracture," you explained while leaning over your desk and rearranging beds on the board.
"That sucks," the surgeon replied dryly, pulling a quiet laugh from you. "I'll come down in a few and page ortho on the way. Neuro's gonna be difficult tonight, but I'll see what I can do."
"You're the best," you mumbled, eyes fixed on your screen—and meaning every word.
Emery Walsh was one of the reason you missed being a surgery nurse sometimes. People found her dry and hard, but working with her, you'd learnt that she was a really good person.
"Yeah, I know. See you soon." Then the line went dead.
The phone stayed wedged between your shoulder and ear while you typed, barely noticing it anymore. Around you, the department shifted into controlled chaos as trauma rooms were cleaned, supplies restocked, and doctors prepared for the incoming patients.
Bar fights were common enough. The outcomes, however, were never predictable.
Slowly, you felt the phone slipping from your shoulder—until it disappeared completely. It didn't crash onto the desk or floor. Instead, someone gently placed it beside your keyboard.
You looked up and found Abbott standing there, right by your side, watching you with a slight smile and his head tilted faintly to the side. His eyes were soft but teasing staying on, what you were certain, were wide doe eyes.
"Walsh is coming down," you explained immediately quickly getting back on your feet while sticking strictly to work-related conversation. "Hopefully with ortho. Neuro's unavailable right now."
"We'll make it work," he said softly, voice deep and grounding.
That voice. The exact same calm, low tone your brain had replayed for a week and a half alongside those two words.
Good girl.
It was genuinely becoming a problem.
You nodded quickly and started to turn away so you could brief a few nurses, but Jack stopped you again.
"How's the hand?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice.
Wanting to get through the conversation as quickly as possible, you answered immediately. "Never better."
"You did come, right?" he pressed, his eyes dropping toward your hand.
Ever since that text, your mind had been completely corrupted.
Even though his gaze was clearly fixed on your hand resting near your hip, your stupid brain instantly interpreted it differently… going to a very different place than you fucking hand. That absolutely did not help your obsession with that man.
"What?" you blurted out, louder than necessary.
"You didn't remove the stitches yourself, did you?" he clarified, clearly confused by your reaction.
"Oh." Your eyes widened as realization hit you. "No, no. Samira did it."
Frowning slightly, Jack looked at you with a strange twist to his smile, something dangerously close to a smirk. "Samira? From day shift?"
"Yeah, well…" You shrugged awkwardly. "I was off for more than a week. It's crazy how quickly your body adjusts back to a normal schedule."
The joke came out clumsier than intended.
You glanced at his eyes, immediately looked away, then stupidly looked back again before darting your gaze elsewhere for a third time, your anxiety practically written across your face.
"Right," Jack replied slowly, amusement clear in his expression.
"Okay," you sighed with an overly tight smile before quickly turning around and walking away.
Why did you have to be this awkward? Of course he hadn't been making some crude comment in the middle of a shift with half the ER around. Jack was bold, sure, but not that bold.
Your brain seriously needed to calm the hell down before you lost your mind completely.
Unfortunately, too distracted to pay attention to where you were going, you walked straight into Walsh as she strolled into the department.
"Wow," she blurted, eyes widening in surprise. "You good?"
"Huh? Yeah. Just getting ready for the traumas!" you called over your shoulder, not slowing down for even a second.
Forcing yourself back into work mode, you started assigning nurses to incoming cases and gathering supplies that were missing from the trauma rooms. By the time you finished restocking everything, the EMTs were already wheeling the patients in through the ambulance bay.
"Trauma 1 and 2 are clear and ready!" you shouted as the teams split apart and rushed into their assigned rooms.
Finally getting a brief moment to breathe, you called about the lab results Mateo had mentioned earlier, only to discover they'd somehow been lost in the system and were now being resent. Seconds later, the files appeared on your iPad.
Perfect timing, too, since Dr. Porat, R2 of the night shift, wasn't tied up with the trauma teams. After forwarding her the results, the front desk called your extension.
"Charge nurse speaking," you answered while scrolling through charts waiting to be reviewed.
"Jim Burlt's family is here," Chantana said softly over the line.
"Who?" you asked automatically, not recognizing the name.
"The truck driver who got electrocuted. He passed earlier, during day shift, I think." Her voice lowered so the family wouldn't overhear.
"Fuck," you whispered, letting your head fall back for a second. "Okay. I'm coming."
It wasn't that you didn't want to handle it—you just had no idea where the man's body had been taken. Dana hadn't mentioned it during handoff, and since you'd missed rounds, you were completely behind.
Pulling up his chart in the system, all you found were three cold words:
Dead on arrival.
With no better option, you headed into Trauma 1, since it sounded like the quieter room of the two. The moment you pushed open the door, Abbott looked up at you immediately—as though he'd sensed your presence before even seeing you.
"Know a Jim Burlt?" you asked, unable to stop yourself from instinctively checking the patient's vitals first. Stable.
"Yeah. Robby's patient," Jack replied, eyes already shifting back toward the trauma bed.
Patient. The word twisted uncomfortably in your chest. The man had arrived dead. There had been nothing anyone could do besides call the time.
"His family's here. Do you know where he is?"
"Morgue," Jack answered, finally looking back at you with sympathetic eyes. "And it's not a pretty sight. Especially for the family."
"Fucking perfect," you muttered under your breath before turning to leave.
As you headed toward the waiting area, a warm hand settled gently on your shoulder, stopping you mid-step.
You turned around to find Jack standing close behind you.
He'd already stripped off the bloody gown, gloves, and protective glasses from the trauma room. Without all the gear, he looked unfairly good—calm, composed, and for once actually rested.
"I'll do it," he said quietly, nodding toward the waiting room.
"It's okay. I can handle it. You clearly have your hands full." You assured him, painfully aware of the warmth spreading through your neck where his hand still rested close by on your shoulder.
"Robby already explained the case, and they don't need me in there anymore," he replied lightly, the corners of his mouth lifting.
Even though you'd initially thought Jack was highly professional and not nearly this bold, he quickly proved you wrong as he stepped closer, leaning toward you. His lips hovered far too close to your ear—close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath against your neck—when he finally spoke. "But this place will fall apart without you."
"Huh…" was the only sound your brain managed to produce.
When he finally stepped back, there was a teasing smirk tugging at his lips before he simply walked away, leaving you stranded in the middle of the hallway like your system had completely rebooted.
Your eyes struggled to focus on anything.
His words. His voice. That stupid charisma. It all tangled together until your thoughts turned into static.
The loud laughter of a drunk patient somewhere down the hall finally snapped you back to reality. Within seconds, you were moving again, heading toward your desk while taking a deep shaky breath.
It was genuinely unfair how easily he could throw you completely off balance while you seemingly had nowhere near the same effect on him.
Fucking diabolical.
Hours later, after working nonstop without a break, you finally stole a few precious minutes for yourself in the stairwell. It was quieter than the break room and safer than the ambulance bay. Here, nobody bothered you.
You still kept your phone nearby in your chest pocket, and never disappeared for longer than ten minutes, but at least you could drink your coffee in peace. You'd warn the attending and your nurses before just disappearing.
Only three hours remained in your shift now. Close enough to the end that you could finally see it.
Eyes closed, head resting against the stair railing, you sipped your coffee slowly while focusing on your breathing exercises—your usual way of bleeding off the stress that came with the job.
The hospital staff were used to finding you here during night shifts, so when the stairwell door creaked open and footsteps started approaching, you barely reacted at all.
"Abbott's looking for you." Walsh's voice shattered the brief moment of peace you'd managed to find in the stairwell.
"When is he not?" you sighed, taking another sip of coffee.
You only opened your eyes when you heard Emery groan dramatically as she dropped down beside you on the steps. She looked exhausted—but then again, who in this hospital didn't? Even so, there was still something sharp and alert behind her tired eyes.
"I'd kill for a cigarette," she muttered, rubbing both hands down her face.
"Stay strong," you laughed softly. "If you relapse, you'll drag me down with you."
It wasn't entirely true, but you still remembered the nights you'd both decided to quit smoking together. Back then, she'd sneak out through the ER ambulance bay and wait for you outside. For five peaceful minutes, the two of you would talk about life, relationships—anything except the chaos happening inside.
"Oh, fuck no," she smirked, side eyeing you. "I do not need cowboy doctor on my ass."
You turned toward her immediately. "What the hell does that mean?"
"Play innocent all you want," she dismissed while standing up, brushing the non existing dust of her pants. "And please don't call me for the rest of the night."
"Not my decision," you called after her as she disappeared up the stairs.
Laughing quietly to yourself, you finally pushed yourself to your feet and stretched your stiff limbs.
Huge mistake.
Pain exploded from your hip all the way down to your knee while your elbow throbbed sharply in protest. You should've expected this. Since the second you'd been hit by that car, you hadn't stopped moving long enough for your body to fully register the damage.
Now, after ten minutes of sitting still, it absolutely had.
Walking back to the ER without limping turned out to be significantly harder than expected, but somehow you managed it. You smiled tightly at nurses, greeted techs, gave instructions to interns, the usual—all while pretending nothing hurt.
By the time you reached the sink to wash your coffee mug, you were quietly breathing through the pain. At this point, the shift simply couldn't end fast enough.
All you wanted was for Dana to arrive on time—which she always did, though you had told her she could come in late… You were fucked.
"Why are you limping?" The deep voice behind you made you flinch so hard you nearly dropped the mug.
"Jesus Christ," you let out, your heart racing.
Turning around, you found yourself face-to-face with Jack Abbott, standing there with his hands clasped behind his back like always.
"I'm not limping," you dismissed immediately. "Maybe you need glasses, old man."
Not wanting to deal with his scrutinising stare, you turned back toward the sink and focused intensely on cleaning the mug.
"So that's definitely not blood on your elbow," Jack replied dryly, his tone carrying that specific kind of sarcasm that really meant don't bullshit me.
Twisting your arm enough to see your elbow, your stomach dropped. A smear of blood stained the sleeve of your white shirt. You must've bumped it against a wall without noticing. And of course you'd chosen the one white shirt you owned.
"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, too quietly for him to hear. Then louder: "Old stain. Hard to get out, you know how it is."
With your back still turned to him, you prayed he'd just accept the lie and leave.
But miracles clearly had limits, and you'd apparently already used yours for the night. No one interrupted. No emergencies pulled him away. So he stayed.
He didn't move closer, but you heard the irritated click of his tongue behind you.
You deliberately took far longer than necessary washing the mug, dreading the moment you'd have to turn around and face him properly. The last thing you wanted was for anyone to find out you'd been hit by a fucking car.
That would mean another medical leave. And beyond the fact that you absolutely couldn't afford more time off, you genuinely didn't want it.
"So we're lying now?" Jack asked as you finally turned toward him.
There was something unreadable in his voice, not exactly anger, not exactly amusement either. His arms were crossed over his chest now, head tilted slightly as though challenging you. Instinctively, you mirrored him, crossing your own arms while raising an eyebrow in return.
You were not about to snitch on yourself. And judging by his expression, he clearly wasn't planning on dropping it.
"I guess it's your problem if you don't believe me," you replied with a smile so forced it practically hurt.
Before Jack could answer, Sophie stepped into the room—only to freeze immediately under the weight of both your stares. Her eyes widened slightly with concern.
"I'm just getting water," she explained cautiously, like she'd accidentally interrupted something terrible.
"Of course," you replied instantly, your tone softening. "Take ten if you need."
Then you looked back at Jack. The smile you gave him this time was entirely different—tight, restrained, and far less friendly—before brushing past him and leaving the room.
As you walked away, you heard Jack reassuring Sophie that she'd done nothing wrong and that she should take whatever break she needed.
The rest of the shift passed surprisingly smoothly, even if the pain stubbornly refused to fade. It was honestly impressive how well you managed to hide it from everyone.
Everyone except Jack.
He never brought it up again, but for the remainder of the night, you could feel his eyes on you every single time you winced—even slightly. Every time your limp slipped through before you could correct it, you caught him watching with furrowed brows.
Now, finally sitting down near the end of shift, you chatted quietly with Robby while the rest of the night crew signed off one by one.
The only person still missing was Dana. Because you had stupidly told her to come in late.
At least you'd warned Robby ahead of time so he wouldn't panic about being left without a charge nurse. You kept working through the final charts and updates, determined not to leave Dana with a disaster just because you were exhausted and hurting.
You'd pushed through for hours already. There was no point falling apart now when the end was finally in sight.
The moment you saw Dana walking through the ER doors, relief washed over you so strongly you almost sighed out loud.
The older woman chewed lazily on her gum, glasses already perched low on her nose while her stethoscope hung around her neck. Even the way she walked radiated competence. The second she reached you, you wrapped your arms around her and let out a tired groan into her shoulder.
For the next ten minutes, the two of you made rounds together while you updated her on the night—who'd been admitted, who'd gone upstairs, who'd died, which beds were opening up. The usual end-of-shift rundown.
Once you finished, she gently nudged you toward the corner where you'd dumped your belongings hours ago.
"Off you go, kid," she said simply before turning back toward the department.
And honestly? Sleep had never sounded so good.
Even if getting home meant enduring a painful fifteen minute walk, you figured you could survive it. You'd spent the entire night running around nonstop—what was another few minutes on your feet?
As you headed toward the exit, already dreading having to come back later that night, you pulled out your phone to check your texts and emails.
A sharp whistle suddenly pulled your attention away from the screen. Confused, you looked up. Standing in the ambulance bay—like he'd apparently been waiting there for a while—was Jack Abbott.
Which made absolutely no sense.
He'd left on time for once, along with most of the night staff, so why the hell was he still here? Even stranger, his car was parked right beside the ambulance entrance—something nobody was allowed to do, not even for five minutes.
"Forget something?" you asked innocently, nodding toward the illegally parked car.
"You," he answered immediately.
You scoffed automatically, but the sound died quickly when you realized he wasn't joking.
"What?" you deadpanned when he made no move to smile.
"I'm taking you home," he said calmly. "And you're going to tell me what happened to you."
It wasn't phrased like a question. Not quite an order either, but there was absolutely no room for argument.
"Jack—" you started, fully prepared to fight him on it anyway.
"Nope. In the car."
Then he casually walked around and opened the passenger side door for you.
When you still didn't move, he simply tilted his head slightly, eyes never leaving yours. There really was no escaping this. With a deep sigh, you shook your head and walked toward the open door.
The second you sat down, Jack gave a satisfied little nod, like he was pleased you'd listened, before closing the door for you.
A minute later, after he climbed into the driver's seat, you noticed your address already programmed into his GPS.
"How did you…" You trailed off, pointing weakly at the screen.
"From the Uber last time," he replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Right…" you murmured, smiling despite yourself.
Being trapped in such a small space with him felt oddly intimate. The car smelt like him, a smell that was oddly comforting, messing with you. And unfortunately, your exhausted brain didn't help much more, immediately fixated on his hands resting on the gear shift as he put the car into drive.
You were far too tired to stop yourself from staring for a second longer than necessary. Then a thought suddenly crossed your mind.
"Can you even drive with your leg?" you asked as the car rolled forward. "Well, I mean, obviously you can…"
That made him laugh, a real laugh. Warm and genuine enough that you immediately turned your head toward him. And honestly, if you could've seen yourself right then, you were pretty sure you would've looked completely smitten.
"Was that rude?" you asked, giggling softly when you noticed how bright his smile had become.
"Not coming from you," Jack replied gently, sending you another small smile before looking back at the road.
That alone was enough to make you grin like a teenager.
Your cheeks and neck warmed instantly, heart beating embarrassingly faster just from the softness in his voice.
Resting your elbow against the door, you propped your head against your hand and stared out the window while gently rubbing your forehead. Your elbow protested immediately, but at this point everything hurt anyway.
Your hip had been throbbing for hours, a migraine lingered behind your eyes, and all you wanted in the world was a shower and your bed.
"God, I'm so tired," you whispered, knowing perfectly well he'd hear you.
"Want to tell me what happened now?" Jack asked, still using that same quiet voice.
Rolling your eyes toward the window, you let out a long breath.
Of course he wasn't going to let it go, you should've expected this. Honestly, it had been predictable from the moment he'd noticed you limping. Still, you'd hoped exhaustion might make him back off for once.
"Seriously?" you groaned, finally turning your head toward him with narrowed eyes.
"Surprise," he shot back with a smirk, knowing deep well none of you were actually.
Closing your eyes briefly, you felt exhaustion and pain mixing together until lying almost felt too difficult to bother with anymore. And really… what was the point?
He wasn't going to stop asking.
Turning back toward the window, you watched the sunrise spill soft orange light across the quiet city streets.
"Got hit by a car," you said suddenly.
Silence filled the car immediately afterwards, which definitely wasn't a good sign. But it was peaceful while it lasted.
"Come again?" Jack asked slowly, sounding like he genuinely thought he'd misheard you.
"I got hit by a car crossing the street. My fault entirely," you clarified casually, like it wasn't a huge deal. Because honestly? It wasn't.
You were alive. Nothing was broken. Nothing life-threatening had happened.
At worst, you'd end up with an ugly bruise on your hip, a scraped elbow, and aches for a few days—it could've been so much worse.
"I landed on my elbow, which explains the blood," you continued before he could interrupt. "And my hip took most of the impact, which is why I'm limping." You shrugged weakly. "I'm alive and mostly intact, Jack. Nothing to worry about."
"You should've said something," he growled, shaking his head.
"So you could've sent me home?" you shot back immediately. "I handled the shift just fine."
"You handled it," he agreed tightly, nodding while his jaw was tightly set. "But now you're limping, and I'm willing to bet your hip's killing you."
He sent you a dark look before focusing back on the road. Before you could argue further, the car pulled up in front of your building.
You weren't about to pretend you weren't grateful not to walk the rest of the way home. Turning toward him, you opened your mouth to thank him and wish him goodnight, ready to forget it all about the previous conversation.
Only to frown when his car door slammed shut. Seconds later, he was already on your side of the car, opening your door for you.
"You don't have to—" you started while pulling your seatbelt off.
"Don't," Jack warned simply as he leaned inside to grab your bags.
It was ridiculously sweet. And it also made you feel slightly guilty because you knew his own leg had to be hurting after such a long shift too, but he didn't show even a hint of discomfort.
He just straightened back up with your bags in one hand while holding the car door open with the other, waiting patiently for you to get out.
Getting out, you knew there was no point arguing with Jack, so you simply started walking toward the building's main door. Turning back toward him, you walked straight over and reached into your bag without even asking for it back, you already knew he wouldn't give it to you.
Once your keys were in hand, you unlocked the door and headed straight for the elevator. When Jack stepped into the small space beside you, you realised he was actually walking you all the way to your front door.
It felt strange being trapped in such a narrow space with him, but he seemed completely determined to make sure you got safely inside your flat, as if something terrible might happen between his car and your front door. You supposed you never really knew, but it still felt highly unlikely.
The ride up to your floor was quiet and slightly awkward, despite how quick it was.
Standing in front of your door, you unlocked it and suddenly felt far too awkward to simply say goodbye there. So you stepped inside, leaving the door open behind you as a silent invitation.
"Want some water?" you asked, breaking the silence as you made your way toward the kitchen. "You can leave that by the door," you added, pointing to the bags still hanging from his hands.
"I'll take some water, yeah. Thanks," he replied softly.
When you returned to the living room with two glasses of water, Jack was standing in the middle of the room, relaxed as though he belonged there. He was looking around at every little detail—every book, every picture, every vinyl record—studying it all with quiet attention.
Watching him in your space made the butterflies in your stomach go wild. Your mind instantly started imagining him there all the time, as if his belongings naturally belonged beside yours, some jazz vinyl mixed in with your indie pop collection, his medical books stacked beside your fantasy novels. It would fit so perfectly.
Shaking the thought away and forcing a soft smile, you stepped closer and handed him his glass.
"Thanks," he murmured, his gaze drifting slowly from your head to your toes without the slightest hint of shame.
The two of you remained standing in the middle of the living room, slowly sipping your drinks. Locked in each other's eyes, the tension quickly became unbearable, yet neither of you looked away. Jack held your gaze openly, his expression soft and calm. Gone was the tired, sarcastic man you usually worked with. This version of him felt entirely different, but oddly comforting.
After a few seconds, he stepped closer—with a slight limp of his own—and set his glass down on the nearby table. Gently, he took your own empty glass and placed it beside his.
"I know the best treatment for your hip," Jack said, his voice low and deep. His eyes gleamed with something you couldn't quite name.
"Yeah?" you asked, your voice embarrassingly shaky. Ridiculous, you were a grown woman.
"Relaxation," he whispered, lust filling his eyes. That had been what you couldn't name before.
As soon as the word left his mouth, his hands rose to your cheeks—warm, soft, safe—before he leaned in. His lips hovered just above yours, not quite kissing you, but making no effort to hide how badly he wanted to.
The second you felt his warmth so close, your eyes fluttered shut in anticipation and, without even realising it, you rose slightly onto your tiptoes to meet him halfway. A few long seconds passed before you finally felt Jack's lips against yours.
They were soft and unhurried, as though he was trying to ease you into it while slowly pulling himself closer. His warmth completely surrounded you now, his chest pressed lightly against yours. You weren't even sure when he'd moved that close, only that it felt incredibly good.
He was everything you had imagined—steady, solid, grounding—while your own hands shook where they rested against his chest. His hands had slipped from your cheeks to your hips as carefully as possible, mindful not to hurt you while gently tugging you closer.
"Let's go sit down, yeah?" He murmured against your lips.
You hadn't even realised you'd started shaking. Your legs felt weak, your thoughts racing so fast you could barely keep up with them. No one had ever made you feel like this before—not once in your life had someone unsettled you so completely.
"Mmh," you hummed against his lips before leaning up to kiss him again.
Both of you laughed softly into the kiss as Jack began stepping backward. When the backs of his knees bumped against the couch, he paused for a second before sitting down. You moved to sit beside him, but his hand stopped you.
Spreading his legs slightly, he guided you to stand between them instead. His face hovered near your stomach, immediately making you self-conscious. But the moment his lips pressed soft kisses there through your shirt, the butterflies in your stomach only grew wilder. Your breathing turned uneven as you stared down at him.
His eyes lifted to yours while his lips continued trailing slow kisses over your stomach.
"Can I?" he asked quietly, his voice rough with restrained need.
It was unfamiliar—feeling this wanted by someone who wasn't rushing straight toward sex. There was something comforting about the patience in him, about the way he seemed to want more than just your body. His fingers rested lightly against the hem of your shirt, playing absently with it, waiting for permission.
When you nodded—a little too quickly, you'd admit—mischief flickered in Jack's eyes as he raised a single brow in silent warning. The effortless dominance he carried so naturally made your head spin.
"Yes," you managed to say, breathless, earning another quick kiss in return.
Agonisingly slowly, Jack pushed your shirt upward, his lips following the rising fabric. Once it was high enough, you tugged it off yourself, suddenly standing half-naked in front of the man you'd been hopelessly crushing on for months.
You still hadn't dared look directly at him, but the second you heard him click his tongue in disapproval, your stomach dropped. Had he imagined your body differently? Was he disgusted by what he saw? Was the soft weight on your body suddenly repulsive once shown without clothes?
"No fucking wonder you're limping," he muttered, sounding almost irritated.
Looking down quickly, you were met with a patch of darkened skin peeking out from beneath your pants. The bruising already looked terrible, staining your skin in a way that made it obvious to anyone that it hurt like hell.
"Oh," you breathed out shakily, finally releasing the breath you'd been holding.
He wasn't disgusted by you at all, he'd simply slipped into doctor mode. You weren't even sure he'd realised it, but one of his thumbs was slowly caressing the bruise while his eyes remained fixed on yours.
"Did you at least get their name?" he sighed, shaking his head.
"It wasn't his fault," you explained quietly.
"He should still pay for the medical treatment. You were a pedestrian, it was his fault anyway," Jack continued scolding gently, resting his chin against your soft stomach while keeping his eyes on you.
Scoffing, you shook your head. "What medical treatment?"
"Still," the older man muttered stubbornly before glancing back down at the bruise.
As carefully as he could, he tugged your pants down a little farther, revealing more of the dark purple mark. It wasn't pretty, but at least it was only a bruise and not a broken hip. That would've been a nightmare.
"Does it hurt?" His voice softened again, slipping back into the soothing tone he always seemed to use around you.
"Not right now," you whispered, far too distracted by the feeling of his lips brushing against your skin again.
He kissed around the bruise as though he could somehow heal it with tenderness alone. Every soft press of his mouth made your heart skip wildly in your chest—a feeling that was becoming dangerously familiar whenever he was near. At first, it had annoyed you but now, standing half-undressed in your living room, it felt exhilarating.
He chuckled softly at your answer before pressing another kiss to your skin.
Then, before doing anything else, he leaned back against the couch. His warmth barely left your body, yet you missed it instantly. Once he'd settled farther away, his hands moved to the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion.
The sight nearly stole your breath.
This man—older than you by more than a decade—had a better body than most men your own age you'd ever been with. His chest was broad and toned, scattered with freckles that made you ache to trace every single one with your fingertips. His stomach was firm too, though softened slightly by a thin layer of fat that somehow only made him more attractive, more real. It made you want to bite into it.
And his arms, God. They'd already been distracting enough at work, but seeing them like this, bathed in the warm sunlight filtering through your curtains, was almost unfair.
"Wanna sit down now?" he teased, his thumb still stroking over your hip. "Because this must be killing you."
Nodding, you finally dragged your gaze away from his chest and smiled sheepishly when you met his eyes. You felt no embarrassment about being caught staring, and judging by the smugness on his face, he was thoroughly enjoying the attention. Then again, he had no shame either—his own eyes had drifted toward your breasts more than once already.
"How about we take these off first?" he murmured teasingly, lightly snapping the waistband of your pants against your good hip.
"Sure," you replied, feeling strangely at ease around him now. "Just warning you… I'm not wearing my best underwear today."
"Oh no," Jack said dramatically, shaking his head in fake disappointment.
His hands betrayed him completely, though, as he carefully slid your pants down your legs, making sure not to brush too hard against the bruising. Once they passed your thighs, the fabric dropped to the floor on its own.
Leaning back against the couch, Jack rested his hands low on your hips while he looked at you with quiet hunger. His gaze wandered slowly over every inch of you, from your face down to your knees, taking everything in with patient, gentle attention.
And weirdly—for probably the first time in your life—you didn't really feel self-conscious. You'd made peace with your body years ago, but old insecurities from your teens and early twenties still lingered in quiet corners of your mind.
Yet there was no judgment in his eyes. No disgust. His gaze moved over your stretch marks, your soft stomach, your love handles, the natural curve of your breasts, and the faint hair peeking out around your panties without hesitation or discomfort.
If anything, he looked captivated.
Smiling softly, he leaned forward to press another kiss against your stomach before settling back comfortably against the couch again. Once he was fully relaxed, he patted his thighs lightly, eyes never leaving you.
You hesitated awkwardly, standing there half-naked in the middle of your living room. Even if he clearly liked your body, a small part of you still worried you might be too heavy for him. Buying yourself time, you bent down to pull your socks off.
"Come on," he coaxed with an amused smirk. "You're not gonna break me."
Your eyes widened in surprise. You hadn't realised your thoughts were that obvious—you'd always been good at hiding your insecurities and fears. Perhaps, it had been that your partner didn't really pay attention.
"You think too loudly, sweetheart," Jack said, his teasing smile softening. "And you're way too pretty to waste time worrying about stupid things."
As if to reassure you even more, he patted his thighs again before his hands slid back to your hips, guiding you closer inch by inch.
His gentleness and words made you smile despite yourself, your eyes dropping shyly toward the floor. Once you reached the couch, you slowly lowered yourself into his lap, your legs settling on either side of his hips. He was so broad that the stretch tugged slightly at your sore hip, painful but strangely pleasant too.
Your hands rested uncertainly on his shoulders, still hesitant to put your full weight on him even though your hip was throbbing. Jack solved the issue himself by gripping your waist and pulling you down firmly onto him.
The second your full weight settled in his lap, a sound escaped him—a rough mixture between a groan and a moan that instantly sent heat rushing through your body. As a reflex, your thighs pressed together, or tried to. Instead, the movement rocked you lightly against him, your body brushing over the hardening shape still trapped beneath his cargo pants.
The reaction it pulled from both of you was immediate—a long shared breath, shaky and warm.
The moment your eyes met, laughter burst out of you unexpectedly. Jack laughed too, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. Meanwhile, his hands slid slowly up your back. Without thinking, you melted into him, your arms slipping around his neck automatically.
The hug felt dangerously close to home.
He was so warm, so solid, comforting in a way you couldn't even explain. Like curling beneath a blanket on the coldest winter night. Safe. Easy. Real.
And somewhere in the back of your mind, your thoughts betrayed you again, instantly imagining what it would feel like to fall asleep wrapped in this warmth every night. To wake up curled into his burly arms, head lying on his chest.
"You're so warm," you whispered against his neck before pressing a soft kiss there.
Jack laughed quietly under his breath and pulled you even closer in response. He kissed the top of your head again, slow and absentminded, the kind of affectionate gesture that felt almost painfully domestic.
The hug, the forehead kisses, the quiet closeness—it made your heart race uncontrollably. And with your ear pressed against his chest, you could hear his heartbeat thudding faster than normal too.
His hands slid from your back to settle on your ass. They didn't grope or squeeze greedily, they simply rested there, warm and steady. Grounding. And at the same time, impossible to ignore when his now hard cock was pressed right between your thighs.
Lifting your head from his neck, you kissed him again. This time the kisses turned deeper, messier, more desperate. Teeth brushed lips, tongues tangled slowly and warmth spread through your entire body until you felt dizzy with it.
When it became too much, you instinctively rolled your hips, searching for friction.
And friction was exactly what you found.
His dick, hard beneath the fabric of his pants and your panties, rubbed perfectly against your clothed clit. It had been so long since you'd felt someone against you like this that greed started creeping in before you could stop it.
Pressing your hips down harder against his, satisfaction bloomed in your chest when a rough groan escaped him. His hands remained on your ass now, kneading softly while guiding your movements, encouraging every slow grind against him.
The feeling of skin, heat and pressure was intoxicating. Too much and somehow not enough at the same time. The rough fabric of his pants against the backs of your thighs suddenly became unbearable though, you needed it gone.
Without really thinking, your hands slid from his shoulders down toward his waistband. Rising just enough, you started tugging at them.
Rising slightly, the loss of friction made you whine immediately, even though it had been your own doing. But before you could get very far, Jack's hands gently stopped yours.
You froze at once. Your fingers hovered shakily above the waistband of his pants, your stomach dropping.
"I'm sorry," you whispered quickly against his lips. "Sorry."
Your pulse thundered painfully now, not from desire but embarrassment. Maybe you'd pushed too far. Maybe kissing had been fine, touching had been fine, but this—
"Shhh." His voice was soft and immediate, reassuring. "Relax, sweetheart. You didn't do anything wrong."
But you still couldn't look at him. Your gaze darted everywhere except his face until one of his hands gently cupped your jaw, carefully guiding you back toward him. His eyes looked exactly the same as before: warm, patient, hungry in the gentlest way imaginable. No discomfort. No anger.
"You know about my leg, right?" Jack asked quietly. After a hesitant nod from you, he nodded too. "But you've never seen it," he continued softly. "I just don't want you to be surprised, okay?"
For a second, you simply stared at him. Then laughter burst out of you unexpectedly. Real laughter, the kind that shook your entire body.
Was he seriously worried you'd be disgusted by his prosthetic? By an amputated limb?
Jack leaned back slightly against the couch cushions, head tilted while he watched you laugh yourself to tears. A small smile tugged at his lips, like he understood you'd needed the release after panicking.
Once your laughter finally settled, tears prickling lightly at the corners of your eyes, you looked back at him. Relaxed against your couch, shirtless and warm in the dim morning light, he looked strangely comfortable there.
"You know I'm a nurse, right?" you asked in disbelief.
He answered with one slow, firm nod. Eyes blinking softly in a cat like way.
But then doubt crept in anyway, irrational and sharp. It made no sense for him to think you'd care about his injury, which meant maybe he was only saying it because he wanted to stop. And if he wanted to stop, that was okay—but the thought that he might be searching for an excuse instead of simply telling you hurt more than it should have.
Wrapping your arms around yourself, you shifted back slightly until you were sitting more on his thighs than directly against his crotch. His thumb still stroked gently along your jaw while he studied your expression carefully.
"We can stop if you want," you said softly, though the voice barely sounded like yours. "We don't have to…"
The words trailed off awkwardly. Your toes curled restlessly against his skin while you fought the urge to fidget with your fingers.
"What if I don't want to stop?" His voice dropped lower again.
You stayed quiet, only staring at him while he searched your face.
"Do you want to stop?" Jack asked.
His gaze pinned you in place, making it impossible to look away this time.
Blinking quickly, you shook your head. "No."
"Then come back here," he murmured, teasing warmth returning to his tone so suddenly it sent heat rushing between your legs again. His tone wasn't commanding, but it had that natural dominance that didn't really let you do anything but what he said.
At some point his hands had slipped back onto your ass, stroking lightly until you shifted closer once more, settling back properly against his lap. Relief flooded through you when you felt him still hard beneath you, still wanting you just as much as before.
A soft moan escaped you as you rolled against him again.
"Good girl," Jack said deeply, voice raw.
The words hit you like a lightning strike.
Your entire body reacted instantly—thighs tightening around him, your breath catching embarrassingly hard while a pathetic little moan slipped free before you could stop it. Mortified, you buried your face against his shoulder while instinctively rocking your hips again.
"Didn't you want this problem solved?" Jack teased lightly.
Between your legs, you felt his hands playing with the waistband of his cargo pants. Deliberately, the back of his hand brushed against your clothed clit, adding just enough pressure to make you whine again.
A soft laugh rumbled through his chest beneath you.
Then your next roll of your hips dragged another rough groan out of him, lower this time, almost strangled. The sound sent a thrill straight through you.
"Who's laughing now?" you asked breathlessly, unable to stop yourself from grinning.
The light smack he gave your ass was the only answer you got before his palm rubbed soothingly over the spot afterwards.
A moment later, he tapped lightly against your thigh in silent request. When you lifted yourself just enough, Jack awkwardly tugged his pants off the rest of the way beneath you.
While he worked them free, you occupied yourself by kissing along his neck and shoulder slowly, patiently. You didn't want him to feel rushed or self-conscious. Nothing about this had felt hurried from the start, and you weren't about to change that now.
Once the discarded pants landed somewhere across the living room, his hands guided you back down onto him carefully so you wouldn't strain your sore muscles for too long. Your hip was definitely starting to ache again.
Settling comfortably against him once more, you kissed him deeply while your hips resumed a slower, steadier rhythm.
The soft fabric of his boxers felt infinitely better against you than the roughness of his cargo had. Even more intoxicating was the warmth of his bare skin against the backs of your thighs.
Combined with his wandering hands and his mouth against yours, it all became overwhelming in the best possible way. You weren't inexperienced, but somehow this felt entirely new—raw and exciting enough to make you feel like you were discovering sex for the first time all over again.
Between your legs, heat and dampness had already soaked through your panties, probably staining his boxers too. Normally that thought would've embarrassed you. Right now, though, you barely cared.
Maybe Jack sensed it too, because his hand suddenly slipped between your bodies, easing beneath the cotton of your underwear.
His fingers moved slowly through the soft hair there without hesitation, without comment, simply exploring you gently. The lack of judgment alone made something in your chest loosen. No criticism, no awkward remarks.
For several long seconds he only teased you lightly, fingers wandering until a shaky moan of his name finally escaped your lips.
You felt his smirk against your mouth immediately afterwards.
Then his fingers slid lower.
The second they found your clit, your entire body jolted. You'd been half convinced he'd drag it out and tease you endlessly, but instead he touched you with immediate purpose—slow, tight circles that stole the breath straight from your lungs.
Your kisses quickly fell apart after that, little gasps and broken sounds replacing them as you struggled to focus on anything except the feeling of his fingers working between your thighs.
Soon enough, the kisses became one-sided in the best way possible. Jack simply nipped and licked lazily at your lips, a smug smile tugging at his mouth while you struggled to breathe through the pleasure rolling through you.
From watching him at work, you'd hoped his hands would be skilled—steady, strong, careful. You'd been completely right.
A man his age, as experienced as you'd imagined him to be, clearly knew exactly what he was doing. He didn't fumble around searching for your clit or rush too quickly to the point of slight pain. Everything he did felt deliberate and perfectly paced, like he already knew your body despite never touching you before.
It was insane how naturally you fit together.
Sure, you'd known each other for over a year. You'd flirted shamelessly for most of it. But you never could've imagined actually being with him would feel this good. This easy. Like two puzzle pieces assembling.
"Feels really good," you breathed out between shaky moans against his lips.
"Yeah?" he teased softly before kissing you again.
"Mhm." You nodded rapidly, biting your lip as another wave of pleasure rolled through you.
"Good." That simple word, paired with the soft kiss he pressed to your forehead afterwards, made warmth spread through your chest just as much as between your thighs.
His fingers never left your clit, never broke their steady rhythm. Eventually it became impossible to focus on anything except feeling, Jack didn't seem to mind in the slightest. He wasn't asking for anything back from you, wasn't trying to make you perform for him.
Instead, his mouth wandered lower.
You couldn't exactly blame him when you'd been arching into him shamelessly, practically pressing your chest into his face every time pleasure jolted through you. Gently, his lips moved across the swell of your breasts while his teeth tugged teasingly at the fabric of your bra, letting it snap softly back against your skin.
He did it again. And again.
Finally, blinking through the haze, you looked down at him.
His eyes were darker than you'd ever seen them before—heavy with hunger. You'd seen him irritated, exhausted, sarcastic, even angry at work. But this version of him? This was entirely new.
And it was all because of you.
"Wanna take this off for me?" Jack asked, his voice calm and grounding despite the way his fingers kept working between your legs. "How does that sound?"
"Good," you moaned immediately when his touch pressed a little harder against your clit.
With trembling hands, you unclasped your bra and let it slide off. Cool air brushed over your bare skin instantly, your nipples already hard from both the temperature and the overwhelming pleasure building inside you.
The second your chest was fully exposed, Jack let out a slow breath.
"You're absolutely breathtaking," he murmured.
And then he kissed you there.
You barely even processed the compliment because the moment his mouth closed around one nipple, your thoughts scattered completely. His free hand cupped your other breast, rough thumb stroking over the sensitive peak without mercy before rolling it between it and his index finger.
It was too much. Completely overwhelming.
His mouth, his hands, his fingers between your legs—it felt like he was everywhere all at once. Yet the idea of him stopping felt unbearable too. Something tight and hot was building low in your stomach now, pressure winding tighter and tighter with every movement of his hand.
"Jack—" You moaned loudly.
The warning barely left your mouth before his teeth grazed your nipple a little harder. At the same time, his fingers sped up slightly against your clit.
That was all it took.
Pleasure crashed through you so suddenly your back arched hard against him, thighs clamping around his while your nails dug helplessly into his shoulders. The sounds leaving your throat were embarrassingly broken—high, shaky whines mixed with uneven breaths as you struggled to recover from how hard the orgasm hit you.
Recovering only became more difficult when Jack spoke again.
"Good girl," he murmured against the skin above your pounding heartbeat. "You just needed to relax."
The bastard absolutely knew what he was doing.
Especially when he could clearly feel the way your pussy clenched again at his praise while his fingers still rested between your thighs. Dropping your forehead against his shoulder, you let out a breathless laugh before lightly biting at his skin.
"You fucker."
Chuckling softly, Jack slowly slipped his fingers back out from your underwear before settling both hands comfortably on your ass again, as though they naturally belonged there. His other hand drifted soothingly along your back while he rested his head lightly against yours.
"Don't be mean now, sweetheart," he teased before giving your ass a playful slap. "You know you love it."
You opened your mouth to deny it automatically, purely out of spite, but his lips brushed against your ear before you could get the words out.
"I can still feel you clenching to it," he whispered, voice so low it sent a full-body shiver through you. As if your body wanted to prove him right, you felt your pussy involuntary clench afterwards.
"Just like that," he praised softly, along with a little laugh.
Groaning, you bit his shoulder again while trying desperately to steady your breathing.
For several quiet minutes, neither of you moved much. You simply stayed tangled together on the couch, half-dressed and warm, breathing each other in. It was soothing enough to make you sleepy.
And maybe that should've scared you—the intimacy of it, the domestic softness settling so naturally between you—but it didn't. If anything, it made you want to stay there longer.
Jack seemed perfectly content to follow your lead. Even with that effortless dominance wrapped around everything he did, he never pushed or demanded. He simply let you decide where things went next.
Still, despite the warmth and comfort, you wanted more.
Which meant eventually you had to get up.
Carefully pushing yourself to your feet, your shaky legs protested immediately as you stretched your arms over your head. Once again, you found yourself standing between his spread thighs while his gaze wandered openly over your nearly naked body.
Jack let out a low whistle of appreciation that made you roll your eyes instantly.
"Shut up," you muttered, fighting back a smile as you turned toward your bedroom. "I'll be right back."
When you returned a minute later, your heart skipped unexpectedly at the sight waiting for you.
He was still exactly where you'd left him, relaxed against the couch cushions with his legs spread comfortably. Like he belonged there, the thought crossed your mind again.
And he didn't seem remotely uncomfortable about his prosthetic being visible now that his pants were gone. The human body really was incredible in the way it adapted.
As you approached, Jack said nothing at first. He simply patted his thigh again in invitation.
Smiling softly, you settled back into his lap without hesitation this time, all your earlier self-consciousness gone. Once comfortably seated, you held up what you'd brought back with you.
A condom.
His smile widened immediately, surprise and clear approval flashing across his face.
"You're not tired?" he asked quietly.
You doubted he even noticed how instinctively his hands had already settled back onto your hips the second you sat down. It seemed neither of you could stop touching the other for very long.
"I have trouble sleeping," you teased lightly, tilting your head. "What about you, old man? Getting tired already?"
Clicking his tongue, Jack tried and failed to hide his grin. Accepting the challenge, he took the condom from your hand before pulling you firmly back against the hard length between his thighs.
"You'll get tired before I do," he warned, voice low against your lips.
And the way he kissed you afterwards made it sound dangerously close to a promise.
It was a rushed kiss, overflowing with longing and want. His tongue slipped immediately into your mouth, tangling with yours while your teeth brushed together clumsily in your desperation. His hands kept pulling you closer and closer until there was no space left between you at all.
Chest to chest, you could feel everything—his heartbeat hammering beneath your palms, the rise and fall of his breathing, the twitch of dick between your thighs whenever you rolled your hips.
It only took seconds before the grinding started again, though "dry" hardly fit anymore. Not when both of you were already flushed and overheated from everything that had happened. Anf from how soaked you felt between your legs.
One of Jack's hands tapped lightly against your ass before slipping lower, tugging your panties down as far as he could manage.
"Okay, okay," you mumbled between kisses, with a breathless laugh as you lifted yourself enough to help.
You hurriedly kicked the fabric off while Jack tugged his own underwear down as well. The second you noticed how neatly trimmed he was, self-consciousness crept back in unexpectedly.
"You don't… uh…" Your eyes dropped nervously between your legs. "You don't mind, right?"
Jack looked almost offended by the question.
"What do you take me for?" he asked seriously, immediately shutting the doubt down before it could grow. "Come here, sweetheart. Stop being silly."
The warmth in his voice made you smile despite yourself.
Settling back over him, you hovered there for a moment with your hands braced against his shoulders while he rolled the condom on carefully. You couldn't stop staring at his hands, at the way his fingers moved along himself with practiced ease. Anticipation curled low in your stomach instantly.
He wasn't the biggest man you'd ever been with, but somehow you already knew he'd fit you perfectly. No painful stretching. No discomfort. Just right.
"Ready?" he teased, stroking himself once more while his eyes gleamed mischievously up at you.
Nodding quickly, you shifted closer with a shaky breath. Your heart was pounding so hard it almost felt ridiculous. You couldn't remember the last time sleeping with someone had made you nervous like this.
Then again, you'd also never spent months hopelessly crushing on someone before finally ending up in their lap.
Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him.
The first stretch pulled a soft gasp from both of you. Just like you'd expected, he fit perfectly, full enough to make you shiver, but immediately comfortable—warm and right. Jack's fingers tightened instinctively against your hips, hard enough to make a small sound of pain slip from your mouth before he immediately let go.
"Fuck, sorry, sweetheart," he breathed, his hands dropping quickly to his own thighs.
"It's okay," you reassured him softly.
Missing his touch almost instantly, you grabbed his wrists and guided his hands upward onto your chest instead. Somewhere safer. Somewhere he wouldn't be afraid to hold you tightly.
On instinct, his palms squeezed gently while his thumbs brushed over your nipples, drawing another shaky breath from you.
Once fully seated in his lap, neither of you moved right away. You simply sat there breathing together, staring at each other as the reality of the moment settled over both of you.
Then, almost at the same time, you both laughed quietly. The nervous tension melted immediately after that, and something about knowing he was just as affected as you were made your chest ache warmly.
Unable to resist, you leaned down to kiss him again.
The kiss deepened quickly, soft turning hungry within seconds, and your hips began moving instinctively against his. At first you only rocked slowly, getting used to the feeling of him inside you.
But soon you pushed yourself up carefully on your knees, lowering yourself back down in a slow rhythm. Every movement dragged him along your walls in a way that made little moans spill helplessly from your mouth into his.
Jack wasn't much quieter.
Soft groans vibrated against your lips while his grip flexed against your body, and every now and then he hit a spot inside you that made your thighs tighten around him uncontrollably.
Still, after a few minutes, exhaustion was already catching up to you. Between your long shift, your bruised hip, and the emotional rollercoaster of the night, your body was starting to give out.
You tried to hide it by kissing him deeper, slowing your movements into lazy rolls of your hips instead of proper thrusts. But of course Jack noticed immediately.
"I told you you'd get tired first," he teased softly against your mouth.
Before you could protest, his hands slowed your hips until you were sitting still against him again. When you tried moving once more, his grip tightened gently around your waist, holding you in place.
"Jack," you whined quietly, attempting to squirm free.
"Tsk." He clicked his tongue before deliberately shifting his hips upward just enough to make you gasp. "You're exhausted and your hip hurts," he scolded calmly. "We're not pushing it."
With a defeated sigh, you finally stopped fighting him.
Searching his expression nervously, you expected to find disappointment somewhere in his face. Frustration maybe. Annoyance. Instead, all you found was softness, warmth and concern. Desire still lingering there too, but patient now instead of consuming.
The sudden tenderness made your eyes sting unexpectedly.
"I'm sorry," you whispered, looking away before he could see you tearing up.
"You don't have to be." Immediately, he pulled you gently against his chest again. "You didn't do anything wrong, sweetheart."
The second he wrapped his arms around you, your body seemed to finally give up entirely. Tension melted straight out of your muscles as though all you'd needed was his warmth to feel safe enough to let go.
One of his hands rubbed soothingly up and down your back while the other reached for the blanket tossed over the couch earlier, draping it carefully around your shoulders.
Only then did you realise you'd been trembling for the past minute.
Shock, stress, adrenaline—your body had probably been running on fumes since the accident earlier that night. Then there'd been Jack coming to your apartment, all the emotional chaos of finally crossing this line with him… It had been a lot.
"We can keep going," you whispered weakly against his skin anyway.
You felt him shake his head against your hair. "Nope."
The simple firmness in his voice somehow made you relax even more. Your eyes still sting with unshed tears, but you were finally getting your breathing back to normal. A minute later, your stomach growled loudly enough to break the silence entirely, both of you burst into laughter instantly.
"I feel sore everywhere," you complained dramatically as you finally pushed yourself upright a little.
The mood had shifted already, softer now, calmer—but you still didn't want him to leave. Some irrational part of you worried that if he walked out this morning, this whole thing would disappear with him.
"Go take a shower," Jack said gently, kissing the top of your head. "I'll make us something to eat."
"You're staying?" The question came out far more vulnerable than you intended.
Jack scoffed softly, his eyes immediately locking onto yours. His hands settled back onto your ass automatically.
"You think that little of me?" he asked quietly. There was a smile on his lips, but this time it looked faintly hurt around the edges. "I care about you for a hell of a lot more than sex, okay?"
His thumbs stroked lightly against your skin.
"If you want me gone, I'll get dressed right now," he continued gently. "But I don't think that's what you want."
It took your brain a few seconds to fully process the sincerity in his voice.
"I want you to stay," you admitted softly, suddenly embarrassed you'd doubted him at all.
Jack answered by kissing you again. Not hungry this time. Not desperate. Just soft and reassuring enough to quiet every lingering fear in your chest.
"Go take your shower then," he murmured against your lips.
Once you were finally standing again, wrapped in the blanket and still trembling slightly, you watched Jack sit forward, elbows resting on his knees.
"Do you need help?" you asked meekly, nodding subtly toward the space between his legs.
Laughing softly, he leaned closer until his forehead rested against your stomach. The edge of the blanket brushed against his skin while your fingers slipped gently into his hair. The gesture soothed both of you instantly. Soft. Familiar already.
"No, I'm fine," he replied before pressing a quick kiss to your stomach and nudging you toward the bathroom.
You disappeared down the hallway with one last glance back at him.
Once alone in the bathroom, waiting for the water to warm, you finally looked properly at the bruise blooming across your hip. It looked awful—dark spreading across your skin in uneven patches. Even brushing against it hurt. Walking had become nearly impossible without limping, and you already knew the next few days were going to suck.
After a quick shower, you returned to the living room wearing soft pyjama shorts and an oversized shirt. Your body felt heavy and relaxed now, though your hip still throbbed painfully.
The second you stepped into the kitchen, you stopped.
Jack stood by the stove, shirtless, cooking scrambled eggs like he belonged there.
You hadn't been prepared for the sheer domesticity of it. Somehow, seeing him casually cooking in your kitchen felt more intimate than everything that had happened on the couch. The fact that he was doing it shirtless only made it worse.
Now that you were dressed again and no longer overwhelmed by desire, it felt easier to slip back into yourself. Easier to joke. To breathe.
"I'm pretty sure cooking without a shirt isn't medically recommended, Doctor," you teased, leaning against the doorway.
"Don't worry," he replied without missing a beat, glancing back at you briefly before returning to the pan. "I've got the best nurse around to take care of me."
Then he winked.
You rolled your eyes instantly, fighting a smile while he turned the stove off. Dinner—breakfast or whatever this meal counted as, was ready.
As you reached into the cabinet for plates, a huge yawn escaped you. It was ridiculous how completely your body had relaxed after an orgasm, a hot shower and finally letting yourself feel safe. Earlier, you hadn't lied when you said you had a hard time falling asleep, but now it felt like you might pass out standing up.
The meal itself passed in easy conversation.
You talked about work, books stacked around your flat, music from your vinyl collection. Jack teased your taste in indie pop while pretending not to know half the artists already. The eggs were ridiculously good too, which annoyed you a little.
Once you'd finished eating, he immediately forced you back onto your seat while he cleaned up. You'd protested, arguing that if he cooked then you should do the dishes, but he'd refused the second he noticed your limp worsening.
So instead you sat there with your cheek resting against your hand, watching his broad back move beneath the warm sunlight while he washed dishes at your sink.
It was such an ordinary sight. And somehow that made it unforgettable.
"You know," you started quietly, eyes still fixed on him, "I have one of those plastic stools if you want to shower."
"Yeah?" You could hear the smile in his voice immediately.
Relieved he hadn't taken offence, you nodded awkwardly. You knew he wasn't secretive about his disability, but you still didn't want to accidentally say the wrong thing.
"It's not exactly a disability shower thing, but…" you trailed off carefully.
"I'd like that," he replied easily, turning toward you. "A stool's fine. Don't worry."
Once he reached you, he leaned down and tilted your chin upward gently. A small kiss brushed your lips. Then another. Finally, one soft kiss landed on the tip of your nose.
"You're waiting in bed, though," he murmured with a wink. "Doctor's orders."
After showing him where the stool was, locking the front door, and turning off the apartment lights, you finally made your way toward your bedroom.
The room glowed softly from the bedside lamp while the sound of running water drifted from the en-suite bathroom. You'd left him a towel and a spare toothbrush without even thinking about it. Neither of you had outright said he'd stay the night, it had simply happened naturally, like an unspoken agreement.
At some point, exhaustion dragged you under.
The sound of the bathroom door opening startled you awake. Disoriented, you blinked sleepily toward the doorway where Jack stood, shirtless and damp-haired beneath the soft light.
"Sorry," he whispered immediately.
"It's okay," you mumbled, pushing yourself up slightly. "Didn't mean to fall asleep."
Jack smiled softly before walking toward the bed. The limp in his step was more noticeable now, and guilt twisted in your chest immediately. You suddenly hated how little your apartment offered to make things easier for him.
"Are you okay?" you asked quietly, glancing toward the prosthetic.
"Been worse," he replied with a faint smirk before his expression softened. "It won't make you uncomfortable if I take it off?"
The vulnerability in his eyes startled you more than the question itself. You'd never seen Jack uncertain before. At work he was always composed, teasing, confident.
"Of course not," you answered immediately, giving him the gentlest smile you could manage.
Nodding once, he carefully removed the prosthetic and placed it beside the bed. You watched him massage along the scar absentmindedly for a moment before he finally slid beneath the blankets and leaned back against the headboard.
"I left the stool in the shower," he said after a beat, voice quieter than usual. "Hope that's okay."
"It's fine," you replied softly, reaching over to take his hand. "You can actually lie down, you know."
Laughing under his breath, he finally stretched out beside you. Slowly but visibly, his entire body relaxed more and more the longer he settled into the mattress.
"This bed is terrible," he announced after a few moments of silence.
Scoffing dramatically, you smacked his chest lightly. "Do you know how expensive mattresses are?"
Pulling his hand from yours, he wrapped his arm around your back and tugged you closer until your head rested against his chest.
"You'll come to mine next time," he murmured sleepily, eyes already half-closed.
"Next time?" you teased, tilting your head to look up at him.
Like this, relaxed and exhausted, he somehow looked younger. Softer. His freckles stood out beautifully across his face in the low light.
"Oh, definitely," Jack replied, a lazy smirk tugging at his mouth. "A bruise like that takes weeks to heal. Lots of relaxation."
"Oh, sure," you laughed, shaking your head. "The bruise. Right."
Still smiling, you leaned over to switch off the lamp before settling back against his chest. His breathing rocked you gently while your fingers traced lazy patterns up and down his stomach. Trying to comfort him the same way he'd comforted you all evening. And somehow, wrapped up in the warmth of the biggest crush you'd ever had, you fell asleep faster than you had in years.
All because of one stupid, unexpected accident. Honestly, you couldn't bring yourself to complain about it.
i know this one came up terribly late, but im still dealing with some depressive aftermath. hope you enjoy it though, cause i kinda rewarded your waiting with a 13k second part hihi (yes it's a pattern that they never get to cum... if you noticed, no you haven't.)
"Forget something?" you asked innocently, nodding toward the illegally parked car.
"You," he answered immediately.
✧What DO YOU MEAAANNN??? I nearly threw my phone across the room but then I remembered I'm in a hospital so calm down I guess but like what in the sweet hell macaroni cheesecake factory is this?? I have never in my life held back a scream inside a 🏥 I WANT MORE
✧That whole interaction after the shift is absolutely bonkers I mean come on this should be illegal but like he's so initiative when it comes to the person he so clearly like what do you mean "I'm taking you home"?????? Get the fawk out
His lips hovered just above yours, not quite kissing you, but making no effort to hide how badly he wanted to.
✧What in the porcupine meatballs is this shite??? Omaga I flinched when I read this part don't care even if somebody had walked in I don't care even if it kills me. I love this version of intimacy.
✧AWWWWEEEEE MAN kisses on the stomach are so sweet oh soft kisses on the stomach (づ￣ ³￣)づ
✧At this point I read the part not rushing sex #!$# and I just paused, malfunctioned I guess because I just stopped taking notes because I had to take that moment to appreciate the fact that passion overpowered lust. But like I need them to be on the equal scale ⚖️ ( ꈍᴗꈍ)
✧"Does it hurt?" I can't let this pass because no it doesn't hurt anymore. Every wound and every cut and every bruise and every scar wouldn't hurt as long as I'm with you
✧Holy shit holy shit holy shit I hope Siri was here so I could scream "Babe play Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen rn" ✧\(>o<)ﾉ✧
✧"And you're way too pretty to waste time worrying about stupid things." Preach Jack Abbot preach. This is soooooo true I'm weak in the knees
✧"You're so warm," Man I've never been more jealous before Jack Abbot let me feel that warmth
✧"His di-" AWOOP!!!! jumpscare-(٥↼_↼)
✧Babe I have never been one to be disgusted by many things and I sure as hell won't make a face on an amputated leg like??? #Ride
✧"Good girl," THERE IT IS THE NATIONAL ANTHEM OF JACK ABBOT GOOD FAWKING GIRL argh I'm so exhausted leave me alone (●´⌓`●)
✧Hold on I'm sorry I didn't know discovering sex for the first time all over again would be this tiring 'cause I'm biting my tongue, I'm gripping the sheet, I'm sat and laid back and levitating all at once...
✧To everything that happened next there's only one thing for me to say: What the fawk give me more
✧....the doorway where Jack stood, shirtless and damp-haired beneath the soft light. Someone please draw this
✧I need one more fic entitled Good Girl yupppp
✧Me too me too me twoooo(人*´∀｀)｡*ﾟ+
✧I can't complain too because this is absolutely beautifully and immaculately written well done dear you have earned the babygirl duck writer badge of honor!!!
mmm ghost who wears briefs instead of boxers, no shame in answering the door with the bulge of his cock clearly visible when his poor neighbor knocks. can't help the little smirk that twists his lips when your eyes dart to the thin grey fabric and nearly bulge themselves at what you find. wonders if a nervous thing like you would let him put you on your knees right there in the doorway or if you'd fuss before his big hand guided you to nose at his cock. just the thought has him twitching in his pants, knows you saw it too the way your eyes dart to his in embarrassment.
or maybe you're embarrassed about the loud moaning and wet sounds that spill out of the flat behind him, porno still playing full volume on the TV.
either way you stutter out the cutest little apology with your head hung low to avoid looking at him before you scurry away. if he weren't working he might just follow after you, let you get a taste of the cotton you'd seemed so eager to try and stare a hole through.
Warnings: PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING. This story will contain themes of stalking, potential harassment, fear and anxiety, escalating behaviors, etc. If that is triggering for you in any way, I’d recommend skipping this story. I’ve got other works if you’re interested in that. Thanks in advance. Language. Established relationship. Older man and younger woman trope (unspecified age gap). Inaccurate medical terminology. No use of Y/N. Ambiguous race. Not beta’d. Whatever else I failed to mention.
Author’s Note: I do not own The Pitt in any capacity. The franchise and its characters belong to their rightful owner(s). Similarly, I don’t own any the gifs or pictures used for my fics. All I own are the fic ideas.
This is kind of a tester chapter. I’m getting a feel of how this story will play out. If I feel it’ll be good, the next chapters will be longer
Word Count: 490
Series Masterlist || Masterlist
Next Part ->
You heard about them before you saw them.
The flowers sat on your desk when you came into work that Monday morning, a massive bouquet nestled in an expensive crystal vase that definitely hadn't come from the hospital gift shop.
You were still trying to wake up, a cup of black coffee in one hand as you made your way through the office.
Jack had made leaving particularly difficult that morning.
It was one of his rare days off. No ED. No SWAT. No overtime. Just him, half-asleep and shirtless beneath the blankets, refusing to let you out of bed.
By the time you'd finally escaped his grip and gotten ready for work, you were cutting it dangerously close.
"Cutting it real close, don't you think?" Naomi called the second you walked through the door.
You pointed your coffee at her in warning.
She only grinned wider.
"You see the flowers yet?"
You blinked. "What flowers?"
Naomi's expression immediately shifted into something mischievous.
"Oh, you're gonna love this."
You frowned.
"Someone sent you a bouquet."
"A bouquet?"
She gestured dramatically toward your desk. "A bouquet."
Your eyes followed her hand.
And there they were.
The arrangement was gorgeous.
White lilies, pale pink roses, baby's breath woven throughout. It looked professionally arranged, the kind of thing someone spent serious money on.
Several coworkers had already noticed, lingering nearby and pretending not to stare.
"Oh my God," one of them said. "Your boyfriend is setting the bar ridiculously high."
A few people laughed.
You found yourself smiling despite it.
Jack?
The idea wasn't impossible.
Maybe he'd decided to be sweet after all.
Though flowers weren't usually his thing. Only on very special occasions.
You approached the desk, setting your coffee down beside the vase.
Up close, they were even prettier.
A small white envelope rested between the stems.
Your smile widened.
"There's a note?" Naomi asked.
You carefully pulled it free.
Everyone nearby seemed to lean in.
The card was simple.
Thinking of you.
No name.
No signature.
Nothing else.
Your smile faltered.
"Huh."
Naomi tilted her head. "That's it?"
You flipped the card over.
Nothing.
You checked inside the envelope.
Nothing.
"Maybe they forgot to sign it," Naomi offered.
"Maybe it's from a secret admirer,” someone else chimed.
A chorus of teasing immediately followed.
You forced a laugh.
"Well, that's not creepy at all."
"Please," Naomi snorted. "You're dating Jack Abbot. Nobody's trying to compete with that."
You smiled along with her.
But your eyes drifted back to the card.
Thinking of you.
Something about it felt oddly personal.
Not threatening.
Not even unsettling, really.
Just...
Strange.
You reached for your phone.
-Did you send flowers to my office?
The response came almost immediately.
-Flowers? What flowers?
You stared at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
-Baby, if I sent flowers you'd know they were from me.
The tiny knot in your stomach tightened for the first time.
Summary: Jack ends up crashing your girls night out and takes you to a one way trip.
Warnings: smut, clit play, dub/con reader is drunk but begs jack for it so how can he say no? protected sex, mention of Jack using viagra before, consensual groping, reader is usually quite a modest, sweet nurse but she turns into a demon when she’s horny 😬
This is a pt. 2 to Martini! I got this inspiration from a comment @iridescentlilt left on the ‘Martini’ post! I’m already working on a pt. 3…the Monday shift!
As the other nightcrawlers went home one by one, Jack stayed seated in the booth. Someone had to keep an eye on you as you got more tipsy, and that tipsy turned to being drunk and stumbling, though not refusing a drink. Especially the ones that ‘that guy over there’ paid for.
You didn’t miss it. The first round of drinks he paid for, you had looked over, glossy and tinted lips twitching as you made out his handsome face. No fucking way Abbot was still here, sexy veteran attending doctor who was now paying for you and your friends drinks. You hope he knew how much these martinis cost. Maybe he had the dough to spend.
You had sent him a sweet smile, maybe popping your hip out a little more and letting your dress ride up slightly. Gosh, vodka made you horny. Almost as much as wine.
Then the night went on, and even as your friends and yourself continued drinking, he didn’t much like the idea of you going to another bar or a club. You were already drunk, stumbling over your heels and leaning like your world was spinning. It probably was.
So, he made his way over just as you were exiting.
He liked how your girlfriends gave him dirty looks, wrapping their arms around you and sobering up when a strange, old man had approached with car keys. He respected it. They looked out for you. “Uhh, who are you?” “Can you fuck off, creep—” Alla that shit until you gasped and hugged Abbot like he was your bestest friend.
“Nooono, guys, don’t be nasty, he’s lovely! He- hic He workss with meee!” You defend sweetly, wrapping your arm through his, feeling you squeeze his bicep shamelessly. “Hess the one who’s been buying our drinksss~! Mhm!” You smiled, glassy and hooded eyes and all, batting your lashes up at him. “Hes a soldier, too,”
“Girl, we don’t give a fuck, the night is still youngg!” One of your friends shouted, exasperated, “We’re not letting some creep take you in his car-”
“He’s ddrove me home loads!” You reassure with another aggressive hiccup, discreetly obviously winking at them and nodding your head towards Jack. He saw every moment.
Another girl just snorted and shook her head, pulling you close and hugging you, before they all called their goodbyes and called a taxi. “Have a good night, sweetie,” “Turn your location on!” “Text us when you’re home—” “Or on that dick!”
You plugged your seatbelt in and melted into Jack’s leather, heated passenger seat. A big sigh left through your nose, pulling out your phone from your bag, only to find a pack of condoms falling out. Holy fuck, you didn’t put that in there! I mean, your friends meant well, but that’s just embarrassing!
Your face burns red hot, and you scramble to shove them back in. “They’re- I-..That was my friends, not me,”
“Not my business, sweetheart,” He chuckles as he turns the engine on.
“No, I- I- I don’t have a boyfriend or anything, so I don’t-”
“It’s fine, kid. You don’t gotta explain yourself. At least you’re using protection.” He reassured, spotting the condom and internally smirking. Wouldn’t fit him anyway. Are the guys these days seriously only regular size? He thought to himself smugly. “You don’t got a boyfriend?”
You shook you head sheepishly, glancing up at him. Fuck, his eyes, his shoulders, his bicep straining against his shirt and tensing from the steering wheel. “..no.”
“How the fuck did that happen?” He snorts playfully.
“..I don’ know…Maybe i’m picky, but my standards are literally just a kind, funny guy who’s not skinny.” You slurred quietly. “I need ssome muscle, warmth..”
He huffed in amusement, glancing at your lap, at the sliver of your soft thigh through the slit of your dress. Gosh, just an inch higher and he could see the sliver of panties — if you were even wearing any. Then back at the road. He would try, if you weren’t drunk. Flirting was harmless, he didn’t expect anything in return.
When Jack looked back at you, you were staring at him. His face, his chest, his lap.
Your eyes widen again, glancing away. Awkward.
“..Are you not married?” You blurt out stiffly, curious but coming out a bit harsh and accusing.
Jack straightened up a bit. “I was.”
You stay silent. “..But you still wear your ring,”
“I didn’t get divorced.” His thumb briefly twists the silver wedding band on his ring finger.
“Oh..That’s so sad,” You whisper, becoming a bit teary. Overall, more emotional from all of the alcohol. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked—”
“It’s fine, don’t beat yourself up.” He redirects carefully, patting your thigh in a reassuring manner. “I don’t think your standards are high, if it counts.” He redirects.
“Thank you! Th—Theres lots of nice guys with nice shoulders and th- hic that make me laugh..Then again, I think people would look down on me if my boyfriend was like 20 years older than me—”
What? Were you talking about him? Gosh, you were never this ballsy at work—
A brief, strangled noise left his throat when he felt your hand on his crotch. Were you meant to grab his thigh? His hand? You can’t be that drunk.
“Uhh, sweetheart, you don’t—” He exhales when he feels your hand tighten carefully. “Oh fuck.”
“I don’t wanna go home yet..” You murmured softly, staring up at him with big doe eyes. You were so pretty like that.
“Baby, you’re drunk, I can’t—”
“…Oh shit, do you not—” You pull you hand away slowly, nervously.
“No, no, baby, I do, I just- I can’t- I can’t bring you home drunk, you can’t- You can’t properly consent, can you? You can’t even walk in a straight line,”
“I never can, anyway.” You defend, teary again. “Please, Jack, I don’t wanna be alone tonight, i might as should have stayed with my girlfriends—”
Before Jack could even open his front door, you had him up against it. One hand squeezing his bicep and the other travelling down his stomach. *He could feel all the blood leaving his brain to go down south already. This is the first time in years he’s gotten hard without any sildenafil. This was all your doing. Fuck.
You whined softly against his lips, your hips pressed tightly against his own. You really tried not to grind on him, you knew he had neighbours…But you didn’t really care.
He unlocked his front door and guided you inside, “Wherres your bedroom?” You slurred softly, grabbing onto his shirt.
“Jus- Ah- Just there,” He pointed, a bit flushed. You were never so forward at work. He felt a bit vulnerable. Like a lamb in a lion enclosure. Surely it should be the other way around?
You pushed him onto his bed and climbed onto his lap, taking his lips again before pulling back, letting him take his prosthetic off and getting comfortable. You stood before him and taking off your heels, watching him intensely as he tugged his shirt off.
Jack watched you with hungry, yet admiring eyes as you unzipped your dress. You weren’t wearing panties. He wanted to chuckle and scold you, but he was too damn shocked. Maybe you actually were a freak in the sheets but a lady on the street.
You climbed back on him and took his lips, fingers carding through his salt and pepper curls and tugging lightly, slipping your tongue past his lips for the umpteenth time that evening, feeling the bumps on his teeth and along his canines, tasting his bitter beer, and just knowing he could taste the syrup and vodka on your breath.
Jack’s hands, scarred and calloused, smoothed their way carefully up your ribs, feeling your heavy breathing before cupping your breasts, appreciating the beauty and the fitting size in his palms. Beautiful. Breathtaking. Gorgeous.
“Honey, take a breath,” He whispered against your cheek as you kissed across his stubbly jaw. “Are you sur—”
“Oh! Mmmy bag!” You shot up briefly and grabbed your handbag from the floor by your heels, grabbing a condom.
He repeated your name, louder, a bit firmer. His hands cupped your cheeks. “You need to tell me now if you want this. You’re not gonna regret this in the morning? This isn’t just a one night stand for me, baby.”
You stare right back at him, still breathing heavily. And you nodded. “I would fuck you in the on call room if I had the balls,”
Jack’s eyebrows shot up past his hairline almost comically, even more so when he heard you giggle in amusement. “..Please…Jackie, I wwanted you for agesss~ I need it~ I- I wouldn’t have done this if I were soberrr,”
“Okay, okay, honey,” He coos softly, pecking your lips and taking the condom from your hand and looking down at it apologetically. God knows he didn’t have any condoms, he hadn’t used any since him and his late wife were young.
You continued kissing him as he unbuckled his belt and ushered his trousers off. The sight of his throbbing cock made you sober up a bit.
“Oh..”
“What? Talk to me, baby?”
“It’s big..” You whispered, eyes wide.
“Yeah..We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to-”
“I don’t think this will fit,” You butt in quietly, saddened as you held out the condom.
“Oh, i’m sorry baby..I don’t think it will.”
“I really wanted to..” You whine in disappointment, staring down at the regular condom like it’s ruined your life.
“..I’m clean, if you,” he sighs hesitantly, “If you wanna go raw-”
“Are you sure?! I am too!” You asked excitedly, waiting for his get-go.
“Yeah.” Fuck yes in every universe.
You hover over his lap and kiss him once more before feeling him line his cock head up to your glistening hole. His thumb gently toys with your clit, wanting you wet and ready so he didn’t hurt you. There was no turning back now, not after those sweet little noises you made as he circled your clit, rubbing carefully over the slick nub and over the hood as he began pushing inside you.
Jack heard the quiet, strained noises escaping your lips as he sat you down gently, moaning shamelessly into his neck. “Fucck, Jack..” He let out a soft groan as he felt your warm, gooey walls enveloping his fat cock, his hands running up and down your bare sides to try and soothe you — He knows he’s overwhelming.
“I know, sweetheart, I know..” He hums deeply, kissing the corner of your lips, then your cheekbone, hearing you let out a shaky mewl as you sat as deep as you could go, his tip sat against your delicate cervix.
Your legs trembled around his, squeezing his arm, his shoulders, his chest, anywhere you could reach, anywhere you could hold onto for support because fuck this felt quite paramount. “Oh my fucking gosh,” You whined desperately, throat thick as tears sprang to your eyes. You didn’t even know why. The alcohol certainly lowered your inhibitions, had it heightened your emotions? Your sensations?— “Augh! Ffuck, Jackie!”
Jack smirked into your shoulder at your, the only noise in his head was your moans in his ear and the loud squelches from between your soft thighs. “That good?”
All he got in response was a shaky moan, and a tight squeeze from your velvety walls. You started moving. Granted, your hips were stuttering and a bit unorganised, but it felt fucking fantastic where Jack was sat.
He met your hips with thorough thrusts, his thumb still teasing your pearly nub beyond overstimulation, but it would be dreadful if he stopped. It all felt too good. He felt you jolt when he felt a specific spongy spot deep inside your front wall, “Ooh, that it, honey?” He chuckled deeply, huffing against your chest.
Jack’s hands smoothed up and down your waist, from cupping your breasts in his hands to guiding your hips as they slowed down, “Y’tired, sweetie?” He hummed, groaning as you squeezed him tight, nodding and lying on top of him. He gladly took the lead.
Greedy hands groped at your hips and ass cheeks, whilst yours squeezed and clawed at as his arms and shoulders like you were dangling on the edge of a cliff. “Ffuuuck, Jack, I~ That’s sooo..”
He groaned at your continuous moans in his ear, doubling his efforts and putting more pressure on your little bundle until he felt your seize up, white hot pleasure blossoming from the pit of your belly to your fingertips and toes, crying out desperately into his shoulder and tugging on his salt n’ pepper curls.
He held you down tight against his hips, suddenly coming deep against your cervix, painting your gummy pink walls white. He hadn’t felt like that since his wife, and he hadn’t came that fast since he was a teenager.
A quiet, dirty squelch sounded from between your thighs as you lay on top of him, getting comfortable and cuddling. Jack placed a sweet kiss on your temple over your hair, rubbing his hands up and down the curve of your spine.
“Good girl, easy now..” He hushed, stroking down your hair, which was lovely and styled at the start of the night, before he had got to you. He grabbed his duvet and pulled it over the both of you. He knew you’d have to get up in a minute; make you pee, make you drink some water, maybe some toast. “You okay, sweetie?”
You nodded, drunker than you were before. Mission, accomplished.
Summary: Because of bad experiences with men, you don't think that someone could actually like you in a romantic way, and because of that, you don't notice how your attending is down so bad for you.
Disclaimer: English is not my first language, so I apologize if there are any spelling or grammatical errors.
You were always that friend that men didn't ask out or ask for your number, but they did for your friends. Since high school, you liked a boy and they just approached you to talk about your friends, if they were single, what they liked, or if you thought they would accept going out with them. You wanted to scream every time it happened, but instead you smiled and answered back even if it broke your heart every single time.
So now, as an adult, when a man flirts with you or compliments you, you don't think they are actually flirting or meaning the compliments, because…
Why would they?
It's something that has grown in your head, with time and more men that have dismissed you for someone else or asked to date one of your friends. So when your attending, Jack Abbot, starts to flirt with you very subtly, you actually don't notice because, in your mind, no one would do that and you just thought that it was him being friendly.
How he always knew when you needed coffee at a specific time on your shift and he always got that for you on time when you were just thinking about getting one. How he always got it right, the way you liked your coffee.
Also, Jack could be a little grumpy sometimes, answering a little sharply to anyone but you. He was always sweet and talked to you with a half smile and a shine in his hazel eyes that everybody noticed.
Everyone except you.
And you wouldn't have if it wasn't for Ellis.
She approached you in the middle of your shift as always, you were doing your charts and she probably just wanted to mess around. After some chat, she dropped it, no warning or anesthesia.
“But Abbot is in love with you.” She just said it like it was common knowledge.
You froze, your fingers stopped answering you, you looked at her trying to find out if she's joking and when you saw how totally serious she was, you panicked, that couldn't be true, it wasn't possible, all his gestures were friendly, what would he even look at you for? Definitely not more than friends, you told yourself that you didn't fit with him, he was too handsome.
“You know it, right?” Parker asked after seeing your stunned face.
You just looked at her, wide eyes and red faced.
“Girl… that man is on his knees for you.” She was as stunned as you but for a different reason.
You actually didn't know.
“Have you ever seen him bring coffee to any of us? Let alone get our preferred order right? Give us a soft tone when he's instructing or annoyed. And I can go on and on all night long.”
She left you there because a trauma was coming in. You weren't able to move or think straight. You just repeated to yourself that it wasn't true, that Ellis was messing around with you. But every time you looked at Jack, her words repeated in your mind and you wished they were true and that couldn't happen.
Every time you let yourself have a crush or fall for someone, it ended up with you being rejected, hurt in the most painful way. And when Parker's words wouldn't leave your mind, you started to avoid your attending, running away from every room where he was before he could approach you or direct a single word at you. You presented your cases to Shen or Cruz until it became evident that you were avoiding him.
You didn't leave Jack a choice, not knowing what he did for you to not let him go near you; it was killing him. He made sure to follow every move you made until you grabbed your things and said goodbye to everyone except him. He followed you quickly to the parking lot and didn't give you a chance to run away from him.
“Hey, can we talk?” he stopped you before you could reach your car keys.
“I've got to go…”
“Did I do something?” he asked nervously.
You didn't look at him, trying to stop the butterflies in your stomach and Parker's words repeated in your mind.
“No,” you mumbled.
“Then why are you avoiding me?” he insisted, trying to understand what could have possibly happened to make you avoid just him.
“I’m not,” you whispered, trying not to focus on the warmth of his hand on your arm.
“Don’t lie to me, sweetheart.”
The pet name made shivers go down your back and again you tried to convince yourself that he could possibly say that to any other woman.
“I’m not.”
“Did I say something?” he was more desperate this time. “Whatever I said to hurt you, I didn't mean it that way, I–”
“You didn't say anything wrong,” you assured him, stopping his rambling.
“Then what is it?”
“Nothing.” You tried to go away but he didn't let you.
“Please,” he mumbled your name, not knowing how much you loved hearing it coming out of his mouth.
He shifted his weight from leg to leg nervously given your lack of response.
“Did someone say something?” Again you didn't answer but the shift in your expression answered for you.
Jack sighed defeated.
“I’m so sorry if it made you feel uncomfortable–
“It doesn't,” you said so quickly that you realized what you had said after you did it.
Jack frowned, confused. “Then…”
“Do you actually?” you whispered, unable to look him in the eyes, preparing yourself for the rejection.
“What? That I'm in love with you, sweetheart? Because I totally am.” he said it with such confidence and like it was something so obvious.
You looked at him confused.
“Why?”
That caught him off guard, he didn't understand why you were asking, but if that was what you needed to finally believe him.
“Because you're amazing, you're beautiful, smart, kind, the best under pressure, I love all the gestures that you do when you focus on something or you're excited, how you jump to help people that you don't even know, and I can continue all night long.” He kept getting closer to you, watching how your eyes started to tear up.
“I can't believe you,” you mumbled more to yourself than to him but Jack was so close to you by this point that he heard it anyway.
He sighed desperately.
“Why? It's the truth, honey, the real question is why wouldn't I be in love with you?” he whispered, taking one of your rebellious strands of hair and moving it away from your face.
“Because nobody has ever wanted me that way,” you confessed, holding back a sob but he could clearly see it in your eyes.
How you actually believed that.
Jack felt his heart ache and the need to take you away from everything that could hurt you or have made you think that way because, in his mind, you were the most beautiful woman ever and he would feel very lucky if he could ever have you one day. He couldn't stand that you thought about yourself like that.
Before he could say something, you said something more.
“During my whole life, it's never been me, when I was a teenager the boys would be interested just in my friends, they wouldn't care about me. Now it's no different, something is wrong with me, Jack, you don't actually love me." The pain in your voice when you actually believed your own words made Jack want to cry.
How had nobody ever told you how pretty you were?
How had nobody seen in you what he saw?
How did they not see you for who you really were?
He didn't understand but he didn't care either, because he saw it, and he’ll make you see it too even if it takes him years. He'll make sure you know how pretty, intelligent, and beautiful you are. An incredible person that anyone in their life should be grateful to have.
“Then they are dumb as fuck, they don't understand the incredible girl that they are losing.” he cupped your face with his hands and cleaned the tears with his thumbs. “How lucky they could be to have you in their life.”
“You don't mean it,” you whispered, trying to convince yourself, starting to sob in his arms.
“I do, sweetheart. You don't understand how bad I do,” he insisted, looking deep into your eyes with that intensity that only he had. “I know what I want.”
“What do you want?” you mumbled.
“You.”
He leaned into you, nose touching yours, he waited for you to step back, to give him a sign for him to step back, a glimpse from you that told him you didn't want that. And when he didn't find it he pressed his lips into yours, you took your time but you returned his kiss letting yourself go, letting yourself be loved.
When he pulled away you found yourself wanting more.
“Nothing is wrong with you, I truly love you and if you need me to repeat that to you every single day I will, I don't care, sweetheart.” he mumbled, pressing his forehead against yours and brushing his nose against yours.
You smiled at that contact and the way he called you, you loved hearing that word coming out of his mouth. You had started to believe him and he could see it in the way you relaxed under his touch, stopping your tears.
“I love you too, Jack,” you said shyly in a quiet mumble that made his heart warm. “I just… I–”
He captured your lips in another sweet kiss before you could say something that was going to make his heart ache again and the anger for whoever had made you think that you couldn't be loved could crawl into him.
I actually didn't like this, but I wanted to publish something 🫠
Today I wanted to talk about Kyle Bassinga. Kyle was a 21 year old man from Georgia, whose family described him as "a kind, thoughtful, and smart young man who loved nature, music, and the people around him". Kyle Bassinga was killed on February 18th 2026, just ten days after his birthday. He was found hanging from a tree in a park.
The police ruled it a suicide. The family and local community demanded an investigation. The police refused to change their ruling.
I know this website it too white for this to really go anywhere, but an understanding of the present reality of white supremacy in the United States is just so important to transfeminism here. Lynchings never stopped, white supremacy never went away, you just stopped looking.
“You know, if you’re going to be on your phone at work, it better be for something more important than… ‘best drugstore mascara’?”
Jack Abbot frowns as he plucks your phone from your hand. You spin around to look at him, “I’m sorry, Dr. Abbot! I’ll get back to—“
“What does that mean?” He asks, squinting at your still-unlocked phone.
You close your mouth, “Um… that I’m apologizing? For being on my—“
“No, no.” Jack shakes his head, “Drugstore mascara. What the hell is that?”
“Do you not know what mascara is?”
“No— yes. I had a wife, of course I know what—“ Jack shuts his eye, pinching the bridge of the nose. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes again, “I’m asking about the drugstore part.”
“You don’t know what a drugstore is.”
“No— Jesus, you’re killing me here. Drugstore mascara. What is drugstore mascara?”
“Oh,” you cock your head, crossing your arms in front of you. “Uh, it’s just cheaper. You can find it at like, you know, the drugstore.”
“Cheaper?” Jack echoes. “Is it good?”
You shrug, “Not as good as the real deal, but I’m not about to drop thirty bucks for, like, a better formula.” You look to Jack, whose face indicates absolutely zero understanding of what you’re talking about.
“Just buy the better one.”
You blink, “Did you forget the thirty dollars part or…?” Maybe you ask that question with a little more attitude than is appropriate, but it’s not like talking to your boss at work about mascara is the most professional conversation. “I’m a resident, Dr. Abbot. I’m not making the kind of cheese where I can just splurge on makeup.”
Jack nods as though he understands, but his eyes are distant. You smile at him awkwardly. Just as the sense to return to charting hits you, Jack asks, “What’s your venmo?”
“Huh?”
Jack reaches into the back pocket of his camo cargo pants. He pulls out his phone, scrolling through it casually, “Give me your venmo account.”
“Why?” You ask, not because you actually don’t know, but to beg for an out. You don’t think your heart can handle the thought of your hot attending giving you money for makeup. Just the thought makes your skin feel tight.
“Thirty bucks is nothing for me, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. Your knees buckle.
“I can’t let you do that.”
Jack turns back to your phone, still in his grip. He searches for the venmo app, an act that should feel invasive, but you’re too flustered to think like that. He finds your account, then returns to tap at his own device.
“It was your birthday last month, right?” Jack asks. He does one final
“Uh… four months ago.” You look down at your phone, where a notification comes through, lighting up your screen.
Jack Abbot paid you $100.00 - Make-up - Your Venmo balance is now $100.00.
“Happy birthday.”
“Oh my— Dr. Abbot, this is—“
“Nope,” Jack puts his hand up, shaking his head. “Don’t want to hear it. Let me know if you need more, okay? I mean it.”
“Uh, okay, thank you,” your words come out like a question.
“Don’t mention it.”
With that, Jack is gone. You stare at the phone screen, only one thought swirling in your head.
Is Jack Abbot auditioning to be your fucking sugar daddy?
WARNINGS: MATURE CONTENT AHEAD (MDNI) - size kink, dacryphilia kink tbh, dumbification kink if you squint, soft dom!pope, fem!reader
A/N: first time writing for pope, sexy mf. also i’ve never seen animal kingdom so hopefully i do him justice :)
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you're busy trying to let your body relax and let him in. because, holy fuck, he's so big. way too big.
“f–fuck,” you whine out, your hands clutching onto his shoulders, “it's too big, andy...”
“shh, you've got this baby. i've got you,” he soothes you while pressing kisses to your flushed face. his lips wipe away every trace of the tears that had fallen from your eyes, “aw, it's okay. you're doing so well for me.”
the air leaves your lungs and ragged whimpers crawl up your throat every time he forces another inch deeper into your tight pussy. and he's massive, filling you so perfectly that you feel your insides stretching to their absolute limit.
“i know baby, i know,” he coos into your ear. his voice strains and is thick with the effort of holding back. he's being so patient with you. “just breathe for me, okay baby? fuck, just breathe. let me in, yeah?”
“you're doing so well for me, baby. so good, i'm almost there,” he's praising you all soft with trembling whispers. he plants more gentle kisses all over your tear-stained cheeks. “i'm gonna go in a little deeper, okay? just a little more, almost there.”
you nod your head, gripping his shoulders harder now. you claw at his back and force him closer to you by wrapping your legs around his hips. you're urging him deeper. he sinks into you deeper, all the way to the hilt in one smooth and heavy thrust. it makes your eyes roll back, a strangled moan escaping your throat.
he's so big you swear you can feel him in your stomach, feeling the way your guts rearrange to fit his shape. your pussy molds and squeezes around him. andrew moves his head down, whimpering on your chest and soaking your skin with a mixture of drool and tears.
“there we go,” andrew says, his forehead against your chest still, “taking me so fucking good, f-fuck, baby. still so fucking tight, fuck.”
he pulls back slowly, the friction making your hips arch off the bed, and then he drives right back in. every inch of him slides against your gummy walls with a perfect fit, hitting that special sweet spot of yours every time he bottoms out. every time he bottoms out, his hips slap against yours with a wet sound that echoes in such a way that has you all worked up.
“oh wow, i can't. you're so tight,” he slurs, his eyes blown wide with pleasure. “so, so perfect for me.”
his hands cling to your flesh, pawing at your hips, your ass, your waist, anything he can grab on to. his hands caress a path down your legs, hiking them onto his shoulders to get an even deeper angle. the shift allows andrew to bury himself to the all the way into the deepest part of you. he grinds into you as he sinks deeper and you let out a high-pitched cry, your fingers tangling in his hair.
he's moving faster now, hitting that spot again and again. the one that makes your vision go blurry and your toes curl into the air. you've hardly started to warn him of your impending orgasm when he delivers one brutal, final thrust, sinking so hard inside you that the oxygen is pulled from your lungs. your breath comes in ragged sobs, your vision spotting with white shapes as you spill you cum all around him.
and that's all it takes for andrew to let go. he growls and sobs and repeats your name, all while cumming so much that his seed starts to leak out around the base of his cock. he fills you to the absolute brim, spurting ropes deep inside you.
