#and so I had to get him in to see a doctor

[artsysurvivor]

[ID: A four panel comic talking about Dr. James Barry, shown as a red-haired Irish man. The panels are formatted so that the text is on top and the simplistic drawing is underneath. (What the drawings are is described in the brackets after the quotes).

1st: "Whenever you wash your hands, you owe the habit to an Irish trans man, Dr James Barry, who was born at the end of the 18th century and led an extra-ordinary life until his death in 1865." [A portrait of him as described before, wearing period-typical men's clothes].

2nd: "He transitioned as a teenager and after his studies, became a surgeon in the British Army. He pioneered modern medicine by implementing stricter hygiene practices." [Two hands being washed in a sink].

3rd: "He was also the first European doctor to perform a successful c-section. Even though he became a famous and celebrated surgeon, his existence was scrubbed from the records when it was found that he was trans, after his death." [A closed fireplace burning up some papers].

4th: "Today, we honor his important but complex legacy as a proud and colorful trans man working for a colonial power. His life defied odds and made a lasting impact on the world." [A modern-day doctor showing his gloved hands to the camera with a mask on his face and surgery tools on the table beside him]. /End ID]

From what I could see, there was no resources provided for this comic, so here's some I found. While I recommend reading them for yourselves (as well as the Sources listed in The National Archives) I wanted to point out some more interesting hygiene related things.

While it's true that Dr. James Barry pioneered good hygiene habits, the person who is credited to finding the benefits of hand washing is a Hungarian man named Ignaz Semmelweis. He owned one ward that helped women give birth, but that had more death and fever rates among patients than the mid-wife owned ward. While investigating the differences, he found that doctors went to help the women after performing autopsies, which we now know gets germs on their hands, though he called it something different. Because of this, he instructed his doctors to start washing their hands and the fever and death rates dramatically improved. However, some doctors were spiteful, and the practice did not very much catch on.

Florence Nightingdale was also mentioned as being the "champion of handwashing". In Scutari, Italy, during The Crimean War, she continued washing her hands in the war hospital as a way to fight miasmas. This also reduced infections. Still, washing hands did not catch on.

Promotion of hand washing began again in the 1980s. There's more to that, but it's not in relation to Dr. James Barry, so let's go back to him.

In Cape Town, South Africa, he worked to improve access to clean water.

It's Trans History Week! Meet Dr. James Barry.

[dollyswishingwell]

hi dollyyyy, after reading ur last post abt insatiable mc i declare myself as one of the people that want a post with the roles reversed omg..... .. .i wanna se the lads going crazy for mc

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Insatiable P.2

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, mostly suggestive but some smut, that’s it

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ They can’t keep their hands off you

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You were ruined.

Absolutely demolished, really, legs shaking, breathless, and curled up in the center of the bed like a worn-out porcelain doll. Your silken slip was hiked up around your hips, one strap barely clinging to your shoulder. Gloss smudged. Hair a mess. The sheets clutched desperately to your chest like they were the only thing protecting your fragile soul from yet another round.

You peeked out from under the covers, just in time to see him coming back.

“R-Raffy…”

Rafayel was already shirtless again, collarbone glistening, belt hanging loose. His purple waves were a mess and his pupils were blown wide with the kind of hunger that should’ve been illegal.

“You’re too pretty,” he breathed, crawling onto the bed like a predator who had not gotten his fill. “I swear to God. It’s your fault. You walk around the house in those tiny little dresses like some cursed siren and then act surprised when I lose my mind five times a day.”

“B-But I’m sore—!”

“I’ll be gentle,” he lied immediately, already grabbing the bedsheet you were clutching and yanking it off like it personally offended him. “And then I won’t.”

You yelped and tried to crawl back giggling, but he was already wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest, burying his face in your neck with a groan that made your thighs clench all over again.

“‘M obsessed with you,” he mumbled into your skin, his voice rough with love-drunk need. “You don’t get it, pearlie, I look at you and I black out. I wanna kiss every inch of you until you’re crying.”

You were already teary-eyed and trembling.

“You’ve already done that like four times today,” you whimpered, face burning as he licked a fresh kiss across your collarbone.

“And yet,” he said with a grin, “I still feel like I’m starving.”

Your whine was muffled by the pillow as Raf slotted his hips between yours and nuzzled into your cheek like some deranged, horny little prince.

He placed one gentle kiss to your forehead. Then two not-so-gentle ones on your chest.

Then whispered softly—

“Let’s make it at least six.”

And just like that, the bedsheet was gone, your pleas were ignored, and your sweet, artsy husband was devouring you all over again like you were his favorite masterpiece, smeared in lipstick, gloss, and love.

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

You were barely breathing.

Absolutely spent, trembling under the silk sheets, your thighs still pressed together, your chest rising and falling like you’d just run a marathon. Your lip gloss was smudged. There were hickeys blooming all over your collarbone and neck like some exclusive collection. And your once-perfect hair?

Destroyed. Gloriously ruined.

You lay there blinking up at the ceiling, the sheets clutched to your chest like a makeshift shield.

Then, the bathroom door creaked open.

“Z-Zayne—wait, baby, please—”

He was already walking back toward the bed, towel slung around his neck, toned body still damp from the shower he had taken exactly five minutes ago… post-round-five.

“I was going to let you rest,” he said calmly, slowly undoing the towel from around his neck as he climbed back onto the bed. “And then I walked past the mirror and remembered how you looked begging underneath me, and, well…”

His hazel-green eyes darkened.

“I’m not a strong man, sweetheart.”

“Zayne!” you squeaked, pulling the covers tighter around your body. “You’re a doctor, shouldn’t you be worried about, like, overworking my body?!”

He raised a brow and placed one large hand against your thigh, slowly dragging the sheets away from your chest like he was unwrapping a precious gift.

“You should’ve thought about that,” he murmured, “before you came out this morning in that tiny little lace set and kissed my neck while I was on the phone.”

You whimpered.

“That was eight hours ago!”

“And I’ve had to touch you five times since to keep myself from losing my license due to lust-induced delirium,” he said flatly.

With a soft grunt, he pulled the sheets completely off your body, exposing the state he left you in, marked up, trembling, and absolutely perfect in his eyes. He groaned under his breath, pinning your hips with both hands.

“You’re too pretty, darling,” he whispered against your shoulder. “You break my self-control. I’m a respected surgeon and you turn me into a beast.”

You hid your face in your hands with a choked laugh. “You’re insane.”

“You married insane,” he corrected, already sliding between your thighs again. “Now be a good girl and let me love you properly, for the sixth time.”

He made very good on his word, leaving you breathless, boneless, and ruined all over again, whispering in your ear like a man in love with every inch of your soul and body:

“Let them say I’m obsessed. You’re my wife. You’re mine.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

You couldn’t move.

Your body felt like jelly, your limbs tangled in silk sheets, hair a wild, tousled mess across the pillows. Your lips were kiss-swollen and glossy, your pretty robe long discarded somewhere across the room. You were a wreck, soft thighs trembling, eyes dazed, the scent of your husband still all over you.

You clutched the sheets to your chest like your life depended on it.

“Xavi… I can’t. I literally can’t feel my legs.”

And yet.

You watched in horror as your beautiful, unhinged, silver-haired husband slowly turned from the mirror, where he’d been fixing his tousled hair, red marks all over his pale neck like you had ruined him.

But his eyes were dark. Soft. Starved.

He walked back to the bed, bare-chested and flushed, licking his lips like you were the last meal of the universe.

“You’re too pretty, starlight,” he murmured. “It’s your fault. You kept making those sounds, and you looked at me like you wanted me to ruin your life. So I did.”

“Five times,” you gasped, clinging to the covers as he crawled over you. “You did it five times. I need water. And a medic.”

He chuckled softly, brushing your hair away from your flushed face and kissing your cheek with maddening gentleness. His fingers curled under the sheet you were hugging so tightly.

“Mm. You don’t need water,” he whispered. “You need me again.”

“Xavi—”

“Just once more. For science.”

He ripped the sheet away.

You screamed. He grinned like a man entirely out of his mind.

“You don’t understand,” he murmured, pinning your wrists above your head as he kissed down your shoulder again. “I don’t get tired of you. I don’t reach a limit. I see you, and I want to touch you again. Over and over. Until you’re crying my name so sweet I forget what galaxy we’re in.”

“You already did,” you whined, squirming under him. “You kept calling me starlight in three different languages.”

He blinked. “…Did I?��

Then smirked.

“I’m doing it again.”

And he was wrecking you all over again, slow, obsessed, utterly devoted, his voice a breathy chant in your ear as you melted into him:

“So pretty… so good for me… mine, mine, mine.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You were sprawled on the bed like the world’s most exhausted princess, lipstick smeared, thighs trembling, hair in complete chaos, and the silken sheets yanked up to your chest in a desperate attempt to protect what little pride you had left. You looked used, loved, devoured, and Sylus?

He looked like he’d barely broken a sweat.

His silver hair was ruffled but charmingly so, his toned torso covered in blooming bite marks, but he was already standing by the foot of the bed again, rolling up the sleeves of his half-unbuttoned shirt, red eyes gleaming like a predator who enjoyed watching his prey try to crawl away.

“Sylus—no, baby, I can’t,” you gasped, clutching the sheet tighter. “You’ve ruined me three times already and I can’t even feel my spine anymore—”

“That was four,” he corrected smoothly, already tugging the sheet right out of your grip like it was tissue paper. “Don’t shortchange me, kitty.”

“Sylus!” you squealed as the sheet was ripped from your hands, exposing your completely wrecked, bite-marked body to the cool air and his shameless eyes.

“Ohhh, look at you,” he drawled, low and pleased, eyes raking over your bare skin. “You look like something I paid for and destroyed. You love it, don’t you?”

“I look like I’ve been hit by a luxury car,” you whimpered, burying your face in the pillow.

He chuckled darkly, crawling over you with slow, deliberate movements, voice dripping with affection and heat.

“That’s because you have. You married a man who’s obsessed with you and has the stamina of a war machine. What did you expect, sweetie?”

You moaned softly as his lips grazed your shoulder again, gentle, teasing, as if he hadn’t just wrecked you five minutes ago. His hand slid under your waist with practiced ease, pulling you closer.

“You’re the prettiest thing in the world, kitty,” he murmured into your ear. “You’re lucky I let you breathe.”

“Sylus,” you warned, “I will cry.”

“Cry on my chest then.”

And just like that, he was pulling you under him again like you were nothing more than his favorite toy, whispering in your ear as you sob-laughed into the pillows—

“I could drag you in here five times a day for the rest of your life and still never get tired of you…”

“…So go ahead, sweetie. Scream for number five.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You couldn’t even speak.

Your voice was hoarse, your body shaking, your pretty little nightdress long gone, discarded somewhere on the floor like your last shred of dignity. Your cheeks were flushed, lipgloss smudged, neck and chest covered in bite marks so deep and dark they looked like they might be permanent.

You were lying on your stomach now, gripping the sheets like a woman barely surviving battle. Your legs refused to close. Your whole body was humming from the aftermath of multiple rounds.

And you could feel him behind you. Still there. Still hard. Still watching.

“C-Caleb,” you whimpered, voice cracking. “Please. Please, I need a break, I—I need water, I need—”

“You need me.” His voice was low, rough, and absolutely merciless. “You always need me.”

You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling again, slow and casual like he had all the time in the world.

“B-But I can’t feel my legs!”

“That’s fine.” His palm slid over your lower back. “You don’t need them.”

You shrieked into the pillow as he yanked the bedsheet right off your body with one brutal tug, leaving you bare and trembling under his shadow.

“You started this, pipsqueak,” he whispered against your ear, his big body already sliding over yours again. “Walking around in my shirt this morning with your cute little thighs peeking out. Sucking on your lollipop and sitting on my lap like you weren’t begging to be fucked stupid.”

You sob-laughed helplessly. “That was at breakfast—”

“And now it’s almost dinner,” he bit out, nipping your shoulder. “And you’ve already screamed my name four times today, baby. Don’t act like I’m the crazy one.”

“You are!” you cried, kicking your feet weakly. “You’re a menace! I look like I just got dragged through a war zone—”

“You look like my wife.”

He pulled you up by the waist, kissed the corner of your eye where tears welled.

“You are my wife. My pretty, soft, ruined little housewife who gets dragged into bed five times a day because I can’t stop thinking about her.”

You hiccuped through a shaky moan as he pressed deeper against your back, voice thick with adoration:

“Mine. My pips. My wife. My problem.”

And as he pinned you down again for round five, he whispered it over and over like a prayer he’d never stop chanting:

“Love you. Love you. Love you.”

[followthestarliight]

things the LADS Men do to annoy each other

summary - some things i thought they might do to piss each other off/compete for your attention (except Zayne, he's too mature for that, so his aren't to intentionally irritate the others)

warnings - none

🌌 Rafayel's screech could be heard from the next block over as you were walking home from work. Alarmed, you sprinted up the stairs and burst through your door, only to see the artist cowering on the dining table, staring fixatedly at your litter of kittens. "Cutie, you have an infestation of demons." You laughed and face-palmed, all stress washing away. "They're not going to hurt you, Rafayel. They can barely open their eyes! Sylus found them in the N109 Zone and thought this might be a better home for them," you smiled, absolutely clueless about the Onychinus leader's real intentions.

🌌 Xavier came to visit you one evening, only to see that the bunny plushie he'd won for you was nowhere to be seen. Instead, in its place sat an ugly pink blobbu plushie with a red hat and a palette. "What is that?" He asked you, eyeing the plushie like he wanted to disembowel it. "Hmm?" You looked up, then smiled, "Oh, Rafayel thought that looked much better there, so I moved the bunny. I hope that's okay with you." Xavier just nodded, but later that evening, Rafayel experienced a sudden power outage.

🌌 When Caleb learned that Sylus had gotten you a new gun specially made, he showed up as the Farspace Fleet Colonel and confiscated it. "Caleb!" You protested. "That was custom made!" The colonel just gave you an unimpressed look, "It's also illegal, and so is he." Sylus just kept making more.

🌌 Sylus hadn't seen you in a week, and he was getting restless. So he called you to ask why you weren't coming to see him, only to frown when you told him that Zayne put you under "house arrest" because every time you returned from the N109 Zone, you had some sort of injury. "Come now, kitten, the doctor doesn't have to know," Sylus tried to convince you to sneak out. Unfortunately, Zayne was standing right beside you and promptly ended the call.

🌌 When Sylus found out that you damaged your Hunter bike during a mission, he sent one that he designed for you to your apartment building. Xavier's eyes narrowed when he saw it, "Where did that new bike come from?" When you told him Sylus gifted it to you, he waited until you were asleep before he went to the N109 Zone as Lumiere and promptly broke up an important deal Sylus was trying to make.

🌌 Rafayel heard that Zayne took you to a restaurant you liked, so what did he do? He bought out the whole restaurant for the night, just for you and him. He also ordered the most expensive things on the menu, and all the desserts just for good measure. "Rafayel! Neither of us has the space for any of these desserts!" You tried to protest. "Then guess what we're having for breakfast, lunch and dinner, cutie." He just winked at you. You sighed.

🌌 Xavier got annoyed when he heard Caleb took you out on a romantic midnight flight once, so he set up a date in your bedroom. And he created miniature stars with his evol, letting them float around your room like you were in your own galaxy. "Xav, this is beautiful!" You gasped, eyes wide in awe and fascination as Xavier's chest puffed out with pride. He even posted a Moments picture of the date just to spite Caleb.

🌌 Caleb hated how clingy Rafayel was, so he gave you his jacket to ward off the fishie. While watching a movie with Rafayel in your home, the artist "accidentally" spilled wine on it - ruining the jacket completely. "Oh no," he said with fake sympathy, "You have to throw it out now." And then he proceeded to give you one of HIS jackets, which somehow ended up with bullet holes in it...

[karikitdemonrp]

Kari sniffled, looking into her papa's eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks as she just sniffled and listened. She looked down for a moment, processing what the hero said and gave a nod while her eyes narrowed a bit in thought. "I... Think I get it." She muttered, voice still slightly trembling as she spoke. She looked back at the projection and sighed. The child slowly backed away from Hawks and went back to look at the journals again, one last time.

There she read a few more journals from her mother. A few from when she was pregnant with her siblings.

"Today is September 29th, I gave birth to my little boy Kitearo a few days ago. It's been exhausting but he's worth it. Lynx has been a huge help in taking care of our son. I looked into Kite's future and I saw he was going to have a lot of siblings. Not my first choice honestly. If you asked me five years ago I would have said two or three kids would be enough, not seven. But it feels right at the same time. While I saw his whole life unravel I couldn't help but feel helpless... But a part of me knows it can't be messed with, even though I want to save my son from an early grave. I'll have to wait until all my kids are born to get the full picture."

Kari frowned, figuring out pretty quick that her mother knew the whole time, or at least had an understanding.

"It's Febuary 23rd. Flo and Fino are a few days old now. I got a bit more of the picture since seeing Kitearo's future. They meet a similar fate. It hurts, but seeing them work hard to protect their youngest sister, a little girl with white hair, something isn't adding up. I know I can't stop it but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt a whole lot."

"It's been a rough few weeks, Shade has been a bit of a handful. Always curious but always quiet which is a bit unnerving. Sure she cries and makes noises but she's more quiet than not. The doctor says she has nothing wrong with her but I still worry. I was able to see into her future. Lynx has his work cut out for him that's for sure. So far I know all my kids and my husband die on the same day, doing the same thing. I can't say for sure where I am but I can make a few guesses. Again that little girl with white hair makes a big appearance. I'll name her Kari. Kari Kana Lee Himura, long name but it looks like it suits her. When she's born I'll hopefully get all the answers and try to write them down."

"Another pair of twins. I'm not super surprised, Lynx had twin younger brothers after all so I think that runs in the family. That and I saw them while looking into their siblings' futures. These two look mirrored, it's kinda cute. I've named them Boom and Beats cuz the symbols on their cheeks are cute music notes. They are the loudest that's for sure, it's funny. I've had so many kids and all of them are so different even though they're under the same roof and have me and Lynx as their parents. I know why they look so different and why their quirks are different, it's a side effect of my quirk after all. But their behaviors and personalities aren't tied to it, I don't think. It's so fascinating to watch them grow and develop... I know I probably only have a few more years to live. I've concluded I die in child birth when giving birth to Kari. I know I'll be leaving behind my family and my friends... But I noted that my nephew is the one responsible for the deaths of everyone, under the control of my sister given his pupils... Something isn't adding up but I'm guessing Kari develops my quirk. If that's the case then she needs to exist. It strengthens our quirk and hopefully she'll be able to help others like I did, in someway. Though that's her choice and I don't want to force it onto her. I'm glad dad talked me into writing that one entry about my quirk, I hope she can read it one day so she can meet me... Well, a snap shot of me. It won't be the same I know but it's better than nothing. I just hope she doesn't hate me or get mad. It's kind of a selfish reason but there's so much going on... I just hope she understands."

Kari sniffled, rubbing her eyes. "I... I don't hate you mom." She whispered after a few moments of silence, hugging herself. "I just wish I knew you." The child gulped and moved to look back at the journal about All of the Above and began taking notes. "But yea, I'm glad grampa talked you into writing about your quirk too... It's gonna help me a lot." She muttered then looked at Hawks. "You think we can go somewhere I can train? I... I wanna try doing this thing mom talks about. I'm not sure if I can get back into that weird mind space thing but... But if I can maybe you can meet my siblings, well a snap shot of them... This is kinda confusing." Kari puffed out her cheeks then went back to writing. "But we don't have to do it today if we can't."

Hawks didn’t speak at first. He just let Kari cry. He didn’t try to hush her or pull her away. He dropped down to one knee so she could lean into him easier, wrapping his arms around her small frame like he could shield her from every painful word she had just read. His wings even curled in slightly, a quiet gesture of shelter.

He held her gently as the sobs came out in waves—her pain wasn’t small, and it didn’t deserve to be treated like it was.

After a long moment, his voice finally came—soft, steady, low enough it didn’t try to overpower her crying but just… sat with it.

“I know, kiddo. I know it hurts. It’s not fair. None of this is. You didn’t get a choice in any of it.”

He tightened the hug slightly, one hand cradling the back of her head.

“But I need you to hear me when I say this next part, okay?” He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, his own golden ones steady and full of something more than just compassion—it was conviction. “She didn’t die because of you. That’s not how this works. She died for you. And that’s something only someone who loves their kid more than anything in the world would do.”

His thumbs gently wiped her tears.

“Your mom knew the risks. She was a top pro. She wasn’t someone who walked into things blind. She fought to bring you into this world anyway, Kari. That means she wanted you here. She made a choice—and that choice was you.”

[jackrrabbot]

fidus achates

dbf!jack abbot x fem!reader

word count ~12.2k (sorry guys, omg)

content warnings/description: 18+ MDNI, explicit sexual content, AFAB reader, age gap (jack is early forties and in the military, reader is mid-twenties), dry humping, phone sex, filming, hurt/comfort, single internal thought of jack wanting to knock reader up, camping inaccuracies

author's note: santos and garcia exist in this story even though it's before jack is even a doctor at PTMC. just go with it! enjoy :)

masterlist

you and jack take a short camping trip together without the watchful eyes of your father. this is the catalyst.

“Make sure Jack watches over you. I don’t need you getting eaten by a bear. Sacrifice him, if you—”

Your phone’s speaker crackles and your dad cuts out, but you get the gist of what he’s trying to say.

“Dad.” You chuckle. “We’re going to be fine. Promise. It’s a short trip—we’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon. I really wish you could’ve come along, though.” You pout, even though he can’t see you over the phone.

“I know, honey. But one of our military buddies—you know him, Thomas—really needs a helping hand right now. Someone’s got to be there for him, and both Jack and I can’t be away camping. It’s better that he goes so you can spend some time with him. When is he deploying again?”

“Almost right after we come back, I think within a day or two.”

“Yeah, see—I would’ve asked to reschedule the trip, but he’s going to be gone for another who-knows-how-long. You’ll have to go without me, honey.”

You sigh. “I know. It’s just always been our tradition, you know? But, you’re right, it won’t be so bad. Actually, it—... it’ll be good to spend some alone time with Jack. It’s been a while since we’ve hung out, just the two of us.” A loose thread on the hem of your jean shorts scratches your thigh, and you pick at it, anxious about seeing him again after so long.

“Are you implying I’m the third wheel? He’s my best friend, you know.”

You groan, “Daaad.”

He laughs heartily into the phone, tickled by your reaction. “I’m just yanking your chain. I know you two get along. You’re closer in age than he and I are, anyway.”

“Only barely. He’s still old enough that he could be my father.” A very young one, but still. “You’re just… way older.”

You don’t need to see him to know that he’s rolling his eyes. “Haha, hilarious, honey. But no funny business, alright? Regardless of what you say, I know how you look at him. And it’s not a look that’s appropriate for a daughter to give her dad.”

You gape, affronted by his implication. “W-What are you talking about? Actually… don’t answer that. Jack’s going to be picking me up soon. I’ll talk to you when I get back, okay?” You’ve never wanted to hang up a phone call so fast in your life.

“You better. And remember what I said, alright?”

“Of course. Bye!”

You hang up the phone just as you hear a heavy knock on your apartment door. Leaping from the couch, you rush over to open it, not before taking a deep breath in and out and adjusting your tank top and shorts. 

With an unhooking of the chain and a turn of the knob, you open the door.

Jack stands before you, dressed in an army T-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts, grinning wide when he sees your face.

He takes in your appearance like a breath of fresh air. It’s been far too long since he last saw you. Life has had her way with him over the past several months after coming back from deployment, and he’s been preoccupied—and unable to make time for you. 

…and your dad.

Now, he’s deploying back overseas in the next two days. This trip—and seeing you again—are the only two things that have been keeping him motivated while he’s been back. Days and days of counting down the clock until he could see you again.

He only wishes he had more time.

“Jack, you’re here,” you whisper, disbelieving he’s right in front of you. He looks… good. Strong. Like he could fold you in half. 

You return his smile, wrapping your arms around his shoulders in a hug. 

When you two part, he squishes your cheeks with a single hand, puckering your lips. “Sure am, kid. Are you ready?” 

Babbling, you nod and respond, “Lemmejusgrabmybackpack.” He finally lets go of your face, and you both laugh.

“Are you sure you didn’t need me to bring anything else?” you ask.

“Just your pretty self.” He snaps his fingers. “And your cooler. We’ll need that. I’ve got ice in the trunk ready.”

“Oh, right. I nearly forgot. Okay, I’ll be right back.”

Jack grabs your wrist, and you turn to face him with a tilt of your head.

“Invite me in, and I’ll carry everything to the car.” He lets go of your wrist and leans over the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.

“What are you, a vampire?” You raise a brow, confused. 

“Well, it must be the reason why I still look so good at my ripe old age,” he jokes, but doesn’t budge. He wants—needs—your consent to let him in. To cross the threshold. 

Because, really, he’s not so sure he’ll be able to behave himself around you on this trip. Letting him in now is future insurance just in case he does something against your father’s wishes. It’s not his fault if you give him permission to. 

He’ll try to be a good soldier, though.

He waits with bated breath, heart skipping a beat when you roll your eyes and quip, “Oh, you’re an arrogant one at that. Figures. Come on in then, bloodsucker. You can bite me as repayment for carrying my things.” You wink, gesturing for him to come inside.

“Don’t tempt me.”

The car ride to Raccoon Creek is only forty-five minutes long, and while you’re normally antsy during drives longer than your own commute to work—which is only a five-minute walk away from your apartment—you feel relaxed with Jack behind the wheel.

You hate driving, but he makes it look easy. His right hand is on the steering wheel, making a smooth turn down the winding road leading to the park, while the other casually hangs out the window.

Jack begrudgingly let you plug in your phone to listen to your playlist the entire way, complaining about the state that modern-day music is in.

Whatever, old man. Good music definitely still exists.

You’re about twenty minutes away from the park and too excited for your own good. Your knees bounce in sync with the music, the water in your bottle sloshing with every movement as it sits between your legs.

Jack sees you shaking out of the corner of his eye. “Calm down, kid. It feels like an earthquake in here.”

“Sorry, I’m just excited. I always loved going camping as a kid. It’s usually a tradition I share with my dad, but… it’ll be fun to share it with you now, too.” You look over at him with a grin.

Jack’s fingers twitch against the wheel. You’re too sweet on him.

“I’m excited too, angel. But let’s keep the shaking to a minimum, okay?” With his eyes still looking forward, Jack takes the water bottle from your lap and places it into the cup holder. Then his rough palm greets your knee and squeezes, grounding you. 

His hand lingers—thumb brushing over the soft, moisturized skin—but then pulls back a beat too late. And you notice. But you don’t do anything. Because your mutual attraction may be all in your head—key word, mutual—and you’re a good girl.

And good girls listen to their dad’s rules. Even if you’re sitting in the car alone with temptation itself.

You fan yourself lightly to stop yourself from overheating and point to the GPS. “We still have a little bit farther to go. I’m gonna take a quick nap. Wake me when we’re there?” You lean toward the open window and take in the cool breeze and the scent of the crisp summer air that passes by.

“Will do. Get some rest.”

You sit in the car, bleary-eyed and yawning, as Jack takes a second to check in at the park kiosk. He could’ve just checked in online but was too confused by the website and too stubborn to do it any other way than the old-fashioned one. 

It’s too late now anyway. You’re already here.

A few minutes later, Jack comes up to your passenger seat window, crossing his corded, veiny forearms over the edge. You almost reach out and squeeze but stop yourself.

“Alright. We’re good to go. You wanna take a second to use the restroom? Get some snacks? The only other thing we’ll be eating today is whatever we catch.”

You shake your head. “I’m good on the bathroom, and I brought snacks. I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Alright. It’s a few minutes’ drive to where our reservation is.”

“Which is where, exactly? You never really shared the details.”

“You’ll see.”

You hop out of the truck and see the start of the trail leading up to where a walk-in site should be—at least, based on the dusty, barely standing post sign that reads, Walk-In 300 ft. Ahead.

Huh, guess you’ll be a little more isolated. 

Based on the Raccoon Creek map, the loop you’re in is tucked in the outer grounds of the campsite, far away from prying eyes and from the reminder that you’re not alone with only nature.

You don’t mind. 

It’ll be nice to have a real camping experience. A taste of the rugged outdoors. Typically, your dad books a cabin outfitted with power, a kitchen, nice beds, and a bathroom and calls it camping. Says otherwise, it reminds him too much of his time during the service. 

You peer through the window of the truck, looking at Jack on the other side.

Maybe your dad’s logic applies to him too. Maybe this keeps him in it—even while on home leave. You wonder if his days are spent just waiting until he gets deployed again. 

You’re saddened by the thought. You want to fill this very short trip with as much joy as you possibly can before he leaves again.

Did Jack somehow know this is what you wanted? 

Or… is he just sticking with what he’s more comfortable with? Quiet nights, haunted with thoughts for company, and the allure nature brings—even if there’s danger in every corner. Whether that be… bears or enemy combatants.

Maybe you’re overthinking, and he just wants you alone. You turn from the window and look ahead to the trail, a dry laugh escaping your lips.

Nah.

Jack pulls you back to land as you start to drown in your thoughts. He steps around the front of the truck and in front of you. “We’ll probably need to make two trips back and forth to get everything set up. You okay with that, angel?”

“Yeah.” You nod, adamantly. “What do you want me to carry?”

“Take the sleeping bags for now and carry your backpack with you. I’ll take care of the tents and the cooler.”

“Got it!” you say with a salute and a few measured paces to the trunk of his car. He shakes his head at you, lips quirked up and eyes crinkling. You unlatch the trunk and pull out the stuff. 

“You’re really excited about this, huh?” he asks as he joins you, amused by your playfulness.

“Of course… this is my first time actually camping. Not… glamping, like I always do with my dad. I’m glad he ended up letting you do all the booking this time around.”

“It’s a whole different experience. I hope you’ll like it.”

You make space for him to grab the tents and cooler. “I most definitely will. Why hasn’t Dad invited you to our trips before now? We should make this a thing. We can plan it around your deployments.”

“Already thinking about next time?” Jack raises a brow at you. “Let’s see if we survive the night first. C’mon, let’s get our stuff over there.”

Jack tilts his head to the head of the trail, and you walk toward it while he follows closely behind. 

After the second car trip and a quick clearing of the brush covering the gravel pad, you’re ready to set up your home base. 

“So you’ve never pitched a tent before?” Jack asks.

You look at him with wide eyes and a confused expression before you remember where you are. “Oh, you mean—uh, no. Never.”

He shakes his head and smirks. “Stay focused. It’s only the one tent, so we’ll do it together.”

You’re taken aback at this sudden news. “O–Only one tent? Didn’t you say… tents? With an ‘S’?” His eyes follow your pointer finger as it draws the shape of an “S” in the air.

“Did I? My bad.” He shrugs, but he hopes it plays off more nonchalantly than it feels. “It fits two people. When your dad said he wouldn’t be able to join us, I thought it’d be easier. Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“No! No, not at all. I just… wasn’t expecting this.”

“I’m pretty used to living in close quarters. Sorry, I just assumed you’d be okay with it. Don’t worry, we’ll still be in our own sleeping bags. It’ll be fine for just one night.” He winks and clicks his tongue in an attempt to calm you. It works, slightly.

“Yeah, you’re right. Okay, where do we start?”

“This spot is as good as any. It’s level, and since we cleared everything, nothing should be poking us in our sleep.”

Jack picks up the tarp from the ground. “Next: lay the tarp out. Want to do that while I unfold the tent?” 

You nod as he hands you the tarp, and you toss it out over the gravel. 

Jack unfurls the tent. “Alright, now, take one corner of the tent, and I’ll take the other. Pull it tight and lay it over the tarp.” You take one corner of the tent and walk diagonally from him, following his lead.

“All that’s left to do is assemble the poles, slide them through the sleeves here,” Jack says, bending down and threading his finger through one sleeve and pulling it up, “pin them, and bend them so the tent lifts. After that, I’ll stake it down.”

“Huh, I always thought it was harder to set up a tent. It seems pretty simple, actually.”

“That’s just ‘cause I’m here helping you, kid.”

Jack is just finishing up staking the last corner of the tent when you ask, “So, it’s barely noon. What do you have in mind for the rest of the day?”

“We can do whatever you like. But I was thinking we take a hike down to the lake and catch some fish. How’s that sound?”

“Let’s do it,” you say, picking up your backpack from the dirt and slinging it over your shoulder. “Do we need to put our stuff inside the tent, or can we leave it out?”

Jack smiles up at you. “There’s no one around. We’ll be okay. Let’s go.” He stands, then slings the camp chair bag around his back and holds the cooler and fishing pole in each hand. 

You’re about half a mile into your two-mile hike to the lake when you look back at Jack. He quickly glances up to meet your eyes, glinting with the sunlight and… something else. 

…Was he staring at your ass? 

God, you hope he was. It would make you feel a little less guilty to know he also can’t keep his eyes off you.

“Jack, why are you walking so far behind me? I practically have to yell to make conversation.”

“I want to make sure you’re always in my sight.” 

The logic tracks. Your dad did warn him ahead of time that if anything happened to you, he would kill him. And that’s putting it lightly. But still, he doesn’t have to be so far away from you. 

You stop in your tracks, turn around, and stomp toward him. His lips curl up as he watches you approach, and that just irritates you more. He just loves to get a reaction out of you, doesn’t he? Holding yourself back from chirping at him, you forcefully grab the fishing pole from his hands, and it’s quickly stuffed into your backpack, the red floater bobbing in the air from where the pole sticks out.

You thread your fingers through his now-free hand. 

“There. If you walk right by me, you’ll see me at all times, right?”

Jack glances down at your interlocked fingers and squeezes, just a bit. He most definitely could break your hand if he so chose, but his hold is so light that it tickles across your palm and makes you shiver. You clasp his hand just a bit tighter.

He looks back up at you with the same mischievous look he gave you just moments earlier. “I’ve been walking at your pace, sweetheart. Now, you’ll be the one who needs to keep up.”

For the next ten minutes of your hike, you’re nearly out of breath, only getting a chance to breathe when you stop to point out an interesting bird or some pretty shrubbery.

You turn to Jack, pointing at the brilliant, yellow American Goldfinch with the hand not currently clasped in his, but his eyes are locked on yours. A pout graces your face. 

Is he even paying attention? 

You suppose he’s probably more concerned with making it to the lake—before the sun sets—if you keep up this pace. You lower your hand, looking down, and let go of his with the other.

“Hey, what happened? Come back to me.”

You lift your head back up to him, and he pins you with an intense look. 

“I—I’m probably bugging you, aren’t I? I get it… we can just walk the rest of the way without any interruptions. We’re almost there, right?”

He scoffs, and you think he’s going to make a joke, but then he surprises you when he says, “What, are you kidding? Mother Nature is gorgeous, but you’re the only woman I have my eye on.” He kisses the top of your hand gently, relocks your fingers, and pulls you ahead. “C’mon. Just a little more to go. I’ll try to pay more attention to the birds.” 

Jack only lets your hand go once you reach the lake. 

The water is clear and bright blue, and it dazzles beneath the fiery afternoon sun. You're glad you packed your sunscreen and most obnoxious, gargantuan, floppy sun hat.

You swing your backpack around to your front to pull out the folded-up hat, the fishing pole bumping into your hand as it sits in the way. It feels a bit ridiculous once it’s on your head and you see the size of it as you look down at your shadow, but, whatever.

Jack looks at you, appalled, but otherwise makes no comment. 

Hat on, you both walk in step up to one of the piers that circle the lake. There are a few other visitors, but the piers are far enough apart that it doesn’t matter. It’s an intimate setting and perfect for fishing.

Jack sets down the nylon bag with the camp chair and the cooler on the wooden walkway, while you drop your backpack beside them and take off your hiking shoes and socks, wanting to dip your feet into the water.

You look back at him from the edge of the pier when he’s finally set up the chair and retrieved the fishing pole from your bag.

He meets your eyes and pats the seat. “I only brought one chair. I’ll fish while you sit.” 

You nod, lift your feet from the water, then take a few steps and crash into the chair. The hike wore you out more than you thought it would. You don’t even want to think about how your dad would fare if he were here.

Bending over, you reach for your bag, grabbing the sunscreen. You flip the cap, squirt a healthy amount into your hands, and rub it over your arms, legs, neck, and face. Meanwhile, Jack peels off his shirt and lays it next to him as he sits on the edge of the pier, throwing the line over.

The floater plops into the water, audible thanks to the isolated strip of walkway you’re on. Fishing isn’t really something you ever cared for, but since Jack has a permit, you can live vicariously through him.

“Jack… you need to put on sunscreen. Here.” You stretch your arm out to wave it in his face, but he doesn't take it.

“I’m fishing. Do you mind getting it on my back?”

“W-well, how about the front? You’re facing the sun.”

“If you can reach from behind, you can put it wherever you’d like.”

His voice is so smooth and velvety as he says it, and all you can think is, Jack, you can not be saying things like that.

You get down on wobbly knees and sit directly behind him, squirting some of the sunscreen into your hands and gently lathering it over his back. Your eyes connect the dots of freckles that litter his form, and you’re only more entranced as he rotates his shoulders and neck—as if putting on a show for you—and his muscles ripple beneath your touch. 

As much as you’d like to, you don’t linger too long, and soon you finish applying the cream on his back. Shaky hands apply more on his nape, and you circle them to reach his throat, fingers gliding over his salt-and-pepper-covered jawline. You dot his face, careful to avoid his eyes.

He’s just so pretty and a little too confident about it that it makes your head spin. 

You take in a deep—and hopefully silent—breath. Your hands inch down toward his chest, reaching from over his shoulders while sitting on your knees—your chest pressed tight to his back. 

Jack has to hold in a groan as he feels you nearly grind against him to reach over his shoulders, just so he doesn’t get sunburned. You’re so good to him.

You graze his nipples but move quickly to the surrounding taut pec when he flinches. 

“Getting handsy there, angel? Or should I say, devil?” He tilts his head back to you, giving you a sly wink.

“S-shut up. This is for your own good. You already put your life on the line for work. You don’t need to go belly up from skin cancer, too.”

He hums. “Can’t argue with that.”

You loop your arms through his to smear the cream over what you can’t reach from on top of his shoulders.His abdomen noticeably tenses as you glide your fingers over the sun-kissed skin, and you hold back a smile—happy that your touch can affect him like this.

Your fingers trail down to his navel, and even lower, and Jack has to force himself to stop you.

He gently envelops your wrist and says, through gritted teeth, “I think that’s enough, sweetheart. Thank you. Why don’t you sit back now? It might be a while until something bites.”

You reluctantly pull back and place your palms to his back instead. Pressing your cheek against his shoulder and nodding, you whisper a soft “okay,” as your lips brush against the delicate skin.

He shivers, but you’ve already pulled away. The skin on his forehead wrinkles as he furrows his brows in frustration at the situation. He’s trying, but his control is slipping. Slipped. And now he has to try to find ways to justify each and every time he inevitably gets too close. 

You've been sitting on the chair for the past hour, reading your book, when Jack shouts.

“I think we’ve got something!” Jack quickly stands, wrestling with the supposed creature, then reels in what looks like… a catfish? 

“Oh my God, you got one, Jack!” You stand up in a rush, nearly knocking the chair back into the lake.

He looks smug as he dangles the poor fish in front of you. “I said I would, didn’t I?”

The fish seem to be coming in droves now, and after what feels like only a few minutes, the ice-packed cooler holds several species of gutted fish—a nice haul of walleye, bluegill, and bullhead catfish—right next to the pack of beers. At least they’re packed into Ziploc bags.

Luckily, Jack had his army knife handy. Because of course he would.

He stretches in front of you. “God, my back aches. Can I sit?” he asks, pointing at the chair. 

You nod and go to sit by the pier, but as he walks past you, he pulls you back by the waist. He flips himself around just in time before crashing onto the chair, the fabric sinking and taut under your combined weight. You’re surprised it holds. More surprised that now you’re sitting in his lap like a child on a mall Santa. 

“J-Jack, what are you doing? This thing can’t hold the both of us.” You try to wiggle yourself out of his grip, but his hands only tighten on your waist. 

“It’ll hold. I have only the best, and I don’t want your ass to get sore sitting on the pier. Mine did.”

“Oh, and your lap is more comfortable?”

“I’ve been told it’s very comfortable. But I can flip you over and give you something else to whine about, if that’s what you want.” You open your mouth in shock, giving him an incredulous look.

“A-and why didn’t you bring the other chair?” You push because it’s a logical question, but you also want to know if he wants you to keep his lap warm. 

“It would've been too much to carry—even for me.”

It’s a weak excuse, and one you know isn’t true. Disappointment seeps in, but it bottlenecks as you remind yourself that at least you’re in his lap and at least he wants you there.

You glare at him but otherwise get comfortable, submitting to him a bit too easily. His arms bracket you in from where they now rest on the arms of the chair, and you twist your body, draping your legs over his. 

You press your palm to his chest, your head resting lightly on his shoulder. 

His shirt is still lying on the edge of the pier, damp from the harshly fought battles with the fish, and you swirl your fingers over the small tuft of chest hair trailing down his chest. His dog tags shine a bit too bright in your eyes, and you close them to imagine them as if they were dangling in front of you while lying on your back and taking his cock. 

Oh God, the thoughts are getting worse.

Your face starts to heat, not only from the warm weather but also from the close proximity. You’ve always shared a comfortable companionship, but over the past year or so things have been increasingly… intimate. Not obviously, but a few lingering glances and touches more than normal add up. It’s been over half a decade since you’ve met, and you’ve been attached at the hip since day one. But now you think you’re ready to take the next step in your relationship.

If Jack were to feel the same way, well, it’s something your father would just have to accept. You’re both well into adulthood. You’re mature enough to admit you’re helplessly attracted to him.

But Jack is still Jack. He teases, flirts, and touches you, and it burns you from the inside out—but he’s duty-bound to care for you, and he has to balance the act between a dad’s best friend… and something more. Possibly, something more.

Your eyes flit to the silicone wedding band around his finger, the shiny material reflecting the sun. It’s not new—and not something you try to pay too much attention to—but it triggers a core memory from days past, and you decide to bring it up.

“Hey, remember when we first met at Dad’s fifty-fifth birthday and retirement party?”

“How could I forget? The moment when you first became a pain in my ass.” He smiles down at you. It’s a soft look, endearing and warm from the recollection of the memory.

He jokes, but he remembers that day often—remembers how, even after the ache in his heart following his wife’s passing, he saw a light at the end of the tunnel when he first saw you. A light that was quickly snuffed out when your father introduced you to him as his daughter.

You ignore his statement, instead saying, “I was surprised when he first introduced you. I thought you’d be at least as old as him—not twenty years his junior.” 

“Military bonds know no bounds. He was a good role model. I was sad to see him retire, but he served his time. And he knew he had to get out before you went off to college.”

“I still feel so embarrassed and guilty asking you about your ring. I was so naive and… insensitive.” You cringe at the past you.

“You didn’t know, angel. It had been several years since she passed at that point, and I still had it on. It's not your fault you were curious when I showed up alone.”

A few seconds pass in silence. 

“Do you think… you’ll ever find the person? The person who you might set aside that ring for?” 

Jesus, you did not just ask that. 

You shake your head. “Sorry, don’t answer that. It’s not my place to ask you something like that.” You attempt to hide your face in the crook of his armpit, but your stupid hat makes it difficult.

Jack can’t bear the hope—and anguish—hidden in between your words. He tries to reassure you the best he can without cracking his chest open and giving you his heart.

He tilts your head up to him with his thumb and forefinger, finding your eyes beneath the rim of your hat. “Kid, look at me. You don’t have to feel bad. I’m not grieving anymore. The pain is still there, but it’s better now. I loved her—still have love for her—but I know she wouldn’t want me to stay alone forever. But… I never met anyone else, so why take off the ring? It’s as simple as that.”

You try to free your chin from the press of his fingers, but he doesn’t let you. You finally nod in understanding, and only then does he release you from his grip.

“You speak so fondly of her. What you two shared must’ve been really amazing.”

“It was. We were still so young and free at the time. Maybe I’ll tell you more about her someday.” 

“Okay.” A beat later, you add, “Sorry, I didn’t mean for this to turn so… melancholy.”

“It’s okay. If there’s one person in the world I want to open up to, it’s you.”

You both lie in the chair in peaceful silence for a few minutes, watching the sun begin its slow descent over the horizon, when Jack starts to doze off. You rest your hand right over his heart, feeling his heartbeat slow and even out. It’s another ten minutes or so before you gently rouse him from his short nap.

“Jack. Jack, maybe we should head back. I’m getting a bit hungry, and the sun’s starting to set,” you say, shaking him awake.

He just groans and stretches his arms before returning his hands to your waist. 

A few harsh blinks and a shake of his head later, he says, “Okay. Vámonos.”

Jack is setting up the swing-over grill and the firewood while you season what you can of the fish. Luckily, you knew beforehand to bring a few packets of salt and pepper. 

Unlike Jack—who’s willing to risk his health eating the fish raw and unseasoned like he’s on Survivor—you refuse to go without any seasoning. The fish isn’t complete without a sprinkle of smoked paprika, garlic, and onion powder, but it’ll have to do.

You admire how the flickering flames lick across his skin, giving him a warm glow, and his ability to withstand them as he lays the fish across the grill. 

The thought is dramatic, but it’s as if he’d suffer through a little bit of fire to feed you. Nourish you. Take care of you. If only he could brave the paternal firestorm to admit what you’ve already admitted to yourself.

As the nose-wrinkling, fishy smell of the walleye and bluefish morphs into a delicious, woody, salty sea scent, your mouth starts to water. You hand Jack a paper plate, and he serves you up some of the fish as soon as it’s ready.

After squeezing a bit of lemon, you pinch a piece off the malleable flesh and take a bite, moaning lightly at the small taste of heaven. It has a robust, earthy flavor, enhanced by the acidity and the salt and pepper.

Unbeknownst to you, Jack stares, unwilling to draw his gaze from you, even to take a bite from his own plate. He feels an overwhelming pride swell in his chest, knowing that you enjoy something as simple as the fish he grilled for you. He’d do this for you again and again, if only to hear your sweet moans of satisfaction—like music to his ears, looping forever.

Even if they’re only for his food.

You continue to eat, a few hours passing by in casual conversation, and after a few shared sips of the beer he popped open, you’re ready to turn in for the night.

“Jack, thank you for dinner. It was fantastic.” You beam at him from across the dying campfire as he sits in the other camp chair. You yawn, stretching your arms over your head, your top riding up. 

Jack watches as the material lifts, exposing your skin.

“I think I’m ready to head to sleep. Are you coming in soon?”

He nods. “Yeah. I just want to watch the stars for a bit longer. I won’t take too long. Meet you in my dreams, angel.”

“Meet you there.”

You discard your paper plate into a trash bag, then rifle through your backpack, grabbing your nightwear before unzipping the tent and heading in. Plopping down onto your sleeping bag, you quickly change out of your dirt-caked and sweaty clothes and into a pair of flimsy sleeping shorts and a tank top.

You’re barely conscious when Jack comes in only a few minutes later, already stripped down to his boxers as the moonlight from the open flap in the tent pours in.

Though it’s dark, and you're halfway to falling asleep, you can still see the outline of his cock through the thin material, soft against his thigh. Your body forces you awake, eyes nearly glazed over and face growing warm, but you dig your fingers into your thighs to keep you calm.

It’s stupidly hot. Scorching. Both because of the cramped space—thanks to the single tent—and the heat of the night air. You try to wait out your discomfort, hoping Mr. Sandman drags you to his realm soon, but maybe you’ve outgrown that. 

Addressing the problem head-on is best.

“Jack,” you whisper. He turns his head to you as he settles inside his bag.

“Thought you were asleep. Did I wake you?” he whispers back.

You’re not quite sure why you’re whispering. There’s no one around for miles. 

“No, I’ve just been tossing and turning all this time. I’m really working up a sweat. Do you mind if I—… if I just sleep over my bag? I know it’s cramped in here—”

“—No problem at all. Don’t want you sweating all night. You’ll get dehydrated.”

You hesitate but unzip your bag—after a few seconds of sheer panic that you can’t locate the zipper—and escape the sweltering insulation.

Of course he’d bring his standard-issue mummy sleeping bags. You probably should’ve brought your own.

It’s a bit darker in the tent now that the campfire has completely died out, and you can’t tell if Jack is looking at you or has his eyes closed. Only his silhouette is visible from the moon and starlight pouring in—his head tilted in your direction and his arms out, mummy bag not fully zipped yet.

You let a breath escape you, your body finally cooling down. The sweat from the heat dries, but now a nervous one takes its place, your emotions working overtime.

Reflecting on today, this is the most touchy, feely, and cozied up together you two have ever been. And it hurts because you don’t know when the next time you’ll be alone together like this will be. During Jack’s brief stints, while he’s waiting to be deployed, you mostly hang out with him alongside your dad. Or, if alone, somewhere in public or with their other military buddies. 

There’s always someone watching. 

Someone who would judge the girl with a schoolgirl crush on her older, widowed, and too-handsome dad’s best friend.

With an ache in your heart from how close yet far you are, you finally settle against the sleeping bag and try to fall asleep again.

What you don’t expect is for Jack to reach for you, pulling your hips into his so you’re chest to chest.

“Jack—Jack, what are you doing?”

“You’re not zipped in, and I realize you might knock me upside the head if you toss and turn in your sleep. It’s better if I keep you restrained like this. For my own safety.”

“But… doesn’t this defeat the purpose? I’m going to get hot while tucked into you.” Your heart can’t take this anymore. 

“Hm… I guess you’re right.” 

Jack's fingers play with the hem of your tank, and you can feel them slip underneath, his warm, calloused hand pressed to your lower back.

His voice is gruff. “Take it off. The top and shorts. I won’t be able to see anything in the dark.” 

You plead, “J-Jack—”

“—It’s okay. I’ll be a gentleman. I promise.” His hand slowly moves from your lower back to snap the elastic of your straps against your skin, urging you to listen to him. 

“Do it.”

He’s so persistent about it you can’t help but give in. This is only the most logical solution to your problem, after all.

You peel your tank off, nipples peaked as the fabric runs over them, and you instinctively know Jack is watching. 

Gentleman, my ass.

The shorts are discarded at the head of the tent next, your underwear the only thing keeping you modest. You return to his chest and settle against him, the cool material of his dog tags stunning you for a second. You’re only too hyper aware of your peaked nipples rubbing against his skin as he wraps his arms around you again. 

Oh, what he wouldn’t do to get a mouthful of them. But there’s not really a valid reason for that, is there?

After a few heart-pounding seconds of silence, Jack speaks up, “I couldn’t see much, angel. But I don’t have to to know that you’re beautiful. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable about this, okay? I just want you to have the best sleep you can. We’ll be leaving pretty early tomorrow.”

You only nod, your face pressed into his armpit and inhaling his heady scent. You fall asleep quickly now.

As you stir, awoken by the alarm on your phone, you see Jack, already awake, leaning over you with an elbow propped up. A soft smile plays on his lips. You’re still drowsy from sleep but feel wide awake the moment you realize the state you’re in. Your breasts are exposed, visible due to the early morning light filtering in through the tent. 

But that isn’t the worst part.

Your legs are tangled with Jack’s, your underwear is soaked, and your core is flush against his thigh. You realize, with shame, you must’ve been grinding on him in your sleep. 

He too must have unzipped himself the rest of the way down overnight, and your body took advantage of it.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” He kisses the top of your head, reaching for your top scrunched at the head of the tent. You quickly rise from where you're sprawled on the tent floor, snatching it from his hand and putting it on.

“Jack, I’m so sorry. I—I didn’t mean to—” you stutter, trying to move your legs from where they’re straddled between Jack’s, but he keeps you still with a firm hold on your waist.

“It’s alright. It was bound to happen with us being closed in and all.” He moves his hand from your waist to rub circles into your upper thigh, then pinches the soft flesh. Let’s see if he can get away with this one. “I want you to keep going. Take what you need.” 

“What?” You look down at him with a shocked expression, his nonchalance only exacerbated as he chuckles lightly into his fist, elbow still propped.

His serious eyes meet your owlish ones, and you gulp. 

“I said what I said.”

You’re flustered, tripping over your words, and Jack uses the opportunity to pull you back onto his chest and lie you both down again.

He waits. Waits for you to tell him that this isn’t right, that you can both forget this happened and move on. But he wants you to take advantage of him. He’s giving himself to you, even if you don’t realize it yet.

You’re both still for a few seconds, waiting for the other to do something. Say something. You decide to make the first move.

What’s a little more humiliation? Jack’s already seen your tits and felt your wet panties glide over his muscled thigh. And… he seemed to enjoy it. That’s all the liquid courage you need to do what you do next.

You hide your face in the crook of his neck and wrap your arms around his nape, pulling at the soft, graying curls, and resume the slow grind of your cunt over his thigh.

He just lies there, letting you use him, and watches you undulate on him like you’re the most precious thing in the world. And maybe—based on the way his breath hitches as you moan, and he relishes the overstimulated tears that drip onto his neck—you are. 

Your clit twitches, but you whine in frustration, not yet close. He decides to help you instead of being a willing bystander and grabs your hips to press you harder against his thigh, desperately guiding you up and down to give you the friction you need. 

“Waitwaitwait—Jack, it’s too—too rough, p-please.” 

Please don’t stop.

“Just give it to me. You can.”

Jack sweats as your hot pants collect in the crook of his neck, holding himself back from ripping off your underwear and taking you right here. If this is as close as he can get without crossing the proverbial line, he’ll take it.

You buck more wildly, sloppily against him as your orgasm fast approaches, and he gives you a final push—harshly spanking you, then gripping and spreading the fat of your ass to help you reach your climax. He’s basically doing all the work now, shifting you up and down so fast that your orgasm barrels toward you without remorse.

A gasp escapes you, one delirious with need—the sting of the spank and the relief of his warm, demanding touch, massaging and gripping your cheeks, finally hurling you over the edge. You come with a cry, muffled against his shoulder as you bite down.

Whispers of praise tumble from Jack’s lips, choked out, as he grapples with the ego boost of you coming on his thigh and the pretty mark you left for him on his shoulder. You’re so out of it, you don’t register his quiet confessions. 

“So, so pretty.” 

“You did so good, kid.”

“I wish… we could be like this all the time.” He kisses your sweaty forehead after that last one.

You lie still against him in the afterglow of your orgasm for a few seconds—catching your breath, reeling yourself back to reality—when you notice he’s hard, his cock twitching against his upper thigh and a wet spot forming on his boxers.

You reach delicate hands over to touch him through the fabric, but he stops you, fingers wrapping around your wrist. 

“We need to leave soon. Why don’t we break down the tent now?”

A frown tugs at your lips. “B-but… what about you?”

“Nothing about me. It’s just a natural reaction to us being cramped in here, that’s all. I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Let me—”

“—I told your dad I’d take care of you. You needed to get off. I helped you. That’s it.” 

You’re taken aback, mouth open but left speechless. A mix of shame, guilt, and despair swirls inside you—his flippant tone adding heavy droplets of anger to the mix. 

Is he fucking serious?

You feel cheap. Used. This is the moment you finally feel brave enough to do something to push past the boundaries of your relationship, and he shuts it down. 

It dawns on you what he’s doing. He wants this—you—too. His actions over the past twenty-four hours have betrayed him, revealing what you’ve always hoped to be true. That he feels an irrevocable attraction toward you. And your excitement is quickly shut down when you realize he’s not going to do anything more about it than hide behind lame excuses. If he’s going to deny you like this… well, maybe it’s time to move on. You’re done waiting for him.

“You’re an ass, you know that?” Tears sting your eyes as you quickly push yourself off him, grabbing your shorts and rushing out of the tent.

Jack watches you leave, pain wracking his chest. He shouldn’t have been so indifferent. So clinical. His no-frills dismissal of the reciprocation you wanted to give—ah, you’re too fucking doting on him. But his job is to protect. To serve. To obey. Giving himself to you has never been part of the equation… as much as he’d like to. 

He knows he fucked up.

Bringing you out here, to the far, isolated loop of the park, was his chance to feel closer to you. You managed to worm your way into his poorly fortified defenses—out in the call of the wild, where he’s usually alone with nightmares from time wasted and lives lost—and he took advantage of his own weakness for you.

But what’s he to do to course-correct? You two aren’t meant to be.

And so, even with a disgusting guilt and for a short while, he feels satiated by what little he could offer you, even if he can’t offer himself.

You’ll get over it.

The car ride home is silent, with only the sound of the wind whipping into your face to quell your frenetic thoughts. He looks over at you leaning on the window, disturbed by the quiet. Even if he doesn’t enjoy your music, he always wants to hear you. Always. 

Once home, he walks you to the door of your apartment, your name leaving his lips before you can close the door in his face.

“I know you’re upset with me. You have every right to be. But… I had a really great time. I’ll miss you. Give your dad a hello and a goodbye for me, okay, kid?”

You look back at him, sighing. It’s not fair that he has to leave tomorrow. You want more time to stew and act like a petulant child. But instead, you drop your cooler to the ground and give him a warm—but respectful—hug. 

“I had a good time too, Jack. Stay safe overseas.” 

He stands stock-still, surprised you responded in kind, but returns your hug. “I’m thinking of you. Remember that.” He cradles your cheek, wipes away an eyelash, and then heads into the elevator.

As you watch him leave, you’re left wondering what the fuck you’ll do now.

“Why couldn’t he come again? You’re really bringing the vibe down, sourpuss,” Yolanda asks, a teasing lilt in her tone.

You’re currently sitting opposite Yolanda and Trinity in a cozy booth in the far corner of a bar, with your hands stretched out and head sideways on the table. You groan.

“He has some finance-bro presentation for work tomorrow. He won’t be able to hang out tonight. But fuck him, right, ladies? Tonight’s girl’s—” You glance up and see them making out, not ignoring you, but too wrapped up in each other for your voice to reach them. While you’re glad to have accepted their invitation to hang out—after not seeing them for a while—you had hoped that your recent fling would be here with you to make this less of a third-wheel situation. 

You met him on a dating app—he’s cute, gentlemanly enough, and decent in bed. He buys you nice gifts sometimes, too.

Trinity breaks the kiss, needing air, and turns back to you. “Sorry, what’d you say?”

“He’s not coming.”

She reaches a hand over the table to pat yours. “That’s a shame. We probably could’ve gotten him to pay for all the drinks.”

You laugh, cheering up slightly. “Yeah, probably. Anyway… I think I’m gonna head out soon. I have work tomorrow.” You move your arms from the table and lift your head, rifling through your bag to double-check you have all your personal items. 

Your face feels warm from the few drinks you’ve had, accompanied by a pounding headache, and you're already tired from your long day at work. It’s really time to go.

“Are you sure? It’s still not too late… Why don’t we dance? Or have one more drink?” Yolanda asks, twirling the straw in her empty margarita glass.

You shake your head. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a buzzkill, but I’m exhausted. You guys have fun, okay?”

They both give you a sad smile. 

“Let’s call you an Uber.” Trinity says.

You crash into your bed after getting undressed and completing a half-assed version of your nighttime skincare routine. Your phone pings, and you check it to see that Nathan has texted you, wishing you a good night and apologizing for not making it tonight. It’s almost sweet, and you start to smile, until that quickly turns into a frown when he follows up immediately with:

Do you think you could send me a little something, you know, for good luck? ;)

I’ll treat you to the bonus I get if I secure this client tomorrow.

You roll your eyes. You’re not against sending a few sexy pics now and then, but you’ve already gotten ready for bed. Still, the thought of an all-expenses-paid trip to the Maldives does sound good right about now.

You make the difficult decision to get out of bed and dolled up for this amateur photoshoot—the only incentive being an expensive gift in return—and put on your best set of lingerie. It’s just been sitting alone, thrown into the far end of your closet after Nathan gifted it to you not too long ago.

The babydoll dress is a sheer, pastel mesh color that complements your skin tone perfectly, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. It pairs well with the thong in the same color, with cute little bows adorning the sides of your hips. You take a good look at yourself in the mirror, satisfied with what you see. He chose a good one. 

Sitting back in bed and on top of your comforter, you try to work yourself up. You flick your nipples through the ruffly mesh and run your fingers over your slit, barely covered by the thong. 

Previous hookup encounters with Nathan invade your mind—as a mood setter—but it doesn’t work. After minutes of trying and trying to get yourself turned on for the man who bought you the lingerie pass, you give up. Instead, your mind flits to Jack and that early morning after you spent the night cuddled together.

Minutes turn into seconds, and you’re already wet, the stringy satin clinging to your cunt. 

You open your phone’s camera and position yourself to take some pictures, snapping a few of your perked nipples poking through the thin bra and your damp thong. More photos are taken, each lewder than the last—the final few exposing your breasts and soaked cunt, bra tucked under and thong pulled to the side.  

Going the extra mile—even though Nathan doesn’t deserve it—you also film a quick video. Featherlight touches graze your nipples, and deft fingers split the seam of your pussy. You give yourself a few light slaps over your clit, making you jump. You tease, barely nudging a single digit inside your hole, moaning Nathan’s name. It’s deadpan, but he won’t notice.

The production is shit anyway. The darkness of the room and the dust trapped in your phone speakers don’t do you any favors for visual or audio, but he’ll get what he asked for. You quickly shoot off the risqué material one at a time, then fall asleep—too tired to change back into your sleepwear. 

The last thought in your mind before entering dreamland: You wish Jack were here to help soothe the ache in your heart and in your cunt.

Jack’s phone pings as he’s lying in his bunker, about to fall asleep. He’s been tossing and turning all night, anxious for tomorrow.

He’ll be home again, this time for a lot longer. He’s itching to see you again after months of mostly radio silence between you two since the trip. He’s sent a few texts here and there, and you’ve responded, but they’re curt. Dry. Diplomatic.

At least when he’s back, you’ll have to see him at some point, right? 

Even if it’s just with your dad—pretending everything is normal between you two—and giving him the cold shoulder when he isn’t looking. Always the good girl, putting on a brave face so Daddy won’t have to worry. He’d be crushed if he found out you couldn’t even stand to be near his best friend anymore. 

Jack reaches under his pillow to grab his phone, sitting up straight in bed when he sees several text messages from you. He opens your text chain, your contact pinned at the top.

Jack nearly passes out when he sees what you’ve sent.

His eyes zip from one photo to the next, too impatient to process each and every one pixel by pixel. You're wearing a pretty lingerie set, but not one that he would pick out. He much prefers a birthday suit—less fuss. A dozen or so images of your perky nipples and sopping pussy greet his wide eyes. 

His heart nearly bursts out of his chest. He can’t see your face—the image is cropped out or just out of frame—but including it might’ve actually sent him to the infirmary. Why didn’t he take more pictures with you—of you—during the trip?

Maybe he thought he wouldn’t have to. Like somehow it could’ve ended another way—with you two together. You don’t need photos when you’ve already got the real thing. It’s wishful thinking, and now the only thing he has as a reminder is a broken heart and a sore wrist from thoughts of you crying on his thigh.

The last message from you is a video, and he adjusts the volume so it doesn’t blast, but at least he’s tucked away in his own quarters—a nice perk of being a long-time sergeant. 

He does it as if lowering the volume absolves the wrongness in his more-than-willing participation and engagement with your lewd messages. Still, his thumb hovers over the play button, trying to convince himself to delete the texts and forget this happened—but it’s a losing battle. 

The short clip plays, and what he hears is like Apollo’s lyre, your moans and the squelch of your cunt seducing him—but one bad pluck of the animal gut in the form of another man's name pulls him from his hypnosis.

It’s a name that doesn’t belong to him. It rots Jack from the inside out, grime curling into his mouth, and he almost spews it onto the floor. 

He already knows you didn't mean to send this to him, but he’s devastated and envious. Ready to march on a warpath leading to the man who let you slip through his fingers with tears in your eyes. He’s replayed that moment of you leaving the tent one too many times, trying to rewrite the story in a way that would lead him back to you. 

Jack should’ve reached for you then. Reassured you that the moment wasn’t just because of a warped sense of duty. 

He wants you.

And you’re no longer the eighteen-year-old girl he initially met. You’re a grown woman, one who’s capable of making her own decisions. Jack chooses courage now, because if he doesn’t act, paltry, meager men will take what’s rightfully his… what has always been. And he fears you’re already being pulled away by forces he can’t control.

The only other obstacle is your dad. But Jack can take him in a fight, if necessary. He hopes it won’t come to that.

He aches for you. Wants to take the next steps in life and move on with you. But he can’t, not yet. Not until he’s back home and he can show you he means it. But now he has all the motivation he needs to try to get back in your good graces.

Instead of deleting the texts, he saves the material, then he does what he thinks is best to rectify the mistake he made all those months ago.

He calls you.

You’re awoken from a light sleep when your phone goes off, vibrating on the nightstand. 

Your eyes adjust to the bright light on the screen as you hold the phone over your face—careful not to drop it—and you see that you have a few missed phone calls from Jack. You sit up in bed.

It’s midnight. What could he want? It’s been—well, since before the camping trip—that you last spoke on the phone. You don’t bother returning his call. Whatever he wants to talk about can wait at least until you're fully conscious. 

You clear the notifications from Jack one by one when you happen to see another one from Nathan:

Hey, did you fall asleep? Where are my pics :(

That makes you freeze, anxiety jolting you into full coherency. You know you sent those off… But if not to Nathan, then to whom?

You immediately return Jack’s call, not even bothering to look through your messages to confirm what you did. You know you sent them to him. Because, maybe, deep down, you wanted to send him those photos.

The line connects, and you speak up first. “Jack?”

He feels his nervousness dissipate, rejuvenated after going so long without hearing your saccharine melody.

“Angel… it’s been a while.”

“I take it you saw what I sent you?” You tug at the bows adorning your hips, loosening them and twirling the slack satin.

“Heard it too.”

You bring your phone to your chest, groaning in humiliation as the soft sheets rustle beneath you. Despite that, you grow hot at his wrecked voice and utter honesty. How is it that after all this time—even on complicated terms—he can still make you fall apart with just his voice?

You quickly bring your phone back to your ear to ask him the burning question. “Did… did you like what you saw?”

Jack’s brain buffers, pulse racing at your shy, innocent, but very loaded question. He doesn’t respond right away but feels the need to praise you for being so good to him. 

“…Yes, God, yes. You don’t know what you do to me, kid.”

Butterflies flutter inside your stomach, and you almost want to throw your phone into the wall from the overwhelming joy you feel at his response. 

“W-why are you calling?”

“Why do you think? I hear you moan another man’s name, and you think I won’t address it?”

“You don’t have the right to be upset. I walked out on you… but you pushed me away.” You pout and chew on your lip. You’re not letting him get away with his behavior that morning.

He’s stunned into a short silence, but ultimately he’s glad you called him out. You’ve been more mature than him throughout everything, and he runs his fingers through his curls in embarrassment.

He puffs out a tired breath. “I know. But that’s also why I want to talk to you. I want to apologize for that day. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Letting you go… well, it’s one of my biggest mistakes. I won’t make it again.”

Coming from Jack, it’s the most heartfelt and mournful apology you’ve ever heard. Would it be too quick to forgive him already? The distance and time apart only make you more willing to throw the water under the bridge.

You start to tear up and begin to say something when Jack interjects, “And I want to tell you that you’re devastating. Just…” He chuckles. “I can’t even get the words out. Stunning. Even if you’re moaning another man’s name.”

Heat works its way through your body at his words. Still, you respond, with a sniffle, “And while wearing the lingerie he bought me.” You throw that in to make him hurt. Just a little bit more.

“You’re really killing me here, you know that?”

You laugh, and he feels as if all’s right with the world again. “Sorry. Thank you for apologizing, Jack. I’m—I’m also sorry for not reaching out to you more. I shouldn’t have held such a grudge against you. I know you only have the best intentions.”

He really doesn’t. Not with your video still playing in the back of his mind. Not when he’s nearly two decades older than you and he thinks about knocking you up. But as long as you want him just as badly as he does, it'll be alright. “I should’ve reached out too. It’s not your fault.”

You both listen to the hushed sound of the other’s breathing through the phone, not wanting to disturb the quietude brought by your mending of fences. 

A few peaceful seconds pass in silence. “So… what now?” 

“You tell me. What do you want, angel?”

“I want—I want you. I… I want to be with you, Jack.” Your voice comes out shaky and in a pathetic whisper, but that only endears you to him more.

“Then you have me.” Jack twists the silicone band on his finger, already planning your life together in his head. He’s going to take such good care of you. That nearly excites him more than the thought of getting you underneath him. Almost. 

“What do we do about my dad?”

“Don’t worry about him. We’ll talk to him together. I didn’t tell you, but I’m coming home tomorrow.”

If you weren’t already sitting up in bed, you would probably levitate. You smack your chest as your heart pumps a little too fast. “You’ll be here? Tomorrow?”

He’s amused by your sweet reaction. “Yes. Wait for me.”

“Okay, I will.” You nod, even though he can’t see you over the phone. “I—I missed you.”

“Me too, sweetheart. More than words can say.”

A moment later, Jack speaks up, addressing you by name. He doesn’t want the call to end. He wants to feel close to you again with a new understanding that he can be a little selfish. Because that's what people who let themselves feel and receive love do.

“Before we hang up, I want to try something. I want you to send your boyfriend a little present.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just… sleeping together. And what present?”

“That’s good. It’ll make this easier. I want you to touch yourself. Make him a video like the one you sent me. I’ll talk you through it, baby. Tell him who you were really thinking about when you made it.”

Your mouth hangs open. The gall. The nerve. The audacity. But his possessiveness and need to claim you in front of the audience of one make you squirm, your cunt starting to leak from just his words.

He tuts into the phone when you don’t respond. “Be a good girl and answer me.”

Affirming words spill easily from your lips. “O-okay. I’ll do it. What—what would you like me to do first, sir?”

Jack groans into the phone as he clutches it, his other hand moving beneath his boxers to free himself, and you giggle at his reaction. 

“Put me on speakerphone. Use one hand to film and the other to pinch and squeeze your tits. Perk them up real nice.”

You rip your comforter away from your body to play with your nipples through the mesh lingerie—sensitive—as the fabric rubs into them. As you tug each one roughly, your other hand shakes as it holds the phone while recording. It’d be so much more difficult to focus if you were also FaceTiming each other. But luckily for you, Jack probably doesn’t even know what that is. You’re patient enough to wait to see him tomorrow. In person.

You moan softly, more enthusiastically this time around than earlier tonight. Poor, poor Nathan.

“Say my name. Say it, baby.” You can hear the lewd squelches coming from Jack’s end as he jerks his cock, and you whine his name—loud enough for the phone to pick up—your nipples stinging from how brutally you’ve tweaked them.

He grunts, “Now, slowly drag your hand down and touch your clit. Make sure you give him a good look, angel.” Jack’s breathing quickens, and you hear him spit, lubing up his already wet cockhead and fisting himself to spread more slick down his length.

You follow his command. You trail your fingers down the slope of your body until they reach your center. Making sure the camera is focused on your cunt, you manage to splay yourself open, giving the lens a nice look at your soaked and slippery folds. Your digits press harsh circles into your clit, and you have to stop yourself from squirming too much to keep the phone from rocking. “J-Jack, I’m—I’m getting close. Pleasepleaseplease keep talking to me. Tell me what I’m doing to you.”

“Already going to come? We’ve barely started, kid.” 

Hearing him call you kid at this very moment does unspeakable things to you. Things it shouldn’t.

He laughs at you, mockingly, but he’s getting close too. He twists his rough fist up and down the length of his cock, putting his phone on the nightstand so he can massage his balls, throbbing and full for you.

It’s really too bad that all his come will be going to waste.

“You want my praise? That it?” he drawls, words slurring as his balls tighten. “You should be here, helping me with this.” Jack punctuates his statement with a rough tug of his cock, hopeful that you get his point through his voice alone. “This is all your fault. You’d like to see how hard and leaky I am for you, hm? I’ll prove to you how much you drive me crazy tomorrow. It’s a promise.”

Jack starts to stroke himself faster, the globs of spit trailing down to his balls and sheets from his hurried pace. He wants you to come first.

“A-angel, please, put the heel of your palm on your clit and three fingers in your cunt. It won’t fill you like I will, but it’ll work.”

He sounds absolutely wrecked, but he’s past the point of total humiliation now. As long as you do what he says, you’ll both be rewarded.

You rub your swollen clit with the heel of your hand, fucking yourself on three digits—and he’s right—it’s not enough. But he’s not here right now, and you need to come. He needs you to come.

“Are you doing it?” When all he hears is a high-pitched “Mhm!” from you, he gives the final directive. 

“Come, baby. Need to hear you. Show him what it’s like when a man really makes you come.”

You finally crest, overloaded with physical sensation and Jack’s praise, ragged and through gritted teeth. You let out a pathetic wail, orgasm ripping through you and making you drop the phone onto the bed next to you with a soft thud. You twitch, worn out, but can hear him shift in his bed, adjusting to make himself more comfortable.

With a strained voice, Jack says, “Good girl. That’s a… very good girl.” He gives you a few seconds to catch your breath. Then, he immediately follows up with, “Stay with me, angel. I need to hear your voice.”

A few more strokes of his cock, and your whispers and quiet confessions push him over the edge. 

He comes with a rumbling groan, thick spend making a sloppy mess over his hand, down his length, onto his sleep shorts, and into his sheets. At the tail end of his orgasm, he idly thinks about making you lick clean his mess. Maybe feeding it to you and watching your eyes glass over with the taste. Tomorrowtomorrowtomorrow.

With that in mind, Jack flops back onto his pillow, exhausted but satiated. He whispers your name, hoping you haven’t fallen asleep yet. You respond with a soft hum, and he lets out a breath. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. I needed that. We both did. Are you okay?”

“Mhm. Just tired,” you whisper back, head nestled sideways into the pillow.

“Okay, I don’t want to keep you up too long. You probably have work, right? Sweet dreams, angel. I’ll see you tomorrow. And… you don’t have to send him the video if you don’t want to.” Nathan will know soon enough that only Jack has a claim on you. 

You snort. You already know what he really wants. “I already sent it. Guess I should burn this lingerie set now, huh?” 

His lips curl up in a devilish smirk. He doesn’t deserve you. “Goodnight,” he says.

“Goodnight, Jack. Love you.” 

He freezes. He’s not sure if you meant those last two words or if they just spilled out of you due to your post-coital haze and fatigue. But he doesn’t get the chance to confirm, as he can tell from your silence you’ve fallen asleep.

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart.” He hangs up. 

Love you.

You’ve just come home from work—tired and nearly passed out—when you hear a knock at the door. He texted you a while ago when his plane landed. Is he here already?

You open the door and see Jack, still in his military outfit and carrying his luggage, dropping it as you jump into his arms.

“It’s good to see you, kid.” He whispers into your neck, inhaling your scent. Your scent’s a little sweaty and like the outside, but you smell like home.

“It’s good to see you too, Jack.” You bury your face into his shoulder, wanting to crawl inside his skin, but content with just a hug for now. You can feel his back muscles even through the thick material of his outfit, and it’s as if he’s gotten even stronger since you saw him last. You’re glad he’s holding you up because you would have quickly dropped to your knees to give him a warm, wet welcome home. But the apartment floor is hardwood, and he hasn’t even stepped inside yet. There’ll be time for that later.

He tilts your chin up from where it's tucked into his shoulder and kisses you. It’s soft and gentle, like a ghost haunted by its past trying to grasp something real. But you’re solid against his touch, and he lets himself feel your lips and soft skin and supple body against his.

He kicks his gear into your apartment and closes the door, then carries you to your bed, still kissing you. He doesn’t bother to ask for permission to enter this time. You’re tossed onto the bed with a soft thud, and Jack bends down to cradle the side of your face with his warm palm, his intense stare meeting your loving one.

“Let me make good on my promise. Are you gonna let me eat out your sweet cunt? Or do you want my cock now?”

Your body shakes, and you make a cute noise in the back of your throat. “D-don’t you want to change first? Maybe let me make you something to eat?”

“No. I want to take care of you. Let me?”

You can’t help but beam at him. It’s no use fighting him. “Okay.” 

You lay your hand over his and notice his wedding band is gone.

“Dad? Dad, are you okay? You’re staring off into space…”

You and Jack give each other a worried look as you sit opposite your dad at lunch. You slightly regret having told him about your relationship. Maybe this could’ve been kept a secret until… nevermind. That’s too morbid. He’ll just have to accept this.

Your dad shakes his head. “Sorry, I—I didn’t expect this, but to be honest, I can’t say I’m surprised.” He sighs. “As long as you’re both happy, I’m happy. I can’t dictate your life anymore, honey. But Jack, if you hurt her, you won’t be dropping twenty. You’ll just be dropping. And I don’t mean pushups. Understand me?”

Jack smiles, turns to you, and brings your hand to his lips, kissing it. “I sure do.”

[sparrows4bats]

So I think Lois Lane adores Damian Wayne.

Sure, she was unsure about Jons friendship with him at first. The stories she was told about him weren't the most flattering, and she would always worry about her bad, invulnerable, or not.

But when she meets Damian properly, gets to know him and his history?

She loves that kid.

Damian Wayne is a boy who was abused and turned into a weapon for the first ten years of his life and then was abandoned to the care of strangers and told everything he ever knew was wrong. When given the chance to choose and learn for the first time in his life, he became a hero, an artist, a vegetarian, and an animal lover.

Lois Lane, a reporter and a staunch humanitarian, looks at Damian Wayne and sees a child who had people he was meant to trust betray and abuse him for their own ends.

She sees a boy who would do anything to ensure Jon comes home to her.

She gets a true soft spot for the tiny ex assassin one night when, during a sleepover, she finds Damian Wayne sitting at her kitchen table at 3am.

"I know you're a bat, but I didn't think you were actually nocturnal. "

"I'm not, I assure you Mrs Lane."

"Jons snoring wake you?"

The boy smiles at her, "No, I got trained to sleep through anything, even the super chainsaw in there."

"So, why are you up so late?" Lois motions for the kid to sit with her.

"Sometimes it is hard to stay asleep." As he says this the kid looks haunted and Lois she gets it.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." Lois decides not to push him even if she is curious.

"Okay, so Jon tells me you rescued a cow recently?"

The boy lights up and shares tales of Batcow and the evils of industrial meat factories. They have a very nice conversation until Clark comes looking for her and shoos them both back to bed, but only after offeringhis own opinions on ethical agriculture.

She sees how smart Damian is, with connections and links to underground dealings that they use to get justice in Lois's way. Exposing trafficking rings and embezzlement while showing Damian that sometimes the system works.

Damian becomes her silent informant and researcher because he gets bored. They win Lois her third Pulitizer together.

Remember, Lois Lane has and will continue to jump out of windows to prove a point, and much to Jon and Clarks distress, Damian follows her example.

Jon is very glad his best friend calls for him when he needs help, but he really wishes Damian would stop putting himself in danger.

Clark has to save all three of them when Lois bring both boys to investigate a bad landlord that ended up being a front for a cartel.

When Damian decides he can do more for the world as a doctor, Lois becomes one of his biggest supporters.

She gets him placement tests and uses her connections to get Damian proof of his many qualifications. She even helps him practice for his college interviews.

Dr Damian Wayne helps her take down corrupt pharmaceutical and health insurance companies.

They meet at least once a week for coffee and to vent about their favourite kryptonitians.

Needless to say, when her son approaches her, panicking over the fact he is love with their favourite bat, Lois is very excited.

She knows the feeling is more than mutual and decided that Damian WILL be her son in law.

So she tells Jon exactly how she fell in love with his father. He is horrified at all the near death experiences, but overall, the two come up with a plan.

Clark tries to stop them but is ignored. He considers warning Bruce but decides that he can't risk Lois getting mad at him again.

Jon confesses his love to Damian over an erupting volcano while rescuing a team of geologists. His mom was right. It was very romantic.

He kisses Damian for the first time while riding a new dragon friend they found for Wiggles that Jon insists they call Mushu.

When Jon proposes, he and Lois design the ring together. Jon moulds it in the heat of a collapsing star and forms a diamond in his hands to set in the centre.

Damian says yes while performing emergency medicine on other heroes. The JL are extremely happy for them but confused about the timing.

Lois loves showing off how wonderful her new son in law is. Especially when she has grandchildren to spoil.

Jon will never regret bringing Damian into the family. He loves his husband, but he really wishes he and his mom would stop jumping out of windows.

Especially when the kids start to follow them, Thank Rao they can fly.

[mattslilies]

Bonding - C.S.

"how can i help, baby?" or... the chris version of this fic. the one where you're struggling to bond with your new baby, and it's making you wish you weren't a mother in the first place. warnings: postpartum depression, general anxiety, crying, chris being a sweetheart and the best boy dad, unresolved angst!!! word count: 519 a/n: dividers from @kodaswrld! requested by anon!

your eyes slowly blinked open, hearing the screams of your newborn son from the other room. exhaustion crept over all of your features, your eyes sunken in and your face tired as the noise pierced your ears. you made no move to get out of the bed you'd been laying in all day, instead rolling over and putting a pillow over your head, as if that would cancel it all out.

you heard chris walk around in the hallway, and watched the baby monitor, seeing him immediately scoop his son out of the crib, changing him, and rocking him as he moved back to the living room, grabbing a formula made bottle and whispering to him as he fed him. you listened as your son quieted down, taking the bottle from his father, face happy and content in his arms.

it wasn't fair. none of it was fair.

you'd carried him, grown him inside your boy, sung lullabies to him every night, gone to doctor appointment after doctor appointment, taken every vitamin possible, and gone through the entire painful process of childbirth. and he couldn't even look at you without crying.

you'd done everything right, but all your son wanted was chris.

part of you was angry. how could you do so much for someone, and they could be so unappreciative? but the other part of you, the bigger part of you, was just sad. a depressing, deep, crushing sadness that wouldn't leave you alone.

over the short few weeks that you had been home from the hospital, you'd slowly begun to shrink into a shell of your former self. you stopped trying to hold him when he cried, stopped trying to change him after a nap. you stopped trying to feed him because he wouldn't latch, and eventually switched to formula because you completely stopped pumping for him. and now? you barely even left your bed

chris had picked up the slack every time. he'd never complained, not even once, about the screaming, the crying, always having to do everything. he loved his son, and he loved you, and he would do anything to lighten the mental load you were already under.

but sometimes, you didn't have a choice. chris had to work, he had to do things to keep your family afloat while you were on maternity leave. every time you took care of your son, you felt nothing but sadness, anger, and disconnection.

you weren't getting those cute baby laughs, the newborn scrunches, the adorable fisted hands in your shirt. instead, you listened to your son scream and cry until his father came back to hold him. every time chris came home and took him out of your arms, he immediately calmed, regardless of whatever you had tried. it only served to hurt you more.

you'd tried everything.

you'd gone to therapy, you'd spent more time with your son, you'd done absolutely everything to try and reconcile your relationship with him, but nothing was working.

"how can i help, baby?"

chris asked that every day. and each day, you didn't have an answer for him. he was an angel, but he would only be an angel for so long.

what happens if it never gets better?

[treeteaofversailles]

Fake Moaning? Not On My Watch…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MDNI! This is my original work. Please do not post to another site or to AI. Thank you and happy reading!

Summary: You fake moan into Zayne’s ear, and Zayne shows you how that was a bad idea. This isn’t connected to the “Should Have Been Me” universe.

Tags/TW: Smut. No plot. Fem!Non-MC!Reader. Zayne is a munch and likes to get absolutely nasty with it :P. PIV smut, fingering, cunnilingus.

A/N: here's a Zayne *tosses and runs away*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You leaned closer to him, turning your face and brushing your nose against his ear. Zayne thought you were going to give him a kiss on the cheek like you always had when you stopped by to visit him in his office while he was working. 

Instead, your lips nestled against his ear, and a shaky breath stuttered by his ear. 

And before he could ask you what you were doing, you exhaled the sweetest sound into his ear. 

“Ohh Zayne~!” You whined loudly. 

Your voice rang in his ear and sent shockwaves down his spine, settling low in his stomach. His cock twitched to life, instantly filling up the space in his cream-colored slacks. 

Zayne whirled around and glared at you, but you were already skipping out of his office. You even winked over your shoulder before closing the door behind yourself. 

He sat there for a few minutes, his ear still ringing with the sound of your saccharine sweet voice calling out his name like a siren. His face was so hot, he felt like he was going to ignite in flames. His fist tightened, and he clenched his jaw, trying to will the sound of your saying his name out of his head. 

He really needed to get back to work, or else he would be backed up for days. 

He took a steadying breath before he turned back to his work. Zayne pushed up his glasses and shifted in his seat, adjusting his slacks over his growing erection. 

Zayne kept typing, locking into the report so he could quickly get back to you. 

Meanwhile, you huffed, typing in the group chat with you, MC, and Tara. You tossed yourself on the bed, lying on your stomach as you texted your sister and your friend. Zayne’s t-shirt rose over your shorts as you kicked your legs in the air. 

“It didn’t seem to work, guys (╥_╥)” - You

“Told you it would take more than that to break the icy doctor (×﹏×)” - MC

“Don’t speak too soon~! Maybe he’s just finishing his work before he tends to you (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧” - Tara

“You could double down and send him a picture of you in lingerie or in his clothes. It worked for me and Caleb” - MC

“That’s cuz Caleb is already a freak (ಠ_ಠ)” - You

“(¬‿¬ )” - MC

“Usually, I just throw in that I have plans with another man, and then Xavier is all over me.” - Tara

“That’s cuz Xavier is possessive af bro Σ(°ロ°)” - You

“That’s cuz Xavier is a freakier freak… (┬┴┬┴┤(･_├┬┴┬┴)” - MC

You laughed at the conversation and continued typing away, completely unaware of someone creeping up behind you. It wasn’t until you sent another text, teasing Tara about the “bruise” on her neck last week, that you felt a pair of cold hands grab your thighs. 

You shrieked and dropped your phone before whirling around to see Zayne hovering over you, a dark look on his face. 

Your heart was slamming in your chest from the initial scare, and now it was beating harder from his eyes boring into you. The sweet emerald-gold of his hazel eyes was nearly gone, swallowed by the void of his pupils. 

“Had your fun yet?” he asked, his voice deceptively sweet, cooing in a faux innocent question. 

You tried to answer, but you shivered when his hands slowly slid up your thighs, going under the shirt you’d stolen from him. He massaged your hips and climbed on the bed, the mattress dipping under his knee. 

“You want to moan so badly? I’ll give you something real to moan about,” Zayne heaved breathlessly. 

You could only squeak in shock when he roughly dragged you to the edge of the bed. 

He kissed you roughly, drawing a soft moan from you. Zayne parted your lips and shoved his tongue inside, his giant hands grabbing at your body and tugging on your clothes. 

You crumpled under him, grabbing at his shirt. You kissed him back hungrily, ignoring your phone going off with texts from MC and Tara. You had more pressing matters to attend to. 

Like Zayne’s bulge pressing into your clothed cunt. 

You whined whenever the rough part of his slacks rubbed harshly against your increasingly soaking and aching pussy. 

“Zayne, please…” You whispered against his lips when he pulled back enough. 

“No. I’m going to have my fun first. You’re going to take it. And then, maybe, I’ll give you my cock,” Zayne’s gaze held your firm to the bed. “Understood?”

You swallowed thickly before nodding. 

“Good girl.”  

He yanked your shorts and underwear down in one go. Zayne spit on his fingers and brought them to your clit. He rolled the sensitive bud under his dripping fingers and smiled brightly at your squirming under his touch. “You’re so sensitive, aren’t you, sweetheart?” 

You could only gasp and cling to his arms as he circled his fingers faster. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry of pleasure, your breaths escaping in short bursts. Your nails dug into his shirt. 

Zayne began to flick the sensitive bud, and your thighs constricted his waist. You hastily grabbed the sheets with one hand and covered your mouth with the other. 

“No, no, no,” he tutted sharply. “Let me hear you, baby. Let me hear how good you feel.” 

He used his free hand to free your mouth. Zayne laced their fingers together and circled his fingers faster. 

Your stomach was fluttering with that demented heat of your impending orgasm. It clawed under your skin, stealing your breath away. 

“Z-Zayne, ‘M-!” You whimpered. Zayne pulled his hand away, and he gently made shushing sounds when you whined loudly, pressing his lips to yours. 

“You were always so sensitive… You always came so quickly… But not tonight, darling. Tonight, you play by my rules.”

Zayne knelt on the floor. “Just relax. I’ll take care of you as I see fit.” 

That shouldn’t turn you on as much as it should have. But you obediently lay there on the bed, your legs spread wide open for him as he undressed to his comfort level, loosening his tie and undoing a few buttons of his shirt. Your pussy was aching so badly and clenched under his intense gaze. 

“Now…” he grabbed the underside of your thighs, spreading your pussy open so reverently under his thumbs. His eyes were so dark, and his cheeks flushed a deep rosy shade. Zayne stuck his tongue out and licked a long stripe along your folds. His grip tightened when you squirmed. He only moved his tongue to your clit, flicking it a few times before he focused on your dripping pussy. 

You broke into a moan, breathlessly crying out his name. You pinched a needy whine in your throat, but earned a sharp slap to your thigh. 

“Louder,” he ordered, his cheek squished against your thigh as he lapped his tongue faster on your dripping cunt. He panted heavily, the short puffs of air making your cunt clench around nothing. “You wanted to moan like a needy little thing in my ear. Now you get to, sweetheart.” 

You squirmed even more against the bed, his shirt rising up higher on your body the more you moved. Your nails sank into the sheets, and your head fell back, his name ripping from your throat when his tongue wiggled its way back inside you. His name echoed around the bedroom walls. 

“Good girl,” Zayne cooed, his glasses bumping askew on his nose against your leg. He looked up at you with eyes so dark with lust, and a deep blush dusted across his cheeks. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He smiled sweetly at your before flicking his tongue against your swollen clit, watching with glee when you whimpered loudly, your knees buckling around his shoulders. 

Zayne went back to wiggling his tongue around on your aching clit. Her eyes rolled to the back of your head when he got his lips around it and sucked. You mewled as more of your juices were gushing down your legs. It was staining his face, and he was smearing it all over your face again. 

You choked air into your lungs and looked down, your stomach tensing tightly with the next impending orgasm. Zayne was still diligently on his knees and hungrily slurping up all of your juices and burying his tongue so deep inside you. His teeth bumped and ground against your puffy folds, grating your nerves raw with mind-melting pleasure. 

His glasses were fogged up from his hot breath and your juices covering the gold-rim lenses. 

Your stomach fluttered wildly, making your legs even weaker than they were now. You warned him of your orgasm by grabbing his hair and pulling the soft, raven locks tight between your fingers. 

Your hips bucked a few times before your body snapped like a bowstring pulled taut. Your rapid, high-pitched breaths came out in long whines and whimpers as you came all over his face, gushing on his pretty nose and his glasses. 

You rutted a few times on his face and obsessive mouth before you came to a halt, falling against the tree with your full weight. 

“Naughty girl…” he huffed despite licking his lips as if he had just finished savoring the finest sake in the land. Your head was spinning so fast you couldn’t catch what he slipped after that name, but you were able to catch his next part, “You dirtied my glasses.” 

Thick globs of your cum trailed down the gold-rimmed glasses. It barely hid the way his eyes bore into you. His eyes were dark, completely molten with his arousal. He pressed his face against your again, gathering up as much of your juices and cum off your body as he could with his tongue and smearing more onto his glasses. 

Zayne still held your quivering thigh in one hand and pulled his glasses off with the other. He stuck his tongue out and licked all over the lens before dragging it over the glasses' round shape slowly and tantalizingly. All the while watching your as he gathered up the thick globs of your cum on his tongue, painting it white. 

You weren’t able to apologize again when he got to his feet and kissed you hard. You tasted yourself on his tongue and mewled from your cum being smeared all over your tongue and lips. The heady taste of your arousal mixed with his lips caused you to squeeze painfully around nothing, the emptiness inside you suddenly, and agonizingly, unbearable.

“Ohh Zayne~!” you whined against his hot mouth, still fervently kissing your as if he were dying. Your hands went to his shirt and yanked it open, exposing his beautifully toned chest to the world. 

You undid his belt and drooled more at the feeling of his cock straining against his briefs. You barely got your fingers around the soaked fabric to expose his cock when he slapped your hands away. 

“Needy little slut,” he growled against your lips. “Turn around.” He slapped your still-exposed ass and you keened into his mouth. “Ass up.” 

You shuddered from his gruff voice ordering you around, your pussy clenching nothing. You quickly did as you were told, trying not to come again from how he was manhandling you. 

Zayne yanked your shirt up so hard that he shoved you deeper into the mattress. You stumbled to regain your hold. Her exposed pussy clenched from the cold air slapping against it and the way you felt his eyes boring into you. 

“Look at her,” Zayne purred. A thick and hot wet drop slapped against your cunt, causing your to flinch before you moaned when you realized he’d spat on your pussy. His rough fingers smeared his saliva more into your folds, combining his spit with your continuously dripping slick. 

  “A beautiful pussy for a beautiful lady,” Zayne kissed along your spine. One of his hands stayed on your cunt while the other snaked up your back and twisted into your hair, yanking your back when he got a good handful. 

You let out such a slutty moan that your cheeks flamed from how filthy you sounded. 

“All for me? Is this all for me, baby?” he cooed. 

You nodded instantly, pushing back against him and grinding up against his hard length. “Yes, sir! Yes! Yes, please! I want your cock!” 

Zayne moaned and hissed a breath in before slapping your ass, digging his fingers into your flesh before replying. “So needy for me… Gonna treat you right. I’m gonna make you feel so good.” 

You mewled eagerly. There was a soft shuffling of his underwear being pushed down and not much other preamble before he pushed his cock inside you. 

Your mouth dropped open and a long wanton moan was dragged out of your as each inch of his hard, throbbing cock was buried inside you. Your knees went weak instantly. 

No matter how much you had him inside you, you will never get used to his thick girth stretching your so taut around him. Every bump and grind of his veins running along his cock worked your walls open, stretching your so snugly around him. 

He was barely halfway in when you were already pushing yourself back against him. 

“Be patient,” Zayne grunted and slapped your ass again. But you knew he was equally as desperate from the strained timbre of his voice. He grabbed your shirt, twisting the fabric tight around his fist several times, pushing you into the sheets. “Stay fucking still.” 

“I’m sorry, sir!” You whined and looked behind you. “Just need you so bad!” You pouted a bit when he stopped, motivating your to push your hips back some more, pushing his cock deeper inside you. His drooling and obscene tip was so, so close to kissing your sweet spot that it was making your head spin even faster. 

“Come on, Doc,” you looked up at him from under your lashes. His jaw flexed as he glared at her, his hands tightening to the point of bruising the shape of his fingers on your skin. “Come on, I want you to fuck me alre—!!”

Zayne cut your off by ramming the rest of his cock into you. Her breath slammed out of your lungs. His name began to echo around the bedroom from your lips with each bullying hit. 

His cock pummeled your sweet spot, knocking your harder and harder into the bed. Your nails tore up the sheets, trying to grab for a stable hold. He wasn’t letting you catch your breath in the slightest. 

Every sound punched out of your body from his brutal thrusts and his own grunts and panting was pure music to your ears, filling you with a darker and hungrier need for the doctor. 

The rotund tip of his cock was grinding against your sweet spot. If you tensed your stomach enough, you could feel every drag and shove of his cock in you. 

Shit, he was going so deep you could feel him in your lungs. 

He let go of your shirt and found his way to your hair and yanked your back, sending thrilling bolts of pleasure down your spine.

“Feel me in your lungs, huh?” Zayne laughed hotly against your ear. You choked up a confused whine when you realized he heard her. “Feel me that deep?” 

He brought his hand to your front, pushing down on your stomach, making your feel his cock pummeling your insides even better.

You sobbed in ecstasy and squeezed the doctor’s cock tighter. 

Your thighs were quivering with each calculated hit against your increasingly overwhelmed bundle of nerves, shaking uncontrollably no matter how hard you dug your knees into the soft earth beneath her. 

The doctor was ruthless and unforgiving in his thrusts. His rough hands pressed hard on your body, molding you to a shape befitting his touch.

Tears streamed down your face, and you turned back to Zayne, his hand still wound in your hair. 

“Z-Zay…” 

Zayne turned his head and caught your lips in a heated kiss. You kissed him back, still whining and panting against his tongue as he licked into your mouth. 

“I’m so close! ‘M so—!” You shuddered. 

“Come for me,” Zayne pleaded, his hazel eyes locking with hers. “Come for me, my beautiful girl.” 

Your breath hitched in a sob and you cried out against his jaw as you came, your cunt convulsing around his throbbing cock. Her walls squeezing him did little to slow him down. Zayne milked you of your orgasm, securing your hips in his hands to chase his own orgasm. 

Zayne gave a few more deep thrusts before he spilled his hot seed inside you. He groaned loudly and lay over you, grinding his hips slowly to make sure his entire load was trapped inside you. 

You were breathing raggedly. You curled under him, humming softly whenever he pressed kisses to your face and exposed body. 

“Are you okay?” he whispered, his voice ragged. 

You nodded and turned around as best as you could, being pinned under him. You kissed his cheek. “Yeah,” you kissed him again, smiling when his lips were drawn back to yours again. 

“Had your fun?” 

You giggled and nodded, “Yeah.” You looked at him carefully, “It’s been a while. I missed you.” 

He hummed softly, his hands smoothing up and down your sides. “I missed you, too. Been too long.” 

You caressed his face for a few more moments, taking in the beautiful curve of his cheekbones and the slope of his nose. You kissed him, turning around slowly, carefully disloding his flagging cock from your cunt. You lay on the bed so your chests were pressed together and wrapped your arms around him, kissing him more reverently. 

Zayne’s hands traveled up and down your sides as he drank up your affection. You pressed their foreheads together, lying tangled in each other’s arms. 

[lotsofluvz]

LADS MEN AS DADS ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

how are the lads men as dads?

warnings none, just fluff

note i been trying to write as much before my semester starts n make me miserable. enjoy n luv ya! <3

ZAYNE

He cried when he finally saw his daughter as you cradled her in your arms after labor. After nine months, he is able to see the mini version of him and you. He can’t be any happier.

He is the strict type of dad (for the most part) but has a sweet spot for his princess. How can he say no to her sweet face? He can’t. He feels bad whenever he has to say no to her, but for the most part, your daughter wins over his heart.

It can be difficult to have time to spend with his family, especially with his line of work, but he always makes sure to not work once he arrives home and devotes himself to you and your daughter.

If she gains interest in anything related to medicine, I can see him teaching her various knowledge about it. He will buy her books, CDs, DVDs and many more related to science. He can’t pass up the opportunity to bond with her and his love for medicine.

RAFAYEL

He definitely cried the entire labor and when the nurses gave him your daughter. More tears fell down when she grabbed his pinky finger. He is beyond thankful for you giving him such an amazing gift, and he will forever treasure it.

He is the chill dad and is notorious for spoiling his princess. She wants new shoes? Bought it. She wants a new toy? Bought it. She wants ice cream? Bought it. She could ask him once, and she will get it. He can’t help it; she wants his princess to be happy.

He gained a new muse once you told him you were pregnant. He has portraits of you every week as she grows in your belly. Once she was born, he never stopped painting the both of you. He even bought a separate place for his paintings of his two favorite people because it was getting cramped in your home.

SYLUS

He was surprised when the two of you went for a regular doctor's appointment and the doctor told you that you were carrying twin girls. Sylus was ecstatic, to say the least. He asked Luke and Kieran to buy all the necessary nursery items. You have to scold him about purchasing too much for girls before they were even born.

If you think he was spoiling the twins so much before they were born, prepare for the amount of spoiling he is doing once his princesses are born. All they have to do is bat their eyelashes or look at something for a few seconds, and he is buying it already.

He is a hands-on dad, like the time you had an important meeting, and so did he. Instead of asking Luke and Kieran to look over the twins, he decided to bring them to the meeting itself. His business partners are all looking at him and the two girls in his arms. He is completely unfazed by the looks they are giving him and continues on explaining. He is more focused if his girls are comfortable throughout the meeting. He is the ultimate girl dad.

CALEB

He was so excited to learn that you were carrying twin boys. He bawled when the twins were born as you carried them in your arms. He can't believe two healthy boys came out of you, and he can't stop staring at them. He is so lucky to have you in his life and to have you gifting him with boys who shared the same features as their mom.

He is an easygoing and protective dad who loves his wife and twin boys so much. He always had a picture of you and the twins in a frame on his desk. He knows his life of work can be stressful, but he always makes sure the boys get to spend at least an hour or so every day.

He is the one who sparked the interest of the boys in planes, and they always loved going to their dad's job site and looking at the big planes. He is glad that the twins shared a likeness for planes, the same way he loved planes when he was younger.

He is always there to defend his boys, especially when they started to play soccer. A kid pushed one of the twins, and it took almost everything in him to not punch the kid's dad. After practice, he treated his wounds and bought them ice cream.

XAVIER

He initially wanted a girl so he could have a kid that looked like you, but he was gifted with a son who looked like him instead. He was kind of nervous when the nurse gave him the baby, but once he had him in his arms, he wouldn't stop staring and caressing his small cheeks. He repeatedly thanked you as he cradled your son.

He is the laid-back type of dad. If his son wants to try something, he will fully support him. He even taught him how to play board games, even if your son is clueless and mostly just laughing at his dad while pretending to playing. Although you refused to let him or your son near the kitchen, especially since he isn't particularly good at cooking or baking.

They became instant sleep buddies; you will always see them lying down and cuddling each other. Xavier is really good at calming him down and making him fall asleep; hence, you gave him the job of tucking your son in every night. There were instances when you woke up in the morning and he wasn't beside you. Instead, you saw him sleeping in the nursery room with him in his arms.

[rainrot4me]

praying for how proxies react to a girlfriend with nipple piercings. casually flashing Jeff because he's trying to start shit

✦ . jeff the killer

You’re both arguing—bickering, really. Something stupid that won’t matter in an hour. Jeff’s sprawled on the couch, flipping a knife between his fingers like it’s the only thing in the world worth his attention. Then—just as he’s about to get another snide comment in—you tug up your shirt and flash him those pretty barbells.

The knife slips. Clatters to the floor.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” His voice drops, low and sharp, eyes locked on the metal gleam. “How is this even fair?”

You roll your eyes, tugging you shirt back down. “Finally, you’ve shut up.”

Jeff is up in a second, crossing the room like he’s hunting something down. His hand is gripped tight around your jaw, dragging your attention solely on him as he pushes your shirt back up.

“You think flashing those pretty little things is gonna save you?” He grins, wicked and baring his teeth. “Don’t start crying here in a minute. This is your fault.”

✦ . ticci toby

Toby’s tinkering with his gear, muttering to himself, hoodie sleeves pushed up and goggles on. He’s left you alone all afternoon, too busy making sure his goggles are screwed in tightly. This will get his attention. You step into the room, casually peel your top up, and wait.

His stimming fingers pause. He blinks once, twice.

“O-Oh—What the hell, babe?” He sputters, heat creeping up his neck. “Je-Jesus Christ.” His eyes can’t focus on one, gaze flipping from jewel to jewel.

You shrug, biting your lip. “Thought you liked shiny things.”

He makes a garbled sound in his throat, like his brain just bluescreened. He drops the tools he had in his hands, the objects clattering into the desk and he stumbles from his seat. You start giggling, turning to the door to start running down the hall.

“Ah-ah. Come ba-back, sweet thing. You don’t get to just do that and leave.”

✦ . eyeless jack

You’re perched on the counter while Jack organizes surgical tools—always meticulous, always taking forever. You keep grumbling about being bored, and Jack keeps telling you he’s almost finished. He’s said it five times now. You say nothing back, just lift your shirt slowly and let the light catch the steel.

He stops mid-motion. Silent.

He schools his expression, gaze lingering only for a second, but the subtle shift in his stance says everything.

“…You enjoy tempting me, don’t you?” His voice is deep, almost hoarse.

You smirk. “Guess I wanted to see if the doctor could keep his hands to himself.”

He steps forward, gloved fingers brushing your waist as he lowers your shirt back down. Smirking in response when you gawk.

“I told you I was almost done, didn’t I? Sit still, pet, you’ll get yours eventually.”

✦ . masky (tim wright)

Tim’s stressed. You can feel it in the way he paces, muttering under his breath, tension thick in the air. He’s prepping for a mission tomorrow, but he’s supposed to be spending time with you. So, naturally, you break the mood by pulling your hoodie up with a nonchalant yawn.

He freezes, steps faltering until he plants his feet and glares at you.

“What the fuck—are you serious?”

He stares like you just slapped him. Then he drags a hand down his face, groaning.

“You got any idea how hard you’re making this for me right now?”

You smile sweetly. “Oh, I’ve got ideas. Especially ones about making you hard.”

“Get over here. Now.”

✦ . hoodie (brian thomas)

Brian’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, silent as always. You just had an argument, something stupid about not throwing yourself in front of a bullet, it didn’t matter. You approach him slowly, then, with a smirk, lift your shirt just enough to let him see the piercings before dropping it again.

Nothing. No change in posture. No reaction. You roll your eyes, then turn to leave.

Until he steps behind you, lips brushing your ear.

“You don’t get to tease and walk away, sweetheart.”

The quiet threat in his voice makes your skin burn. He takes your hand and guides it to his lips.

“You just volunteered to spend the rest of the night making up for that.”

✦ . kate the chaser

You’re training in the woods, sweat slicking your skin. She’s being so uptight, barking at you to get your steps right and plant your heels when she’s moving toward you. You just can’t seem to catch up, and when you’re sure she’s looking—you tug your shirt up and flash her with a wink.

She stops mid-step. Blinks.

“Seriously? You trying to get your ass kicked or kissed right now?”

You smirk. “Whichever comes first.”

She tackles you to the ground with a grin.

“You’ll get both. Don’t beg me to stop later.”

✦ . ben drowned

He’s halfway through a game, headset on, trash-talking some poor teenager. You know Ben loves to sit and do nothing for hours, but this is getting a little ridiculous. He barely notices you come into his room when you sneak into frame, lift your shirt, and smile.

His jaw drops. The controller falls.

“YO—what the hell! Babe, I’m streaming!”

You snicker. “And now your viewers know how good you’ve got it.”

He rips off the headset, face red and wild.

“You better run. No one’s gonna save you now.”

✦ . clockwork

You’re chatting in the kitchen, all innocent smiles and soft steps, and then bam—shirt goes up. Piercings out. Nat can barely finish another bite of her sandwich before it’s falling onto the plate.

Natalie goes dead silent.

“…You little brat.”

She’s on you in a second, pushing you back against the fridge, her smile feral.

“You know exactly what that does to me. You want attention that bad? Say please.”

✦ . laughing jack

You flash him mid-sentence—he’s rambling about a new prank idea, barely paying attention to you when you had already asked him to spend time together. You were beginning to feel a little invisible. His eyes go wide, mouth dropping open comically.

“WELL. Aren’t you full of surprises!”

He grabs your hand, spinning you in a little circle like he’s on stage.

“If this is your way of flirting, please never stop. I adore it.”

Then he dips you, dramatic as always.

“Encore, darling. Encore!”

✦ . slenderman

You wait until he’s in his study—quiet, composed, perfectly poised—and simply step in, lift your shirt, and stand there without a word. He knows you’re there, he’s just not giving you the satisfaction of acknowledgment until he’s done filing some news articles.

He doesn’t move. He just finally looks up.

But the air shifts. Thickens. Warps.

“That is not wise,” his voice says, low and heavy in your skull.

You smile. “Isn’t it?”

A tendril wanes from his back, reaching across the room, brushes your cheek. Another traces your spine. Then they’re wrapping around you and pulling you toward him.

“Then allow me to show you the consequences of such… audacity.”

꩜ .ᐟ

[heartyluv]

Note: This is a little self indulgent because despite how cringey these movies are, I loveee Fifty Shades of Grey. Was never really a Jamie Dornan girlie, but I felt this worked the best. I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this, my luv. And thank you so much for your kind words! I hope you enjoy! Please —Click Here— to view the ask if you’d like!

Warning: Zayne’s a little jelly, but it’s nothing serious.

Word Count: 946 ~ i’m sorry if this is too short :(

Zayne/Reader

Your boyfriend was having an…interesting time, trying to figure out what about this film had you captivated. What about this woman blindly trusting and agreeing to have—something be ruled as explorative—sex with a rich stranger, had you so infatuated. So much so that you’ve watched it dozens of times.

“Why would he tell her that she must steer clear of him if he’s the one who invited her out for coffee in the first place? Surely he could tell she wasn’t someone to care only for the physical aspects of a relationship.” He was completely perplexed.

Zayne wasn’t a fan of romance movies. Not because they were inferior or anything, they simply weren’t his cup of tea. And scenes like this proved to him why he felt that way.

“It’s to build the characters and the foundation for his development, babe,” you chuckled. “He wants her, but can’t have her type of thing.”

“He is a billionaire and she clearly seems willing to indulge him. In fact, he’s the one to push her away. What is the issue?”

Your sweet and very matter-of-fact lover has always reminded you of an alien trying to understand Earth and the behaviors of humans for the first time when it came to him attempting to enjoy some of the things that you liked. He would always join you when you asked and if he was available, but you knew to be prepared for him to ask you all kinds of questions to better understand.

You honestly loved it, being able to enlighten him about things in the same way he does you with absolutely, well—everything. Even if it’s fiction, you still were like his trusted guide.

He occasionally looked between you and the screen as you two sat cuddled up on the couch, beginning to realize that it wasn’t particularly the movie itself and its…questionable story that always brought you back.

It was the man.

He noticed how you’d bite your lip and smile when this Christian Grey would say lines so cliche and cringey that it nearly made his eyebrows touch.

“You like him.” It wasn’t a question. Factually, an observation.

You turn to look at him, pressing your lips together to suppress your smile. “He’s like…my celebrity crush, kinda. I guess. But you’re my boo, Zayne. You know that.”

“I do,” he responds with confidence. “This crush. I didn’t know you had one. I can’t decide if it’s cute or not.”

You pout your lips and smile fully this time, gently nudging his side. “Awww, don’t tell me you’re jealous, babe.”

“I’m not—” His jaw clenches and the blue light of the TV lets you see how his ears began to tinge red. He looks back at the screen. “Jealous isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”

“Mhmm,” you hum, kissing his shoulder through his shirt.

The movie progresses and Zayne knew there would be sex involved based on the brief description you gave to convince him to watch it with you. What he didn’t expect was the first time between the two characters, to be so intimate.

The music, the atmosphere—it was certainly unique for the type of trope that was being portrayed.

He looked over at you again subtly, his perfect brows raising when he sees how intensely you stare at the way Christian pulled Ana’s jeans down. How your thighs shifted and pressed together beneath the blankets when he kissed down her stomach until he got between her legs.

It was very easy as your man and your doctor to notice subtle changes about you. So naturally, he saw the way your breath increased and stared closer to see how your heartbeat was thumping faster right beneath your jaw.

Even how your damn pupils dilated when Christian ripped the foil wrapper of the condom open between his teeth.

Yeah, he was cutting this off.

You were taken out of your trance-like state when he grabbed the remote and paused the film, leaning over to turn the lamp on.

“Zayne!” you exclaim with a slight whine. “Why’d you stop it like that?!”

“Are you aroused?” He asks you so flatly and abruptly that it’s amusing. Well, it would be if you weren’t being questioned like you were sitting on his examination table and not in your living room.

“What does that even matter?!”

“Because your answer will determine if we will continue watching.”

“So you are jealous!”

“Can you blame me for feeling that way? You’re close to drooling over everything this…person says and does like you wouldn’t be cringing from inside out if you heard any of it in real life.”

“Oh, pooka butt.” Your tone raises a few octaves like you’re trying to coddle a baby. The corner of his mouth tilts in slight amusement at your teasing. as you pull him in to wrap your arms around him.

“Come to mama,” you coo when you squeeze him tight. “You know how much I love you, Zayne. In every universe and in any crowded room full of thousands of Jamie Dornans, I’d always pick you.”

“Frankly, I wouldn’t give you a choice, but the sentiment is…sweet, I suppose.”

“Okayyyyy,” you stretch out the syllable with an exaggerated, but playful sigh. “Don’t ruin my attempt to assure and love on you.”

“You’re right. My apologies. Please,” he presses a kiss right below your ear. “Continue.”

“If I continue anything, it won’t be with words…” you flirt.

“Actions do tend to show you what words can’t, or so I’ve heard. Maybe you should prove how much you love me.”

Creds to @/sweetmelodygraphics for the dividers!

A/N: I honestly don’t know how well I did with this…Time to shut my phone down LOLLL

[sylus-shivanika]

All that Remains of you.

Genre: Sylus as a Single Dad AU | Sylus Pov | Angst.

The morning sun filtered through half-drawn curtains, bathing the small room in a gentle light. Sylus sat on the edge of the bed, tenderly braiding his daughter’s long dark hair. Her hair looked exactly like yours. Each strand he wove brought with it a thousand memories of you sitting between his legs, laughing softly while he braided your hair on lazy Sunday mornings. You would tease him then with a smile.

“You’re getting better at this. You’ll need it when we have a daughter.”

He never thought he would be doing it alone.

As he tied the final ribbon, his daughter turned to him with bright eyes. Her smile had the same warmth that once brought him to his knees. It was your smile.

“Daddy,” she said sweetly, “let’s get the best bouquet for Mommy today.”

He froze for a second. Her words were innocent, but they shattered something deep inside him. He leaned in and kissed the crown of her head. His voice came out soft and quiet.

“Yes, my princess. The best one. Just like she deserves.”

Later that day, they walked together through the cemetery. Her small fingers clung tightly to his. She carried the bouquet herself, a cascade of blush pink roses. Your favorite.

When they reached your grave, Sylus knelt and gently placed the flowers down. His hands lingered against the stone, as if hoping it would still hold your warmth.

His voice broke as he said,

“See, kitten. Our little princess chose these for you. She is growing up so beautifully. Just like you told me to. I am trying. I am really trying to be the father she deserves.”

His little princess knelt beside him and softly caressed your name carved in stone.

“The best bouquet for the best Mumma in the world,” she whispered with all the love her six-year-old heart could hold.

Sylus smiled through the sting in his eyes. He pulled her into his arms, holding her close, trying to blink away the memories that rushed in without mercy. Every time he came here, he never wanted to leave.

Then came the memory he could never escape.

He remembered that day. The hospital. The pain in your eyes. The unbearable hours.

You were in labor. It had started early, and it hit harder than either of you expected. He stayed beside you, gripping your hand as you cried out in agony. Your body trembled with every contraction. You were in so much pain, and he kept whispering over and over,

“You are going to be okay. I am right here. Just breathe. I’m not leaving.”

You were so strong, but your body was failing you. The doctors moved faster. Their voices became louder. The delivery had turned complicated. Dangerous. There was too much blood. Your heartbeat slowed. The monitors began to scream.

Still, you turned your head and whispered through clenched teeth,

“If anything happens to me, don’t punish yourself. Live for her. Give her everything.”

He hated when you said things like that. He always told you not to talk that way. He believed everything would be fine. He had to believe it.

He took you to the best hospital. Found the most trusted doctors. He tried everything.

But fate had already made its decision.

You brought your daughter into this world, and that same moment stole you from him.

For days after you were gone, he could not speak. Could not eat. Could not sleep. His body lived, but his soul stayed in that delivery room. The world lost its color. He sat for hours in silence, staring at nothing, waiting for a voice that would never come back.

Then came her cries.

Your daughter’s tiny wails at night became his reason to move. He would hold her through sleepless nights, humming lullabies through a trembling voice, refusing to let her feel alone. She was the last piece of you, and that made her sacred.

When she took her first steps, he pulled out the photo he always kept in his wallet, kissed it, and whispered,

“She is walking now, kitten. Can you see her?”

When she spoke her first word, he made sure it was "Mumma." And when she finally said it, he smiled through tears and looked at your photo.

“You win. We always joked about this. I said she would say Dada first, but deep down I wanted her to say Mumma. And she did.”

On every birthday, he brought her two gifts. One from him. One from your behalf. He wrapped them both with care, and when she opened the one labeled “From Mumma,” her eyes sparkled as if you had sent it yourself.

One afternoon, while searching for a shirt, he found your scarf tucked away at the back of the closet. His breath caught. He reached out and picked it up carefully, bringing it to his face. It still smelled like you.

He stood there for a moment, then slowly sank to the floor. He held the scarf against his chest and began to sob.

“I can feel your scent. But I cannot feel your touch. I cannot see your smile. I cannot hear your heartbeat, the one that used to beat for me. I miss everything about you. I wish you never left. I wish I could bring you back.”

He kissed the scarf, and his tears soaked into the fabric. His body shook, overwhelmed with grief, until he felt small arms wrap around him. His daughter stood there, silent. She had seen him cry like this before. She said nothing. She just held him.

In that painful moment, her hug was the only thing that made it bearable.

Still trembling, Sylus looked at the scarf. Then, with trembling hands, he wrapped it gently around his daughter’s shoulders. He kissed the top of her head.

“Only you,” he whispered, “only you can ease me after your mother’s departure.”

At bedtime, he would read her your favorite poem. He played her your saved voice messages so she could sleep to the sound of you. He wanted her to grow up knowing you, feeling you, loving you, even without meeting you.

Now, as she caressed your grave again with small, loving fingers, Sylus stood beside her with quiet reverence. He spoke in a voice just above a whisper.

“Tomorrow is her first day at her new school. I bought her a pink bag. Your favorite color. And she loves it. Just like you would have.”

He picked her up into his arms. As they walked away, Sylus turned to look back one last time. His voice cracked as he spoke.

“I love you.”

And in his heart, he whispered words he would never say aloud.

"Living without you is like a prison. Every day is a sentence I cannot escape. But our daughter gives me light in this endless darkness. I bring your presence into everything I do. For her. And for myself. I wish I could have saved you. I wish fate had chosen differently. But I promise, I will keep bringing her here. I will bring you the best bouquets. Every day. Because my heart rests beside your grave, and my soul will always belong to your memory."

[nogutsnogloria]

summary: there’s always someone to believe in you when you don’t believe in yourself.

a/n: this is just strictly platonic all around-family telling you you can do something even when you don’t think you can.

michael robinavich x jack abbot x dana evans x reader

your standing at the nurses station getting your cases ready for handover when you are brought out of your work by your favourite drink being waved in-front of your face. you look up to see dr. abbot leaning over the counter with the drink in his hand looking like he needs to ask you something.

“what’s that for?” you ask with eyebrows raised, because even if he’s brought you a treat for no reason before the look on his face screams this one comes at a price.

“we’ve been called up” he’s extending the drink in his hand so you finally decide to take it. “called up?” you’re at the end of your shift and you know if you thought about the sports reference long enough it would maybe click but you need him to spell it out for you.

“robby and gloria are conducting interviews for dana’s replacement with the dayshift nurses who are on this morning, they need some backup until about noon. that’s us. we are the backup. it will only be five extra hours and yours have been pre approved for double time. the job is just covering the nurse having their interview, like a floater.” you nod at what he is telling you and answer “okay no problem, you didn’t need the drink to ask that but i do appreciate it”

you’re honestly shocked at the news that they haven’t picked a replacement yet. any nurse you talked to about the posting had applied as soon as they heard about it, and it feels like said posting went up forever ago.

dana’s final days as a contracted charge nurse are coming to an end. she has decided not to fully retire, but to be given casual privileges so that she can choose when she wants to work and be with her family more. you are happy for her, if anyone deserves to slow down it’s dana. she has been there for you since your first days in your practicum as a nurse, and she is the reason why you picked emergency medicine when you finished nursing school almost ten years ago. however the first line you got was for night shift and you never looked back, you occasionally covered days when asked, but you were comfortable on the night shift.

the raise becoming a charge nurse would be nice, but you decided to not apply because dana will have some unbelievable scary, huge shoes to fill.

your standing at handover listening to the doctors speak on the cases you’ve been working with all night. when night shift breaks off and day shift can have a pre-shift meeting. it’s the usual updates on the standard of care that upstairs is really pushing down here. robby finishes up the meeting with “and remember we have the outdoor patio reserved at the pub down the road after shift today. i hope everyone can stop by and enjoy time with each other away from the hospital.”

you hang back to check in with dana. “anywhere specific you need me?” she smiles at you over her glasses. “nah kid i know you know what your doing. hop in wherever you see fit, we do have some baby nurses on today who might approach with questions, and if you tell any of the other nurses here i will deny it-but you give the most approachable energy so i am just warning you in advance with that one. oh and i really appreciate your help here, if you want to stay even later than they told you be my guest.” she looks at you to let you know that she’s kidding she doesn’t expect you to stay after an extended shift “oh, thanks for the offer dana but no thank you, i am taking my five hours of double time and im running” you both laugh at that.

you’re finishing up checking on vitals on an intubated patient waiting on an icu bed when one of the aforementioned baby nurses is approaching you looking like someone stole her puppy. “are you available to help me? the patient is a bit agitated and is making it really difficult to get an iv started.” you completely understand being in the emergency room stinks but you aren’t going to let some asshole ruin a new nurse’s whimsy. “of course! lead the way. i will just be there as back up okay? you know how to do the job you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. don’t let some grump tell you how you should be doing it.” you say to her as she leads you to the exam room.

she opens the curtain and the guy looks less than impressed to see you with her and raises his voice at you. “look i already told the little bitch, unless there’s a painkiller in that drip no one is coming near me with a needle, she didn’t need to call mommy to come help.” you see jack and robby making their way over to the commotion. you put your hand up to signal that you’ve got it. the other nurse turns to you a bit shaken. “dr. mohan didn’t prescribe a painkiller. it’s just fluids, he was brought in by the police unconscious and inebriated-he can’t leave until care is done.” you now feel the need to protect the younger nurse after his little outburst so you step in between her and the hospital bed and look at the patient in the bed with a raised eyebrow.

“mr. roberts you really shouldn’t speak to my nurse like that. she’s just trying to help you. your doctor didn’t prescribe a painkiller but she did prescribe a bag of fluids that will help with the headache. now you can cooperate and let her do her job or i can get someone in here to restrain you, and she still does her job, either way she’s giving you the fluids. one of the ways doesn’t give you mobility to get up and use a bathroom when the fluids start working. you give him a bit of a screw you smile to tie the whole thing together. the patient sits back and grumbles but ultimately lets the nurse start the iv, you spend extra time with her to show her the easiest way to stick a dehydrated vein and both of you leave the exam room.

“thank you for that, honestly i was losing the battle in there.” you look at her “it takes time to stick up for yourself, we can’t make everyone happy, some people just enjoy being miserable.” that makes the new nurse relax a bit. “well thank you again for helping.” you pat her shoulder and head in the opposite direction.

next couple of hours pass and you just float where needed. noon is approaching which means your long awaited shower and bedtime is also approaching. “hey we need your help on an incoming gsw to the abdomen, four minutes out. surgery is meeting us down here.” dr. langdon rushes past you with dr. santos and dr. king following behind.

you meet dr. abbot at the trauma bays and get gloved and gowned up. you do your job while langdon, santos and garcia bicker. you watch as they do, but you can tell its becoming a bit much for dr. king so you tell her she’s doing a great job, once the patient is stable enough they are still puffing their chests with one another battling over who actually stabilized the patient so you finally pipe up. “what does everyone need? gold stars? applause? we’re backed up enough as it is down here can you get this guy upstairs and into surgery please?” that gets everyone moving. you didn’t notice robby sneak in and stand with jack to observe at the end so when your turning around and disposing of your gown you bump right into him. he’s biting back a laugh at your comment to the duelling doctors. “oh dr. robby sorry i didn’t see you there.” he catches you so you don’t bounce right off him. “no worries kid, just came to let you and jack know you’re free to go. interviews are all finished, thanks for the help today.” you walk towards the locker room to grab your things.

jack and you live pretty close together so you usually walk to and from work with one another when you can. while waiting for him by the desk you pull on your hoodie pulling your ponytail out from the neckline. “are you coming to the pub later?” dana asks you. “oh that seemed like a dayshift thing.” you say non committal. jack walks up behind you “and what shift exactly are you getting off of?” you raise your eyebrow and grab your bag putting it over your shoulder. “an extended night shift.” you give him a look you hope conveys you absolute dummy. that makes everyone laugh including robby. “no the invite was extended to everyone in the team huddle, abbot seems to think he was included, that means you are more than included as well.” you nod “yeah, sure i can come for a bit after i take a nap, i guess i will see you all later.” with that you head home.

its about eight when you find yourself heading to the pub. you are quickly greeted by jack “i owe you a drink for today” you roll your eyes at that “you really don’t, but i won’t say no” he gets you a beer and you two head over to where robby is sitting and take a seat. “how were the interviews today man? you have someone lined up yet?” jack asks as you both sit down. “well we actually had 56 out of the qualified 57 nurses at the hospital apply so it took a bit to get through it all.”

you can feel both their eyes on you as you take a pull of beer from your bottle trying to look anywhere else but at either of them. abbot has argued with you every time you told him you weren’t applying, and now you are starting to suspect that he went behind your back to throw your hat in the ring anyways. “well lucky you that’s a huge pool to choose from, i’m sure someone fits.” your kind of afraid to look at robby because now you think the two attendings are about to interrogate you about your choices so you decide to get ahead of it.

“was today some weird audition. jack was telling you lies about how i could be a charge nurse so you set this up to see me in action. did you even have interviews today?” you take another stressed pull of your beer.

“see robby i told you she was smart.” jack can’t help himself. he put a hand on your shoulder “and i’m not kidding or lying when i say you could do the job and you could do it well.” you turn to look at him “you really don’t want to work with me anymore?” he shakes his head at you “that’s not it, just can’t stand to see you waste your potential.” you groan and lay your head on the table. “who are you? my dad?” you can now here dana laughing behind you too. “oh great! were you in on this too? is there no one i can trust?” dana sits on your other side and rubs your shoulders. “kid i hand picked you years ago when i first met you, you can blame jack and robby but i am being the difficult one here.”

you lift your head up from the hiding spot. “there is seriously no one else? i don’t believe for a second that watching me work for a handful of hours made up your mind about me” robby shakes his head. “we could offer it to someone else but from all the stories i have heard about you from these two, you just picked up the extra hours today without complaining about it, the way you helped anyone who asked and kept everyone on track that is exactly what i am looking for in a charge nurse. the job is yours.” you sigh. “what if i crash and burn? can i go back to my old job?” robby nods. “all of us just want you to succeed, and if you try and it doesn’t work-which i don’t see happening by the way, you are more than welcome back to your old job.” you bite your lip and then release it, thinking. “okay so do i need to officially apply? or is hr going to reach out with the contract?”

[rexhya]

thinking about dragon sukuna who hasn't seen a human like you in ages.

you're a highly qualified wildlife researcher who accidentally stumbled upon a tiny pink creature.

to be completely honest you're extremely excited and extremely scared, you think you've just discovered a new species, reptile like claws, scaly tail ending in fluffy feathers, and the most jarring of all, a human like face that peers at you with glass looking eyes.

the animal looks like a baby of whatever species it came from, so you back away, threes a high chance his or her mother is nearby and you don't want anything to do with what the full grown version of this may look like.

but the pinkish critter only follows you closer, and you realize this is your chance to get a photo, it doesn't seem hostile, maybe the species is docile?

"okay, you stay right there love, i just want a picture okay?"

the small dragon cocks it's head, "okay!"

you scream, your camera flying up and landing in a muddy puddle by a tree, the sound causing the animal to scream as well, suddenly in distress.

you looked like a nice dragon, albeit a bit funny looking without your tail and scales to protect you, but yuuji didn't judge!

maybe your egg had problems before you'd hatched, maybe your father wasn't strong enough to protect you and a slytherin poked a hole in the shell!

whatever the reason, yuuji wasn't one to jump to conclusions so when you'd screamed at the top of your lungs after asking for a picture, yuuji had thought something was wrong, he screamed as well.

and like clockwork, strong loud beats came swooping into the clearing.

you immediately ran the opposite direction, whatever the thing was, it most definitely wasn't going to be as friendly as whatever you'd just seen and even if it was, you weren't taking any chances.

unbeknownst to you, this idea was futile, sukuna catches up to you and you're pinned to the ground within seconds.

his appearance matched that of his sons, pink soft scales, claws that gripped your much smaller neck, a much longer tail that instead sprouted in spiky horns and what you couldn't see on yuuji before, 12 inch horns ( at least ) that curved back into a S shape, with barbaric teeth inside your mouth.

"please don't kill me, I didn't mean to scare him." you tried, tears forming in your eyes as the beast inspected you, and miraculously, released you.

"you speak, what were you doing with my son." sukuna was just as shocked as you were, most of the animals he caught trying to disturb his precious son were aggressive and were dealt with immediately. you on the other hand, could be reasoned with.

"I was just trying to get a picture, i didn't know he could talk, I didn't know you could talk, it just surprised me is all."

sukuna grunted and took a step forward, you flinched and tripped over a root, looking up from this position really gave you a sense of how tall this man-creature really was and it terrified you all the more.

"are you not dragon? why do you act surprised?" sukuna was confused now, you didn't exactly look like a dragon, your teeth were almost as dull as his child, but disability didn't excuse your intentions, whatever those may be.

"i'm, i'm a human." and yuuji who'd been left in the dust as sukuna addressed you, jaw dropped open, a nervous but excited look on his face.

sukuna wasted no time, "then it's settled, you must be killed now."

starr starr

you're glad sukuna's son was there that day, if not for his insistence to keep you alive you weren't sure if you would be able to even do this right now.

the king of dragons, was keeping his jaw open so you could check his teeth.

you'd become a sort of doctor around these parts, and was an unspoken rule that if there was a medical issue they couldn't solve themselves, you were the person to go to.

most of the time, the dragons just wanted to see who'd been able to charm the king into a quiet submission, other times to see if you could be charmed yourself.

"okay kuna, all done! there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with you!"

and the king looks at you, a sort of dissatisfied look on his face.

the two of you stand there looking at each other for a moment.

"my," he clears his throat. "my scales have been aching lately, fix them for me." he demands it, but his eyes are turned, a tiny pink blush rooted on his face.

you blink and que him to sit back in the chair, "okay so what type of pain is it?"

"It's an aching pain. like bugs are crawling all over my skin."

you nod your head in concentration, snapping back you gloves on to rub the back of your hands on his warm skin.

it did feel...slightly prickly but nothing out of the ordinary ignoring the loud thrumming of blood you could feel from his forearms.

"well there doesnt seem to be anything wrong with you...you're symtoms are showing that your..nervous?"

sukuns had never been so surprised in his life, who knew such a being could read him so quickly, his tail swoshed out of the door withith seconds.

because he was more than just nervous, he was

[stillalivebydemand893]

Ex's & Oh's...?

18+

One plan to ruin an ex spirals and turns into a wildfire of lust and late-night moaning.

“PLEASE, I’M GETTING ON MY FUCKING KNEES, OKAY? JUST THIS ONCE!” Erik shouted across the living room like it was a telenovela.

“FUCK OFF! I’M NOT DOING IT!” you yelled back, already halfway to chain-smoking a full pack and faking your own death. Not even Marlboros could fix the migraine you got just from existing today.

Erik looked five seconds away from spontaneous combustion. “Why not?! Jesus fucking Christ-one thing, Peach. Just one. Don’t make me bring up the Denver trip.”

You shot up off Julia’s couch like your soul had been yanked out of your spine. “DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE, CAMPBELL.”

You stormed toward him, eyes blazing, trying to intimidate him. He didn’t budge. Didn’t blink. Arms crossed, mouth cocked into a smirk like he was ready to end this fight with fists, fire, or a fake engagement ring.

Julia strolled down the stairs, coffee in hand, face bored. “What’s happening? It smells like unresolved sexual tension and broken dreams in here.”

“It’s just rage and bullshit,” you snapped. “Tell your brother he’s a dumbass.”

“Oh, he knows,” she chirped. “Doctors said it’s irreversible. We even tried holy water. He just got wet.”

“Why are you fighting, anyway?” she added, sipping.

“Because she can’t do one damn thing for this friendship,” Erik growled, stepping closer. “At this point, I don’t even know why we’re still friends. She’s fucking useless.”

You were toe to toe now. Close enough to feel the heat of his breath on your lips. You didn’t know if you wanted to slap him or shove your tongue down his throat. Probably both.

“Fuck you, okay?” you hissed. “Just because we’ve known each other since the fucking Black Plague doesn’t mean I’m going to help you win your ex back. Go on Tinder. Bumble. Fucking Grindr. I don’t care. Pick someone else.”

“Oooh,” Julia purred, eyes wide. “So that’s what this is. Sophia’s coming back to town and Erik’s playing ‘Get My Ex Back: The Remix.’”

You groaned. “I hate her. Last time we were in the same room, she almost bit my head off.”

“That’s because you nearly set her hair on fire,” Erik reminded.

“She wore half a can of hairspray to a Christmas party! I was lighting a candle, not plotting murder!”

“Exactly!” he exclaimed, eyes wild. “She hates you. Which means she’ll do anything to get me back, just to piss you off.”

He threw his arms up like a dramatic Real Housewife.

“Oh babe…” Julia grinned like the devil. “Guess who Sophia’s dating now?”

“I don’t give a single fu-”

“Alex.”

You froze.

“My Alex?”

“Your ex Alex,” she said sweetly.

The Alex. High school heartbreak. Gaslighting king. Prince of “You’re just not popular enough,” which actually meant not hot enough. It took four months, three therapy sessions, and one egging of his house to get over him.

(Erik bought the eggs.)

“Oh. We’re doing this,” you said coldly.

“See?” Erik grabbed your shoulders, eyes blazing. “Come on, Peach. We have to do this. For honor. For vengeance. For-”

“For making Sophia combust and watching Alex implode?” you asked, all sugar and venom.

“Exactly.”

He looked too smug. And maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t just about Sophia. Maybe he liked the idea of calling you his. Maybe he wanted the fantasy to bleed into reality.

But he’d never say that out loud.

Julia clapped her hands like a game show host. “So, babes. What’s it gonna be?”

You grabbed Erik by the collar, yanking him so close your breath tangled. “We’re getting married,” you growled. “Mark my fucking words. Those two don’t know who they’re messing with.”

“HELL YES, baby!” Erik shouted, spinning you around like a coked-up Patrick Swayze.

Julia cackled. “I cannot wait for tonight.”

He set you down gently, hands still resting on your waist. Too warm. Too steady. Too dangerous.

You winked. “Game time, baby.”

Then stomped upstairs.

“Julia, we’ve got a makeover to do!”

“YES MA’AM!” she yelled, nearly tripping over herself to follow.

Downstairs, Erik stood alone, grinning like a man on the edge.

“God help me,” he whispered. “I’m so fucked.”

“Ready, Peach?” Erik waited downstairs.

You strutted in, wrapped in war paint and vengeance,short skirt, red-hot top, hair cascading like you just stepped out of a shampoo commercial and a bar fight.

He whistled, low and dangerous.

“Hot,” he whispered, taking your hand. Just that one word sent shivers down your spine.

“You sure? I feel kinda slutty,” you teased, fully aware it would only fuel him.

His eyes darkened. “Flaunt those lashes at me again and we’re not making it to the damn party, sweetheart.”

There was always something between you. Heat. Hunger. History. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe you were ovulating. Maybe you just wanted to climb him like a jungle gym and let him ruin your entire existence.

“Game time,” you said as you walked into the house.

It was packed. You and Erik stuck close, fingers laced, the picture of toxic bliss. And then you saw her. Blonde bitch, perfect blowout, standing next to your ex.

You stiffened. Erik’s grip tightened.

“Come on, Peach,” he murmured, dragging you toward the couch in the center of the room.

“What’s the plan, Campbell? Make out in front of everyone?” you snorted.

He pulled you onto his lap in one swift motion.

“Not my style,” he smirked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You were blushing like hell, unsure whether to bury yourself in his chest or crawl under the coffee table.

“Let’s make some motherfuckers jealous, baby.”

You leaned in, hand on the back of his neck. Skin on skin. Fire in your blood.

He slid his hand up your thigh. “Easy, tiger.” Then kissed your neck like he was starving. You gasped as he squeezed your thigh and bit your collarbone.

“You’re killing me,” you whispered, dizzy with lust.

“That was the plan from the start,” he growled, lips brushing your ear.

You couldn’t take it. You grabbed his lower lip between your teeth and tugged.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Well, well,” Sophia appeared like the Ghost of Christmas Bitches.

“Hey, Sophia,” you said brightly, hand resting on Erik’s chest. He didn’t even look at her. Eyes locked on yours.

“So... you two finally dating? I knew you were always after him-”

Before she could finish, Erik pulled you off his lap and dragged you outside.

“Sorry, we’re leaving,” he called, not even glancing back.

“Erik, what the hell-” you started as you reached the parking lot.

Then he kissed you.

Hard.

No warning. Just mouth on mouth, heat exploding, tongues colliding in chaos.

“Peach, let’s go home,” he whispered against your lips.

“Best idea you’ve ever had,” you breathed, climbing into the passenger seat of his Dodge Charger.

The whole drive was silent-except for your gasps every time his hand inched higher on your thigh.

Julia called. You answered with your voice ragged.

“Yeah, we’re good. Just... caught a cold. See you tomorrow.” You moaned as he pressed against you.

“We’re so fucked,” Erik muttered, turning into your apartment lot.

“We’ll deal with that tomorrow.” You were already halfway out of your clothes.

The door barely shut before he slammed you against the wall, lips on your neck like you were dessert.

“Don’t tease, oh god-” you whined, fingers tangled in his hair.

“I’ve waited too long for this, Peach.” He yanked off your top, kissed you like salvation, stripped you down to bra and skirt.

You moaned, helpless under his touch.

“Me too.”

He hoisted you up, legs wrapped around his waist, carried you to the kitchen counter, the cold marble sending a shock through your burning core.

“There’s no turning back now,” you whispered.

“No turning back,” he rasped, taking off your bra as you tore off his shirt.

Mouth on mouth, chest to chest, heartbeats in sync like war drums.

His hands cupped your breasts, mouth devouring each one like they held secrets, like they were his to worship.

“Fuck, Erik-”

Your moan echoed through the kitchen like sin wrapped in velvet.

Erik's hands gripped your thighs, strong and possessive, as he lifted you just a little higher onto the edge of the counter. His mouth was back on your neck, nipping and sucking like he was trying to brand you.

"You taste better than I ever fucking imagined," he growled into your skin.

Your breath hitched, fingers dragging through his hair as he pushed between your legs, grinding into your soaked core through your underwear like it was killing him to go slow.

You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe. You could only feel.

“Erik-"

He pulled back just enough to look at you, lips parted, pupils blown, hair messy in that way that screamed you did this. His hands slipped down your back, teasing along the hem of your skirt.

“Turn around,” he said, voice low, dark, and cracked with restraint.

You obeyed, almost mindless, hands bracing against the counter as he spun you with one swift movement. His chest pressed flush to your back, and you gasped as he leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

"I've dreamed of fucking you just like this," he whispered, every word dripping into your bloodstream like liquid fire. “Bent over, shaking, begging-”

You let out a breathless whimper, thighs clenching.

And then,you felt it. Hard. Hot. Pressed against you. But something else too.

A jolt lit your nerves on fire.

“Is that...?”

He smirked against your shoulder. “Pierced.”

You nearly lost your balance.

“Holy shit.”

“Exactly,” he rasped, sliding his hand between your thighs. “And it’s all for you, baby.”

Your knees buckled as he ground into you, slow and devastating, like he was showing you just a taste of what that piercing could do.

“I want to ruin you,” he growled, voice strained, hips moving in slow, torturous rolls. “Wreck you so good you forget every asshole that ever looked at you.”

You pushed back into him, desperate, feral.

"Then do it," you gasped. "Make me forget everything."

His hand tangled in your hair, pulling your head back gently so his lips could ghost along your neck again.

“You’re mine tonight, Peach. And tomorrow... we’ll see if I give you back.”

One hand fisted in your hair, yanking it into a rough ponytail. The other slid under your skirt, slow and deliberate, fingers slipping between your thighs,right where you needed him most.

“All this wet for me, Peach?” he growled against your shoulder, his voice pure gravel and sin. “You knew I’d wreck you tonight, didn’t you?”

Your breath hitched. The smirk you gave him was pure defiance. “Took you long enough to notice me, jerk.”

You knew exactly what you were doing. The brat in you wanted to push. You wanted the consequences.

He didn’t take the bait lightly.

“No, Peach. I’ve been noticing you forever,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous. “You put me through hell with that ass of yours. And now?” His breath burned against your neck. “Now I’ve reached my limit.”

Then: “Get on your knees.”

Your heart thrashed in your chest. Blood raced. Adrenaline licked every nerve ending like fire.

You dropped, no hesitation, the air thick between you.

His belt hit the floor like thunder.

You looked up,and damn. He was beautiful, hard, thick, pierced, and proud. Your lips parted before you even realized.

“Open that pretty mouth, sweets,” he said, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Maybe this’ll finally shut you up.”

Your breath came shaky as you obeyed, your eyes still locked on his. You wanted to ruin him. And he knew it.

He hissed as your lips wrapped around him. His hand stayed knotted in your hair, the other braced on the counter behind him, head tilted back in restraint.

“Fuck, Peach…” he moaned, and it shot straight through your core. His voice, thick and trembling, was sweeter than any praise.

Your tongue worked him slowly, expertly,dragging over the piercing just enough to make him twitch.

He looked down at you, eyes dark, jaw locked. “If you keep looking at me like that, I swear to God you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

He dragged you back up by your hair gently, but possessively,your chest pressed to his, breath mingling.

He grabbed your chin, thumb sliding along your bottom lip.

“Open up, Peach.”

You did.

He slid his thumb inside your mouth, and you sucked on it obediently, tongue swirling like you were starving for him. His pupils blew wide, his chest rising and falling like he’d run a marathon.

“Who knew you were such a slut for me,” he said with a wicked grin.

You bit down gently on his thumb.

His smirk turned dangerous. “Brat,” he hissed.

And then he crushed his mouth to yours.

It was chaos.

Teeth. Tongues. Desperation. His hands everywhere, yours tangled in his shirt like you needed him to hold you up,or you’d drop to the floor, ruined.

You didn’t know what was happening next.

Only that you wanted all of it.

You were dizzy. Drunk on him.

And when he pulled back, just barely, voice low and trembling?

“If we don’t move to the bedroom now, I’m fucking you right here against the counter.”

Your smile was dangerous.

That was all it took.

He gripped your waist like he’d been waiting his whole life to, lifting you up and carrying you with that effortless strength like you weighed nothing. Your back hit the mattress, soft but charged—your chest rising fast, your pulse louder than the room itself.

He stood at the edge of the bed, looking at you like you were something sacred and savage all at once. Completely bare, except for that skirt still hanging low around your hips, clinging on like it didn’t want to miss the show.

Erik groaned, deep and rough. “Now that’s a fucking sight.”

Then he was over you,arms caging you in, body heavy with need, muscles taut, eyes locked on yours. You could feel the burn of his stare tracing every inch of skin he hadn’t touched yet.

“Say the words, Peach,” he whispered against your neck, lips brushing your skin, sending a shiver straight through your spine. “And I’m yours. All of me.”

You looked up at him, eyes wild and soft all at once. He hovered there like he didn’t dare move until you called him home.

“You’ve always been mine, dumbass,” you breathed, voice thick with something between want and love.

Then you pulled him in,fingers tight on his shoulder, lips meeting his in a kiss that was slow, deep, and dangerous. One of those kisses that said don’t you dare stop touching me. One that made time stutter.

You pulled back just barely, eyes still locked on his, your arms looped around his neck like a vow.

“Fuck me, Erik.”

And that was it.

His restraint shattered.

He slammed into you with a growl that sounded like it came from somewhere deeper than his chest. You gasped, the force of him knocking the air from your lungs,and your mind.

His piercing dragged over every sensitive inch of you, igniting sparks that made your vision blur.

“God, Peach,” he groaned, forehead pressed to yours, both of you gasping like you were drowning in each other. “You feel-fuck,you feel unreal.”

You clenched around him, nails digging into his back as he moved with pure purpose. It wasn’t just sex,it was claiming, consuming, years of tension finally set on fire.

The rhythm was relentless. His name spilled from your lips like a prayer and a curse all at once.

He was everywhere,his hands on your hips, his breath in your ear, his teeth scraping along your jaw like he wanted to devour every inch of you.

“This what you wanted?” he growled, voice wrecked. “Me losing my mind for you?”

You barely managed a nod before he shifted, thrust deeper, harder, making your body arch beneath him.

You couldn’t speak.

You didn’t need to.

Because the look in your eyes screamed it: I want you to ruin me. I want you to stay.

And he would.

Every second, every touch, every ragged moan said the same thing back.

He already was.

The sunlight hit your face like karma.

You groaned, shifting under the sheets,but you couldn’t move far. There was a whole wall of muscle and menace wrapped around you.

Erik.

His arm was thrown over your waist like a human seatbelt, chest pressed to your back, legs tangled. And dear god,he was still warm. Still solid. Still smug in his sleep.

And still very naked.

You blinked at the ceiling, brain slowly rebooting from what could only be described as the Mount Vesuvius of orgasms.

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered to yourself. “I think he rearranged my spine.”

From behind you, Erik let out a sleepy groan, nuzzling into your shoulder. His morning voice was pure filth,low, gravelly, and half a threat.

“You talkin’ shit, Peach?”

“I’m talking facts,” you muttered. “I’m not sure I can walk. My knees still think I’m on the kitchen floor.”

He laughed, a deep rumble that vibrated against your back.

“You were asking for it.”

You rolled over to face him,and regretted it instantly because his smile was too smug, too hot, and he was definitely still packing a lethal weapon between his thighs. That damn piercing should come with a warning label.

“I wasn’t asking for you to put me in a chokehold with your thighs and rail me into another dimension.”

He smirked. “You say that, but you also said ‘harder’ like… ten times.”

“That’s not legally admissible in court.”

“Oh no?” He leaned in, lips brushing your neck, voice a seductive threat. “What about when you begged me to bite your-”

“ERIK.”

You both froze as Julia’s voice rang through the apartment.

“IF YOU BROKE THE BED, I SWEAR TO GOD-”

Your eyes went wide. Erik slapped a hand over your mouth to stop your giggle. His expression screamed do not move she’s like a damn T-Rex.

“I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE, PEACH.”

You whispered against his hand, muffled: “She’s gonna murder us.”

“She’s gonna throw holy water on me,” he whispered back. “Again.”

Julia’s footsteps got closer.

“I MADE COFFEE. AND PANCAKES. AND I NEED TO KNOW IF THIS IS A ONE-NIGHT STAND OR IF I SHOULD START PINNING WEDDING CENTERPIECES ON PINTEREST.”

Erik groaned, burying his face in your neck. “I hate her. I love her. But I hate her.”

You were dying. Physically dying from trying not to laugh.

Still, you grabbed the sheet, wrapped it around yourself like a toga, and tiptoed to the door.

Julia stood there. Holding a coffee. Looking entirely too smug.

“Well, well, well,” she said. *“If it isn’t ‘I hate his guts’ and ‘we’re just best friends.’”

You took the coffee. Sipped it. “It’s complicated.”

Behind you, Erik called out, “She begged.”

You turned and yelled, “I will end you, Campbell!”

Julia just raised her eyebrows. “So… you staying for breakfast or just coming for dessert?”

You turned beet red. Erik groaned from the bed. Julia cackled like a witch.

Welcome to hell. Population: You, your enemy-with-benefits, and your chaos-loving best friend.

And you wouldn't change a thing.

You went back to the Campbells house .Erik was in his sweatpants, no shirt, hair still a disaster from the night before. You were in his hoodie,that damn skirt of your and leftover sin.

You sat at the breakfast bar, sipping coffee like you hadn’t just gotten railed into next week.

Julia? Across from you. Staring. Judging. Plotting.

“So…” she said, too casually. “You two finally fucked. Loudly.”

You choked on your pancake.

“Julia.”

“Don’t ‘Julia’ me, Peach. You butt dialled me and I heard you yelling ‘wreck me, Erik.’ Like, honey, I left the apartment.”

Erik didn’t even flinch. “She said it. Multiple times. I have witnesses.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, elbowing him in the ribs. He grinned and bit into his pancake like he hadn’t just shattered your spine six hours ago.

Julia narrowed her eyes.

“So is this... a thing now? Or are we pretending you didn’t just dry hump each other into the afterlife in front of my Christmas candle?”

You and Erik exchanged a glance.

And then,because the devil owns your soul,he looked right at you, smirking, and said:

“She’s mine.”

Your heart didn’t just flutter. It sucker-punched you.

Julia blinked. “Oh, we’re doing the possessive era now. Good. I’ll get matching sweatshirts printed.”

You were about to throw a waffle at her when there was a knock on the door.

Julia frowned. “Who the hell...?”

She opened it.

And you saw her.

Sophia.

Looking airbrushed, iced-out, and suspiciously smug. Next to her?

Alex.

Oh hell no.

You straightened in your chair. Erik’s jaw tightened so fast you could hear it.

“Well, this is awkward,” Sophia said sweetly, glancing at you like she was checking for damage. “We were in the neighborhood. Thought we’d stop by.”

Julia stepped aside slowly, eyes wide. “This is about to be so good.”

You stood.

“Hi, Alex,” you said coolly, sipping your coffee like it was champagne. “Didn’t expect to see you. Or your… shadow.”

Sophia gave a fake laugh. “Oh Peach, still spicy. Cute.”

Erik stood behind you, one hand resting lightly on your waist, thumb brushing under the hem of his hoodie like it was instinct.

Alex’s eyes followed it. You saw it.

So did Sophia.

“So,” Erik said, casually dominant, voice low enough to sound like a warning. “You here to start drama, or are you just lost?”

“We just wanted to catch up,” Alex said. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s been a while. Thought you were still single.”

You didn’t miss that.

Neither did Erik.

He leaned down, kissed your cheek, then whispered near your ear,just loud enough.

“You wore me out last night, Peach. Still sore?”

You nearly dropped dead from the power.

Julia straight-up wheezed.

Sophia’s mouth tightened like Botox on a budget.

“Well,” she snapped, “this was fun.”

“Thrilling,” you said. “Next time, send a postcard.”

They left, tension trailing behind them like glitter and bad perfume.

As soon as the door shut, Julia collapsed on the floor.

“YOU GUYS. I AM LIVING FOR THIS. I NEED A REALITY SHOW. I NEED A CAMERA CREW. I NEED YOU TO FUCK ONCE PER EPISODE AND THEN DESTROY EVERY EX WHO CROSSES YOUR PATH.”

You dropped into Erik’s lap, chest heaving from all the drama. He wrapped his arms around you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“So,” he said against your shoulder, “round three after brunch?”

You smiled, slow and wicked.

“Only if you say please.”

He smirked.

“Brat.”

[brooklyn-duo]

“I do too..” Bucky agrees about the fact that Tony’s father and his life in general had messed up his feeling of self-worth and convinced him he couldn’t be loved. He had always avoided the subject, never pushed Tony to talk about it since it seemed personal and Bucky knows that there are parts of his life he never wanted to talk about either.

He can’t help it though when Tony pokes his head in, he lights up, he was glad he was back and he glances to Steve briefly to see his reaction to Tony calling him Buck because it used to just be Steve who called him that.

“No..no I think..I think we’re alright, right? You can come in,” he says, beckoning him closer with his flesh hand, “yeah I definitely need something to eat, I don’t know if it’s because I didn’t eat much for breakfast or if it’s the adrenaline and stress, but I’m starving,” he admits with a weak smile between the two men as he takes the sandwich to take a bite of it. It was surprisingly good and he blinks, “Did you get this from the cafeteria?” he asks Tony, it was definitely better than what he usually got from the building’s cafeteria but maybe they had a special stash since Tony was the owner of the building. He also wanted to try and keep the topic off his feelings for now, he just didn’t want to talk about it, especially not until he’d at least gone to therapy so that he could talk it through a bit with his doctor, she had a knack for helping him put words to things that confused him.

Bucky listens to Steve, he really does take it in, but he can’t hide the fact that the idea of talking to Tony scares him. What they had worked so well, what if bringing this up broke everything? What if this ruined what they had?

He focuses on the first thing Steve says and it does make him smile, “I know, I should have always known that you would support me Steve, that I didn’t need to hide from you really. It just snowballed honestly, I shouldn’t have let it and I won’t let it happen again. I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, and I know you’re with me too. I know you’re right too, that things might end just…just because we’re human or something unforeseeable, i’ve always known that, so I..I understand what you mean..” he agrees softly, taking a second to think about what he said next

Talking to Tony about his feelings was..terrifying. He worries more than anything that telling Tony he was getting attached, that he cared for him, that the other would push him away. What if he decided he didn’t want to deal with all that? He has to take a breath to calm his rising anxieties and it takes a second but he tries to offer Steve another smile, “I’ll..try. I’ll try to talk to him, to figure out how to tell him what i’m feeling, it’s just…it’s complicated, it’s like we have this great balance right now. Everything works for us, it’s a perfect balance, and I’m just..I’m worried that if I introduce something so new that it will throw everything off balance and..and I’m gonna be honest I..I would rather we still have this weird unlabeled thing than nothing at all right now. I know it could end like I said but..but I’m not ready for it to end right now,” he admits quietly, not wanting to hide anything from him anymore even if he knew there was large chance it would make Steve worry.