#and something i really like about it is that i feel like... it has a certain amount of respect for the reader?

[dannyriccsystem]

CUDDLE-BUGS!

FORMULA ONE DRIVERS X READER

SUMMARY: How the drivers like to cuddle :)

OVERALL W.C: 2.1K

WARNINGS: Fluff, slightly suggestive in a few of them

FEATURING: MV1, DR3, LN4, KA12, CL16, PA17, YT22, AA23, LH44, CS55, GR63, OP81, OB87

NOTE: Featuring Paul Aron as a special treat for the lots of fans he has here…

MAX VERSTAPPEN - MV1

Oh this boy LOVES cuddling. Max is big on physical affection and you actually can’t convince me otherwise. He’s constantly sprawled across the sofa cushions with his head on your lap, and if you dare not play with his hair instantly, he will literally grab your hand and put it on his head like a silent command. He’s like a cat; as soon as you stop touching him, he’ll nuzzle against you until you continue.

Cue the Maxplaining. He’s rambling, talking with his hands while he looks up at the ceiling. You watch with a fond expression, brushing strands of hair away from his face while he goes on and on about the car and the physics behind it and all the great overtakes he’s witnessed. You’re listening, but not retaining the information, because all you can think about are his pretty eyes and how cute he is when he’s ranting.

When you’re both laying down, Max likes to be tucked into you. He usually has his nose buried in your neck, taking in the soft scent of your perfume. He’ll pepper you with lazy kisses; he only stops when he falls asleep, which usually doesn’t take that long. He’s knocked out in an instant. There’s something about you that lulls him to sleep almost instantly.

—

DANIEL RICCIARDO - DR3

This is the spooning truther. Daniel loves spooning, he thinks it’s so intimate and close. But here’s the grand question of the day: Is he the big spoon or the little spoon?

Well. Both.

It really depends. I think most days he’s the big spoon. He likes holding you in his muscular arms. It makes you feel extra small, which is a bonus in its own. He likes whispering little jokes and quips in your ear, and making you squirm when he lightly tickles your sides occasionally.

But sometimes he likes to be held too. He likes when your much smaller arms wrap around him, and he gets to feel vulnerable. Even if it’s just for a little bit. You’re warm as you snuggle him from behind, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. He likes how you cradle him and hold him like he’s the only person in the world.

So, yeah. This giant softie likes to be on the receiving end of your hugs every now and then. Be kind to him and let him show his soft side.

—

LANDO NORRIS - LN4

Lando streaming with his camera off, only because you’re asleep on his lap. His audience is wondering why his voice has lowered tenfold, and why his rage-quitting moments have been reduced to a soft bang of his fist on the desk followed by a gentle sigh.

Little do they know, your thighs are straddling him with your face tucked into the crook of his neck, snoring away. He’s cradling your figure with one hand, and using the other to play the game, which explains why his quality of performance has gone way down. He’s rubbing circles onto your back, occasionally kissing your scalp and forehead. He’ll lean away from the mic to whisper in your ear when you stir to consciousness, lulling you back into your slumber.

He loves the fact that you’re somewhat clingy with him. He loves how you have to be close to him—so much that you’re willing to just fall asleep right there on his lap. He’s burning the memory into his brain because he never wants to forget your cute sleepy face :)

—

KIMI ANTONELLI - KA12

I think Kimi’s hard to cuddle with sometimes. He’s always moving, and always talking. One second you’re spooning, the next he has his back to yours, and then he’s on top of you like a blanket, and then he rolls over and you’re on top of him… Yeah. Can’t hold still.

“Did I tell you about what Ollie said to me today?” He’d muse to your sleepy self, and before you could even utter a groggy no, he’d be telling you anyway. You often want to tell him to shut up and go to sleep, but he has that big dorky smile on his face and you just can’t say no.

Even long after you’ve fallen asleep, he continues yapping. It’s not until he actually realizes you’re happily snoring away that he finally quiets down and goes to sleep himself. He always asks if you find it annoying, but in reality his joyous voice and his fluctuating heartbeat, that you can hear with your head on his chest, are usually what ultimately lull you to sleep.

—

CHARLES LECLERC - CL16

This boy needs a hug and you can tell. Whenever he comes home, no matter where he’s gone off to, it’s practically become a ritual for him to walk in pathetically, tail tucked between his legs. You’ve nearly conditioned him, and he doesn’t even realize it. The first time it happened was just a mere coincidence: he was genuinely upset, and you welcomed him with a warm bed and open arms.

Then it kept happening, and eventually you realized that he pretended to be upset every time he came home so that he could snuggle up against you and have you baby him all night. You have to wonder if Charles even realizes this anymore. It’s just part of your nightly routine at this point.

He practically flops on top of you as soon as you send him that little smile and open your arms. He buries his face in your neck, arms wrapped around your abdomen. All of a sudden that sad expression has been replaced by a shitty grin that tells you he won. This is heaven. He just doesn’t realize that you absolutely know what he’s up to…

—

PAUL ARON - PA17

Paul is a delight to cuddle with. An absolute delight. He’s quiet, respectful, and very affectionate. As soon as he sees you pull your current book out, he’s diving onto the bed to situate himself beside you. He has one arm thrown across your stomach, and his head resting on your shoulder. He sleepily studies your face, occasionally peeking at the words on the page.

His hands wander for sure, but not in a weird way. Lightly calloused palms spread out over your stomach, scratching you like you’re a dog. When you start to play with his curls, he essentially loses his grip on staying awake. It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep at that point. Your fingers curl around his hair, playing with individual locks and blonde swirls.

Pepper his face with kisses once he’s asleep. He likes waking up to go to the bathroom, and finding that his face is covered in your lipstick. Absolute perfection. He doesn’t even bother wiping it off, he just joins you in bed again and happily dozes off again.

—

YUKI TSUNODA - YT22

I think it depends on Yuki’s mood. He’s either all over you, or he’s falling asleep as far away as possible. It’s not even like a… Yuki’s angry so he doesn’t want to cuddle. It's just that some days he’s not up for it, and that’s perfectly fine with you.

However, no matter what position you fall asleep in, you two almost always wake up in each other’s arms again. He’ll fall asleep saying he wants some space, and then you wake up and he’s squeezing you like you’re his personal stuffed animal, entirely unconscious whilst doing so. He may be small, but he has a mighty grip on you.

Not big on PDA, but when you’re alone together, he loves being all over you essentially. Let the guy climb you like a tree.

—

ALEX ALBON - AA23

Alex is one of those people that loves to be cuddling… Constantly. But his favorite is at the beach. Both of you could be sprawled out on a large towel or blanket, taking in the sun, and suddenly he’s pulling you to his side and clinging to you like a damn barnacle. He’s a gentleman, too. He’s always asking if you’re comfortable, and how he can get you to be comfortable if not.

Once you try to pull away, he tends to get a bit whiny. He’s pulling you back in his arms and pretending like you’ve really hurt his feelings by daring to get up. He’ll drag it on, too. “Sighh,” With the clutch of his chest as you wriggle around in his hold. “I can’t believe you hate me… Is it because I stink? Sighh…”

He’ll let you go, but not without a lot of complaining. It would be easier to just give him what he wants, honestly. But at the end of the day he really just wants to snuggle up behind you and fall asleep like that, your body pressed to his.

—

LEWIS HAMILTON - LH44

Unfortunately cuddling with Lewis always leads to a wholesome make out session. Or, maybe that’s more fortunate than anything. You plant yourself atop him, legs on either side of his lap. When you lean in to rest your head, you find yourself being pulled into a kiss instead.

You peck his lips momentarily, but he’s hungry and he keeps pulling you in for more whilst you share soft laughter. It could potentially develop into something more, but there’s always some obstacle. A few times you’ve accidentally bitten his lip a little too hard, and you both break away to laugh instead.

Cuddling is nice afterwards. He holds you like you’re his entire world— because you are. He’s both gentle and rough, soft and warm— Lewis is a dream. He’s the dream. He’s perfect.

—

CARLOS SAINZ - CS55

Carlos is a very traditional cuddler. When the two of you watch a movie together, he’ll casually throw his arm over your shoulder and tug you closer, usually kissing your scalp in the moment. He loves having you curled up next to him with your head on his chest.

It’s at this point he kind of stops focusing on the movie, and his attention diverts to you. Your smell, your sleepy eyes, your little giggles whenever something funny happens… Now he can’t seem to focus on anything but you, because he just is so infatuated with you.

I wouldn’t be surprised if the night ends in cheeky little kisses. If you’re lucky, maybe a bit more. He can’t help the way you make him feel.

—

GEORGE RUSSELL - GR63

George does not mind PDA, and he definitely favors a good lap cuddle. I think if you were both attending a late night event, he’d let you rest on his lap, even if others were watching. Your legs are thrown over his, and your face is nestled against his chest. He has one arm around you, and the other is over your lap to gently rub your thigh.

Other people used to stare, but everyone’s used to it by now. It’s not like you guys are being gross and secretly kissing and touching and giggling. You’re simply just asleep on his lap, and he’s softly rubbing your skin to help you stay that way. It’s cute.

If you don’t wake up, George will even carry you back to the car. He keeps his hand on your thigh as he drives because he knows it brings you comfort. Your joy is his top priority. Always.

—

OSCAR PIASTRI - OP81

Oscar shamelessly loves to be between your thighs.

Now, don’t get me wrong here. Not in a dirty way. He likes to lay his head back on your stomach with your legs on either side of him, framing his face. It’s oddly comforting to be lightly squeezed by your legs, he has to admit. Play with his hair a bit too, he could sleep there forever.

Sometimes the roles swap though. You find yourself between his meaty legs, encased by pure muscle. It’s like heaven, situating yourself there. However… Not to be crude, but he does have to keep his thoughts tame during the process, otherwise you’ve both got a mess to handle.

He’s not a huge cuddle bug I’d say, but when Oscar is in the mood for some intimate touching, it’s… Between your legs. Not like that! Most of the time.

—

OLIVER BEARMAN - OB87

He’s been eyeing you all night. Everytime you ask him what’s up, he denies it and says he was just zoning out, but there’s definitely something on Ollie’s mind. You think you have him figured out, but he’s not giving you much to work with… So you test it out.

You mutter a rather loud “it’s cold in here,” and it’s like he’s a sleeper agent being awoken by those code words. He turns to you quickly, and suddenly he’s up from his position on a nearby chair. He walks over to his bed, and flops down right on top of you, all 6 feet and 2 inches of Ollie smothering you.

He even pulls a blanket up on top of that. He’ll bury his face in your chest, a stupid grin covering his face. He’s right where he wants to be.

[sunniques]

— ¡ 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 !

in which your sister’s boring party takes an exciting turn.

❥ PAIRING: lee heeseung x female reader x park sunghoon

❥ GENRE: threesome au, smut

❥ WORD COUNT: 3.8k

❥ CW/TW: threesome, infidelity, voyeurism, small age gap, oral sex (f & m), unprotected sex, spit roasting, multiple creampies

NOTE: don’t like, don’t read.

“Y/N, will you do me a favor?”

You roll your eyes at the question as irritation crawls up your skin. It’s one of the questions you hate the most, especially coming from your sister. “Another one?”

“Don’t be a bitch. You staying for my party is not even a real favor,” she scowls at you. 

“It actually is because mom and dad won’t let you have it unless I’m here,” you scowl back as your irritation grows. “And I literally had plans today.” 

“I told you you could invite your little friends,” she snaps angrily. “It’s not my fault they didn’t want to come!”

You don’t blame your friends for not wanting to hang around your sister and her friends. They were vapid and annoying. Tolerating them was always a challenge, but at least you would be able to hide in your room this time.

“Whatever. What’s the favor?”

“Will you hang out with Sunghoon when he gets here? He’s gonna feel awkward without Gayoung around, and he actually seems to like you.”

“Heeseung isn’t coming?” You ask, surprised that the two friends who are always attached at the hip aren’t coming together.

“No, he is, but…” your sister’s expression turns a bit bashful. “We’re probably gonna be hanging out alone, and I don’t want Sunghoon to feel awkward. You know how he is.”

You frown at how thoughtless her actions are. Some friend she is. 

It’s likely that Sunghoon declined her invitation since his girlfriend won’t be coming, but obviously your sister’s obsession with Heeseung pushed her to berate him into coming and bringing her crush along. She didn’t handle rejection well which is why she’s still latching onto the hope that Heeseung will finally see her as more than a friend.

A losing battle if you ever saw one.

“Fine,” you say slyly. “I’ll make sure Sunghoon has a great time.”

Sunghoon is the first to admit that he’s a little bit of a pushover. He’s always been one to go along with other people’s whims even if he didn’t necessarily want to. That’s how he ended up at a pool party he didn’t even really want to be at. Initially, he came because he was unable to reject his friend’s invitation. Literally. She didn’t take no for an answer, and she insisted that he bring Heeseung, who she’s liked for a long, long time.

Now, Sunghoon had no problem being a wingman, but unfortunately for everyone involved, Heeseung doesn’t feel the same way about his friend. It’s painfully obvious to their entire friend group, and if Sunghoon hadn’t mentioned that you were also going to be at the party, he knew Heeseung wouldn’t have agreed to come. Somehow his friend doesn’t realize that her longtime crush likes her younger, prettier sister. A cruel irony, really.

“Don’t leave,” Heeseung manages to say through gritted teeth before he’s pulled away by his admirer to do shots.

Sunghoon feels awkward at first. He hardly knows anyone aside from Heeseung and the girl clinging onto him. He’s always been bad at small talk which is all he would be able to have with some of the familiar faces surrounding him. Luckily for him, a very pretty night in shining armor saves him just as he’s about to check his weather app.

“Hoonie!” You exclaim happily as you throw your arms around his neck affectionately. “I’m glad you came! How have you been?”

Usually, it’s awkward for him when people he hasn’t spent a lot of time around try to act friendly, but with you it’s different. You’re always genuine with him, and right now he can tell you’re trying to make him feel less uncomfortable. It’s something Sunghoon has always appreciated about you. You’re so sweet and considerate that he’s never had any issues getting along with you. That’s what makes it so easy for him to talk to you.

“I’ve been good,” he gives you a pretty smile that makes you swoon internally. “I just finished up my internship last week which means I can finally enjoy my summer.”

“That’s great!” You say in a congratulatory way. “I’m surprised, though. I didn’t think my sister’s parties were your idea of enjoying summer.”

“They’re not, but Gayoung said I should come since she’s out of town.”

You don’t ask about his girlfriend because you don’t really care and because anything else you might say will lead back to your sister basically forcing him to come because she wants to hook up with his best friend. Sunghoon is nice enough not to mention that at least.

Taking a glance around your backyard, you realize that now would be the perfect opportunity to get away without being noticed. 

“Let’s go inside,” you tell him after your sister’s friends start to get more rowdy in the pool.

Sunghoon can’t ignore how pretty you are or how good you look in your skimpy bikini. So he nods like he’s bewitched. Your grin is lovely, and he refuses to deny how right it feels when you grab his hand to lead him into the house. Maybe it’s not right for him to allow you to do so, but Sunghoon would do anything to please you. That includes following you into your room.

“Don’t worry,” you say as you go to sit on your bed. “No one will notice we’re gone.”

Sunghoon watches, entranced as you sit on the edge of your bed with your alluring smile. Before he can think of something to say, you’re slipping off your bikini bottoms like it’s not fucking scandalous. His cock twitches when you toss the tiny swimsuit at him and it lands on his shoulder. You spread your legs and part your pretty folds to show Sunghoon how wet you are. He might’ve thought he was dreaming, but the throbbing ache in his cock reminds him that this is all too real.

You’ve been horny all day, and having your sister’s pushover friend fall into your lap like this is an opportunity you can’t just ignore.

Plus, you’re only doing her a favor like she asked.

“Look how wet you made me, Hoonie,” you say through a needy whine. 

“Y/N,” Sunghoon groans, feeling his cock come alive at the sight of your pretty pussy all spread just for him.

“I want you to fuck me. Right here, right now.”

Sunghoon’s cock twitches, and just as he contemplates on how to navigate this delicious development, you say something that makes his control snap.

“You know you want to.”

You smirk when Sunghoon quickly discards his swim trunks before yanking you to the edge of the bed. His long, thick cock is practically throbbing, and you lick your lips in anticipation. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. I didn’t know you were such a slut.”

Your grin is tantalizing, and Sunghoon can’t resist anymore. Gayoung is never this forward when they’re intimate. Maybe it’s because she was a virgin before she started dating him or maybe it’s because she doesn’t like sex as much as he does. Either way, Sunghoon can’t care about his prude little girlfriend at the moment. Especially with how you’re dripping all over yourself and eyeing his cock like it’s the one thing you want more than anything.

And it is. Right now, there’s nothing you want more than Sunghoon’s big dick drilling into you. Your cunt pulses just knowing he’s about to fill you up and stretch you out on his cock.

“Are you sure you can handle it? You think I’m gonna fit in this tight little hole, baby?” Sunghoon wonders as he slaps his cock down on your wet pussy. “Fuck. I’m gonna stretch this pretty pussy out nice and good.”

Again, Sunghoon slaps his leaking cock on your pussy and gently slides it between your slick folds. His fat tip brushes against your clit and makes you whine in need. He gives you a teasing smirk before he slowly sinks into you. The moan you let out is almost as loud as his own groan. Your cute little pussy is hot and tight and so fucking wet. Sunghoon knows that he won’t last long if he just starts pounding into you like he wants.

“God, you’re so big,” you mewl, eyes rolling back when he finally bottoms out inside you.

Sunghoon fucks you slowly, using his thumb to rub your puffy bud. The sounds you’re letting out are driving him insane, and the way your molten pussy grips him is like absolute heaven. This is already better than any of the sex he’s had with his girlfriend, and he knows this definitely won’t be the last time he has you like this. 

You squeal when your bikini top is abruptly yanked off. The way Sunghoon’s dark eyes are locked on your bouncing tits makes you clamp down on his dick and soak it with more of your arousal. Just seeing your juices painting the length of his cock makes him throb inside you.

“Shit. Are you already close?”

“Mhm, yeah,” you whine, moving your hips to grind your pussy on his cock. “Your cock feels too good, Hoon.”

Even though he’s fucking you slow, you’re creaming on his cock in seconds and with a loud cry of his name. You beg him to keep fucking you, and that’s how Sunghoon finds out that cumming once is never enough for you. He grins, loving how cockdrunk you already are. He’s more than happy to indulge you, not caring that he’s betraying two of the closest people in his life by indulging himself in your tight pussy.

That’s why he starts drilling his meaty cock into you at a punishing rhythm, letting you feel every single inch of his hard dick. The only thing Sunghoon can feel is your cunt wrapping perfectly around him, his leaking tip slamming into your spongy cervix every single time he snaps his hips. He plants needy, open-mouthed kisses all over your neck before he goes further down, desperately latching onto one of your pretty nipples. You cry out loudly when he flicks and sucks on the sensitive bud before gently biting it.

Sunghoon’s thrusts are deliciously brutal. It’s like you’re his personal fucktoy and he’s only using your little hole to make himself cum. His tongue circles your nipple before he starts suckling it again, desperately trying to fuck his cock deeper inside you. His hips crash against yours, slamming into you without care until he’s shooting ropes of thick, hot cum right into your awaiting pussy. 

Meanwhile, his best friend is downstairs having the worst time of his life.

Heeseung knows what’s going on. From the moment he got separated from Sunghoon, he saw how you went and cozied up to him. How you pressed your pretty tits together and gave him all of your attention. He can admit he’s jealous. It’s impossible for him not to be when he’s wanted you from the moment your sister introduced you to him.

Your sister had been talking his ear off when he saw you leading Sunghoon inside. Heeseung didn’t hear a single word she said from that point on because his eyes were locked on you and Sunghoon’s intertwined hands.

At the first opportunity he gets, Heeseung goes inside to see just what you and Sunghoon are up to. He stops at the bottom of the stairs, feeling his cock twitch. Despite all the noise from outside, he can still hear you clearly. The way you’re begging, moaning, cumming. Heeseung is jealous and harder than he’s ever been in his life. 

Looking back to make sure no one decided to come inside, Heeseung slowly climbs up the stairs. He stops in front of the wide open door to your room. It’s sick, but he stays to watch Sunghoon fuck your brains out. You sound and look so sweet, just like he imagined you would. Heeseung palms his dick over his swim shorts as he admires your beautiful body and how it bounces every time Sunghoon fucks his cock into you. The remnants of spit on your hard nipples make him envious that his best friend got to taste them first.

“If you’re going to keep staring, you might as well come in.”

It takes you a moment to realize Sunghoon isn’t talking to you. Your dazed mind slowly catches up and finally notices Heeseung standing in the doorway. Seeing him there with a huge bulge in his swim shorts while looking at you so heatedly makes you clench down Sunghoon’s cock, staining it with more of your cream.

You whine when Heeseung walks over to the bed. Especially since Sunghoon keeps fucking you like his friend isn’t watching. It’s nasty, but you feel so good because you love being on display. Heeseung gets on the bed and starts to rub and pinch your puffy clit.

“You’ll let me watch, right, baby?”

It’s easy to nod with a moan. Heeseung smirks and continues to pinch and rub your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your puffy clit is so soft and wet that he thinks he can cum just from touching it.

You can see how hard he is through his trunks, and you remember overhearing your sister and her friends talk about how all of Heeseung’s exes would say how big his dick is. How they all wished they could find out for themselves. You lick your lips and reach over to tug at his shorts. Too bad for your sister and her friends, but you were going to find out first since you obviously can’t pass up this opportunity.

Heeseung doesn’t hide his smirk and helps you take off his swim shorts. He frees his cock easily, and you can’t help but stare. He’s thick and big, easily as big as Sunghoon. You lick your lips and look up at him expectantly.

Like you, Heeseung doesn’t hesitate to take an opportunity that’s in front of him. He taps the tip of his dick against your lips, grinning when you open your mouth eagerly. Sunghoon watches you swallow his friend’s cock with an eagerness that makes his cock throb. He’s never seen anything so hot in his life, and he has to slow down his thrusts because he’s so close to blowing his load. 

“Shit, Y/N. You’re such a good fucking girl,” Heeseung groans, watching your throat bulge as he fucks it. “That’s it, baby. Swallow my cock.”

Your eyes cross when Sunghoon and Heeseung’s thrusts start to sync up. They’re both moaning in tandem as they fuck you, and all you can do is lay there completely fucked out as it happens. It’s easy to cum again as they use you for their pleasure.

“Fuck. I bet her pussy’s nice and tight,” Heeseung hisses in delight. “Cum inside her, Hoon.”

Just hearing those words coming from Heeseung is enough to push Sunghoon over the edge. His head falls back as he empties his load into you. “Fuck, Y/N!” He groans as he fucks his cum deeper into you without stopping.

“That’s it, baby. Take every drop of our cum,” Heeseung moans as cum fills your mouth. 

You’re all panting by the time you’ve ridden out your highs, and you surprise the two friends by asking for more.

Sunghoon smirks as he looks over at Heeseung. “Just wait until you feel this pussy. Our pretty girl’s so fucking tight.”

That’s how you end up on all fours, sandwiched between them. Sunghoon grabs the back of your neck as he smacks his cock against your lips just like his best friend did. You part them with a needy moan, tongue lolling out to entice him. He slaps his leaking tip against the slick muscle with a low groan. God are you hot. Way hotter than his girlfriend could ever be.

“So eager to suck this dick,” he murmurs. “Dirty fucking girl.”

Whining, you lap at the tip of his cock, eagerly tasting the remnants of your orgasm and his cum leaking from the slit. You moan at the taste as you start to lick up and down his cock. 

Your pretty pussy is dripping with Sunghoon’s cum and your own arousal. He sees you get wetter when you fully take his best friend’s cock into your mouth. Seeing you drip with arousal makes Heeseung’s cock throb. Finding out what a needy slut you are just made you hotter in his eyes. You’re absolutely perfect.

“Didn’t expect you to be so greedy, baby,” Heeseung laughs. He rubs his cock across your slit before tapping the head against your swollen clit. With a pleased sigh, he slips his dick inside your fluttering hole. 

Your eyes roll back as you get filled on both ends. It’s a dream to have your mouth full of Sunghoon’s cock and your pussy stuffed full of Heeseung’s dick. The sound of your messy, wet cunt makes Heeseung fuck you harder. Your juices are running down your thighs and his. The wet slapping sounds mix in lewdly with all the moans and groans.

“Fuck, she’s so tight,” Heeseung moans as his hands squeeze your ass. It makes you clench down on the cock spearing you open.

Your eyes take in Sunghoon as he strokes his cock with your throat. His dark eyes filter periodically between you and his friend. He throbs every time he watches Heeseung pound your sopping wet cunt. The two share a filthy smirk while you whimper in pleasure. Your mouth and pussy are stuffed full, and you’ve never felt better.

Heeseung fucks his dick deeper into your cunt with a deep groan. Your slick walls flutter and squeeze his thick cock as he roughly kneads and slaps your ass. Just feeling how tightly you’re gripping him makes Heeseung pump his cock into your clenching pussy with a rough tempo that slams against your g-spot and makes you squeal around Sunghoon’s dick.

Your eyes roll back as Sunghoon shoves his cock deeper down your throat. He hisses at the feeling, cock flexing against your tongue as he keeps rolling his hips. Drool falls in thick strings from your open mouth and slowly drip down the cock you’re sucking. Sunghoon moans and caresses your face, loving how you look so pretty with tears in your eyes and his dick in your mouth.

You’ve never looked so hot, bouncing back eagerly on his friend who’s splitting you open on his cock. Heeseung groans, praises spilling from his lips every time he thrusts his cock back into your sloppy cunt.

“Fuck, baby. You have such a pretty little pussy. All tight and wet just for us,” his words make the coil in your stomach tighten. “Could stuff this sweet pussy all day.”

Your orgasm hits hard and fast. Heeseung grunts loudly, hips stuttering against your ass as your soft pussy walls milk his cock. With a loud whine, your body arches and your eyes roll back in ecstasy as you choke on Sunghoon’s cock. 

“Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart. Now I’m gonna fill your hot little cunt,” his heated voice sends a sick thrill up your spine.

“God. I’m gonna cream in your sloppy mouth, pretty girl. Swallow it all for me,” Sunghoon says as one of his hands grips the back of your head.

Moaning around his dick, your head and hips move to help them reach their own highs. The two friends grunt and groan as they chase their own releases. Sunghoon spills first, cum thick and hot as it coats your mouth and throat. Heeseung follows not too long after, shooting his load deep inside your spasming cunt. 

As Heeseung slowly starts to pull out of your pussy, he curses under his breath when you pulse and flutter and squeeze him even tighter. “Fuck. This sweet little pussy doesn’t want to let go.”

Regrettably, he pulls out of your clenching heat with a wet schlick, making both of them groan at the noise. It rivals the way you start to choke on Sunghoon’s cum. He too pulls out reluctantly, but not before wiping the tears from under your eyes.

So much cum is leaking out of your pretty holes, and the two friends decide that they’re going to spend the rest of the party stuffing you full.

Heeseung lightly smacks your messy pussy. “Don’t think we’re done yet, baby. The day’s still young.”

Your sister pouts petulantly as she walks upstairs to the restroom. It’s been almost an hour since she last saw Heeseung, and now he’s ignoring all her calls and texts. She hasn’t seen you or Sunghoon either. Briefly, she wonders if you hadn’t kept her friend entertained enough to keep him at the party. If Sunghoon left, then his best friend had definitely followed suit. She scows as she thinks about how she’s going to get you back later. It wasn’t the first time you inadvertently ruined her chances with Heeseung, and she’s sick of it.

Just before your sister can get to her destination, she hears moans. Loud, filthy moans.

They’re obviously coming from your room, and she wonders if some of her guests were using your room to have sex. Fuck. You were going to murder her.

She approaches your room with a purpose, wanting to get whoever it was out of your room before you found out. However, she stops at the doorway when she sees something ten times worse than strangers having sex in your bed.

Her longtime crush is sitting at the edge of your bed, bouncing you on his big cock while her friend kneels in front of you two as he eats your pussy. Heeseung is giving you a filthy kiss as he gropes your tits and helps you fuck his cock. She can see cum dripping down his heavy balls as he splits you open. Sunghoon is holding one of your hands as he laps at your clit. Your sister doesn’t miss the way he’s tugging on his cock while you tug on his hair. He’s moaning into your pussy like he’s never tasted anything better.

Your room reeks of sex, and her heart breaks when she realizes it’s because the three of you have been fucking for a while now. When you finally break the kiss, Heeseung starts to trail wet kisses down your neck, still oblivious to her presence. You, however, lift your head and make eye contact with your horrified sister.

Unlike she expects, you don’t snap out of your sex-crazed lust. You only smirk at her. It’s mean and vicious—a smirk that she’s seen countless times before. Usually, it’s her directing that cruel, victorious smirk at you. But now that the roles have switched, she can feel her heart break.

You toss your head back with a loud moan, not caring that your sister is crying because you’re bouncing on Heeseung’s cock while Sunghoon licks your pussy. If anything, this is her fault for thinking her plans took priority over yours. It’s not like she ever had a chance with either of them, anyway. You were just making her see that once and for all.

And so, instead of confronting the three of you like she should have, your sister turns on her heel and walks away to go back to her party.

[sangunary]

Hear me out, yandere platonic batfam x reader who has a weak immune system, i think the reader will keep her sickness away from the family, her only source of comfort is her friends and for the batfam i think they will go yandere when zeny collapses maybe And then there goes full yandere, like you will be monitored 24/7, strict rule and blablabla

- Your Love Is Too Sweet

Yandere Batfam x Sick Reader

SYPNOSIS: Your family love's you too much to listen to your pathetic plea for the sweet taste of death.

Warning: NOT FOR SENSETIVE READER!

It all began when you were at the ripe age of ten, during school while chasing your friends around the hall your legs gave up on you. Your vision began to blur and saw black patches.

With your little hand you hold onto the wall to support you, the wind knock out of your lungs.

Something heavy was pressing down at your lungs even tho you tried to stood up straight and look up, hoping for more oxygen.

It was so sudden and unexpected, you have been fine and suddenly clutching onto the wall seeking for oxygen. It was a pathetic scene to look at but when it past your friends helped you to clam down.

When you arrived at the eerily haunting manor you called home, you immediately seek for comfort.

"...Dick? Are you busy?"

Your little voice ring out throughout the room. Your last family never listened to you speak, too busy sleeping on the couch or on the ground, their eyelids open in a way it shouldn't be possible.

They were always busy and you ended up having to take care of your baby brother, who wasn't biological your brother but dna meant nothing to a child.

But, you had a new family and your new dad told you to forget so you can have a better future. But you couldn't help but miss them, atleast your mom still listen just she only listen when she took her medicine.

"Sorry, birdie... I have to talk to Kory, go talk to Jay yah? He's at the cave"

Dick with his phone still on his ear, quickly turned your body around and push you out the living room as he nudge you to start walking.

You understand why he was busy with Kory. Lately, Kory doesn't visit anymore...

The last time she visited she went home mad after Barbara mentioned something. You didn't really understand as Damian did cover your ear with his hands, from his expression it seem like a normal conversation but from their body language... opposite story.

After that, nobody mentioned Kory or Dick will cry in his old room, you could clearly hear him apologising and sobbing since your room was next to his.

While picking at your hands you slowly walked towards the entrance of the cave, although you admire your family for prospecting the city, lately you realised how everybody was so disconnected to the family.

It felt like they only have family reunion because it was traditional and not because they wanted to catch up with everyone.

The whole family was indeed present today because Joker escaped from Arkham again... But they all acted like guests visiting their far cousin.

"Jay...? Could you please listen?"

You asked as you sat next to him on the ground, watching up at him fixing his motorcycle.

"Sure, what is it?"

With the opening you began to speak, talking about how you have been feeling under the weather alot.

Sometimes you would wake up and just puke, but you didn't wake anybody up because you felt like it's your responsibility to take care of yourself. Quietly cleaning yourself up and going back to bed.

How you have lost sleep because you kept getting sleep paralysis and how the monster was your biological mother. How she would morphed into this creatures that loves to scream into your ears.

How your mother would carry your baby brother, as their skin began to merged with eachother as you heard bone moving or breaking. It was a hard scene but you couldn't look away.

But, you couldn't do anything but pray to God and go back to bed. You didn't want to burden anyone with your stupid hallucinations.

Jason would replied with 'oh, sucks', 'good', 'hm', 'oh,... He wasn't listening and you just got up and left.

Tim wasn't much help either, the moment you enter his room you always left with atleast three errands from him.

Throw away some paper, get him coffee and tell Alfred that Tim was still in the house so he wouldn't forget to make him dinner as well.

So, you didn't even put him on your list.

He only see you as an errand kid. You doubt he would waste his time to listen to you speak.

"Dad?"

You called for Bruce as you enter his office, filled with pictures so his kids but they felt drain of emotions.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I felt sick today"

"Go tell Alfred, sweetheart"

Right, always Alfred but never him. The supposed father.

You couldn't help but felt a huge Disappointment on your heart.

The best batman, the worst father.

He knew the family was slowly drifting away but he was too busy with joker and ivy to even try to find solutions. Too busy saving the city to even save the family he vouch to protect.

With a heavy heart you left, didn't even seek for Alfred he himself was busy.

Having to collect the broken glasses of the family, trying to tape it back. To have the once lively family back to normal.

Damian, too inexperienced in emotions and his grandfather have been trying to take him back.

Stephanie, she was going through alot and she asked to be left alone.

Cass, you and her have no connection. Knowing that she tried to not scared you by avoiding you.

Barbara, the whole city is on her shoulder she and doesn't have time for kids like you.

Duke, depressed after his girlfriend cheated on him.

Even tho they themselves were heros, they couldn't save themselves from crumbling into pieces.

For year's you have been silently taking medicine after watching videos and self diagnosing yourself.

Cleaning after yourself at night when you had an accident, buying medicine from shady places. You tried everything to fix your body, but barely nothing worked.

You always fell into sickness the moment the season changed, it get abit cold, virus is around and even just from standing too long under the sun.

Your friends were your only source of comfort as they would bring you some sickness pill or even painkiller to stop your stomachache.

Your family was falling apart and your friends kindly took you into each of their family's and treated you like their own.

They were truly God sent. And you were greatful, trying your best to spend as much as time you could with your new found family.

At night while studying you would fall asleep and you prefer to sleep on the cold wooden desk than on your bed. You don't get bed dreams when you're not resting on your bed.

You hated your bed at times, because you always see your brother and mother. Their skin becoming one, your brother sweet voice would turn into one that sounds like a wild animal and a baby shared a voice box.

Your mother or the one from your hallucinations would try to touch or caress your face, but it was drain of affection and emotion.

It felt like metal being dragged across your cheeks, her messy hair highlighting her eyes and the nasty yellow-ish slash under her eyelids.

And your brother body was at her upper waist towards her upper belly, she was never good at holding him. She was always trembling and the amount of black bruises on her arms made her uncomfortable, to the point that she avoids having direct skin contact with you or your brother.

Even without those nightmare, your stomachache was enough to make you squirm around at your bed so you instead always choose to study during any moment.

With drools down your mouth and book still open, you would wake up with a blanket on your body. Somebody did check in on you, which is surprising as everybody in the family were going through dirt.

But one day you collapse suddenly.

It was at the Manor, while looking at the pictures of your family. Everybody was present even aunt katie, a big smile and you in the middle with a shy smile.

Your first day with them, after you lost your world. Bruce gave you a new one, where you can start from the beginning.

But, everything just crumble down into pieces after one year in the family.

Bruce gave you a world that was born to crumble. Everyone were so distant now, even Christmas left like a drought.

You overheard Alfred talking To Bruce about this matter. Telling him on how he shouldn't just watch as his family is slowly breaking into shards, how he would regret is sooner.

Bruce argues that they were just modling out of their shell, becoming a new person. Escaping from his hands and finding their own path.

Alfred told him, no matter how old or young they are they will always be his kid. Kid's that need their Father to help them become into a brand new person, they needed his hands to hold theirs so they won't be afraid to fall.

Bruce was stubborn, seeing himself as the villain in his kid's life. He doesn't want to be involved in their life because he would definitely ruin it, and if that happens there is no point in Batman if he would just be a bad guy to his kids.

After you collapse you woke up to a place that looked like an hospital but looking at the machine hooked up to you was definitely not one.

Several amounts of wire that drilled through your skin to supply you with the essential to keep you breathing, began to felt like machines sucking every cell out of your body.

The cold metal against your back felt like your skin was merging with it and even lifting even a finger sent immense pain through out your body.

You couldn't tell how long you have been laying there but, it had taken a toll on your body.

The familiar scent of medicine and a weird scent of rotting corpse filled your nostril. You couldn't help but cover your mouth and nose to stop the noise but it always remain there.

Your nails were long, lip felt chap and everything felt new. You couldn't move your hand so freely and even struggle to move your left leg.

Beside you Cass was sleeping. Her hand holding your right tightly Like you would slip away like a balloon if she wasn't to hold onto you.

But when you move your leg she jolted awake. Now you understood.

Cass was the one who checked up on you at night, the one to cover you in blanket and left pills when she observed that you have a fever.

"You are awake!?"

She seem delighted, you felt like you could see a ghast of anxiety leaving her body as you tried to speak.

But nothing came out.

"It's alright. Rest. I am here"

She spoke gently, her hand still on yours. The fear you used to phantom seems you disappear. She wasn't so bad afterall.

After your slumber, each of your siblings came in one by one to not put pressure onto you.

Dick was with Kory who smother you with hugs and kisses on her forehead and cheeks, while Dick asked her to not burry you in affection too early as you might still be in pain.

They repatch their relationship because after you collapse and Stephanie found you, Dick went to her seeking for comfort.

He was stressed out about being a cop and w vigilante barely getting sleeps and all the inhuman behaviour he witnessed were hitting him harder. He knew that his previous family was falling apart and he couldn't do anything... And you the youngest being in coma took a devastating toll on him.

But, Kory listen to him, forgave him and help him took care of you.

Jason look alot better as well. Gave you some treat and told you about the outlaws.

How, he found a meaningful purpose in life. He finally understood why you spend so much time with those brat from school... He would too if he were you.

He also left a small plushie lf superman but alot more bigger and great say's it was from bizzaro, a letter and a gift from Arthemis and a keychain from Roy? He said the real present from Roy would be given when you could drink.

Tim on the other hand, turns out he was in a relationship . After you were in a coma, he started to become more distant from everyone. Whenever anyone entered his room he would looked back hoping to see your little figure. But it was hopeless.

He lost touch and just overwork so he wouldn't have a complete breakdown every minute. And Kon dragged him out of his shell, after a big fight which ended up with both of them tearing at eachother and Kon just confessed.

The same guy who love's to ruin your freshly combed hair and messed with it / freshly ironed clothes and wrinkle it.

Damian was alot more better with emotions now, finding his true path in life and defeating his grandfather.... All that while you were in a coma.

He did briefly mentioned having friends now since you being in a coma awaken something inside of him. He realised how little time some people have so... He volunteered to work in the hospital after a terrible accident and accidentally found a new passion.

Everyone in the family seems to be in good term while you were in a coma. You didn't know if u should be sad or happy since you did miss all the good things.

But at time past everything just went terrible for you.

You could still couldn't move much and you ended up in a wheelchair and they would fought over who gets to hang out with you. You couldn't meet your friends who were extremely worried about you, in the name of protection.

When you felt like your health was peaking the next day you'll be laying down at the same cold mattress, stomach hurting, tears all over your face and having Alfred to inject you with those green liquid.

Those green liquid seems to be the cure to your every problem, although whenever you asked about it no one would speak just a pat and telling you to sleep.

It was getting concerning. Sometimes at night you would always dreamt of the same thing how your mother and baby brother died, she wouldn't let go of him even tho you begged her to.

She hold onto her like her life depends on it... And before you could do anything the explosion engulfed them both... The aftermath wasn't pretty.

Their body melted into eachother... How you saw your mother finger move towards your face, it felt like a horror film. Where the whole movie was centred around you, suffering one after another.

"Bird?"

Jason called out your name, he was one of the people who wouldn't leave you alone at all.

His hand was on your head as he tried to brain your hair for the second time.

"hm?"

you couldn't reply much as you did actually just went through a horrible migraine that came out of the blue.

"Do you wish to be free sometimes?"

He asked, which was quite odd. You looka t his face with didn't tell much either.

"Am I not free?"

You asked curiously, the white blanket that was covering you was now only covering half of your body. As you did sit up straight.

His hand immediately went back to his, as the brain he have been working on for hours with alot of error came undone. His disappointment was clear but he didn't speak up.

Rather he knew the braid would end up looking stiff and maybe even look like a candy caine. Although he wasn't the best at it, it was his best shot at comforting you.

"Nothing, just curious... I'll stay tonight. Can't have you crying at three in the morning cause I definitely won't help you out"

You look at him as he lay down on the other bed which Bruce installed... Saying you need to be under monitor at all times.

"Jay... please what's going on?"

You pleaded, from the way everyone have been Acting you knew only he would tell you the truth.

"You didn't survive... you didn't went to coma"

He began, still he was very calm.

"Your heart failed... I couldn't take it and with the rest except for B... We brought you to the Lazarus pit... But, you... Attacked us, Damian hit you and you went into a coma"

He explained as he stared at the wall infront of him. He seems eerily calm for what he was confessing for.

"We've been injecting you with it because you'll die if we stop, but it's the only reason why you're getting all those symptoms. Those headache and nightmares. But, we do it for your own good"

It makes sense now. How they banned you from seeing anyone out side the family as you have been pronounced dead already.

The headache, the nightmare, your body felling into a deep sleep suddenly, the nose bleed. Everything was because they have been injecting you with the that thing.

The same liquid that brought back Jason was the very same that brought you back. But, alot more problems follow you.

How blood would randomly seep out of your nose and nails, your organs felt like they were rearranging themselves.

Every passing hour felt like your body was slowly rotting from the inside like how ut was supposed to be.

Alfred came into the room with a string on his hand. You couldn't stop the swet from forming, your body temperature was extremely High and everything felt like they were from some cold place.

"Please, Alfred... Just end this. I can't continue this madness"

You clutch onto the bed sheet as dark red blood drip onto the mattress.

The pit didn't exactly fixed you like how it did for Jason. It just put your soul and brain back to power. It didn't fix about the fact that you were dead. You were a walking corpse with consciousness .

You grab onto his arm, he was your only hope for being free from your body.

The same body that was rotting from the inside, your body didn't belong to you any longer... You could feel them decomposing.

Your ribs slowly falling apart, your heart even tho beating was rotting slowly. And everything hurt.

"Please... I can't live like this..."

You clutch onto your heart as you could felt the vein snapping and tearing itself one by one... piece by piece.

"Sorry Master, you do not know what is good for you. Without you the family won't be the same... And I know how much it meant for you to see them together. Sometimes pain is needed to achieve what you want"

He took your wrist and pierce the metal through your skin as he inject the substance.

"Now... Go to sleep, when you wake up everything will be normal again. You could see the sun again. We are waiting for you"

Your eyes began to gave up. As you couldn't even mutter a word out.

You would have yo repeat the cycle forever.

Whenever you began to rot they would refresh you.

Cause a family without you is nothing.

[sirxlla]

You're Pregnant (Batboys)

-> Dick: With this man, he literally pampers you and waits on you hand and foot. The baby is considerably large for some reason; the doctors didn't seem particularly concerned, considering it a boy. The back pain is honestly the worst part of this whole entire situation.

During your baby shower, it was difficult to keep yourself up and going; Dick noticed how you kept reaching your hand behind you to put your palm to the back of your spine and an idea. He slowly moved behind you as he normally would, but this time, he moved his hand under your large belly and slowly lifted up. You let out a sigh of relief as the weight comes off your back for even just a little while.

As time went on through the pregnancy, he would do this more often. In his mind, you were going through all the hardships of being pregnant, so every little thing he could do to help was nothing. He even fought with the nurses at the hospital for rushing your birth and kicked most of them out. He'd do whatever you needed to feel safe, understood, and validated.

-> Jason: The both of you had the conversation about him not smoking anymore. Of course, he agreed, but he was not prepared for how hard it would be and how frustrating it would be. Throughout the pregnancy, there has been a lot of fighting and arguing, but the both of you would come back around and understand that the both of you were being irrational for separate reasons.

He started to indulge in your cravings, which has initiated more bonding times together and less fighting because the both of you are going through it, and it's not easy for either of you. Whatever you wanted, he would go to the store and get the groceries, and then he would come home and cook whatever random craving you were having, no matter how weird.

Sometimes, he would really enjoy it and really like it, and then sometimes, he would just be so confused about why you were craving that, but he thought it was cute to see you so happy, and you thought it was lovely that he would indulge in your cravings even if he didn't like them all the time.

-> Bruce: "Bruce, we haven't even named the kid yet. We don't even know the kid's gender yet, and you already wanna set up a fund for them?" You ask with a smile as you lay your legs over his lap.

"Well, you never know what could happen, it's always best to get the jump on these kinds of things. Sometimes it's slow to get things legally bound, or heaven forbid, I don't have the time. I want her or him to have the life they deserve, regardless of what happens in the future." He said as he massaged the soles of your feet while taking a short break from the computer to talk to you.

"You're worried again. Joker's dead, remember? Like dead dead. You pressed the button to cremate him; you stayed with the body the entire time. It's just your mind playing tricks on you."

"It was an extremely close call, Darling. I want you and our baby to feel the most secure regardless of what happens to me. I'm sure the boys would help, but I just want you all to be financially stable if something does happen to me or, god forbid, one of you. I'd be restless in my grave if I didn't know you all would be taken care of." He lets go of your feet as he hears snoring. You'd passed out on him again, unsurprisingly. He knew the little guy or gal had been keeping you up as much as they could whilst running a marathon in your belly. He let go of your feet, dimmed the lights, covered you up, and went back to paperwork to finalize the documents for the family.

-> Tim: You had come downstairs one morning, rubbing your eyes and trying to just wake up when you noticed everything had been baby-proofed, and I mean to the max. Your eyes widened, and you looked around for Tim, finding him asleep on the couch with a box of more baby-proofing items in his arms, cuddling it like a stuffed animal.

A small smile filled your lips; Tim's always been such a good planner; you haven't even thought about baby-proofing everything. By the time you would even get a chance to think about ideas about what the baby would need or what you would need, he had already done it.

During the start of your pregnancy, you were overwhelmed and didn't know what you needed to do, all it took Tim was an all-nighter and a pit of coffee and he had ordered prenatals, a bra for when you start leaking a little, he had got you compression socks for your feet so your feet don't get cold and don't hurt as much, he ordered a back massager a notebook so he could track all your symptoms, craving and whatever might come along.

Tim's sweet in the way he thinks more about you than himself, but he realized he needs to take care of himself, so you don't have to take care of him once you give birth, and nine months gives him time to get on a healthier pattern of sleep and less coffee consumption.

After the baby is born, he literally will not let you get out of bed tired unless the baby needs to be breastfed, and even still, then he will go get the baby to you so you don't have to get up. He grabs the baby and puts the baby back to sleep once they're full. Tim's perfect, and you don't think you could ever ask for more, but when you do, he already has it planned or ordered.

-> Damian: Damian's mother as soon as she found out you were pregnant she immediately started talking about how your kid would be such a strong soldier in the League. She hadn't really done it around Damian, and the second he heard her say that he came the fuck unglued, his child would not be in the League.

He flew off, screaming at her about his child getting to have the childhood he didn't and how his kid would feel safe and unconditional love. How their worth and value would not be placed on performance like he was. It was like everything he'd wanted to say to her came out all at once like it all festered for years.

"This child isn't yours, and it damn sure isn't the Leagues! It's my child, my wife's child. We will decide their childhood, not you, not anyone. Keep running your mouth about the League and I will be happy to make sure you never see your grandchild again!"

"I just assu-" Talia starts but is very quickly cut off by Damian, his face red and his eyes filled with pure anger.

"Yes, Mother. You just assumed, and in doing so, you have disrespected me, which I can handle. You know what I can't handle?! You are disrespecting the mother of my child! You didn't even ask her opinion either; you assume that you know exactly what I'll say and do, but you don't know shit about children. I was raised by Grandfather and the League, you were never there. All you did was assault my father to get pregnant and carry me; other than that, you couldn't be bothered! I tried so long to make you approve of me, and now I couldn't give two shits less about keeping anyone happy but my wife, and if you have a problem with it, then you know where the door is!"

-> Masterlist

-> Send me prompts if you'd like

[clockwayswrites]

Birds need a flock, after all! Part 38

masterpost nooooooo editing *flops over in migraine land*

“Danny, can I talked to you for a moment.”

Danny closed his eyes and took a slow breath before turning to face Jason. He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Jason, sure. I hope yesterday went well?”

“Long but well, yeah,” Jason said. He looked away from Danny and shifted his weight in a way that seemed almost nervous. “I owe you an apology.”

Danny blinked. “I—pardon?”

“For yesterday,” Jason said. “I hurt you, which wasn’t what I meant to do. I was in a rush and didn’t stop to think about what what I was saying and what I did say I said badly. I’m sorry about that.”

“Oh.” Danny resisted the urge to reach up and rub at the back of his neck. “That’s okay Jason, apology accepted.”

“That’s—” Jason cut himself off with a frown. “It doesn’t have to be okay, I know I fucked up.”

“I don’t want to fight with you, Jason,” Danny said with a little shake of his head.

“So, what? You’ll just let yourself be hurt and roll over and pretend it’s okay?”

Danny shrugged. “That’s how I’ve survived.”

Which maybe was a bit sad, but it was true. Go along with his parent’s work, die in the portal, die again, try to keep the peace, lose everything for cheating, be punished for not liking a holiday, for being too nerdy too curious too much. He’d been rolling over and playing dead all his life.

Jason rubbed at his face. “You don’t.. you don’t have to do that, and I’m sorry that I made you feel like you have to here. A lot of us… we’re bad at saying things. Alfred and Bruce says too little, I say the wrong thing. Dick pretends to be happy and Tim wants to make everyone else happy. Cass struggles with words and Damian his emotions. Duke might be the only competent one in the house. But you shouldn’t have to just give in for any of us.”

Danny glanced away.

“You shouldn’t,” Jason insisted, “because if nothing else we’re all trying to be better and if we’re going to get better we have to be called on our bullshit. Yesterday I fucked up. I am scared of you being alone with Lian, but because you’re still mostly a stranger to me. That just means I’d prefer, to start, if Alfred or Bruce were with you two. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to hide or… or that there’s something wrong with you.”

“Isn’t there?”

“Fuck no!” Jason said with such earnest fervor that Danny was left looking at him in surprise. “There’s nothing wrong with you being a meta and the changes that you’re going through. And me being wary of you with Lian has nothing to do with that. It’s just my own fears and need to make sure she’s safe. And if you’re fine with it, and I mean really fine with it, I’d like to get to know you better, so I can get rid of that fear.” Jason stepped forward and offered his hand. “So, sorry for being a raging asshole, I didn’t mean to be, not that it makes it much better. But hi, I’m Jason Todd, and I’d like to get to know you better so that you’re not a stranger, is that okay?”

Danny gave a little snort of amusement at the theatrics, but he reached out and took Jason’s hand with his own. His own had that was almost normal again, save a scattering of soft, downy feathers. “Danny Fenton, and I’d like that.”

[notjustjavierpena]

Sundays

Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Season 2 of The Last of Us ruined my life, so here is my attempt at fixing my eternal wounds. Lord knows that everyone deserves better. I spent four weeks trying to perfect this. It might be the best thing I’ve ever done. Please be kind and patient with me ❤️

Summary: Joel’s Sundays are for early morning patrol and making babies with you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Domestic fluff, soft but haunted Joel, banter, teasing, Star Wars reference, kissing, praise kink, dirty talk, pussy eating, fingering, breeding kink, one use of daddy, emotional and filthy sex, creampie, aftercare, cuddling 

Word count: 5.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65911807

Sundays

On Sundays, Joel does the morning patrols while the rest of the town sleeps. When someone asks why he has volunteered to do them, he lies and grumbles something about nobody else wanting to get out of bed during the weekend so he has to. Yet he always wakes up at the crack of dawn without complaint, showers in the miracle of hot water, fixes himself a cup of coffee, and reads his book - they have recently emptied a library on an extensive supply run and they found The Shining on dry shelves - with his glasses perched on his nose. He likes it; the quiet time for himself while feeling your presence in the house as you sleep under warm blankets upstairs. His morning routine always ends with taking off his glasses to put them on their designated spot on his nightstand and kissing your beautiful hair, watching your body curl up contentedly underneath the covers or if he is really lucky, you turning onto your back and sleepily muttering a demand for a proper kiss. 

He goes back down, ties his well-worn leather boots on a dining chair, holsters his handgun, throws his rifle over his shoulder, and then leaves with a quiet click of the door. 

The Spring air bites slightly in the morning but he doesn’t mind, appreciates the way it wakes him up a bit more and sharpens his focus. He misses you the second he steps out the door, thinks about your warm and soft skin while he checks the front of Ellie’s house, and then walks towards the stables, the gravel crunching underneath his boots. He listens for anything out of the ordinary - can’t be too careful - and even checks the fences surrounding the horses, the weak spots he keeps meaning to patch up himself because he doesn’t trust anyone else to do it right.

Patrol is as usual. He doesn’t expect any danger and thankfully doesn’t find any either, but he is a man of habits and old habits die hard. His free hand rests near the strap of his rifle in case of anything out of the ordinary, but the only time he needs to be on his guard is when Callus, his horse, gets frightened by a rabbit in the bushes along the trail. He calms the animal with a broad, soothing hand and kind words. He thinks about Sarah, about how she would have loved the nature here, and rarely anymore about how her blood felt on his skin.

He is gone for a few hours, three maybe but no more than four. He does all of his usual inner checklists and rides past each checkpoint, all the while thinking about your hair still messy from sleep, your bare foot sticking out from under the blanket.

On his way back, his thoughts continue circling around you. It’s almost dangerous how much he lets his mind drift; how easy it is to get lost in wondering what you’re up to on his way home. He pictures you in the sun coming in through the windows of the house he built for you with hands that have killed but now get to cradle your face too. He loves you most bathed in morning light that makes your skin glow. With a half-laugh, you said you’d be doing housework today, dragging your fingers through his hair last night whilst tangled up in his body. 

He wonders if you’re humming to yourself while mopping the floors or fighting extra stubborn dust bunnies underneath the couch. What are you wearing? What are you thinking about? Is it him? Are your souls really so entwined that your thoughts are full of him whenever his are so full of you? Joel doesn’t even know if he believes in that sort of thing - hearts beating in sync like that - but you don’t give him a choice sometimes, a feeling that not even Ellie has ever teased out of him.

When he arrives home, he smiles with his eyes closed at the twinkling sound of the wind chimes hanging on the porch ceiling. There is dust on his boots and his bad knee has started to ache from the slow change in temperature over the last few hours but he feels content. He removes the rifle from his shoulder to leave it by the door and then toes the boots off carefully. 

He inhales the smell of home deeply in through his nose before holding his breath to listen for any sound of you. His brown jacket comes off right after he has noticed the quiet movements upstairs that make the house creak just a little. However, it’s not the noisy floorboards but your soft curse that makes him climb the staircase.

A younger version of him - a version that was newer to you - would have first thought that you were up to something sinful and private but Joel now knows that the near-silent swear is one of quiet frustration. You don’t hear him at first, too busy muttering to yourself about the fitted sheet that keeps slipping from your fingers as you try to tug it down over the corner of your shared bed. 

“Shit,” you curse again quietly, bent across the bed in a kneeling position with one knee on the mattress and the other stretched out behind you. 

He knows he should announce his presence like the gentleman he is but he is too busy trying to catch his hitching breath from the sight of your gorgeous body. The swell of your hips and the dip of your back have his old ticker beating in his chest like a kick drum but it is, more specifically, the choice of your underwear that has him feeling downright lightheaded. Hugging your hips are a pair of lace panties and they’re see-through and barely there but most importantly cute. You probably picked them up from the trading center without much ceremony, drawn by their aesthetic rather than their practicality, and then forgot they existed until laundry day arrived. He can understand why; they are so impractical that they almost piss him off but it doesn’t outweigh the near-laughable way he is already hardening in his jeans.

“Hey baby,” he finally says from the doorway, his hands shaking slightly with how hard it is to not just walk up and grab at your hips as a greeting. 

“Joel,” you jump a little in your spot and look at him over your shoulder, the sheet still hanging between your fingers in a secure grip, “You scared the shit outta me!”

“What are you wearing?” He asks simply instead of apologizing, trying to act nonchalant as he walks to the side of the bed but you pick up on the strain in his voice. 

You glance down at yourself with a sigh but it just makes your ass jiggle, “Oh, these? They’re my last clean pair right now since I’m doing an epic pile of laundry today. Sun’s coming out. Perfect day for hanging it outside.” 

“They’re–” he replies, gaze fixed on your ass. His voice continues in the same strained tone but he doesn’t know how to finish his sentence. 

“They’re awful,” you help him and start struggling with the corner of the sheet again, “Feels like my ass is being flossed by lace.”

Joel snorts at that, “Should take ‘em off then.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” You snort yourself, finally managing to pull the sheet over the edge. You flatten it with your palm, caressing it almost as if you’re apologizing for the roughness you’ve caused it and so it looks like it hasn’t been a battle to secure. Then you flop onto your back, stretching your arms out behind you to hold yourself up. The grin on your face is mischievous and sexy yet subtle, the position you’ve put your body in pushing your chest out so he can see your breasts through the thin fabric of your t-shirt. He thought he wanted you badly during his patrol but looking at you now, he thinks he might lose it if he doesn’t touch you soon. 

“You’ve got me. Take them off,” he murmurs with a smirk but when you playfully don’t follow orders, he starts leaning down over you slowly with his sore knee dipping into the mattress. You try to crawl back, squealing but he has taken on bigger things than you.

“Joel,“ you stop him by planting your bare foot on his chest but the way your leg bends at the knee just exposes that soft, intimate skin between your legs. He wants to dive into you but he’ll humor you for a moment.

He grabs your ankle to make you laugh but his mind betrays him by reminding him of how fragile his existence here with you is. Jackson remaining completely untouched by reality is a fantasy. He doesn’t tell you, never would tell you how easily it could all go wrong again, because you deserve the fantasy more than he does.

“Joel,” you repeat his name and he comes back to you if only briefly, watching your loving grin with a deep ache in his chest. He hasn’t felt this kind of ache since Sarah’s mother, a tell-tale sign that you are the real thing for him, that he built this house so you can fill it up with love and life. 

Life. It seems almost bordering on insanity to be thinking about children at his age in a world so broken but your eyes sparkle in the town square where mothers carry their babies in wraps while trading cartons of strawberries. You deserve to nurture someone other than him because your soul has so much to give. 

“If you’re not going to do anything but overthink,” you hum teasingly when time has passed and Joel feels embarrassed for having been lost to his own inner world. His thumb presses into the curve of your Achilles heel, tugging your body closer to himself by wrapping your leg around his waist instead.

“You’re the only person who talks to me like that,” he chuckles softly while his cheeks are slightly crimson. 

“It’s good for you,” you shoot back him and it is the truth.

“Was just thinking ‘bout how you do so much that I don’t deserve,” he says with his eyes roaming over your face and chest for a place to kiss. He chooses the column of your throat, “Cooking, cleaning… Lovin’ a man like me.”

“It’s not about deserving,” you muse and sigh at his stubble on your skin, “Do you want me?”

What kind of question is that? He wants you so much that it sometimes feels like it would be easier to live in your veins, to replace his tired and aching bones with yours if it meant never being without you. He sounds psychotic, sounds like something that he read in the string of horror novels he has gathered by now because they feel oddly comforting when there’s something worse on the other side of the gates. 

“Forever,” he replies simply. He would rather die than not have you.

“Not too much to ask for if you ask me,” you reach to cup his face, thumbs stroking along his cheekbones until he closes his eyes at the feel, and then pull him to your lips. You kiss him gently for a moment but with how much Joel wants you, he quickly lets it drift into something else, something more. He kisses you with all that want in his body, needs it to stop prickling underneath his skin. 

“Have you had breakfast?” He murmurs against your mouth, checking in, the question heavy with care for you. 

“No,” you whisper back into another kiss, fingers threading through the hair at the back of his neck, “I was waiting for you.”

“What if, after this, I take you down to the market?” Joel starts descending his lips on your body. He mouths over the mound of your breast, nipping at your sensitive nipple as it strains against the fabric of your top in its arousal, “Could get you fresh strawberries. Or blueberries we could throw in pancakes.”

You let out a soft moan that’s mixed with a breathy laugh, “I’m ovulating.”

“What?” Joel’s voice has gone scratchy. He stills his touch, moving to look up at your face to see what emotion is playing on your features. He didn’t even know you were keeping track. At first, he doesn’t understand your point but you’re quick to let him in.

“There’ll be babies all over the town square,” you grin down at him, cheeks warm with playfulness as you glow, “Just saying.”

“Maybe one of ours one day?” Joel tests the waters.

“Yeah?” Your grin turns into one of unabashed glee.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t mind it if we made a baby,” he answers quietly and moves his palm up under your top to lay it flat against your belly, “We could try. I mean, we’ve been dancing around it for months now, haven’t we?”

“Then don’t pull out,” the way you say those words, like honey dripping from your tongue, makes Joel swear under his breath and his cock jump. He watches the dizzying sight of you shimmying out of the lace underwear before spreading your legs to give room for him. Looking between your legs is like he’s been offered something holy by the devil himself, your slit already glistening and ready for him.

“Wasn’t gonna,” he smooths his hand down your belly to grab the hem of your top again, easing it up your body. You lift your arms over your head to help him get it off, the movement of your body making your tits shake. He moves backward on the bed, kissing his way down your sternum while squeezing your right breast. You arch slightly into the touch, taking it with a soft release of your breath.

Joel revels in you, revels in the fact that you have allowed him something that he hasn’t thought about in decades because the world did not allow it. He wonders if he’ll be a good father again after all these years of never letting himself think of being something to someone so tiny and fragile, dependent. Ellie had already been a mouthy teenager when he got her, and while she had relied on him, she had had one hell of a survival instinct and hadn’t needed any cradling. A newborn will be different; they will need parts of his being that he hasn’t touched since Sarah was handed to him in the hospital. He doesn’t know if he can trust himself to cradle his newborn with hands that now only know how to pull a trigger. He doesn’t know if it is like riding a bike, that it will happen naturally the second he sees them, but he knows that he wants it. God, he wants it. 

“What are you doing?” You question when he is suddenly between your legs, his feet out over the edge of the bed, and it makes him stop dead. Maybe he should stop having these thoughts when he makes love to you. 

“What do you mean?” He asks as he is halfway down on the floor to get in position. He furrows his brows in confusion. 

“You do realize that this is not how babies are made, right?” You giggle in response, sweetly enough to make his cock twitch. Oh, that’s what you’re playing at.

“Ain’t it?” He smirks.

“No!” You snicker. 

“Then I guess I’m just doing this for fun,” he replies and swings your legs onto his shoulders. He yanks at your hips to pull you towards his mouth, “C’mere, you.”

You squeak with giggles and Joel’s heart dances to the sound. However, your laughter switches to a moan the second his mouth touches you and covers nearly the whole of you. He doesn’t need to think about it anymore, has learned what you like by now from the countless times he has eaten your pussy like it was his last meal on this godforsaken earth. 

“Shit,” you gasp towards the ceiling and cross your ankles on the broadness of his back. He swears that he can hear it in your voice how your eyes roll back when his tongue caresses you in soft strokes. You taste so good that he moans into you, lapping up every drop of sticky sweetness with his tongue. 

“I know, baby. I got you,” he pauses briefly to suck on two of his fingers to wet them, following it up by turning his hand toward the ceiling and then sinking the digits inside of you. He expertly presses them upward, curling them into the spot that immediately has your hips jolting. 

“There,” you tell him with a whine, twisting your hands in the freshly-made bed sheets with a curse that he doesn’t know if is directed at him or the stupid fitted sheets slipping from the corners again, “Joel— ah, don’t stop!”

You gasp as he rubs into that spot over and over again, pairing it with his mouth circling in on the place you need it the most. Your clit is hard and sensitive, perfect for wrapping his mouth around and sucking until his cheeks hollow. 

“Oh God… Oh God,” your pitch rises as he works you open on his hand. At some point, you lose yourself enough in it to start tightening your legs around his back and shoulders. It makes your pelvis lift off the mattress until your back is beautifully arched, makes your cunt press firmly into his mouth for any friction. He grabs your thigh with his free hand for leverage and groans softly into you, taking the reward of sinful pleasure shooting straight to his cock from the way you fuck yourself on his fingers and mouth. 

Outside, the heat can’t compete with the warmth coming off of your body. He can hear another gust of wind blowing through the wind chimes around the porch, mixing with the sound of the city waking up and coming to life. He could die right here, he thinks, between your beautiful thighs with skin that smells just faintly of your homemade lavender oil but right now mostly of sex. It wouldn’t be bad, hell, the whole town would say that he died doing what he loved. 

A hand tangles in his hair now. You have relented on the sheets in case you’ll rip them, and Joel takes each painful sting of his follicles with pride as you balance on the edge. He sinks his fingers deeper, works his mouth faster to get you to tip the scales and come so hard that the world fades away from the both of you. 

It happens a moment later. You hold your breath for just a few seconds, completely quiet as you concentrate while the anticipation within your body crackles like electricity he swears, he can feel. 

Then you cry out in relief, throwing your head back and squeezing your thighs around his head so the sound in his good ear blurs as well. He can feel your muscles clamp down on his fingers, near-arrogant pride swelling in his chest from how skilled he is in making you feel good. 

He keeps his mouth on you as long as you allow him, the tip of his tongue flicking over your sensitive and goddamn pretty clit until you protest with a whimper. When he draws back, he keeps fucking you through the aftershocks with his fingers and dares look up at you, heart beating out of his chest and his dick hard enough that it is aching. His fingers are wet with your come, making your cunt squelch in the otherwise quiet room. 

“Attagirl,” he breaks the silence with a praise in his easy southern drawl, letting his fingers slip out finally, “You liked that, huh?”

You hum approvingly in your afterglow and he can’t get close to you fast enough. He crawls up from the floor, grunting at the way his knees remind him of his age, and moves up on the bed. He slots between your legs again like he was made to fit there, kneeling between your thighs. You look soft and dazed, chest still heaving from your high. 

“I love you. Every damn inch of you,” he murmurs softly. He looks at your face, how you smile with your eyes closed and your nose is slightly scrunched up as the sun dances over your features through the window. You’re glowing. Simple as that, no other word for it, like you will when carrying his kid, and he should tell you that you’re the only peace he has ever found. He should say it to you but he cowers each time. It feels more weighted than telling you that he loves you. 

“I know,” you whisper back eventually, eyes blinking open and your hands reaching for his belt. The metal clinks as you undo the buckle, a smug little grin on your face. 

“Alright, Han Solo,” he rolls his eyes for show and then moves over you, the devil in his eyes. He wipes his slick chin and lips on your face, making you laugh in the way that is enhanced by dopamine. He bumps his nose into yours, “Think you’re funny, huh?”

“Little bit,” you smile and get the fly open. You reach inside and wrap your fist around him, the playful air in the room settling immediately when you stroke him lazily, “But I’m just trying to get you to take your clothes off.”

“Fuck, baby,” he groans while you run your thumb over the slit of his dick, “You’re killing me. Gimme a sec of this.”

You give in and let him have this for a moment, stroking him with practiced flicks of your wrist until his hips start to rut so he can fuck your hand. He moans as he stares down between you, the muscles of his neck and shoulders wound so tight from trying not to come that it is a miracle his old bones haven’t snapped in half.

When you feel him near the edge, you squeeze around the base to halt his orgasm. You’ve started to breathe hard alongside him, clearly worked up by the sounds he is making for you. 

“Fuck me,” you beg him, your voice stutters as you frantically try using your free hand to yank his jeans down over his hips, “Please, Joel, I need you inside me.”

He thinks about how worked up you must be between your legs after holding out for so long. Knowing how wet you get from touching him like this, you must be soaked for him and ready to be taken care of like you deserve. It means that Joel doesn’t need to be told twice, already tugging his jeans and underwear just far down enough for what matters. 

However, despite the rush of getting undressed, he still takes the time to reach for one of the newly-fluffed pillows resting against the bed’s headboard. 

“Up,” he says without further explanation but you know what he wants to do, would probably trust him with your life even if he just gave you a look. When you lift your pelvis in the air without question, he slides the pillow underneath you so your hips are tilted just right for him to reach deep. 

Your legs are spread, your cunt practically served on a platter for him with how it is raised slightly in the air, squeezing around nothing as if begging for him. He looks down at your face as he runs the head of his cock through your folds, coating the very tip in a mix of precome and your shiny slick. 

You aren’t watching him though, too busy chewing on your bottom lip with your eyes glued to how the head of his cock sinks into your wet heat. When he starts stretching you with his thick girth, your mouth falls open in a soft moan. 

He places a hand just above your mound, holds you there while he bottoms out with a growl. Then he rocks his hips once then twice, setting up a pace that gives the both of you time to indulge in each other. You are snug around his dick as he fucks you, slick heat that makes his skin tingle and his breath stutter. The remnants of a southern gentleman in him know that he shouldn’t compare, but no other woman has ever made him unravel so much during sex, has ever made him feel so powerful and powerless in bed. 

“Tell me who this pussy belongs to,” he demands to regain some form of control, staring down at your face contorted with pleasure. 

“You,” you gasp feebly, “It’s yours.”

When he fucks you like this, you are his. He doesn’t need to second guess this fact, knows it just from the way your bodies are connected like they know it too. 

He reaches for your thighs, his knuckles going white as he lifts them onto his hips. You lock around him by instinct and force him forward, so he has to brace himself with a hand beside your head. The angle makes him go deeper, the thick head of his cock kissing at your cervix and your greedy cunt flutters like it wants to do the impossible and pull him further in. 

“Look at me,” he says in a voice that reveals just how good you feel to him, watches the way your tits bounce with each thrust, “Say it like you mean it.”

You stare up into his eyes, your brows furrowed as the tip of his cock drags along the front of your walls. He is in there deep, focused on coming just where it matters. Meanwhile, you have to concentrate on forming words, needing to start over several times with how close you are to babbling.

“It’s– ah, fuck. It’s your pussy, Joel. I’m yours,” you cry for him, your pitch close to, but not quite, the one of a wounded animal. The difference is the lack of hesitation; you are both so sure of each other that it makes him ache all over and ignore the sweaty strain on his old back. 

Your hands scramble to touch him but you make a noise of complaint when his chest is covered by his shirt, the barrier a nuisance when you want all of him. He shed the flannel earlier along with his jacket, but right now, it is the soft fabric of his t-shirt that you’re pulling at to get to his skin. 

He dips down to let you pull it over his head, it slipping down his arm unceremoniously until he can grab it with his fist and toss it over his back. Your trembling hands find his skin immediately and it makes you sigh with relief. Your nails drag through the hairs on his chest, leaving red streaks in their wake until you grab the flesh of his sides. 

He sees how your eyes roam over his torso, where scars tell stories of a life much more complicated than this. You have loved each one of them so many times that he doesn’t feel insecure about them anymore, have traced them with your fingers and kissed them enough to get him to believe that he is more than the events that brought them. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you say softly and settle a hand at the back of his neck, drawing him into your arms. He braces himself on his forearms, kisses you like he isn’t inside of you, and has missed you for a weeklong patrol, still taken aback when you say things like that. 

“Sweet girl,” he whispers against your lips and you whimper as his cock pulses inside of your body. You look at him with fiery love and lust, the stare so intense he knows that this will be over soon because he can’t hold back anymore. 

His next thrusts are slower but rougher, harder and insistent in touching the parts inside you that make you barrel towards the edge. He can feel the difference between all the other times he’s been buried in your cunt to the hilt and this time. While the air is still thick with labored breaths and whispered cries for a higher power he doesn’t know if he believes, this is not just sex; this is about taking the very best parts of you and mixing them with the leftover parts of him that he has found aren’t fatally broken because of you. 

The sound of his name pulls him back to you. His pelvis has aligned with yours with each rock of his hips, the spot just above the base of his cock grinding into your twitching clit. 

“I’m gonna— fuck, I’m gonna come,“ you choke on air, “Please, Joel. Don’t stop, baby.”

“I know, honey,” he moans at the way you flutter around his length, voice cracking at how you feel better than a Texan summer. You’re so wet it sounds filthy when he fucks you, barely pulling out anymore and letting you soak his dick while he switches to simply grinding. For a moment, he is even scared that it’ll set him off before you’ve had your second fill, “Jesus, yeah, I can feel it.” 

Your orgasm hits like a runaway train. The hand resting on the back of his neck slides down to squeeze his shoulder, fingers denting his skin as you seek something to cling onto in your state of ecstasy. You come so hard that air is knocked out of him from how tightly your cunt grips him, his whole body shuddering like he’s the one losing it.

He presses a lingering kiss to your gorgeous neck while your head is thrown back, feeling the rapid beats of your heart under his lips. Your free hand cradles him like you’re meant to be a mother already, making it irresistible for him not to inhale your scent of lavender from the spot where your neck meets your shoulder.  

“You feel too good, baby, ’m not gonna last,” he grits out against your sweat-slicked skin, his cock throbbing in time with his heartbeat. 

“Don’t want you to last, want you to put a baby in me. Gimme a baby, Joel,” you beg him and bury your nose in his temple. You squeeze him tighter in your arms, whining from oversensitivity as his thrusts start to intensify toward the end, “Wanna make you a daddy, baby, please, I’m ready.”

Daddy. The word coming from your mouth makes Joel snap. He pushes his hips against yours and comes with a groan, the head of his cock flush against the very back of your cunt. In his life, he has witnessed wildfires and his climax spreads through his lower belly just as fast. His breath is stuck in his lungs as he fills you to the brim, his tongue wanting to say filth but only your name comes out. It’s good enough to make a grown man tremble without remorse in the embrace of his woman. 

After a beat, his body sags from exhaustion. When you let go of his shoulder to run your hand over your hair, your nails have created little crescent marks on his body. He grunts as he rolls off of you in fear of crushing you underneath his weight. You whimper at the loss, a few heavy drops of his seed landing on the pillow still beneath your hips. 

“C’mere,” he murmurs as a haze settles over the both of you, the sweat on his skin turning slightly chilly. He holds his arm out to invite you into the space that always holds you perfectly and you oblige without a word. He’d lay here forever with you if he had to, would embrace being trapped here with you until they had to send out a search party. 

He is still breathing hard when you lay your head on his chest, draping your arm across his body whose stamina isn’t what it used to be. You don’t comment on it though, simply hold him while the sheets get dirty again from the mess between your thighs. While the world fades away around you, Joel decides that he’ll help you do the extra load of laundry. 

Without thinking, his fingers absentmindedly start tracing up and down your forearm in a soothing motion. You swing a tired leg over his body in response, attempting to get impossibly closer despite already practically melting together with him in the post-orgasmic heat you share. 

Outside, a young child shrieks with excited laughter and Joel nearly tears up from how new the sound seems even though it is a daily occurrence in the little town. He must know if you feel the same. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asks and breaks the quiet, still caressing your arm gently. 

“Just thinking,” you reply and splay your hand on his chest, brushing your thumb over his nipple without thinking. You kiss him where you can reach. 

“About?” He pushes, looking down at the top of your head as if he can read your emotions like that. You probably could with him. 

You crane your neck to stare at him with a little tired smile, “Babies. You. How much I love you. I love you.”

“I know,” he answers smugly, arching an eyebrow with a smile. He thinks another confession of his devotion might set his chest alight and right now, you don’t deserve to have his guilt winning.

“You asshole,” you dissolve into a burst of laughter while his smile turns wolfish, your body curling in on itself on top of his chest. He loves your laugh, the way you nearly snort and feel embarrassed by it. It makes him settle a hand on the base of your skull and drag you into the sort of kiss from a person who’s learning to trust joy again.

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[differenteagletragedy]

Simon, while having a solid amount of sexual experience, has just never really done the whole relationship thing. He knows what he's like at work, he knows what he's like with friends, he knows what he's like in bed, but Boyfriend Simon? No clue who that guy is.

So when he falls hard enough for you to actually be convinced to give it a try, he just assumes he'll wear the pants in the relationship. He always wears the pants, so why would it be any different in this context? Not like a Whole Thing, like he's not picturing a lifestyle in which he's the big dominant man and you're submissive, obedient ... it's more like he just pictures himself taking care of things.

You picture it differently. And he is shocked by how much he loves your take on things.

"Simon, go wash your face and I'll put some moisturizer on you, you're getting a little dry." "We're having what you want for dinner tonight and I don't want to hear another word about it." "Just sit down and rest for a minute, I can handle it."

There are all these little things that you say and do -- little ways that show that you care, and that you think about him -- that all add up to something much bigger. It all makes him realize that maybe Boyfriend Simon is someone who can rest. Perhaps he doesn't need to be constantly, relentlessly in charge and on alert. Maybe this way, he can be cared for.

Of course, the feeling translates to the bedroom too. With his previous hookups, he'd always taken the lead. Strong hands putting his partner where he wanted them to go. Never too rough, never too demanding, but focused on his own pleasure, just like he always assumed the other person was focused on theirs.

Not on your watch.

He felt like he was being torn in two the first time you knelt before him and put your hands on his belt buckle, intention clear. It was like he was being split between the Simon he knew better, the one who might have greedily pulled down his jeans, tipped open your lips with a thumb on your chin and slid deep inside your hot mouth until tears rolled down your cheeks, and the Simon you'd somehow pulled out of him. The one who was too in love to imagine using you like that.

He told you as much that night. He stilled your hand over his belt with his own, his voice sounding strangled as he murmured, "Don't have to do that, love."

"Of course I don't have to," you'd told him. "I want to."

And you did. You unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his jeans then put your soft, warm hands on his hips, just under his shirt, and pushed his pants down, along with his boxers. You took his cock in your hand first, using slow, languid strokes, then gazed up at him.

“Is this ok?”

He began realizing, when you took him into your mouth only after he said yes, that this wasn’t him using you. It was clear in the little muffled whimpers you made as you pulled him close enough for his tip to hit the back of your throat and in the way your free hand gripped his thigh, like you were the one who needed grounding — you were enjoying this too. This was just another way for you to care for him.

Now, after days and weeks and months have passed of breaking down and rebuilding, learning and growing with you into something he never knew he could be, he trusts you. He values your judgment, he believes you what you tell him. If you think he needs to rest, he will. If you lead him, he'll follow.

Whatever you want, whatever you need, whether you let it be known with words or glances or your hands on him, guiding him, steady and sure ... now, Simon listens.

[unvaleme]

ɞ THROATIN’ ⭑.ᐟ

⭑ you can actually deepthroat it?!… feat; mydeimos, aventurine, phainon, sampo ɞ

⭑ 1k words, 18+ content, dick sucking, throat fucking, short thirsts, afab!reader, throatpie, swallowing, dirty talk/language, use of pet names + good girl, pure filth and questionable writing. (also not proofread i’m so sorry.)

⭑ i just want to blow them okay 😣

MYDEIMOS ⭑.ᐟ is left speechless at first — eyes simply glued to your mouth, watching his cock split open your lips and slip into your throat. tears gather at the corners of your eyes as his flared tip presses deeper, and deeper, until your nose is resting within the coarse hair at his base. holy shit.

“holy fuck, shit— takin’ it all the way like that, hah.”

up and down, sloppy and slurping, velvet tongue teasing his sensitive flesh; you’re quickly working mydeimos into a frenzy, tip leaking inside your throat and mind roaring at him to simply fuck your throat. he fits so perfectly there, like your esophagus was a canal formed just for him — you were made to take it, he surmises.

and with how good you’re making him feel, can he really be blamed for the way he grips your hair and shoves you down on his cock faster?

“god, mmf — shit, baby, gon’a make m’cum.” he rasps, balls tight and cock kicking inside your sweet throat. he knows it won’t take long, can already feel his cock throbbing as he growls, “right down your pretty throat. shit, take it, such a good girl…”

⭑.

AVENTURINE ⭑.ᐟ has his toes curled, mouth agape, thighs shaking — horny beyond comprehension and mind completely blown by the ease in which you swallowed his cock.

your eyes are locked with his, cocky and taunting, an embodiment of the phrase “told you so.”

and he can’t help but feel excited by that — to bait right into the challenge you’ve presented.

“how long can you hold your breath?” aventurine inquires, giving you only a second to register his question before he grips your jaw, groaning at the way your cheeks swell when he pulls his hips back.

“god, my cock stretches your mouth so wide. you like that, baby? like how big it is?” aventurine growls, hand tightening just so as he pushes his cock back inside your mouth, only halfway at first so he can feel the drag of it against your cheeks.

and fuck, you let out the most lascivious moan around his dick, drool slipping down his hand as you nod.

“fuck, god.” he hisses, any semblance of patience ripped to shreds by your lustful gaze and hot mouth. slick slaps and slurps help fuel his orgasm as aventurine slams himself deep inside your throat, setting a brutal and indulgent rhythm immediately.

“let’s see how long you can take this, princess,” he huffs out, ignoring the way his own gut clenches. “can you handle it ‘til i mess up that pretty throat, huh?”

by the look in your eyes, you have every intention of doing just that.

⭑.

PHAINON ⭑.ᐟ has a hand in your hair and his teeth clenched as you sink your mouth down his cock.

he watches with half-worry and half-arousal as you do so smoothly, giving not so much as a wince when his leaking tip pushes past your tonsils.

it’s so hot, wet, and tight inside that he fears he may bust before he’s even fully inside; he feels your throat constrict and can’t help but scrape his nails against your scalp gently.

“fuck, baby, don’t hurt yourself…” he chides breathlessly, ashamed at the way his cock throbs at the thought of it — but it’s so hot, just thinking about making that hot throat of yours sore from his huge cock.

though you don’t seem to be in any sort of pain — and if you are, it’s something you thoroughly enjoy. he has an inkling that if he were to throw caution to the wind completely and simply assault your throat, you’d stare at him lovingly while he does so and then thank him after he’s done.

fuck, he’s gonna cum if he keeps thinking like that.

“it’s so good, baby,” he praises, reveling in the way your eyes flutter and the small noise you let out around his cock. “you’re so beautiful like this.”

and you were — god, you were so beautiful. even more so when you started to rock your body back and forth while swallowing his cock, tears gathering on your pretty lashes as he stretched your throat over and over. sounded so angelic when you slurped and whined. your skin felt so soft when you brought a hand up to stabilize yourself with his strong thigh.

“fuck, baby, don’t stop,” phainon didn’t care about the pure whine in his voice; he was so close, so close to spilling down into your stomach that he couldn’t care less. “please, shit, make me cum with your pretty throat. please, please, please…”

⭑.

SAMPO ⭑.ᐟ always knew you could do it; let’s just say he has good instincts.

“hah, knew you were a pro, sweetheart.” sampo murmurs, hips bucking up to meet the steady rhythm of your mouth. he slides easily past your tonsils, cock nestling deep inside the warmth of your throat. his gut is already tight, signaling a fast approach of his orgasm.

“god, yeah, that’s perfect. fuck, use your tongue, baby.” sampo nearly whines; the way you’re sucking him so sloppy and passionately, with those beautiful thighs of yours clenching together, has sampo right there — it takes so much for him to hold it back, to grant himself the heaven of fucking your throat for just a little longer.

“fuck, okay, jus-just stay still; let me use it baby — fuck yeah, that’s my good girl…”

and god, you’re so still. so good. humming and whimpering around his length as he shoves it down your throat over and over, eyes hazy and face all pink — so fucked out that it’s driving him crazy.

well, okay, maybe he creamed your throat a bit sooner than he would have liked… but it doesn’t ever take sampo long to recover, and from the way you’re looking at him, he can tell you’re still very hungry.

[tobeholyistobeempty]

almost immediately into dating, simon riley would buy you a gun.

probably a 9mm. matte black, no frills, utilitarian. nothing bigger than needed. comfortable enough to hug your palm, heavy enough to remind you of the implications of what you carry.

and really, it wouldn’t come as a surprise to you.

you knew he was a soldier, knew he kept closets full of gear and could disappear without a sound — appear the same way too. you knew how he moved, how his eyes never slowed until they met yours. knew there was something unsaid about his skill level, redacted parts he left out on purpose. but even above that — you knew the truth of him. under the mask, under the muscle, under the scars of his past. the boy who grew up with vigilance as his only defence. you know enough to know you don’t survive what simon has survived and come out normal.

you come out disciplined. dangerous. prepared.

simon doesn’t believe in luck. won’t leave his trust in the cavalry showin up in time when that’s already failed him many times before. simon doesn’t deal in safe.

he deals in preparation. for the worst. for even the most unlikely.

love comes in many forms. and maybe for simon it’s not candle lit dinners or couch cuddling movie nights (though of course you bribe him into those anyways. he’s never quite been able to say no to you) it’s making sure he does everything in his power to make you capable.

and he does it with all the patience he’s got to offer. there’s no expectation no pressure no timeline — god knows simon isn’t expecting you to become a super assassin overnight. he takes you out to some half-forgotten range an hour outta the city, tucked in nice between the pine and fog. sets up the targets and has you aim at them empty, watching the way you hold tension in your tendons. teaches you how to force it out through breath. how to work the weapon like an extension of yourself.

the rundown is quick and simple. caliber, kickback, magazine release. then he steps back and tells you to shoot.

you exhale the breath like he taught you and pull. when you miss, he nods once and says again. you go through three full mags and miss each one. it isn’t long before your palms burn as bad as your cheeks do with the humiliation of it — but it’s all forgotten when you land just a tap off the bullseye and simon walks over with his hands up.

“that’s how it starts, sweet’eart.” he murmurs, smirking against your mouth.

simon riley is a man of many talents, but his greatest achievement yet is loving you. and maybe it’s not always voiced by ‘i love you so much baby.’ — but instead it’s running you through drills around the crooked ikea furniture in your living room until the sun has set and the moon is out. or blindfolding you and telling you to unload and reload the mag. or leaving sticky notes with unlikely scenarios scattered around the house and quizzing you on your answers while youre cockdrunk against the counter.

you’ve learned his language by now. hes protective and realistic and a little bit cynical. but god does he make you feel alive for it.

you know by him teaching you how to use this gun it’s his way of saying i will do everything in my power to keep you alive because im in love with you and i wouldn’t survive a fuckin day if i lost you.

[writerpeach]

Obsession

LE SSERAFIM Miyawaki Sakura x m!reader

22k words

"More wine, sir?"

The waitress stands beside your table, patient as can be when you hand her your empty glass, and it’s full again before you blink. 

You’ll need every drop tonight.

Seated at some exclusive restaurant overlooking the city skyline, you’re surrounded by others—colleagues, business partners, mostly unfamiliar faces. Sakura sits beside you, elegant and adorned in black. One leg crossed neatly over the other, her wine glass untouched. She hasn't said much to you in the last fifteen minutes, but her hand rests possessively on your thigh beneath the table, reminding you she's here. Despite it being an almost weekly occurrence, you've never been able to get used to these sorts of situations.

And when the waitress leaves the table, that hand squeezes a little firmer, demanding your attention. Sakura turns, and you glance her way.

"Enjoying yourself?" she asks, but it's not really a question. The grip on your thigh is all too telling, and it doesn't waver when you try to shift the slightest bit under the table.

"No, not really."

It's the truth, and Sakura would know better if you tried to play this off. Her lips curl into the smallest of smiles, eyes narrowing as her thumb rubs idly along your inner thigh. She's dressed to kill tonight. A tight, figure-flattering dress, clingy in all the best ways, but showing just a hint of cleavage. Narrow straps resting over her bare shoulders, long, silky, dark hair drapes loose behind her neck, with that sheen on her lips that makes them look even fuller than normal.

Gorgeous doesn't even begin to describe it. 

"I know these events aren't particularly enjoyable for you," Sakura replies, sighing with something akin to annoyance. Her wine glass lifts to her painted lips, just the smallest sip, crimson as the lipstick smeared onto the rim. "But I appreciate you coming with me anyways. It's only another hour."

Only an hour. The wine glass still feels pretty heavy in your hand, and the thought of spending another minute like this sounds like torture. You give a resigned nod regardless. Sakura turns her gaze elsewhere—someone trying to catch her attention across the table.

Sipping your wine is about the only thing you have any interest in. 

You rest a hand atop Sakura's, as if it's the only thing keeping you sane right now. A small glance to smile again, like she's silently rewarding your bravery, then back to those conversations that you can't begin to contribute to. 

Somehow, you manage to get through it all—if only for dessert you hear being ordered for the entire table. By the time it arrives, you've finished a second glass of wine, and Sakura's is still almost full, lingering idly between those delicate fingers, like it's all for show. Nothing else to do but indulge, at least. Especially when she feeds you the first bite.

It's the sweetest of bliss when she excuses the two of you an hour and ten minutes later, ignoring the comments of surprise and pleas for her to stick around. She doesn't have time for that, and neither do you. 

"Benefits of being the boss. People don't ask too many questions."

There's not much you can do but agree. When those glossy lips crash against your own, it has you a bit lost, distracted in the moment. But before you can really fall deeper into the heat of her kiss, she's pulling away—the slightest hint of that lip gloss transferred onto you.

"You're quiet tonight."

"Am I?"

There's a pause. Sakura looks into your eyes, like she's trying to stare inside your soul. But she can't seem to find anything, turning on her heels to lead the way once the elevator opens.

"You were. Come."

Sakura's heels clack at a quick, almost impatient pace across the smooth, marble floor. You follow close behind, gaze inevitably drifting along those tantalizing hips and that dangerously short dress. You're not quite sure you'll ever get over her legs—silk stockings barely hiding that flawless skin, enough of a distraction that it takes you a moment to notice that she's waiting by the valet booth.

It doesn't take long for a sleek, black convertible to pull up, and you wait with her at the curb until the keys are handed over. She stops you at the door, holding her hand out expectantly with a silent stare. 

"I'm driving. You've had too much to drink," Sakura chides, the slightest touch of disapproval in her eyes. Yet, she’s not wrong, given she barely finished half a glass while you can feel the lingering effects much more. Still, the way she says it still feels a bit condescending, like you've failed some test you didn't even know existed.

So you keep quiet and simply obey, passing her the keys as you saunter over to the passenger side, easing yourself into the plush leather of the seat. She waits until the two of you are both settled in, car purring to life and seatbelts secured.

"Good boy."

The apartment door barely shuts behind you, and then her mouth's on your neck again. Sakura can't seem to keep her hands off you once you're alone, but her kisses are possessive, teeth scraping, nails digging into your scalp as she drags her fingers through your hair. You can't deny the enjoyment of her pinning your body against the closed door, trapped by the weight of her lithe figure against the wooden surface. 

Just like that, she pulls away as fast as she started. Sakura stares hard at you, lip gloss smudged across her lips while you wait in the deafening quiet.

“So—" Sakura starts as she holds on to the kitchen counter and steps out of her heels. “You were enjoying yourself tonight, weren't you?"The question lingers more than it should, and the answer is anything but yes—but the hesitation sparks suspicion in her eyes. 

"No, not—" 

Sakura doesn’t give you a chance to finish. What’s next is a rough slap across your face that snaps you out of any protest that might be forming—a complete 180 from a second ago. The sting doesn't even register as much as her words do.

“You let her touch you.”

Her? You freeze. With how many people had been around tonight, that could’ve been anyone. Not to mention you’re not exactly in the business of letting anyone other than Sakura lay a finger on you. 

"Who are you even talking about?” 

There's another sharp slap that shuts you right up. Once again, you can’t even begin to process her words, because there’s only one person you’re interested in, and that’s Sakura. But you scatter to form a checklist in your mind: the waitress, one of Sakura’s colleagues, maybe someone in passing—you don't have a clue. The last hour of that whole event was such a blur that you’ve pushed out any thoughts that don’t involve that delicious slice of cake or Sakura. 

"Don't act clueless. The blonde across the table? With her fake fucking tits falling out of her dress who kept trying to undress you with her eyes? Ring a bell, yet?" Sakura's words are cold and accusatory, and it's like she's telling an entirely different story than what happened tonight.

"That blonde? She was drunk," you insist, wondering why Sakura is so concerned with something so preposterous . "I didn't—"

A third slap. This one connects hard enough to make you stumble back. You've gotten your fair share of jealousy in the past from Sakura. Hell, you've even seen her practically ready to pounce at another girl just for breathing the same air as you do. And now? The venomous way she looks at you, and talks to you. It's unnerving.

“What, are her tits better than mine?” 

“No, of course not. Your tits are fine—“

If you could choose the moment your world stopped, it would have been half a second after those words fell out. Unfortunately, that’s all Sakura needs to really lose it.

"Fine? Fine!?" The sound of her voice cracking breaks the deafening silence, and if you hadn't done anything before—well, you certainly have now. There's no return from this. "No, my tits are fucking perfect. If they were just fine, she wouldn't have had you so worked up in front of a table full of my subordinates. She's married, you know. But I guess you were too busy staring at her plastic fucking tits to even notice the ring that whore pretends to care about. "

"Sakura, I—"

"Don't fucking lie to me," Sakura hisses through clenched teeth. "That's my secretary. She's the type that can't take no for an answer, and I won't have her thinking you're fair game. You let her touch you. And worse, you smiled.”

Each word that comes out her mouth just gets more heated, like the accusation is more and more real each time one gets added. Her hands ball into fists, trying to stop herself from giving you another hard slap. “I don’t care what excuse you think you have. You belong to me.”

You can't even get another word out before Sakura pulls you away from the front door and drags you down the hall toward the bedroom. She practically throws you inside. Her manicured fingernails slide up under your chin, scratching along the edge of your cheek as she tilts your face upwards, until you're staring at her dead in the eye.

“Strip.”

You freeze, just for a second—long enough for her to slap you again.

“I said strip. Now." 

There's no room for argument. Not that you'd dare say another word. Your clothes hit the floor one piece at a time, and Sakura watches each layer that leaves you more exposed. Once you're left in nothing but your underwear, she grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks, snapping your head back without warning.

“I think you need a reminder of who you belong to.”

Another icy glare, and then you're shoved down onto your knees on the carpeted floor. Sakura towers over you, immediately lifting a foot and resting it square on your chest until she presses hard enough for you to collapse back onto the floor. And then the weight of her stocking-clad foot rests right on your face, until there's nothing you can really do—except breathe her in.

Not even a second to react as Sakura glares daggers at you from above and grinds her foot roughly across your lips. Her painted toes, all wrapped in silk, press harder, prying into your mouth to silence any potential response. You try to gasp for a breath, barely managing to once the scent of her foot starts filling your senses.

Shoving her foot deeper against your face, she’s waiting for an answer you can't give. Your vision soon gets consumed by dark fabric, and even though it's suffocating, the warm weight of her silky sole still has the capacity to arouse you. A moment later, she yanks her foot back from your mouth, finally granting you a brief chance to catch a few desperate gasps of air. 

"Open your mouth. Wide," Sakura orders. You do as instructed, and as soon as your lips part, she leans in close. She spits right into your mouth—once, then again, the third landing on your cheek. “Swallow." 

Without even thinking, you do as she asks. Because you always do. 

“Good boy. Now tell me—who do you belong to?"

“Y-you, fuck, I belong to you." 

"Wrong fucking answer," Sakura spits out, and her foot shoves right back onto your face, toes digging in harder. "Try again. Who. Do. You. Belong. To?"

Your lips fumble against the ball of her foot, desperate to spit out the right words when the weight leaves for another fleeting moment. “M-mommy owns me,” you stumble out, louder this time. “I belong to mommy. Only mommy, no one else."

There it is. The one word that makes Sakura's glare lighten up the tiniest bit. Her lips curl up into something resembling a small smirk, only for the pressure to come back tenfold, leaving you in this twisted combination of arousal and fear. The weight of her foot lingers with your nose practically buried into her arch. "Not a very good boy today if I have to fucking remind you, are you?"

But instead of easing her foot away to allow a response, Sakura only brings her toes back into your lips, hoping you'll get the message. Which you do—of course, because anything else would be a foolish mistake. So instead, you part your lips for the thin nylon covering the pretty pink polish, sucking as best you can in your position. 

It's sloppy and desperate, and only lasts a moment longer before the taste disappears from your mouth as she yanks her foot away. "That's all you get. My little foot worshiping slut can suck my pretty toes later. I know how much this turns you on, so that's why we're stopping here.” 

Sakura ignores your disappointed groan, sliding her foot down to your chest and shifting her weight to press harder. "Stay right there. Don't move. If you even think about touching yourself, you'll have a lot more problems than you started with."

All you can do is watch as she slides one strap of her dress off her bare shoulder, then the other, the entire thing crumpling to the floor in a matter of seconds. Underneath the fallen fabric, you get a view of a nearly naked Sakura, pink satin holding her shapely breasts up, a flimsy matching thong clinging to the curve of her hips, with pretty pink flowers along the lace. 

It's pretty—as expected, because anything Sakura wears is. It’s hard to resist staring, but you know that’s the whole point. She wants you to fall for the sight and beg. 

"You're not allowed to leave this spot without my permission. Are we clear?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes, what?" Sakura demands, kicking the dress to the side so she can straddle your waist, just a little tease to let you feel the wetness between her legs. 

"Yes, mommy. Crystal clear."

"Was that so hard? So you can be a good boy when you want.” 

Easing up her weight, she lifts off to slide her panties down her creamy legs, all while watching your flustered features. 

Sakura positions into a squat—right above your face. Her immaculate thighs straddle your head as she inches her ass down inch by slow inch, and soon you're met with the delicious sight of her wet cunt barely grazing your lips. "Keep your tongue out. Maybe if you do a good job making me cum—you'll get to do the same."

No time for an answer when the rest of her weight follows, filling the room with the sinfully sweet sounds of her moans. 

Your mouth has never gotten such a workout as Sakura grinds her slick cunt along the surface of your tongue, wrapping her hands around the sides of your head to lock you in place. She tastes like heaven, and god, your cock is aching and begging to slide into that wet heat, for more than just this lingering taste on your lips.

But she's careful to not let you get more than you deserve. Even as you're suffocated with this intoxicating scent and her nails dig deep into your scalp, you don't try to get selfish. Just small laps along the soft, dripping flesh of her cunt, listening to her every instruction, to every pleasure-filled sigh. 

"Fuck, such a good boy,” Sakura moans, squeezing your head tight between her warm thighs. "Need to make it up to mommy after what you did, hm? Hope you haven't forgotten I get to use you however I want. Whenever I want. No matter where we are, or whatever you're doing. You’re my obedient little toy to have my way with.” 

How could you ever forget your place, your purpose? 

Always in the back of your mind—a reminder in the form of a collar or rope burning into your skin, or when she slips a hand in your pants without warning, sliding them off so she can ride you. Even if that's during a bus ride or when a taxi is dropping her home. A little extra tip to keep the cabbie quiet, or even at a bookstore—where she demands your fingers in the manga section until she cums hard.

That applies more now than it ever has, using your face to get herself off. 

Words hardly matter once her pleasure really starts building. All that matters is her wetness smearing along every bit of your features, lips open and tongue lapping anything and everything it can, the scent enough to drive you mad. Sakura just uses you like her own personal toy, grinding and rolling her hips onto the length of your tongue with no rhythm in the slightest. And the harder you're pinned against the carpet, the harder your cock throbs without any touch.

"Ah, fuck—that's it. Good boy. Making mommy feel so good, aren't you? Keep sucking my clit just like that, god," she sighs, riding your face faster until her moans get just a little more out of control, nearly drowning you with the warm, dripping arousal spilling from her cunt.

Nothing you can do but listen and keep your tongue out. That’s your purpose, what a toy exists for, to be used at Sakura’s whims, to keep her thighs locked around your head to ride your face with no relent.

"Can't even breathe right now, can you? Maybe that's how you should stay. Mommy's dumb little fucktoy, on your back where you belong, worshiping me like the goddess I deserve to be treated like. And If you're really lucky, might bend you over and get my strap in that tight ass."

That all sounds perfect. But you know she'll make you work for that. That's no issue—because the longer she's satisfied, the bigger your reward will be. Even if she doesn't grant that, you don't care. Her pleasure is the only thing you can think about, and all you can do is lick and slurp, fueled by this delectable taste that makes you insatiable for more.

And when Sakura's hips roll with that same ferocious pace, you know she's starting to give you her all. "Right there, fuck. Gonna cum, you're gonna make mommy cum on your pathetic fucking face. Don't you dare stop. Don't stop, don't stop, yes, fuck—"

A last loud, pleased sigh is all that it takes for her thighs to clamp tight enough to steal your breath away. Sakura lets out a moan that fills the entire room—toes curling against the carpet as she rocks herself through the shudders and moans. Nothing quite like the feeling of her convulsing on your tongue, that beautiful face contorting in bliss, nails digging into your skull when you're locked between her thighs with the drenching spill of her slick across your tongue.

You've never been more happy to be covered in her, in the sweet essence that doesn't seem to have any end in sight. If anything, her thighs grip tighter as you drink down each and every drop with long, devoted laps like you'll simply die without it. Sakura lingers in that moment, letting the high take over as her eyes drift over your messy face.

"Good boy," she mutters under her ragged breaths, tangling her fingers through your hair. A moment to gather herself, and then she's lifting herself away with an unsteady movement in her legs. "Got a little messy for me, didn't you?" 

You nod, almost disappointed that you can’t breathe her in again. "F-fuck, you taste so good, mommy, W-want more—"

Sakura ignores such a request. Her thumb slips between your lips, forcing you to be quiet as she gazes at the mess all along your lips and chin. "That's too bad. I'm already done, and we can't have you being greedy now. Mommy is tired and needs to shower after a long night out, so you'll just have to take care of yourself. Feel free to jerk off on my panties or whatever you need to do. That's all the reward you get."

It takes everything not to whine in protest, trying to hold in the frustration as Sakura gets back on her feet. She picks up her discarded dress, turning to the door. "Well? What do you say to that? Aren't I being more than generous here to let you use my panties as a cumrag?"

"Yes, thank you." A sigh escapes under your breath as you pick the small, lacy fabric up off the floor, not even hiding the pitiable expression on your face. "Th-thank you, mommy, thank you. Please have a good shower."

Sakura doesn't leave until she sees you slowly tug down your underwear, giving her a view of that poor, hard cock of yours straining and begging for a bit of attention. You can't even help yourself, desperately starting to stroke when she makes her exit, with her panties bunched up in one hand while the other wraps tightly around the head of your cock. It doesn't take you too long—to reach the edge as your thoughts linger back to the image of Sakura with your cock slamming inside her tight, wet little cunt that feels way better than your own pathetic hand.

The fabric is soon stained with your thick, sticky release, letting out a disappointed sigh as you spill more than the silk can soak up. It doesn't satisfy one bit, cock still needy and throbbing. But you'll take what you can get, you suppose, gazing at the bathroom door, hoping she'll come back any moment and let you bury that neglected cock deep inside of her.

Another minute of stroking yourself idly, long after the arousal has faded—and no Sakura in sight. So you slip your boxers back up, lying there defeated on the floor without even trying to clean yourself or her soaked panties, and crawl into her bed to wait for her there.

"Won't be home until late. Don't worry about me if you want to order in," Sakura says in the bathroom mirror as you finish up brushing your teeth.

More disappointment washes over you. You can't help but wonder how late Sakura really means. Usually her definition of late isn't until midnight or maybe later, sometimes even showing up when you've already fallen asleep. 

"That's three days this week," you complain, not caring about how whiny and petulant you sound. But she doesn't seem too affected as she leans down towards the mirror, finishing up her makeup. 

"I know, I'm sorry. Just how it has to be when we have big project deadlines," Sakura sighs. "This one's important, so we have to go all in. The client's an ass, and—"

"I get it, it's okay. I'll miss you."

Silence lingers, as does her hesitation, wondering how she wants to respond. Sakura sets her mascara down on the counter before offering a quick kiss on your cheek. "That's sweet of you to say."

That's all that’s uttered, leaving the sink to finish getting ready. Almost on autopilot, you spit the remnants of your toothpaste out, rinsing your toothbrush before placing it back in the holder while your thoughts wander away. The water runs for a short bit while the sound of a door shutting echoes in the apartment, and you're not sure whether you want to endure an empty shower for another time this week.

"I'll have the iced peach tea. What do you want, babe? My treat," Sakura asks you, fingers gliding across the touch screen. 

"Uh—same thing is fine. Thanks," you answer, smiling back at her.

"Sweet or buttered popcorn?"

"Whatever you want. I'm okay with anything."

Sakura ponders on the answer a little too long as the two of you stand there, in the crowded line of people waiting at the concession stand. You look at all the options—way too many options (who the hell eats dry popcorn at the movies?) before settling on one large drink with two straws, a bucket of buttered popcorn, and two boxes of gummy bears, the sour kind. She taps her credit card on the screen, and seconds later, you've got your hands full. 

"Middle seat or end seat?" 

"Whatever is—"

"No, you choose. You let me pick everything else."

There's a bitterness to her tone, like your refusal to give a simple answer is somehow offending her. It doesn't stop you from hesitating for just another second.

"Middle. Wanna sit in the middle, please." 

"Good choice," Sakura says, pleased with a little smile when you decide for once. She leads the way up the stairs, purse on her shoulder while she searches for the perfect spot, all the way to the top row of seats with not a single person in sight. "Here. We're sitting here."

Letting her pass in front, you wait for her to sit in the middle, and she tosses her purse into the empty seat next to her and claims the cupholder on the right. You slide into the seat beside her, settling in with the popcorn bucket in your lap, as Sakura kicks off her heels to prop her bare feet on the chair in front of her, crossing one ankle over the other. Not exactly the most proper etiquette, but there's not a single soul to complain. 

The lights go dim. She digs the box of gummies out from her purse, grabbing a handful to shovel into her mouth at once while the trailers start. 

You recline back into the comfortable seat, sipping your peach tea as the lights dim further, and Sakura's manicured nails graze over the armrest, over to your thigh. She doesn't do anything more than give a gentle squeeze—but the familiar touch hasn't felt all too familiar as of late, enough to tense your muscles the slightest bit in response.

"Pass me the popcorn." 

Snatching up a handful before handing the bucket over, your attention turns back to the screen—only to lose interest moments later. Sakura doesn't even bother to grab any before she's setting it on the floor below and standing up out of her chair. You glance at her, more than a little confused, but it all gets cleared up once she tugs her sundress up her waist—and slowly, begins to tug her panties down her legs.

"What are you…" you start to ask, not able to finish once the tiny pair is draped around her ankles. Sakura kicks the blue lace away and sits back on the seat behind her, legs spread open enough that you're given an enticing view of that pretty little cunt. 

Your jaw drops. 

"Take your pants off. Now. Get that cock out and start stroking."

"W-what—"

"Your pants. Off. I'm fucking you, in case you were wondering. Or do you plan to keep me waiting?" 

"Wait, s-someone will—"

Sakura turns her head, looking behind before returning her gaze with a glare, daring you to keep arguing. "Who? Not a single fucking person in here. Why do you think I picked the worst movie possible to go and see? At this hour? Because I planned on doing exactly this." 

You're not exactly in a position to argue—especially with the way she's teasing a hand between her legs. So you unfasten the button on your pants and tug the zipper down as fast as possible, immediately feeling a rush of relief the second the fabric isn't constricting you anymore. 

Haste in every action as you reach to stroke yourself—but not sure you have the guts to do it yet. She gives you that one look—that threatening, commanding glare that tells you she's not fucking around, and you don't want to risk being disobedient.

So your hand closes around your cock, letting out a small groan when Sakura rewards you with that sweet smile of hers. 

"Doesn't that feel good? Trust me, we're not going to get caught. It's completely empty, no one can see us up here, and I know you want that big thing inside me. I've been neglecting you lately—this is my way of making up for it."

Even as you stare right in between her legs, at how wet she looks in the dim lighting, you still can't believe you're doing this.

"Just keep jerking off for me. Touch yourself for mommy. That's what a good boy would do."

Your grip tightens, stroking yourself while Sakura stares with that devilish gleam in her eye. She knows how weak this leaves you, how quickly your control will be given up while you take your time soaking up the view. 

And if that’s not enough to deal with, Sakura bites her lip, closing her eyes briefly as she focuses on her pussy, two fingers spreading those soaked folds to show off where exactly she wants you. 

"There you go. Keep pumping that hard cock for me. Nice and slow," she tells you, one finger starting to swirl in slow circles around her clit, sending a jolt through her whole body. "You can see how wet mommy is. I know you can’t wait for how good it'll feel to have that thick, throbbing cock buried inside my tight cunt. Tell me."

"Fucking—n-need it. Your pussy looks so soaked, god, I just wanna—"

"Tell mommy where you want it."

"Inside, I—wanna shove my cock right into that tight pussy—can I?"

Sakura chuckles softly, brushing damp hair away from her forehead as she teases her fingers at that dripping entrance of hers, dipping into it so you can see just how ready for it she is. "No. Because good boys don't ask—they beg."

"God, please. I wanna fuck you so bad. Need your tight, perfect cunt wrapped around my cock, need to see those tits bounce in my face—need to make you moan." 

"Getting there, but I need more convincing. Not sure you really want this pussy…” 

You can barely handle the anticipation as you fist that sensitive cock and pump furiously while Sakura slides those same digits deeper, in and out without care. Her wetness is audible, every messy, breathless whimper more broken than the last. "Want mommy to ride you like a toy? Use you and fuck myself however I want, since that's the only way you can please me right?"

"Fuck yes—please, fuck, anything, god—please, please let me inside you—"

"Anything?" Sakura repeats under her breath, moaning softly to herself before glancing down at how pathetic you've gotten. And you don't even hide it—you look as desperate as you can with this painfully hard cock straining in your grasp, needing it anywhere but your palm. 

"Anything, f-fuck—"

"Well then... we'll worry about that later. For now, shut up, sit still, and keep doing exactly what you're told until I say otherwise."

"Y-yes, mommy."

Nothing quite like the rush that shoots up your spine as Sakura hops off her seat, not even a second wasted as she climbs into your lap to straddle you while you look up with nothing but desire—and a mix of disbelief. "Bonus points if you can make me cum before the movie starts." 

You’ve got her cold hand palming over your length, getting as tight of a grip as she can—but instead of sinking down, Sakura inches her soaked cunt along the length, drenching you in the slippery evidence of her arousal as you take in the feeling. God, even this painful tease feels incredible against you, dripping straight onto your lap. And then she lifts up enough for the head of your cock to push between those drenched folds, sinking down on the first half—and pausing just for a few seconds as she lets out this satisfied sigh.

"Fuck," is all you manage before you realize your mistake.

Sakura scowls immediately, and she leans in close to cup your cheeks, ignoring the whimper that you let out. "None of that. What did I say about staying quiet? I'll give you one more chance—no more warnings." 

An obedient nod is all that you give. Sakura continues her descent down the rest of your length, nothing short of orgasmic the warmth you've been yearning for—slick walls clenching around while she shudders atop you. "Good boy. Didn't mean to make you feel ignored this week. But you get it, don't you? Mommy has a lot of important things to deal with..."

Words aren't really an option as Sakura gazes into your eyes and you can barely return the look. All you can do is focus on the vice grip squeezing your cock, and the slick mess spilling from her cunt as she rides without the slightest effort—all to the backdrop of the loud music playing on the movie screen.

"Mm, that's it. Splitting me open," she breathes out, digging her nails into the side of your skull as she finds a rhythm she likes. Every stroke, your sensitive cockhead kisses her deepest parts, stretching out her cunt in all the right ways. The lack of attention has turned you into the mess she loves seeing you in, and you grit your teeth in a poor attempt to muffle any noises while her hips move faster than you can handle. 

But god, does her cunt feel fucking good. Better than heaven. Nothing could ruin the way she sinks down on you, only to slowly slide back up, and then drop all her weight onto your lap. Not even the lingering worries that someone might still catch you.

Sakura works her hips a little faster, lips finding yours in an attempt to silence any noises. She bites that bottom lip of yours—tugs harshly for a few moments until she breaks away to lick at your earlobe, breath heavy on your skin as her strokes get harder to deal with, the wetness between her legs coating every inch. 

"You wanna make a noise, don't you? But you're being so good instead—you'll hold it all back until I'm done with you. Just in case though, I've got an idea on how to keep you quiet—"

A few more rough bounces and she's slipping the straps of her dress down her arms, enough to let her delicious breasts spring free. With no further instructions, you're on them in a flash, sucking a pretty pink nipple between your lips without a second thought.

"Ah, that's my good boy. Keeping that needy mouth busy for mommy." 

Sakura tugs at your hair as she sighs deeper, picking up the pace while the hunger inside you consumes. Messy saliva drips from your mouth while you alternate attention between nipples, licking and sucking whichever one you can reach at the moment, not getting distracted while her ass crashes down hard onto your lap.

"Listen to you, struggling to keep quiet—hard to do when you love mommy's tits so much, isn't it?" Sakura knows she's not getting a coherent answer. You just suckle at those delicious, hardened buds like you’re starved, nibbling enough to add a little extra to her pleasure that gets her to clench down a little harder. Even at this stage, you can hardly concentrate—lost in lust, and the last thing you’re worrying about is getting caught. Let someone. 

You're way past being giving a damn.

“My poor, greedy boy is so hungry for these… not that I blame you.” Her fingers tug through your hair, and the only response she gets is your groan, muffled around her nipple—but there's no punishment for it. Not when she's matching every sound, using them to fuel her hips.  

Just knowing your cock is exactly where it should be, that’s everything you need, having Sakura using your body is almost too much to handle. Even more now when she grabs the back of your head to shove your face deep into her cleavage, gasping as she bounces faster.

"Don't stop sucking them, god, that feels so fucking good. You know they get so fucking sensitive—“ And the moans can’t hide the harsh slapping sounds with how hard she’s riding. Harder and harder, impaling herself on your poor neglected cock. You just have to hold on and follow directions, looking so depraved as you suck and slurp these tits to your heart's desire.

"Shit, mommy is gonna cum, make a mess all over that fucking cock—just keep being a good boy. Keep making mommy feel so good,“ she demands with these loud cries, that it seems impossible no one can hear her. But the theater is nothing but dark and empty, with not a single thing to get in her way. 

One deep slurp and she’s taking what she wants. Her eyes flutter while those messy bounces lose rhythm, cunt squeezing tighter, using you to get off. 

All that demand fades into breathless moans as she slams down your entire length, buried deep and stays there, convulsing on your cock, thighs trembling with her arms wrapped around your neck— every single moment she continues to roll her hips until it's finally too much. 

But that doesn't mean those hips are going to stop working just yet. Because as much as she’s in desperate need of a breather after her own mess dripping down your shaft, she knows that you're hanging on by a thread—and she’s not in the habit of being selfish. 

"What do you say, my pretty little toy? About ready to blow that load inside mommy?" Your answer is muffled around the wet nipple you're sucking, only parting for a brief moment to nod. 

"Use your words now, baby boy. Tell mommy how badly you need to cum, need to empty those heavy balls. How you'd do anything to be good for me and spray all your hot, sticky seed inside."

She's got it mostly covered, but you groan out those same pleas between frantic little breaths, desperate to spill in that tight constricting heat. "You feel so good mommy, fuck—I need to cum, I-I wanna be a good boy and cum inside… can't hold it anymore—fuck. Please, mommy, please, let me—'

“You have my permission. Be my good boy and give mommy a nice, big load. Empty it all until that perfect cock has nothing left. Shoot it all, fill up mommy good.” 

Just a few more frenzied bounces, and you can't hold off. It's inevitable as she fucks the last bit of energy out of you until that point of no return is met, while she guides your hands back to those delicious tits of hers. And in a matter of moments, the explosion hits, releasing in several, aching spurts that have you pumping out. Even in the darkness, the bliss across your face is obvious as you unload that white mess deep inside her hot cunt.

"M-mommy—" you groan while those bounces refuse to relent. Not even for a moment, milking everything you have left, until your shaft can’t stop twitching with every inviting clench.

Sakura just laughs quietly at the exhaustion on your face, brushing fingers along your cheek before giving a loving kiss on the lips. "My pretty toy is so good—mommy is so proud of you. Filled me up so much.“

“Th-thank you, mommy. Needed to cum s-so bad…” 

“ I know you did, baby boy. Love when you unload that hot, thick load for me. Feels so good inside,” Sakura praises, letting your lips latch onto her swollen, sensitive nipples for one last fleeting moment. She pulls the straps of her dress back into place, lifting herself off your still throbbing, soaked shaft. And even in the faint light, the sight is beautiful—a thick, heavy mess that leaks from her slick folds and drips down her thighs, trailing its way down to the theatre floor. 

“Good boy…” Sakura says again before closing her eyes as she begins to slide a finger through the heavy load coating her slit, up and down until it's a sticky, shimmering mess. Then she brings that coated finger back up to your mouth, swirling it over the edge of your lip, dragging the pad over your tongue until you clean everything off with an eager little suck. "So hungry for mommy's taste, aren't you?"

You're not answering anytime soon, too busy with a finger between your lips. Another one enters, those same fingers that push further into your mouth, until you're forced to gag around them. 

"What do you say when mommy gives you a treat?” 

"Thank you, mommy."

Leaving her panties behind like a trophy for whoever stumbles across them, Sakura withdraws her slick finger and smears your own drool across your cheek. And you barely have enough energy to finish zipping up your pants, still spent and dazed, struggling to get yourself back together. You can barely stand. 

"Shame about the popcorn. Still hungry.” Sakura giggles, the bucket toppled over, kernels spilled along the floor. Maybe they were fine before she was bouncing up and down on you—but that doesn't matter much as you leave the empty theater row, anxious to make your escape. She finishes up the last drink from your shared cup, straw slurping dramatically before shoving her feet back in her heels, offering up her hand.

"Who needs popcorn when I had mommy's tits in my face?" 

Sakura can't even stop herself from giggling. "Keep being sweet and see where that gets you later, baby boy.” 

Now you can feel the urge to leave, because as lucky as you’ve been, you were both pretty loud, and you can bet anything, someone is going to find out what happened if you don't get out of here.

So she leads, a purpose in those quick steps as the two of you make your way through the row of seats and down the long staircase leading to the exit. Even on the other side of the theater, you can swear you hear something; maybe someone is about to start looking for the cause of your transgressions. 

But that's not a problem for you to worry about anymore. 

"Can't believe we got away with that.” 

“Have some faith in me. Told you that movie was awful," she says, almost irritated you didn’t believe her. 

"There was a movie?"

Sakura doesn't make a sound that isn't a giggle. Once you follow through the apartment door, she’s already stepping out of her heels. All you see after is that pretty dress falling from her shoulders, crumpled on the floor, bra still on but undone. That’s gone a moment later, her bare ass rippling with every step, hips swaying in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. When she’s fully naked, she glances over her shoulder, beckoning with just the flick of a finger. 

And you follow her to the couch like an obedient puppy, unable to look away at the flawless skin she's so proudly displaying. 

She looks like an absolute feast, spreading her legs wide to entice you even further. Practically drooling at the sight, all it takes is her piercing gaze for you to kneel between her thighs, her pussy presented right in your face, still slick as could be. 

"That's my good boy—didn't have to waste my time telling you what to do." 

Sakura’s hand slides to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as she guides your eager tongue exactly where she wants it. Her creamy thighs keep you pinned in place, wrapping around your head as you eat her out without any reservations. 

"Poor thing must be so hungry still," Sakura purrs, fingers tightening in your hair as your tongue works her over. "The more you eat me, the messier I get—but that’s what good toys do, use their tongue just the way mommy likes. Feels so fucking good...” 

The praise goes straight to your head. You’re eating her pussy with such fervor, desperate to lap up all this taste forever, tongue through her dripping slit while her thighs get tighter around your head. She looks gorgeous like this, moments away from another trembling orgasm with fingers digging into your skull, and there’s no other place you’d rather be. 

With how starved you are, it takes little time before she’s gushing in your mouth, tugging hard at your hair, and almost suffocating you with her thighs as she hits that sweet release. It’s beautiful. It all flows from her dripping pussy without restraint, toes curling, body squirming underneath as that satisfaction hits deep. In the comfort of the couch, there’s no need to control what sounds spill free, loud moans and breathy gasps flow out like the juices spilling between your lips, every last drop of yours to devour. 

Long past the point when Sakura has had enough, she eases off and collapses back, savoring the delicious high while you try and chase her cunt, until she pushes you away with a foot. "N-no more, shit. Not now. Mommy’s too fucking sensitive."

You’ll have to resist the chance to greed for more, but that doesn't mean you’re going to keep your mouth empty—focusing on a part of Sakura that isn’t as sensitive. Which doesn’t take long to find, kissing down her legs until you reach her petite little feet. Not a moment to think this over, sucking on her white painted toes, saliva coating them within seconds. 

"What do you think you're doing now?" Sakura asks, but not even close to a stern objection in her tone. So you're not going to stop as long as she lets you, sucking hard on each toe that slips between your lips.

"Mommy tastes so good. Can't help it."

"Well, keep sucking then," she says, lying back down to relax on the sofa, leg lifted enough with her toes flexing in your mouth. Nothing but satisfaction on her pretty face, a signal of how good it all feels. "Anything that gets you this desperate… I'll never get tired of seeing."

As if you needed more convincing, your tongue drags slowly up the sole of her foot before returning to those irresistible toes. Sakura just watches, eyes fluttering shut on occasion with a moan slipping out. One by one, you kiss each toe before it enters your mouth, giving everyone the affection it deserves. Each leaves with a wet, glistening sheen—and a satisfying, messy pop.

It doesn't end once you've taken care of both feet. Kisses get planted everywhere and anywhere, nothing to stop you as your mouth explores her soles, licking the sensitive area in between with slow drags, and every bit of her heels. The ball of each foot gets showered in love too, worshiping every inch and soaking them both up with adoration.

"Look at you—such a needy thing. Mommy's pretty feet are driving you this crazy," Sakura taunts, and each brush of her feet across your chin has you begging for more. 

More than happy to oblige, she forces her toes deep inside, where you're eager to accept them with another satisfied slurp. Sucking them straight back into your mouth and licking up all over, she’s giggling all over at your efforts, at every sloppy noise and greedy slurp that comes from you. "You'd never stop sucking my toes if I asked, would you?"

You give a loud suckle in response on her big toe, holding it between your lips. “Never. Hours. Days, however long mommy wants. Need your pretty toes in my mouth forever."

"You greedy little slut,” Sakura chuckles, and presses that silky soft sole against your face, dragging back and forth, and god you can hardly stand it. Sliding her other foot right towards your crotch to find the growing bulge, you grunt at the feeling of pressure against your covered cock.

"Maybe I really have been neglecting you lately. Always busy—don't even know how many loads you'd have blasting all over these by now,” Sakura muses, flexing her toes in your mouth, always knowing just how to rile you up. "But mommy thinks you deserve a nice reward. Wouldn’t you like that, my good boy?"

That's the question Sakura poses—while her toes begin pressing down in both locations, letting you enjoy the intense pressure from either side. You don’t even know which is more difficult to stand anymore, one foot rubbing along your shaft through those pants, or those cute toes stuffing your mouth. 

"Y-yes, mommy. Please," is all you can manage, and this might just be your most desperate, pitiful state yet.

"Good. Then get yourself out of those clothes by the time I come back."

When she vanishes down the hall, you scramble to strip down completely and wait, hands resting in your lap with all the anticipation in the world. 

Only a few moments later Sakura returns, but she's not empty-handed—nor is she wearing that dress any more. Because now she's all clad in black—long gloves, a leather top that barely contains the swell of her breasts, and a matching thong that hugs her hips and accentuates that tight ass just perfectly. But that's not what catches your attention the most—

That being the harness around her waist and two different dildo options held in her hand. Your eyes can't help but glance between them; a thick one and, well, a considerably thicker one, both in different shades of purple. 

"Which do you want?" Sakura asks, just the hint of a smirk on her face, watching every expression flash on your face as you contemplate a choice. 

Both of them are considerably intimidating—even the smallest, the first one that catches your eye is impressive in its own right. The other makes you pause; bigger and thicker than anything you've seen between Sakura's legs before. Which is why it's calling you—this craving to have it ruin you beyond what you think you can take. It's pretty and textured with bumps and ridges along every curve and slope, a little something extra for whoever takes that thing inside. Which is going to be you.

"That one. The big one, please," you answer without hesitation, watching Sakura discard the smaller dildo onto a nearby table. Her heels click across the wood floors as she steps closer, running a single finger down the shaft.

"That's my good boy. Always wanting a real challenge. You must feel a little deprived with mommy's busy schedule. But it's my job to make it up to you, isn't it? To make you feel so good, stretched nice and wide like only I can?"

You nod, watching closely as Sakura fastens the harness tighter around her waist, sliding the silicone shaft into place in one smooth motion. An easy routine for her as she makes it feel as part of her, hands on her hips so you can get a perfect view of what's about to split you in half.

And before she even gives the slightest prompt, you're bending over the edge of the armrest. Both hands planted firmly down, exposing your naked self from behind. Nothing Sakura hasn't seen hundreds of times already—but every part of it just reinforces how badly you want this.

"So that's how you want mommy to ruin you, is it? So cute how eager you are. Keep that tight ass of yours high for me."

The next step is her gloved hands spreading your cheeks, and you know all too well what comes next. But before the cap can even flick open, you feel something else—the tease of something wet pressing right against your asshole, Sakura's tongue working in slow, gentle circles. 

You can't help the gasps that follow from your parted lips, especially when the tip of her tongue slides just a bit deeper. Back and forth, prodding at your entrance, to give a little sample of what you're really getting ready for. Just the way Sakura knows you crave it, her tongue plunging in deeper and fucking your ass for a few brief moments before drawing it out again.

"Just getting you nice and warmed up," she assures, but her wet, sloppy efforts seem to be over way too soon. You know exactly what comes next: a slicked-up fingertip, pressing against the tight ring of muscle and pushing its way inside. "Relax for me."

You give an obedient nod, sucking in a deep breath as you work to ease the tightness that tries to keep her out. The very finger you know how to take, starting with one before sinking in the second one beside it a few moments later. Both massage inside, slowly opening you up in a process she knows all too well, two fingers slowly pumping in and out until there's no more resistance.

"Ready to take mommy's cock? Get all nice and stuffed full?" she asks, but even as the question leaves her lips, those two fingers are pulling out, replaced by the sound of lube being squeezed all over the length of that silicone nudging at your entrance. 

"So fucking ready. Want mommy inside me, please—need it."

"You're too cute. Hold tight, baby. Relax. Breathe, and tell me if it's too much." 

"Y-yes, mommy.” 

Her hips rock forward, slow, but not hesitant. The lubed head of the dildo slides with ease, pushing far enough to sink inside you just a fraction—already leaving you groaning. It's not exactly an unfamiliar feeling, but so much different from the toys that Sakura's fucked you with before, each ridge and bump bringing along its own sensations all along your ass as the thick shaft inches deeper inside.

But still, your body gives little resistance, the slightest progress is enough of a rush of bliss to make you crave more, trying hard to welcome that delicious intrusion.

"Look at that, it's going in so nice and easy. Taking everything like a good boy for mommy," Sakura coos, grabbing your hips to support herself, sliding the shaft even deeper, slow and steady. "Need more, baby? How does it feel?" 

"It feels good, mommy feels so fucking good inside me. I-I need it. I want it all in me. Mommy—please."

There's a slight laugh from her pretty lips, easing that purple dildo in deeper, every bump and ridge hitting just right and stretching you wider the more she sinks in. Sakura caresses your lower back, until almost every inch can comfortably slip inside to the hilt. "Good boy. You're doing so good—making mommy proud. Does my baby boy like it this deep?"

A weak nod and nothing more than a pathetic groan is all you can manage while that thick length remains motionless inside you, letting you adjust to every overwhelming sensation. 

"Gonna move now, okay?" Sakura warns, stroking a gloved hand down your spine and giving your ass a playful slap. "Make my pretty boy feel real good."

When her strap withdraws to leave just the tip inside—that's the exact moment all the sensations hit at once. When Sakura drives back in, burying in all at once and starts to really fuck you. She eases into a rhythm, her grip tightening as she plunges it in over and over, giving your prostate just what it needs. "Look at you take this, bent over for mommy like a desperate little slut. It's all in now, how does that feel, baby boy?"

And while it's difficult to answer, you know better than to ignore her, even as Sakura sinks inch after inch of her thick, purple cock deeper into your needy asshole. "Feels fucking good, mommy, p-please. Want more. Love how mommy fills me."

There's nothing that would deny Sakura from doing just that—hearing every needy plea and whine coming from your mouth. Each word encourages her as the strap drills harder, forcing you to hold onto the armrest for dear life, unable to hold back from how good that silicone cock makes you feel. "God—you love mommy fucking your ass, don't you? Took that whole thing like it was nothing. Think I can go even harder?"

Sakura doesn't give you time for an answer, ramming in every inch at once while your ass squeezes around the thickness inside you. Harder thrusts fill you deeper with each rougher slam of her hips, giving a slap across your ass with every few strokes.

"I asked you a fucking question. Does my sweet boy want me to be rough? Use your words."

"Y-yes. Mommy can be as rough as she wants. Please. It—it feels so good, please, mommy—need it harder—r-ruin me."

That's all the answer she needs, forcing the rest of her strap inside, making you feel it so deep that there's never been this kind of relief. Making you take every slam of that thick cock all the way to the hilt while she fucks into you over and over. Not an ounce of mercy left—fucking your ass like she thinks you deserve, like she loves to see. It doesn't even matter how desperate you sound, each slap on your ass so perfectly timed, making your cock leak and twitch between your legs.

"You fucking love this, don't you? My little slut is so good—taking me so well. Tell mommy how much you need this cock inside you, pretty boy. Say it."

She thrusts, so relentless in each one, and a smack on your ass comes with the next one, all on relentless repeat. And yet you still need more. "Love the way you fuck me, mommy. Feel so full, so good, p-please, need my asshole pounded, g-god, please."

There's the softest giggle from her lips, Sakura finding new found joy in seeing how well you beg—just letting all those filthy, desperate thoughts flow right out. 

That's when her fingers close in on your neglected cock, gripping just tight enough and slowly stroking down the entire length. As if you needed anything else making you more of a pathetic mess, throbbing and shaking from each slam deep into your prostate. 

"Your poor cock feels so swollen and ready to erupt. Bet a few little strokes could get you there while mommy is so deep in your ass." 

You'd be lucky if you even last that long, struggling to stay coherent as that dildo picks up an even rougher pace as Sakura keeps slamming away, fingers steadily jerking you off. Every time the silicone brushes up against a particular sensitive spot and pushes all the way inside, that's what almost tips you over. The delicate strokes on your cock don't make things any easier, or the filthy things that get whispered right in your ear.

"Can't wait until you cum. Wanna hear all those noises you'll make with mommy's strap deep in your asshole—exploding all over this fucking couch." 

Sakura is ruthless, both in the way she fucks you and the words she whispers, keeping that strap driving in so deep until you can barely speak a coherent sentence. It's getting closer and closer to that edge, her hand pumping your shaft while she slams her hips with the same intensity, each one that threatens to have you spurting everywhere.

"M-mommy—"

"Yeah? Say it, tell me you're about to cum, tell mommy all about how her strap is getting you ready to make a mess."

"I-I'm close, so fucking close, gonna—mommy's gonna make me—"

A light squeeze, one that comes at the right time, and that's all you need to lose yourself completely. Your legs shake with the pleasure hitting an instant peak, one more slam, one more stroke has you groaning like never before as your climax hits hard. Thick streaks of cum burst all over her fingers, shooting onto the sofa and cushions below. The friction doesn’t cease with Sakura’s strap pounding away, squeezing tight around your swollen head to milk out every violent spurt, until you’re trembling, reduced to a helpless mess. 

"There we go. Good boy, let it all out. Give me every drop you've got, come on, baby boy."

The thick, warm streaks continue without relent. Until Sakura has her gloved fingers coated and grip tight as you ride out the high, continuing to fuck you while you spill a load bigger than any she's taken from you before. When the spasms die down—when you're a sensitive, twitching mess on the couch, only then does she finally slow to a stop, keeping herself buried deep while you recover. 

There's a weakness you've not felt before, your cock so sensitive, your ass so empty once she pulls back—until those hips withdraw the strap inch by inch, your entire body shuddering when she does.

"Good boy. That's my good boy. Just relax for a moment, mommy's got you."

As you fall limp, you let out a tired, breathless sigh with Sakura leaning over your back and placing little kisses down your body until you finally find some stability again. Only after you collapse to the side to rest, watching as she leans back with a satisfied grin, bringing her fingers coated in your cum right up to her lips. She doesn't hesitate even once, sucking every drop off them. 

"You did such a good job, took me so well. Let's get you all cleaned up."

Your body feels wrecked, aching in ways you'd never been able to imagine. Fatigue hits like a truck as soon as everything is said and done. Only while the water runs hot can you regain the use of your legs, recovering little by little, especially while a naked Sakura opens the glass shower door to get inside.

Leather scatters all over the bathroom floor, and you can see the harness sitting at the side of the sink, the purple dildo hanging off to the side, washed and sanitized, ready for its next use.

"Doing a lot better, baby boy?" Sakura asks the moment she steps under the hot running water, helping soap up your body. "Mommy really did a number on you—thought I might have broken you a few times."

You almost zone out in the bliss of the steamy shower, enjoying the serenity and relaxing against her. "Better now that mommy is here."

"What are you so sweet for?" Sakura just smiles, pressing her body right up against yours. And for everything you just went through—that's all it takes to know it's all worth it. Just for that. That beautiful smile with Sakura's wet hair stuck to her face.

Even as sore as you are, those loving hands feel like they're magic, helping you through the ache, washing and cleaning every inch, never breaking away even for a second. For as rough as Sakura can get—and god knows you've never had it quite that rough—she takes the utmost care of you after. Never going too far unless she knows you're ready to handle it. "My baby boy takes a pounding so well though. Even with that brand new strap mommy bought for you, it was a lot, and yet you wanted more."

She smiles again, reaching up to cup your cheek, content to soak in the silence of the shower as if nothing else exists but the steam and hot water pouring down over both of you."

"Always want more of you, mommy. Always." 

"I know, baby. Always so needy for me, my pretty boy. Always does what mommy wants." 

The shower is nothing more than a quick respite. 

Once the water gets turned off and the towels hit the floor, the only thing on your mind is those silk sheets—and forgetting what day it is when you wake up. But you know that's not in the cards, at least not anytime soon. Sakura, of course, doesn’t bother covering up. She walks through the apartment naked, completely unbothered, heading to the kitchen. 

Swinging the fridge door open, she grabs a bowl of strawberries and hops up onto the counter with the same ease she handled you just minutes ago. 

You stand there for a moment, just taking her in.

"Enjoying the view?” Sakura asks as she pops a strawberry between her lips, swinging her legs back and forth over the side of the counter. And you have to laugh. Because it’s comical, the image of Sakura—how small she actually is compared to the space she occupies, this petite thing that manhandles you so easily, even though the difference in size is so obvious when she's not towering over you. Even in heels.

"Can’t help it. Can’t help staring, when mommy looks so good naked.” 

Sakura sucks on the strawberry, not the least bit subtle about it. She returns the favor and keeps staring at your body in return, slurping all the juices that drip over her tongue.

"Well, I do love when you stare. So keep staring and come here." And when you find yourself inching closer to her, those legs of hers wrap right around your waist, trapping you in the warmth of her body. "Open."

A simple request that has your lips parting with ease, as you bite on the strawberry she offers, taking it back and forth until it's gone. She holds her fingers stained with sweet berry juice out, and you don’t even think twice about closing your lips around them. One at a time you suck them clean, savoring every drop. 

“Tastes good. But mommy tastes sweeter.” 

That only has Sakura blushing. 

"You're so—oh my god, baby, look who's the sweet one."

And once every digit is all clean, you still keep sucking, taking two at a time and coating them with spit until she pulls away.

"My good boy is extra needy today, hm? Can't go a second without something between those lips. Sucking my toes, my fingers, my strap. That cute little mouth is insatiable, isn't it? The things it does to me..." 

Another strawberry fed into your waiting lips, this time letting you savor the sweet flavors for yourself. Sakura watches in delight the entire time as she finishes off the last bit, fingers slipping back between your eager mouth, which you suck on greedily the second her taste hits your tongue again.

"You want something else between these lips, don't you?" She reads your thoughts with ease, her gaze drifting down between your legs to find you hard all over again—like she isn't the exact reason you’re in that state to begin with. The culprit to all your fantasies, as you stare at her perfect tits, wanting to latch your lips on them for hours while she slowly strokes your cock, edging you close to the breaking point, so you’ll suck them even more. 

"Didn't hear an answer. Is there something else you want between these lips? Something that you need to stuff between them?"

"Want m-my cock in your mouth, please. So bad, want mommy's lips wrapped around me, want them swollen and dripping with cum."

"Then what do good boys do to get what they want?" Sakura asks as she jumps off the counter and strokes you at a languid pace, thumb rubbing gentle circles over your swollen, wet tip. 

You feel like you’re the one one about to be on your knees instead of her. It's more complicated than it should be, getting a simple word out. One word that'll have her on her knees, watching you and keeping those lips wrapped tight and wet. But god, do you ever fucking try your best—

"Say please, say you've been a good boy who deserves mommy's mouth."

"P-please, please, mommy," you manage, having so much difficulty getting a damn word out with Sakura squeezing the head of your throbbing shaft. "Please—" 

"Okay, okay, that's enough. Less begging, more moaning, my needy boy."

Sakura doesn't linger, not when she’s about to give you the best reward you’ve ever had. In a heartbeat, she's right where she’s needed—knees on the kitchen tile with those full lips hovering over your swollen cockhead, planting a single kiss against your slit that draws the deepest moan you can muster. And god—those pretty, sparkling eyes stay on yours the entire time. 

The way Sakura knows damn well how bad you want to fuck her throat, how much you need to use those gorgeous lips to cum—she senses everything when she stares up. When she waits for your reaction when her tongue makes contact, dragging from base to tip in the slowest way.

"No touching until mommy says you can," Sakura instructs, and that's not an order that's easy to comply with—not when she's this voracious, not when her mouth is hot and wet, running the flat of her tongue up and down over every sensitive inch. So all you can do is grip at the kitchen counter, giving a few futile squeezes before you can hardly stand upright at all, as you watch those pretty lips wrap tight around the tip of your cock.

"I—god, fuck, please," you groan out after one slow, satisfying suck, her mouth easing further down, only to pull back and stroke your spit-drenched shaft at a feverish pace. Every inch that sinks deeper into her mouth, the sweeter the bliss of all that suction that gets drawn out is.

"My needy baby. Needed mommy on this beautiful cock, didn't you?" Sakura teases, planting a few kisses down your shaft and diving back to take half your length down her throat, not a trace of struggle on her end.

"F-fuck, always—always fucking need you."

"Mwah," she parts her lips with a pop, and that tongue is just as dangerous, licking slow, leaving every inch nice and slick with drool. "I know. But you're gonna keep being a good boy and watch me while I suck this delicious cock. Get it all nice and sloppy like you love." 

With a rough slap against her tongue she takes another hard suck, pushing forward to swallow more of you until you're feeling her breath against your balls. One quick suck after another, head bobbing down your wet cock, and every lewd, noisy slurp she makes only heightens your arousal. The sounds of all that suction only has you fighting the urge to thrust into her mouth, to fist her hair and drive those lips down the rest of your throbbing length.

"Mmph, your cock tastes so damn good. You're doing so good staying still for mommy while I give your dick what it deserves. So big, and all mine," Sakura gasps out as she sucks away, lips down until they hit the base, getting a good, firm grip on your balls to fondle while you try not to explode down her throat too fast.

She's driving you fucking insane with that warm mouth of hers, especially when she pushes all the way down and just holds—keeps every inch locked away inside, nose buried into your crotch as her throat massages the length of your cock. All she has to do is stare with those eyes that drive you crazy, cupping your balls while she hums, and you swear the vibrations are enough to put you right over the edge—

"F-fuck, that feels so, your mouth feels so good, god, m-mommy—"

When it's almost too much to take, her lips release their hold and all you feel is empty again, until Sakura dives back down. She's sucking so hard on the tip you nearly burst, having to push that urge away again and again. 

It's that light, teasing stroke along the underside that sends you spiraling the most—her soft pink tongue flicking all those sensitive spots in rapid succession, her hand squeezing right where her lips aren't. "Could make you cum just like this. My tongue here, nothing else.” 

She doesn't waste time when your moans reach that breaking point, sliding right back down, lips working along until her tongue meets the base with these anything but gentle flicks.

You’re not a bit ashamed about the desperate moans that spill out either. 

The next few seconds are a blur, as Sakura guides your hands to either side of her head—letting you grab her hair, just where you want, all the power handed right over. And the only thing she does is rest her hands on your thighs, nails digging in. This silent permission to push her right down and use her throat.

She parts her lips without hesitation, letting you dictate her movements and control the pace of her bobbing head. You force her head halfway down, thrusting your hips to slam the last half in one satisfying movement. 

Then you're picking up that frantic pace, repeating it again and again as the neediness starts getting the best of you. Until her lips are a mess of drool, which only has you bucking your hips into her face, causing Sakura to let out a gargled moan with your cock plunging in deep with no reprieve. 

"F-fuck," you grunt, driving your hips as you fuck her pretty mouth, a loop of endless lust that fuels it all. The noises she makes around your throbbing shaft fuel you as you keep stuffing her throat full, none of it a challenge for her at all. But still, she does her part—staring with those big, beautiful eyes of hers while you take exactly what you need from her. "Feels so good, god, mommy. So damn—" 

Once more she grips at your thighs and closes those lips even tighter around you. Another rough thrust and your cock plunges deep, holding her there for a few seconds so she can gurgle out a deep, stifled moan, one that almost has your balls emptying down her throat. 

And then you do it again, each time forcing Sakura down all the way, as her eyes begin to water, but never breaking eye contact the entire time. Not when it feels too perfect to pull back, her fingers grasping so hard onto your thighs, never wanting you to stop until you're completely drained. 

Which won't be long, not when Sakura takes every inch like a fucking champ—doing nothing but keeping her mouth open to let you slide back and forth between those perfect lips. You don't dare think about slowing the insatiable pace, not for a second, even with the drool dribbling over her chin and down to her tits, dripping everywhere. Not when you can't hold out a moment longer, close to giving her throat the load she desires. 

"Gonna cum," you gasp out, all your senses overwhelmed, fucking into her mouth so fast, so desperate to tip right over that edge. “Oh god, mommy, gonna cum. So close, fuck—I'm s-so fucking close." 

Another tight squeeze on your thighs is the approval you need to finish the job, gripping her head tight and pistoning your hips with everything you have left. Her nails dig even harder into the flesh, a moan to encourage your imminent release. Then with one final grunt, you bury deep into her warm mouth and hold her right there, unable to withstand a moment longer—

Sakura's eyes widen, lips down to the very last inch of your throbbing shaft, right against your balls when your cock unloads. 

Every violent spurt empties inside, a thick torrent straight into her stomach, no easing up on the grip in her hair while it all flows into her throat. You've got her gaze locked, her throat contracting, guzzling down each thick spurt of cum that spills out.

Nothing feels as good as Sakura's throat milking you dry, the perfect place to dump your load. You can't remember how to even breathe, just keeping your spent cock nestled within her warm little mouth for as long as you can stand it, and even a little longer after that. 

“Jesus," you gasp, releasing that tight grip. But her lips don't stop, not for a second, holding your hips as she keeps right on sucking—harder and faster. The overstimulation never stops, not until she wants it to, drawing out moan after helpless moan as you can only try to hang on. Staying right where she is and not letting go an inch, Sakura won't dare let a single drop spill. Her mouth only moves off once she's sure nothing is left in your balls, taking her sweet time kissing the tip of your cock.

"Mommy made her toy cum really hard, didn't she? Shot your heavy load in my mouth like a good boy."

“Y-yeah—“ 

"But is that all I get?" Sakura asks and rises to her feet, seizing your cock and pumping a few times, though your sensitive state shows and you nearly recoil. "Not fair mommy swallowed all of your delicious cum and didn't have a chance to get off, is it?" 

Exhaustion on your face, you can’t even answer, slowly being backed against the door of the refrigerator with your cock still in her grasp. She’s not giving a second to recover with this predatory gleam in her eyes as her grip on you tightens.

"Mommy isn't done with you just yet. Not when this cock is still so hard and needs somewhere warm to go, doesn't it?"

You simply nod—how can you possibly do anything but nod? You're nowhere near ready to go again, but the way she looks at you slaps you full force in agreement. 

"You're gonna hold me up and fuck me. While I wrap my legs around and you bounce me on this cock like a good boy. Got it? Don’t drop me."

Whatever reluctance you think you might have as you hoist her up, isn't going to stand a chance, not when Sakura is quick to take her rightful place—legs coiled and locked around your waist. Not even a second to breathe, before she drops down and impales herself on you, every inch disappearing into that perfect heat you've barely had a chance to miss. 

This time, when the tightness hits and your cock is swallowed up by her delicious warmth, it takes everything you have not to drop her. 

You're spent—completely fucked out, and the worst part is she knows it. Knows how you can hardly take being buried inside her again. All of your sensitive cock is in the heat of her cunt, so slick and squeezing tighter than ever. And still—you move for her. Every thrust is a fight against your own overstimulation, but you can’t keep your hips from moving.

You couldn’t stop if you tried. 

"God, f-fuck—" Back pinned up against the fridge with the entirety of Sakura's petite frame in your arms, your dick throbs and twitches in ways you didn't know possible. The softness of her breasts press up against your chest as they bounce, and it's up to you to do the rest. To give everything that's demanded. 

Your overworked muscles and weakened legs barely manage, but the cries coming from Sakura are well worth it as you lift her up and slam her back down, giving all you have to fuck her. She's in no way making things easy for you, clenching so hard around your oversensitive cock, nails digging into your back and holding on just to ride out the pleasure you're giving her. 

"You can do better than that. I know you’re a good fucking toy. Fuck me, fuck me harder," she demands—and it only serves to encourage you to push past the exhaustion. When your movements slow even for a second, you don't even need to meet the glare that reminds you to think otherwise. And without saying a word, she's demanding you thrust up into her with all you've got left, regardless how much the ache in your cock wants to do the opposite. 

"Harder. Come on," Sakura orders—the one and only warning you'll get. "Fuck me harder like a good little fucktoy does." 

So you have no choice but to surrender to her words, to pump your sore shaft into that slippery heat with such rapid fire thrusts that no matter how much you need a break, you can't. Not now—not as long as you have the resolve to stay buried in her wet cunt.

Her pussy takes every inch and clenches impossibly tight, greedy to swallow you whole inside, even when your body is hanging on by a thread. Almost on auto-pilot, you keep driving into her, back pressed hard against the fridge as you desperately bounce her on your length. She squeezes like never before, knowing what it'll do to your poor, exhausted cock, with her legs clamping around your torso until you can't pull free if you try. 

"So good. Making mommy's pussy feel so fucking good," Sakura moans against your neck, nipping her teeth across the sweaty skin. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—“ 

You don't, because you can’t—fucking her so rough and hard, almost forgetting the ache as your body keeps doing its part without any say in the matter. Sakura clings onto your body, this small frame so easy to hold tight with your fingers digging into her ass, refusing to relent until she lets you. And she clenches so desperately when that sweet release gets near, until her entire body turns into a shuddering wreck. 

All it takes is her biting into your shoulder—hard, her cunt gripping down like a vice around your aching cock, and there's only the briefest warning until you feel the flood of her climax soak every inch as you keep ramming on through.

The moment Sakura's tightening walls suffocate around you, you're helpless, her legs so constricting you can't do anything but keep every inch deep inside. You're gripping her ass so tight as those legs stay wrapped tight around your waist, and you thrust into her hard—giving her everything her soaked pussy is begging for. Every moan echoes, and she’s dripping all over the kitchen tile—soaking you both, with nowhere to go except the floor beneath. 

"Good boy, such a good boy for mommy," Sakura cries out, but doesn't seem to notice how her legs are beginning to loosen their hold. "Let it out, baby. F-fucking let it all out."

Everything else is a blur when you lose control, right as the words sink in, unable to resist her clench for even another second longer. All it takes is a few pumps—

You cum. Right as she wants and you can't help it, burying inside to shoot the most sharp climax of the day. With one final, animalistic grunt, every twitch of your cock spurts sticky, white seed straight up into her walls. Deep inside that intoxicating cunt that grips you tighter by the moment, keeping your throbbing cock lodged inside while your balls empty.

Until you have nothing else. Until it's pouring right out of her wet cunt, all your strength concentrated in your hips, with your legs on the verge of buckling underneath the sheer force it takes to keep Sakura held up. 

That's how this ends. This combination of depraved moans and greedy kisses, violent throbs that don’t cease as you pump everything into Sakura—until you meet your demise, falling onto the kitchen floor in a heap with her lying on top of you. 

Her tiny body feels ten times heavier, or maybe it's the cold kitchen tiles, the exhaustion—you're not really sure. 

She stays above, the mess between her legs threatening to leak right back out as she devours your lips in all these hungry kisses, tangling her fingers in your hair like she’s praising you for a job well done.

"I said don't drop me."

"Didn't. My legs gave out," you clarify between kisses as she moves to the side of your neck, and can't help but break out into giggles. 

"Poor baby, mommy used you so much. Couldn't handle filling my tight pussy again?" 

"Not my fault mommy wore me out. So insatiable and demanding.” 

Sakura laughs, kissing down your face as the aftermath settles in, enjoying the mess between her legs.

“You wouldn't have it any other way. Don't pretend like you didn't enjoy cumming inside me twice."

She's right. Obviously. But you’re far too spent to even think about a comeback. You can't give her the satisfaction she seeks, so you'll just kiss her quietly instead. Before long, Sakura's the one failing to hide that smug little smirk that says she's not even close to being done—not when she grabs your wrists and holds them above your head, this display of dominance reminding you how you're always at her mercy.

"You like when mommy uses you whenever, however I need to—you'll do anything I say, no matter what it is. Isn't that right?"

There is absolutely no use fighting it. All you can do is give out a nod.

"Use your words. Good boys use their words."

"I love when mommy uses me,” you say, louder than before. “What mommy needs, she gets. No matter what. No matter when.” 

“Mhm. There's my good little fucktoy." 

Even in this worn out state, Sakura leans in, lips finding your neck as she sucks hard, determined to leave her mark—teeth sinking in without the slightest hesitation. The pain is so very welcome, proof that she really does own you. Her teeth leave that sweet spot, trailing fleeting kisses down your chest, until she teases a nipple with the lightest graze of her tongue. 

The sensitivity is nowhere gone yet, so you can't help but whine out, even more when her fingers tease the other. Slow twists and rolls, a pinch here and there, it all does the job, adding the most minimal stimulation that feels so overwhelming. "If mommy wanted to ride you again right now, you'd let me, wouldn't you? No matter how sensitive and worn out that cock is?" 

A question of pure torment. A question she already knows the answer to. 

"Always. Wouldn't say no. Mommy can have this cock whenever and however she wants it."

"Good answer. Don't ever forget that. Mine to use and fill me as many times as I need.” 

Sakura is slow when she rolls off you, lifting up just so you can see exactly what you've left between her thighs—a creamy mess that floods out, the results of what she can empty out of you.

"Those poor balls still had all this left to give me, made such a huge, dripping mess, hm?” It just leaks everywhere, with her fingers playing with the mess inside, trying to drag even more out. "Think you've earned a break, baby boy. Let's get you something to eat that isn't my pussy."

With that, Sakura helps you to your feet with the last shreds of energy she has left. The walk to the bathroom is slow, for both of you.

Hot water fills the bath, a healthy dose of bubble bath pouring in while the tub fills. it's exactly what your body needs, along with Sakura sitting behind you. When you relax against her, she tilts your head back, wrapping an arm tight around you, trailing light kisses along your shoulder and neck as your eyes close to relish the affection. 

"You okay, baby boy?" Sakura asks with that sweetness in her voice that always catches you by surprise. You couldn't be better. No matter the exhaustion that makes it hard to move, her hands gently caressing all over is the best reward. 

"More than ever." Your eyes feel heavier than ever, the kind of exhaustion where you could fall asleep in an instant. Though it's tempting, you don't want to miss a moment of her attention.

"Not yet. Stay awake for me, okay? So I can clean you up and make sure you're taken care of. My good boy deserves being spoiled."

That's enough motivation to do exactly that. 

Sunday morning, and it's a rare day off for Sakura—something that comes along only once or twice a month. Weekends are just as busy for any real relaxation, which means this lazy day will be appreciated more than ever. 

And because Sakura is free today, that also means you're by her side like a shadow. 

This time, it’s the couch, legs half-tucked under her with the glow of a screen shining on her face. All Sakura has on is these tiny black gym shorts and a snug white top, thin enough you can practically make out the outline of her breasts. With every shift, the fabric rides up, exposing her flat stomach, that enticing bit of skin that you can't help wanting to drag your tongue against.

You're finding it hard to resist doing just that.

And then there are her tits—they're perfect and delicious, and even hidden behind fabric, you desperately want them in your mouth. Her body is a goddamn work of art, legs all creamy and silky smooth, that ridiculously tiny waist and the curve of her ass peeking out the bottom of her shorts. It's enough to drive you to absolute insanity.

Perfection. You're right here sitting next to her, not a word said with this ache in your pants getting worse by the second.

Her gaming sessions always go like this. Completely and totally distracted, lounging on the couch in whatever is most comfortable. When the mood hits, as it often does, it's not like you can really help yourself. The way she focuses so hard with her eyes glued to the screen, shifting to another position that exposes more skin while you massage her feet. 

It's those shorts that show way too much thigh. That shirt that teases the curve of her breasts. And when those plump lips of hers wrap around a straw to take a drink—all you can imagine is them wrapped around a certain part of you. It’s so pathetic to be this weak, but you can't ignore the heat growing inside, not when her tight little body is on display and every bit of you is silently begging to give it the attention it deserves.

So you dive in—deliberate in every motion, but careful not to distract. Starting just above the waistband of her shorts, you can’t starve off the ache to press hot, lingering kisses right along that creamy skin. 

Sakura catches on pretty fast.

"Baby—" Turning her attention, she glances down, furrowing a brow at the sight. “What do you think you’re trying to do?"

"N-nothing." 

It’s a response that comes out as more than a little pitiful, as if you couldn’t fathom the idea of being caught. 

"Clearly something, if you're distracting me from Splatoon like this," Sakura says, caressing the side of your face for a fleeting moment. 

"Just—just thought mommy deserved a little attention."

"Aren't you the sweetest? But mommy is busy right now. On a three game winning streak that I don't plan to give up. So you'll have to wait."

Just like that, she goes back to her game without a further glance in your direction. You're not a stranger to being lower on her priority list, rejected for something else that has her attention. It’s not like you expect her to drop her progress or halt her fun—but when her shorts keep riding up, exposing more cheek—you can’t stand it. Not when it makes your pants uncomfortably tight. 

Nor can you help but grind against her, slipping a finger into the opening of her shorts and grazing the lace of her panties. Sakura gives zero reaction, holding focus while your digits trace along the elastic. 

"Now, now, baby boy—you better behave. Mommy told you she was busy." 

Being scolded like this before is all too common, but in reality that’s little deterrent, if any. An easily dismissed warning that only encourages you to indulge, kissing at her inner thighs, until you’re close enough to breathe in her scent. You’re wearing the desperation on your face like a flashing sign, but you don’t care. You need relief. Badly. 

"Someone is awfully needy." That’s when this hint of annoyance creeps up in her tone. Which goes ignored. Because when aren't you? Shameless and desperate is your specialty, and being turned down and told to wait isn't going to cut it. When the throb is this urgent, you can't hold back, not when Sakura looks like an absolute feast that you just want to devour. 

It's getting increasingly difficult. You don't even have to do much that will distract her—just pull those skimpy shorts down, slide her panties to the side and bury yourself in her heat. That's the best solution to both of your problems, as simple as that. You’ve come this far, and there’s no turning back. More kisses up her thigh, as each touch gets more daring. It all goes ignored, even while you drag a finger along the small piece of pink cloth separating you from heaven. 

"Baby, I swear if you make me lose right fucking now—" Sakura snaps, and you not sure you're ready to pay for whatever wrath lies in her words. But even that isn’t stopping you from doubling down. 

"Mommy, please—" 

A squeeze on her thigh combines with another kiss as a final push. "Need you. Need you so fucking bad. Wanna taste you, mommy. Wanna slip inside you and make you feel good. Please, I'll be quiet."

A moment passes before she sighs. 

"You seriously think you'll be able to put your cock in me without making a single sound?" Despite the increased annoyance in her voice, the eye roll—you don't relent. 

"I can. Won't make a sound, not even when I cum. You won't even know I'm here. Promise."

There's no way Sakura will believe such a thing, you can see that plain as day. You can see it in the tilt of her head, a glance that shows you she's not convinced in the slightest. It's not surprising either, you'd probably call bullshit yourself.

"No, that's not happening. If you're that fucking hard, you're gonna take care of that yourself. 

"Mommy—" 

"What did I just say? No shoving your dick in me until I lose. And I'm not fucking losing because you're too goddamn horny to wait."

"Mommy, please, I—"

"Do not make me repeat myself. Ugh, I swear," she scoffs, and you're not sure you've heard her this annoyed—nor do you doubt that you're pushing too hard. It’s a glare that comes and goes within moments as she turns her gaze back to the screen, one that almost makes you hesitate about speaking up again. "If you're that fucking desperate, then just fuck my feet or something. But you better stay quiet, and do NOT distract me."

You’ll take that. Hell, you’ll take anything at this point, and the generous use of her gorgeous feet to get yourself off unattended is worthy of a thousand praise-filled thank you's. With her cute, black painted toes curled around your hard dick while you slide between them is a better reward than you deserve. 

Not another word as you take Sakura's perfect, pale, and pretty feet, and admire for a moment—how dainty they are and how many times they've gotten you off like this. Usually before bed, when you're just as desperate to get off as you are now. All you have to do is unzip your pants, free your cock—

And slide right in between those delicate arches. One step toward relief, it's almost impossible not to moan at the softness of her feet, enough pressure to make your head spin. The hardest part is keeping your promise, with your cock sandwiched in these soft, silky smooth arches. 

Thankfully, this isn't going to take long at all. 

The friction is everything you need, and each thrust elicits a moan that you try your damnedest to suppress. You have some actual self-control, you think—maybe you don’t, you’re about to find out. For now, it's going to be a challenge as you squeeze her pretty painted toes around your shaft to tease yourself, before sliding your cock in a delicious little rhythm while you fuck her feet. They're silky soft, and god you don't know how much longer you can be silent.

"These fucking idiot teammates, I swear—" Sakura mutters, letting off some steam now that the game can have her full attention. 

You'll leave her alone, and concentrate on pumping your cock between her heavenly soles. Even a bit slower, given all you need is to stay nestled between and let the friction bring relief, spitting in the space between to give some extra slickness to this whole thing. 

The desperation is real, and your moans aren't too muffled—so you pray that she’ll keep herself occupied and ignore what slips out. Every drag along the softness of Sakura's feet, every graze her toes give you is bliss. Every time you pause to slap your cock against her silky arches before sliding back in, it gets harder to hold back. Moans getting as deep as your breathing the more you continue to use her feet to jerk yourself off like this. 

"They better fucking get it together. S-rank my ass, they're dead weight. Dead fucking weight. How the fuck did these assholes rank up anyway,” Sakura continues mumbling, cursing her squad and ignoring every groan that you let slip in the process, biting back all of your gasps. 

Using her feet to stroke your shaft is a damn good compromise. Your teeth clench while your cock pushes into her soft soles isn't enough to drown out how good Sakura's feet feel. This is perfect as it can get—the intense squeeze against your aching shaft cock that keeps sliding in and out, the precum coating her toes. 

You can barely think straight. Getting so fucking close to blowing right there, each stroke threatening to set you off with the way her toes wrap around each side of your shaft. 

"Oh, for fuck's sake—goddamn spawn campers. Oh no, you don’t, you little bitch!" Sakura slams down her console on the cushions, somehow ignoring the frantic way you’re pumping away between her toes. Her anger almost gives you the fuel to fuck her feet faster—and they clamp down harder as a result. 

Thrusting between them gets even better with each passing second, this tighter squeeze as the friction gets you closer and closer, desperately wanting to pump yourself faster, fuck her gorgeous feet and just cum all over them. And that's exactly what's about to happen. 

"M-mommy, so close," you groan out, forgetting your promise to not make a sound and throw your head back. It's too fucking good, the feeling of them on either side of your dick, this intoxicating grip you don't want to part from anytime soon.

"God, who the hell taught them to play? Fuck this map. Fuck this team," Sakura spits out, slamming a fist down next to her on the couch. You however, are seconds away from blasting a mess all over.

"Mommy, mommy—" You're spilling right then, cursing under your breath as you try to fuck your cock faster between her soles while cum spurts everywhere. Your cock twitches wildly, spurting along the insides of her feet, on her soles, splattering all over her toes and blasting all the way even to her ankles—while Sakura pays absolutely zero attention to your release. It's a filthy mess, a stream of thick white coating the pale skin, running between her toes and even staining the fabric of the sofa cushions beneath.

While Sakura is seething, you're panting heavily, gripping onto her ankles and milking yourself dry with more strokes, eventually just moving her feet so that the tips of her toes are still stroking the sensitive head, your hot, sticky mess being dragged along. You give in and moan the more you thrust, sliding into her silky arches for one last bit of bliss, savoring the sight of your release coating her feet. 

"Okay, fuck this, we are NOT playing this garbage map again. This game is absolute shit, god, they all suck." 

And Sakura nearly tosses her console across the room before even noticing the mess on her feet. She stares, furrowing her brow to her once pristine soles, now coated in white streaks, dripping between her toes, and clinging to wherever else it landed. 

You look so spent, unapologetic and so satisfied—huffing to catch your breath while your cock stays nestled between.

"Well, would you look at that. Just couldn't contain yourself for one fucking game, could you? Had to use my pretty feet to get yourself off?"

All you can do is nod your head. Words aren't coming easy at the moment, especially not while you're lost in how gorgeous her feet look all covered in your creamy load.

"What am I going to do with you? Especially with how loud you were. Don't think because I was too busy dealing with AFK shitbrains that you couldn't follow a simple rule," Sakura continues and flexes her cute, cum-stained toes—letting your sticky mess drip further and coat the pale flesh. "I'm sure you didn't forget your promise, but you couldn't even do that. Fucking yourself like a pathetic slut between my feet. Did you get it all out?"

There's not an ounce of remorse in the nod that comes afterward. With all this pent-up stress and anger Sakura is letting off, you're scared to even utter another word. 

"I didn't hear an answer. Did you—get it all out?"

This time, you don’t dare hesitate. "Y-yes, mommy, I did."

"Good. Then you can clean it all off. Now." Sakura folds her arms across her chest, her full attention on you now. Her foot rises in the air, showing off the slick streaks that still linger. Her toes spread wide and you know all too well what to do—a command you don't dare protest.

A glance to look at your handiwork between her dripping toes. That's when your lips capture a single one to suck clean—starting at the big toe, the one that's your favorite to suck on.

"That's right. Clean up your mess, and then get the others."

The salty taste of you all over hardly even registers when you get another chance to suck on Sakura's perfect, pretty little toes. Slow sucks and licks between, all the taste of skin and stickiness of your orgasm. Her gaze never falters, ensuring you take your time, not missing a spot while cleaning up until you suck the next toe. 

Long drags along her arches, gathering every drop while you kiss and lick on that tender skin. It's heaven between her toes, taking time to let the tip of your tongue trace patterns along the silky smooth soles, while all the rage built up in Sakura seems to slowly fade. 

"My pathetic boy likes licking the mess you made between mommy's toes. Loves cleaning up after himself like a depraved slut, sucking them clean."

You can’t even disagree, a loud slurp while you take two painted toes in at once, sucking until the majority of her toes captured between your wet, slobbering mouth glisten with all your spit. And you don’t stop for a second—you alternate between sucking, running your tongue down her soles, up her arches to capture every drop while Sakura enjoys every second of what you're doing.

No trace left behind of the way you used her feet for your own pleasure, and even when it’s all cleaned up, you don’t dare stop until she allows it. Sucking every toe, licking every creamy inch of her feet like you’ll never get a chance to ever again. Once her big toe pops out of your mouth, both soles raise up, all shiny with your saliva and press directly into your face.

"Naughty thing. All you had to do was sit quietly. Wait for me to finish my game, and you could've cum inside me all you wanted. Maybe even bend me over the counter and eat my ass too,” Sakura says, soles deeper into your face so all you can breathe in is their scent. 

"But you didn't listen—“ 

She presses down more with each second that passes, adding more weight to really give you the satisfaction you've been seeking. "Had to be a greedy whore. If I really wanted to, I'd jerk you off as fast as I can, make you blow more loads again, and again. Not allow any break until you're shooting nothing. But even that, you'd enjoy too much…” 

Again, she’s not wrong. 

Not even if it left you unbearably sore and sensitive. Not even if the orgasms left you raw and begging to stop, would you even want Sakura to. Because maybe you're just a bit too obsessed with her. 

And maybe that's been her whole plan since the beginning.

"Look at this cute face."

Sakura reaches over and caresses your cheek, giving a small pat before her fingernails trail down your neck. 

Not that you can respond—not with one of her stockings stuffed into your mouth. As she’s told you, you don’t deserve the privilege of her panties. You can’t do much now, with one wrist bound to the bed frame with a necktie, the other secured the same way. And written across your bare chest, is a single word, ‘MINE’, in dark red lipstick. 

Her panties are gone, bra removed, other stocking tossed aside with the rest of her clothes, as naked as she can be. She’s just taking you in, memorizing the desperation etched on your face.

"So pretty and helpless for me," she says with this dulcet tone that makes your breath hitch. "Where is that cocky attitude you showed me earlier?"

No answer even if you had one, her sheer stocking silencing even the weakest syllable. Sakura lets the image linger with a smirk on her face as she yanks the nylon free from your lips. 

"Answer me. Where did all that courage go, baby boy?"

"D-dunno," is what you settle on, looking away from her gaze that's too intimidating to stare straight at. But that earns you nothing but a harsh slap to your face. The sting hits hard—and there's not a thing you can do but take the next that lands on the opposite side.

"Look at mommy when I’m speaking to you."

Another slap comes just as fast, and this time, the arousal is surging. Because god, you can't get enough of those manicured hands dealing out this delicious punishment, the pain only adding to your own desires. 

"What’s the matter? All of a sudden you've gone shy?" There's no kindness in the slap that strikes with the back of her hand, sending another ache across your face. “What can I even do to punish you when you enjoy it this fucking much?"

No amount of scolding changes a thing. There’s no shame or anger—just satisfaction.

"Oh, I know,” Sakura muses, tilting her head with careful consideration. “Maybe I should just fuck myself on the strap that I use to pummel your ass. Use it to stretch my tight cunt instead and make you watch."

You know how this goes—what she's trying to do. While you'd normally object to the threat of being ignored or turned away, this trap isn’t going to spring so easily. Not this time. 

"If that's what mommy wants…” 

Sakura scoffs, in disbelief that you won't take the bait. She knows how easy you are to mold, and the idea that you could be anything else is unfathomable. 

"Don't try to be bold. Mommy already knows what you are," she hisses, showing some hesitation to slap you again—especially with how well you took the last one. "Nothing but a pathetic, obedient little slut. So how about this—"

Again, you respond with little care, keeping up the cavalier attitude. 

“Two toys at the same time, and neither of them will be you. You'll be lucky to be a spectator. Mommy could blindfold you for being so mouthy." 

“Whatever makes mommy happy, that's all I care about. You deserve it."

Once again, Sakura looks disappointed by the lack of weight to her threats. "What's gotten into you? No begging? No pouting? Is my baby sick or something?"

You smile. Maybe you've learned a trick or two over time. When all she gets is a simple shake of your head, the frustration on her face grows. The little change in her demeanor when she's used to this going exactly how she plans—that’s something you'll never forget. 

"If that's how you want things to be..." Her palm caresses the side of your face, nails scratching down from your cheek and past your jawline, while her lips slowly inch toward your ear. She drags her tongue over the outer shell before nibbling, coaxing a moan out of your throat.

Leaving the bed for a moment, Sakura approaches her nightstand and finds exactly what she’s looking for: a thin, black leather collar—one that matches a leash that's kept hidden away for special occasions. She holds it in her fingers for a few moments, just admiring it, stroking the material before grabbing one more thing from her dresser and heading back.

"Act like a brat and I'll treat you like one," Sakura says, wrapping the collar around your neck and fastening it in place. It's not tight enough to hinder breathing, but it certainly isn't as loose as you remember. "Since you're all tied up, I don't need the leash. But my dumb little pet decided to be all tough today, so we'll see how long you can hold out. When your cock is in my ass, and you can't even touch me."

Her fingertips trace the collar's strap along your throat, the delicate pressure making it a little harder to breathe. And this time when Sakura smiles—it’s the sort that lets you know the trouble you've signed yourself up for.

"Whatever makes mommy happy is all you care about? Is that right, baby?" 

Before you can answer, she turns around, grabbing a small bottle that you're more than familiar with. With her back now facing you, the smooth curve of her ass is on perfect display as she pops open the lid to pour some lube into her fingers. "My ass could be on your face, your tongue buried in my asshole with you spreading my cheeks wide open. But now you're not going to be anything but a toy for mommy."

All restrained, you’re forced to watch Sakura sliding a finger right into that tight asshole of hers. Just one, then adding another—stretching out her ass nice and slow as they disappear deep inside.

"When your cock is in my ass, straining to not cum while I squeeze around you, and you’re begging to untie you so that you can pound me, so that you can fuck me into the mattress—" 

With the way you're tugging on your binds, there's little doubt that it's all starting to work, your attempts to gain control over this situation are falling short. It only fuels her resolve to have her fingering her tight hole, letting every filthy sound escape, making sure she gets slick enough to fuck herself on your cock. "Now you've gone quiet. No more attitude? Or are you thinking about my tight little ass? That's all you want now, isn't it?"

There's little else you can do but obsess about it, about how good it's going to feel once you're buried deep, balls deep, the warmth and tightness that you crave, and the insane grip that would milk every drop out of you in a matter of seconds.

"My fingers aren't the same as your cock. We both know that," Sakura taunts. She turns a bit so she can pour lube over your shaft, staring into your eyes, to watch your expression linger on the bliss of her fingers stroking you.

"M-m-mommy—" 

"Oh, so you've found your words now? Too late for that, if you think you're getting out of being a toy. Maybe you'll learn to behave a bit better. Good boys get to ruin my pretty little asshole, but brats have to sit back and watch."

She's trying to crack you, pumping your cock with her body angled so that you can only imagine pushing inside—how goddamn tight her ass will be. The taunting goes both ways here—and Sakura's lust outweighs her urge to break you.

"Not that you can do otherwise, but you're gonna be a good boy while I ride you and let you cum in my ass. Don't make me regret that." 

Sakura leans back, hovering her ass right above your slick, painfully erect cock, showing some restraint just before. The hesitation cuts through you, unsure how much longer you can stand not being inside her, and then—her hips push down and bury every last inch deep inside.

You groan. Not just at the tightness that consumes every inch of your cock, her asshole clenching as her hands grip your thighs—but also that you don't have to hold back anymore. Now it's all pleasure, the way her ass rests on your hips, your balls flush against her soft cheeks.

Sakura barely takes any time adjusting. A shift of her legs, her bare feet flat on either side of your thighs, giving herself all the leverage she needs. Up, and then down, slow as can be. The view is deadly, her plump cheeks rising as she does, and then returning in a quick bounce, squeezing even tighter around you. And that's just the first time.

"So fucking hard, fits so well inside my ass, this is where your cock belongs—buried deep in mommy's asshole," Sakura sighs, hips building speed and taking you all the way in. The friction is perfect, the clench even better from this position as her nails dig deeper into your flesh, the impact of her bouncing ass getting louder and louder.

"So big, such a thick cock stretching out my asshole. Mommy's going to fuck this hard cock until you can't help but explode."

That's a threat you can get behind. You stare with rapt attention, watching her asshole take every thick inch as her pale cheeks bounce and smack against your thighs, swallowing all of you back inside every time her hips return down.

And then, without warning, the sensations stop. Sakura lifts up, enough to slide every last inch out of her ass, your cock slick with lube and twitching for relief. You can’t do anything but whine when she grinds her asscheeks along your length, the cold air a contrast to the warmth of her tight puckered hole. 

"You really thought mommy would let you have my asshole? Just like that?" Sakura laughs, savoring every pathetic noise that you let out. Her hips move so slowly, the soft flesh of her cheeks grazing along your dick. It's torture. Absolute torture. And it's only going to get worse. The way she traps your shaft, with the way her fingertips brush against it to keep you in the warmth of her ass.

"You've gone quiet again, haven't you? Can't even remember how to beg?"

God knows you could never forget. This ache, the tormenting sensation of her gorgeous ass rubbing against you, grinding on your swollen shaft, denying any sense of relief that you yearn for. You don't want to give the satisfaction, to let the real need shine through—but she'll draw it out eventually, coax out every desperate plea in your mind.

Even as you form tight fists that clench hard enough to hurt, that makes her smile. Even as the desire becomes so consuming and you throb against her supple ass cheeks.

"Mommy. Mommy, please—god, I need you. Need to be in your perfect tight ass. Need you so bad, mommy."

All the shame comes in how quickly you cave in, an easy surrender in the blink of an eye just like every single time before. Even with the restraints on your wrists, the collar around your neck, there isn't any fight left. She's gotten everything she wants.

"Yeah, that's what mommy likes to hear. Now remind me—what are you?" 

"Your obedient little slut. Your dumb little toy. Mommy's plaything—that gets used whenever mommy wants. Doesn't matter if I get left here tied up, my pleasure is always secondary to yours." 

"And don't you forget it. You're just a tool to get me off. A pretty toy to shove in my cunt until I cream all over you. But mommy takes care of her toys, of everything in her possession."

With that, Sakura stands up again and shifts her body around, tossing a leg over your hips to straddle your waist and face you. The loss of seeing her ass doesn't compare to the sight of her lovely face, her silky hair that falls over her shoulders, and that perfect little grin. 

Another cold sensation over your throbbing cock, more lube that'll have you buried back inside her ass in no time. Her hand finds it to guide right where she wants. It's almost agonizing, waiting for her to lower down, and the way the rim of her tight puckered asshole spreads around your swollen tip. Yet she doesn't move, just staying in place with every last inch held inside.

Sakura glances down, at your pathetic, helpless state—and leans over so her tits press flush against your chest. Without a word, she practically rips the collar off your neck, but doesn't even dare loosen the ties wrapped around your wrists. Instead, she replaces the leather with her grasp, her hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing enough for you to gasp.

"Mommy likes you better like this. So submissive and helpless, ready to listen to every order, every desire—not forgetting who owns you."

This close, her hot breath tickles the side of your face, so she can see all the desperation as her ass grips down tight around the head of your cock after lifting up the slightest. Just teasing, squeezing the tip and not letting an inch sink further in.

"That's where your thick cock belongs. Inside my tight little asshole, swallowing you deep. My little pet that can't keep quiet, had to be reminded who's in charge."

It's hard to get every word out with Sakura squeezing harder around your throat, but you don't ever need the pressure to let up for any reason. Her hips slam down hard, sinking down on every inch of your cock in her ass—a tightness that you can't even comprehend. A vice grip that almost has you losing the strength to keep holding yourself together. The heat, the squeeze, you swear it feels tighter than the first time. 

"This is what good boys get, isn't it? Getting your cock ridden until you get to fill mommy’s tight ass with cum,” Sakura says, not breaking eye contact for one moment with her delicate hand locked so tight around your neck. You're the definition of overwhelmed, airflow restricted while her ass bounces on top in rapid, harsh movements that only get harder to handle with each rock of her hips. 

You're too gone to answer with anything but a nod, and you can't look anywhere else. Not with her hand clutching around your throat like the collar tossed aside—not when the look in her eyes has you utterly lost in lust. 

At this point, you hardly care about the fabric around your wrists keeping you from touching her. This is more than enough, the rhythm and fervor she fucks herself down on top, not looking away for a second as she chokes you and rams her ass down onto your cock. The tightness, the way her tits bounce so perfectly—god, you're so close already. You're trying so hard to shake it off as long as possible, but there's no use to fight the inevitable. 

"M-mommy, I'm, I'm gonna—"A quick nod and a smile before you can finish the sentence, followed by a tight clench that demands you do exactly that. 

"It's ok, baby—fill my ass up. Fill me right up." 

Not a word said as the force of her hips sends her ass down for those final bounces, until you're shooting your hot cum inside of Sakura, flooding her tight hole. Every spurt throbs violently as she watches you give in, never ceasing that grip on your throat as you erupt. Just throbbing as she milks you dry, every spurt squeezed deep inside her warm, tight asshole until you've given everything you possibly can.

"Good boy, such a good boy. Mommy's sweet boy came so much…” When her hand leaves your throat, you’re too exhausted to even complain, no strength for anything as she’s caressing your face. Kisses come next, all along your cheek, before her soft lips meet yours for an even deeper kiss. 

You want to touch her, to pull her in close, to do something—anything as Sakura plants kiss after kiss. But all she does is lift off your sensitive cock, the emptiness immediate, that thick load dripping down out of her ass and oozing everywhere. And she makes sure to finish the job, fingers grabbing at your spent cock to pump out whatever remains. 

“My good boy made quite a big mess, didn’t he? Such a huge load inside mommy’s ass…"

Even with nothing left in your balls to drain, Sakura keeps pumping, fist a blur around your slick length that rips all these desperate noises from your throat. "Now, now. Mommy knows you're sensitive, but that doesn't mean we should stop. Your cock is still hard, so that means you need to be milked again, doesn't it?"

Nothing comes out from your mouth but another pitiful whimper, because the sensations never stop as Sakura pumps her hand even faster. It's nothing but painful, torturous overstimulation that makes your whole body jerk. And every time you pull on the restraints, that only makes the smirk grow. 

"Fuck, I can’t, please, mommy, p-please—“ 

She refuses to let up at that merciless pace, each stroke getting faster, grip a little tighter, the ache in your balls harder to deal with more by the second. “Mommy doesn’t care if you can’t. You’ll go again if I say you will, because your greedy fucking cock exploded in my ass. Which means I didn't even get to watch all that cum shoot out. Not very fair now, is it?"

The torturous pace of her stroking doesn't let up. Fast, painfully fast strokes and squeezes all the way up your shaft, with her other hand feeling up your aching balls. A rough squeeze to them—one that makes you jerk so hard the bed shakes, making your dick throb even more.

 "See? Still so heavy and full. Not nearly done cumming, now are we?"

"M-mommy, fuck—" you swear under your breath, bucking your cock into her grasp as she pumps without mercy, keeping a hand squeezing your balls like they’ve got an endless amount stored. 

"Don't mommy me. Good boys can cum more than once, can't they? Shoot out another thick massive load that’ll make mommy so damn proud.” 

You’ve never been this helpless. There's no escape from these overstimulating sensations, each squeeze to your aching balls or pump of your length drawing out more of this painful pleasure. All while you can't do anything but clench your fists. Sakura’s got no end to these evil intentions, thumb rubbing against the underside of your cock with her hand speeding along.

"Jesus—god, fuck, please," you curse, wrists straining hard while Sakura ignores every desperate plea. 

"Oh, don't think that begging will do you any good. This isn't for you. This is for mommy." 

As if you already didn’t know that. Through all of this, the ache, the soreness of your poor cock, you still need this—need to reach that edge again, maybe more than she does. You don't even know whether to beg her to keep going, or for the opposite.

At least there's an end to this torment. Not like earlier in the week, where Sakura edged you from behind in front of a mirror in this exact room, so you could see your own pitiful reflection. A hand stroking your dick so fast—to be pulled right to the brink and then stopped completely, right before cum spurted out in thick, hot streams across the glass. 

"M-mommy—" That word leaves your lips so effortlessly, sounding so pitiful as you let the sensations consume your whole body, not even able to tell the difference between pain or pleasure anymore. You're just lost in this blissful torture, in every aching stroke that makes your balls tense up. But all that tension eases off—when your cock throbs one last time before Sakura stops and pulls her hand away, right as you finish emptying what's left in your balls out across your stomach, untouched the whole time.

It's cruel, the look she gives you when your cock twitches even in this weak orgasm that she's refused to help you with. The visual is enough for her, but the whimpers, the frustrated groans, they’re making sure that twisted grin doesn't go anywhere as your  swollen tip keeps shooting out pathetic little spurts that leave her more satisfied than you are. Even more when a single fingertip teases along your sensitive shaft, a simple little graze that comes a little too late. 

"What do you say, baby boy?"

Ridiculous that you should even think about thanking her, for an orgasm you didn't even want, nor did you even get to enjoy—and yet you do, out of pure mindless adoration. "Th-thank you, mommy. Thank you for making me cum again." 

It’s almost laughable—how Sakura shifts, from soft and sweet one moment, to an absolute sadistic demon the next. For now, her sweet side lingers as she laughs, glancing down at the mess you've made and kissing you without a second thought. The same moment, she's untying your wrists, massaging them as she peppers kisses all over the tender skin. Breaking out the lotion is next, from a nearby nightstand drawer, the same one used on your ass when she gets a little too crazy with the riding crop.

"Good boy. Mommy is so proud of you, I knew you'd shoot a big load again." 

The praise barely registers when you're about to collapse, but you'll take it, let the words flood through as those warm kisses get even sweeter, spreading her fingertips along the sticky mess that's coating your abs. The sticky substance she spreads around, lifting up her wet finger and just popping it in her mouth with no hesitation.

"I love tasting what comes out of my toy. It's my favorite part." Sakura takes her time, one sloppy lick at a time. She cleans off the mess with her tongue, dragging a slow path across your body and swiping away each drop until what’s left is the sheen of her spit once the rest is cleaned away. Then those same lips crash against yours and the taste of yourself is practically dripping off her tongue as it shoves into your mouth. No hesitation to deepen the kiss either, guiding your tongue like she owns your mouth with her hands grabbing either side of your face. 

Her lips are warm and the last bits of your release mixed with her spit slide between your lips as you lap away every trace of that bittersweet mixture until there's no more to enjoy. Until she keeps your face cupped in her hand, then with your mouth still open—she spits right in, landing it perfectly and it hits right in the back of your mouth.

"Now swallow that."

Of course you obey, tongue out like you have a craving for more. Sakura is happy to oblige and spits in your mouth a second time, holding your face close as you eagerly accept all she gives.

"Who's my pathetic good boy?"

That question hits differently with Sakura's loving smile directed down at you, hand brushing back a few loose strands of sweaty hair on your forehead. "M-me, mommy. I am. Your pathetic little fucktoy." 

"Never forget that. Mommy's precious toy who loves getting his ass plowed like a slut. Now come on—it's getting late and we should sleep. You'll need rest for tomorrow." 

The next morning rolls by and you're barely cognizant of your surroundings, when you're awakened with fingers threading through your hair and a familiar warmth right beside you. Sakura seems to be awake for some time already, sitting against the headboard, thumb tapping against her phone screen while her other hand is in your hair.

"Good morning, mommy—"

Sakura laughs. "It's already afternoon, silly."

A glance at the bedside table confirms what Sakura's already said, clock staring back with a harsh reminder that noon has long come and passed, the sun much brighter than when it usually wakes you up in the early hours.

"You really needed the sleep, so I tried to not bother you, baby boy. Did you sleep well?" 

How could you not, really? With all the exhaustion hitting all at once—the soreness in your muscles, the bruises on your wrists, the scratches along your back. Not forgetting the paddle marks on your sore ass still yet to fade, just a few examples. Not forgetting the moment of her plump ass smothering you with all that softness and warmth, sinking deep down, until you can barely breathe from how she relentlessly fucks your face.

"Baby boy—"

It takes a little tug from Sakura's fingers, a brief snap out of your thoughts, for you to realize you haven't responded yet. "Yes—of course, mommy. I did, I slept great. Better than I have in a while."

She's unconvinced at first, putting her phone down for the time being and giving you all her attention when she swings her body over yours. Straddling your hips, the hem of the long t-shirt she's wearing rises higher until you catch a peek of what's beneath. 

"You sure about that? Can't have my poor toy be too worn out. Mommy was pretty rough yesterday, can't have you falling apart on me just yet."

The reality is—falling apart is inevitable at this point. You're been far beyond that since the beginning, put through the ringer enough times that you aren't sure if there's a part of you not broken. Every dirty, degrading act you thought she could possibly throw at you. Every toy imaginable stuffed in you to ruin your ass. Every painful edging session—tied to the bed with your wrists held down with handcuffs, rope, zip ties—every inch of your skin kissed, nipped, and bitten. Enough cum blown across every surface imaginable, or just over Sakura's open palm, her face, inside her cunt, all over that pretty ass that you'd lay your life down to worship.

And still, you're more addicted to this girl than ever. To that smile while her fingers rest right on your cheek, to the bruises on your neck from her choking you. "I'm okay, mommy. I'm okay—"

Your words fade once again and you're not even sure if you believe what's being said, but Sakura seems to, which is all that matters. Enough that she'll brush those messy bangs out of the way and bend down, enough that she'll plant soft little kisses along the fading marks across your neck, tracing the purple hue. Kisses just as light along your collarbone, until she inches down little by little, every scratch and bite along your skin being cared for and soothed, her lips pressing all over your body with so much affection you never want it to end.

"Since I was so rough yesterday, and because you've been such a good boy—you get to relax and we don't need to do anything all day," Sakura says, lips not straying too far from your mouth for too long.

"Just wanna stay in bed with you all day, mommy. You can play games and I won't bother you, and I'll just..."

She laughs, pressing a firm kiss at the corner of your mouth. "You can bother me, baby boy. Bother me all you want—all you need."

"Can we order food?"

"Whatever you want. You know I hate leaving the house unless I absolutely need to. Only for work and important things—nothing else."

"Cheesecake?"

"Only after eating other actual food," Sakura scolds, sitting straight back up and reaching for her phone. 

"The extra expensive one with raspberry glaze and ice cream?" 

"Yes, that one. The fanciest cheesecake you can imagine. You can have two, even, just don't make yourself sick." 

"Can't promise that—" That laughter hits louder than before, echoing around the room. Sakura just shakes her head before a finger slides across her phone screen a few times. 

"All the cheesecake you want then, baby boy." 

[butyoudidthis4what]

No Man's Land Part 4

Jack Abbot x F!Reader

You can find Part 1 here, Part 2 here, and Part 3 here!

40.5k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: Angst, discussions of being shot and the shooting, anxiety about partner’s safety, emotions, Robby is sad and has a bad day, discussion of Robby, Jake and Leah (Pitt-Fest happened before Reader and Jack got together), panic attack, anxiety, pretending the Buhl Planitarium is open late, alcohol, vague discussion of Jack’s time in the military, unprotected PIV sex (BC implied with committed relationship), some voyeurism-ness if you really squint hard, oral sex, dom Jack briefly, manhandling briefly, FLUFF, Myrna, Reader: can bake, will take Jack’s last name, struggles with body confidence, is not scared of horses, gets drunk, enjoys prehistory, Author: copped out of writing a lot of sex sorry, half assed the sex she did write sorry again, is terrible at summaries; did not proofread or edit 

Summary: Normalcy is shattered. You and Jack recover and have some fun.

AN: Nobody is judging 40.5k harder than I am. I genuinely feel bad about the word count because I know it can make it harder to read, especially at once, but it gets really hard to cut it into shorter parts sometimes. So please know I really appreciate you taking the time to read it all and then interact with it. Likes and reblogs and comments and your guys thoughts mean so much to me and really do inspire me. I am short on serotonin and all the interactions give me a little burst of it, genuinely. That all said, we start off pretty heavy but after the first scene things get much fluffier and happier for the most part so it's 100% a much, much lighter read than Part 3. I should have Part 5 out by the end of the week! And again, thank you so much for reading.

You and Jack fall back into a routine, back into normal. Things are really starting to actually feel better. But all it takes is one thing to upend it all. 

You weren’t looking forward to this Monday. Neither was Jack. Both of you were simultaneously surprised and unsurprised the day even came. Both of you were also aware that the fragile normal you’d just settled into was shattered, even if only temporarily and even if you knew it was coming. Both of you hated it.

Trial. 

The shooter wouldn’t plead. So you and Jack find yourselves standing outside of the Westmoreland County Courthouse. The case had unsurprisingly been moved from Allegheny County and you were grateful for that. It would have been another level of fucked up to have to confront the man that shot you in the courtroom he shot you in. Even in the same courthouse would have been bad. 

It’s the first day. Jury selection. Jack told you that you didn’t need to be here every day, that it was okay to only come on the day you had to testify. You knew he was right but some part of you needed to be there for the whole thing. It’s not like it was going to be a super long trial. But long enough and emotional enough to destroy normal. Both you and Jack have to take a week off work, stay in a hotel so you don’t have to constantly drive back and forth. The trial shoves it all right back in your faces again. 

You hate how easily normal is obliterated. How easily that man is stealing normal away from you again.

“You sure about this?” Jack asks as he squeezes your hand. He’s not questioning you or your decision, just asking if you’re okay and ready. 

“No. But also yes.” You look over at him. “You’ll be here every day with me, right? I know it’s a big ask, and that it’ll be just as hard for you as it is for me at times and I feel bad about asking you to put yourself through that for me but I just need to be here. I have something to prove to myself even if I can’t figure out exactly what it is.”

“Course I will, Doll. I’d never let you go in there alone, not to face him or this in general.” He steps in front of you and wraps his arms around you, pulls your head to his chest for a moment as you wind your arms around him. “And you’re not asking me, nor am I being put through anything. I’m here supporting my fiancée. I’ve got you,” Jack murmurs before leaning down to kiss you. You let yourself get lost in it, lost in him, even with as chaste as he keeps the kiss. 

You look down once you’ve broken apart, can’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes for your next question. You already know the answer to it but you just need the reassurance. “If this, being here more than I have to be makes me slide back or get worse again. You… You won’t get mad, right? At me for kind of causing it in a way?”

Jack knows why you’re asking the questions, knows that your use of right at the end of the first is because you already know the answer and just need reassurance. He’ll give it to you as much as you need. 

“No. I won’t be mad at you. I won’t be mad at all. Healing isn’t linear,” he reminds you, “and that’s okay.” You give him a little nod and one of his hands finds your chin and he hooks a finger under it, pulls up gently to see if you’ll move your head, he would never force you. You let him pull your chin up and look at him. “And Doll, even if you do slide back, it is not because of you. You wouldn’t be causing it. Okay?”

You look at him for a moment, really try to fully believe what he’s saying, before giving him a small nod. Jack kisses your forehead before releasing you and lacing your fingers together again for the walk inside. 

You sit in the back, off to the side. It gives you your own little bubble but you can still see everything. Everyone. Him. 

At the beginning before voir dire starts the Judge reads out all of the charges. It’s obvious when he gets to the count number that represents you. You’re the only person he’d shot that day who lived. So you’re the only attempted murder. It’s difficult for you to hear yes, to cope with the reality that someone tried to murder you. To hear it spoken about that way. You’d spoken with the district attorney about it though during witness preparation so you had your head wrapped around it a bit. 

Hearing it levels Jack. It takes a second because he’s in some weird denial about it but Jack’s brain finally lets him accept it and think about it. That was you, that count represents you, attempted murder, someone tried to murder you. That man tried to murder you and take you away from him. There’s a few seconds where Jack thinks he might be having a heart attack because it gets so hard to breathe at the thought. Rationally he knew that’s what it was, that’s not really a realization for him. It’s just hearing it phrased like that. Attempted murder.

Being there is hard. Hearing it all. Seeing it all when security footage gets played. You knew the video was coming. They’d showed you it during witness preparation. Jack knew it was coming too because you told him, but he didn’t realize how much it would impact him, having to see it all play out, even when the video isn’t of where you were on that day. More will be played when you’re on the stand. The video of you. Where you’re so clearly visible and what’s happening is so clearly visible. 

During a recess on the first day while the defendant is still in the courtroom Jack pulls you a little closer to him. “Doll,” he says lowly, not quite a whisper, but low enough to keep it just between the two of you. “I know it’s hard. I know I don’t even know how hard it is for you but I need you to look at him for a second, please. Just a second.” You turn your head and do as he asks as much as you don’t want to. You know he wouldn’t ask you for no reason. “I know you still feel guilty and like my feelings are your fault, like you caused all of this, that our need to heal and recover is somehow on you, somehow your fault. But it’s not. It’s his fault. It’s on that man sitting in that chair. Nobody else. I want you to try and remember that.”

You get a bit teary and don’t say anything for fear of bursting into tears, just nod and turn into him. His arms were already open and waiting, hand finding the back of your head and holding you close. You bury your face in his neck, take in deep breaths through your nose to smell him, let him overwhelm as many of your senses as possible right now to keep you from crying. 

You cry when you get to the hotel that night. And the next. You hate it, you tell Jack, because it means you’re going to end up crying on the stand and you don’t want to give that bastard the satisfaction. Jack holds you and reminds you it’s okay to cry up there if you need to. You won’t be the first or last, but that he understands. And he thinks you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.

Then the day comes. Your name gets called and then you’re up there sworn in and testifying. The DA plays the video of it. It’s the first time Jack sees it. He didn’t even know there was video footage of the courtroom, of where you were actually shot. He didn’t know there was video footage of you being shot, even if you can’t really tell when it happens from the video. It destroys a little piece of him, completely rattles him. But he knows that right now he has to be strong for you. 

You surprise yourself but not Jack. You don’t cry on the stand. Don’t give him the satisfaction. You completely and totally wall yourself off. Shut down emotionally. Make yourself deliberately numb. It’s just what you have to do to survive this. When you’re asked to identify the man who shot you you’re able to pretend to be cool, unbothered, even, as you describe what the man who shot you is wearing. 

Jack on the other hand does cry a little. Because it’s hard, it’s really fucking hard to hear this. Yes, he’s heard it before because you guys have talked about it, but it’s different hearing it here in front of all of these people, seeing and watching you react to the video. It’s hard to watch you totally shut down emotionally because he can see it in your eyes, but he understands why you have to. It’s hard watching you get cross-examined and needlessly grilled like there isn’t clear video showing it happening. 

It’s hard to watch the fucking video. To finally have a visual of what happened to you that day. To know that at some point during the video you get shot. It makes him nauseous, so nauseous at points he worries he’s going to face the choice of being sick right where he is or having to run out of the courtroom on you. He never does though, is pretty sure it’s knowing you need him that keeps it from getting to that point. He hates it. All of it. And he feels so selfish thinking about how hard this is for him when you’re the one up there on the stand. 

When you’re finally finished you walk back over and sit next to him, give him a small smile that falls a little when you see his red eyes. You’re completely out of it and not truly present and he gets it, doesn’t try to pull you back. Instead he gives you a little smile back, pulls you close and whispers in your ear how fucking proud of you he is, how much he loves you. 

You grab dinner at a place across the street from the courthouse after the trial adjourns for the day. Neither of you say much but Jack is happy when you actually eat a fair amount. The car ride back to the hotel is also largely silent. Jack knows you need it to be, need just the background hum of the radio playing. Both of you know that if you start talking now you’ll fall apart and you really don’t want to fall apart in the car. You want to be able to fall apart in Jack’s arms. 

You make it into the hotel room and hear Jack lock the deadbolt before you freeze. You’re not sure what it is about the hotel room that suddenly makes walking or doing anything seem impossible. Maybe it’s the knowledge that you’re finally in a safe place where you can break down in Jack’s arms at war with how badly you don’t want to break down at all. Maybe you feel like if you do nothing, if you don’t move or speak or do anything, then you won’t break down and you won’t have to feel everything you’ve been keeping down today. 

Jack knows. Even with your back to him and unable to see your face he knows you’re stuck. He walks up behind you and rests his hands on your hips, gives them a gentle squeeze. 

“Do you want to shower?” he murmurs.

It takes you a moment to fully process what he says and formulate an answer. “No,” you whisper. 

“Okay,” Jack whispers back, kisses your temple. He squeezes your hips again and pushes on one and pulls on the other gently to get you to turn around so he can help you get in the bathroom. He puts the toilet seat down and gets you to sit on it. 

He gets his teeth brushed, stands close enough to you that you can lean your head forward and rest your forehead against his side while he brushes. Once he’s done and has washed his face he turns to you.

He’s silent as he grabs one of your makeup wipes and tilts your head up with one hand before he starts cleaning your face with the other. He’s so careful around your eyes getting your mascara off it makes tears stream down your face. 

Jack doesn’t comment on them, just tosses the wipe and gives you a kiss and a thigh squeeze before offering you his hands. You take them and let him pull you up and get you standing in front of the sink face to face with him. He grabs your headband and pulls it on, secures the rest of your hair the way you usually do to keep it from getting wet. He makes eye contact with you for a second and while you’re present enough, he knows you’re not going to take it from here. He grabs an extra towel and drapes it over you to cover your front. It’s not much but at least something. He uses his foot to slide over the shower mat so that it’s between the two of you. 

Jack gets a washcloth wet with warm water and uses it to wet your face, grabs your face wash and puts some in his hand, starts to rub it together and then on your face. He sees your lip tremble for a second but you don’t let yourself cry. He turns the water back on, grabs the washcloth in one hand and gets it soaking, a towel in the other. He squeezes the washcloth over part of your face to rinse it, holding the towel just below to catch the water. He repeats it over and over, soaking the washcloth, shifting to a new part of the towel until your face is completely rinsed. He pats your face dry with a hand towel then wrings out the washcloth and hangs it and the towel he’d been using up to dry. 

You track him with your eyes, something about watching him and the strong grace he moves with soothing you. He gets your toothbrush wet and toothpaste on it. You open your mouth a little automatically for him and let him brush your teeth for you. It is one of the most intimate and loving things Jack has ever done for you. And you love it. 

But you hate that you can’t take care of yourself, start to wonder how long Jack will be willing to take care of you like this, like you’re a child. You know it’s one night and that you’d do it for him forever if you needed to, but it feels different for you. He holds your face so gently as he brushes your teeth for you. When he’s done he turns the water on and puts some in a glass for you, hands you it. “I can’t do this part for you Doll or you know I would.”

You force yourself to sip from the glass and spit in the sink, rinse your mouth a few times. You give the slightest nod when you’re done and Jack wipes your lips with a towel, rinses the sink out before getting you back to sitting on the toilet. 

He grabs the first product in your nighttime skincare routine and smooths it out over your skin. He gives it a second to absorb like you always do and then he grabs the next product. Your lip and chin tremble harder than they have all night at it and you have to shut your eyes and look down for a moment. He knows your whole routine. Just from observing you. Just because he wants to know so he’s prepared for this, for the time you can’t do it for yourself. You know he knows your morning routine and shower routine too. 

You open your eyes and tilt your face back up for Jack, the two of you looking at each other for a moment before he starts rubbing the next product in. There’s no hesitation in his eyes, no irritation or annoyance that he’s having to do this, no frustration or anger, no sadness or pity. Just love and adoration and pride. You weren’t expecting to see pride. He gives you a little smile and then starts rubbing it in and the way his eyebrows come together and eyes narrow slightly in concentration makes your heart flutter because he’s so adorable. He finishes your routine in perfect order, gets your headband off and hair back as you like it and puts some lotion on his own face and then holds his hands back out for you again. 

You take them again and he leads back to the main room, carefully strips you and gets you into your pajamas before helping you slide into bed. He’s quick to change and turn all the lights off except for the lamp on his bedside table. He sets an alarm for the morning and gets his prosthetic off. It’s still fairly early but he knows it’ll be a while before you sleep. He also knows you’re not leaving this bed tonight. 

He turns and arranges some pillows so he can be propped up a little against the headboard. Once he slides in and gets settled on his back you move closer to him, lay on your side and cuddle into him, your top leg hooking over the top of him as you roll into him and get as close to him as you can, head on his chest. 

“Thank you.” You whisper it so softly it’s barely audible. 

“Nothing to thank me for, Doll.” Jack has his arms wrapped around you tightly, pulls you into him a little more, shifting himself at an angle just slightly so you can get closer. “You know my routine and would do the same for me.” He feels you shake your head slightly. He knows you’re not saying that you wouldn’t, but that it’s different, he can hear you saying it, and trying to explain it really is because his routine is shorter. Jack also knows that you need to let yourself do this, let yourself cry and feel everything from today. He hates it, hates how much it will hurt you, but he knows it’ll hurt more and for longer the more time you wait to do it. 

“I love you.” He leans his head down and nuzzles his nose in your hair, kisses the top of your head. “And I want you to know how fucking proud I am of you. For having the strength to get up there and watch what happened to you all over again in front of the man who did it. For doing what you wanted and I knew you could do, not crying and giving him the satisfaction. For being here for the full trial and going back again tomorrow and the next day and until there’s a verdict. I’ve got you, okay? Always. Unquestionably. So whenever you’re ready.” He’s trying to give you subtle encouragement, let you know that he knows what you need and is here for you. You start to shake a little and he knows you’re at the edge. Jack whispers your name.

That’s what does it. His whisper of your name. You fall completely apart in Jack’s arms, sobbing into him as he hugs you tighter, doesn’t let any of the pieces slip past him. All you can do is sob for a couple of minutes, choking on air and your tears every time you try to say something. As much as you’re weeping because you’re sad it’s more panicky this time. Jack can tell from the way you shake and cling to him. 

“I, I h-hate this Jack, I hate it!” You finally manage to get out after several minutes. Your hand fists at the front of the t-shirt he’s wearing to sleep in. “I hate that I let him get to me like this. I hate how, I hate, I hate how scared he made me feel.”

It’s been a while since Jack has seen you this worked up, panicking more than crying. It’s hard for him not to step in, but he knows you need this. “All I could think about was, was watching him point a gun at me and shutting my eyes and I heard, I heard the gun go off, but I didn’t feel anything, I didn’t and I thought I was okay, I really did Jack, I promise, I promise I wasn’t trying to lie in the, in the t-trauma room.”

“I know,” he whispers into your hair, “you were in shock and had so much adrenaline you didn’t feel it.” He kisses at the top of your head, runs his hand up and down your back and keeps one holding the back of your head. “I’ve got you. You’re safe here.”

That makes you cry harder because you know you are. You always feel safe with Jack. Sometimes the only place you feel safe anymore is when you’re with him. “I know, I know, I just wasn’t,” you’re interrupted by a wracking breath, “I just wasn’t with you, wasn’t with you on the stand and I, I was scared and kept thinking what if he had a gun again somehow.” Jack shuts his eyes at that, clenches his jaw tight. Seeing you like this breaks his heart, causes him physical discomfort and hearing how scared you were, how you thought you might get shot again makes him feel the familiar pressure and rush behind his eyes of tears forming. But Jack’s wrong. You weren’t thinking about getting shot.

“I didn’t even,” you sniffle a couple of times, “I wasn’t even thinking about, about what if I get shot again, I was thinking what if he turned and shot you Jack, what if it was you, what would I do, what was I supposed to do and and how would I go on if you died, and, and” you take in a couple of hiccuped breaths and the tears Jack felt forming start to slide down his face because you were worried about him. Not yourself. “And then it made me feel worse because what if I had died, what would’ve happened to you? You would have been, been so sad Jack and I wouldn’t have been there to help you and I hate, hate thinking about you being that sad J-Jack and don’t ever want you to hurt like that.” You take a huge choked breath in. Jack knows you need to let this out but you’re getting close to a point of him intervening because of how hard you’re starting to panic, escalating quickly the more you talk. Hearing this kills him and his tears fall harder even as he keeps his focus on you. “Then I felt bad, felt guilty because of what I said to you in the hospital about if I had died, and wishing I had, and you could grieve, grieve properly and move on because just thinking about it.” You take in another breath but it’s shallow, blown out quickly as you start to hyperventilate. “Just thinking,” a breath in and out, “about it, I could never,” more hyperventilating, “never move on from you and I, I,” you start to feel a little dizzy, “I said that to you and made you, made you think it.”

“Okay, Doll.” Jack knows you’ve tipped over an edge and have said enough and need help calming down and regulating. “You’re going to make yourself pass out, I need you to follow my breathing, yeah?” Jack grabs one of your hands and brings it to his chest even though your head is already there. He adjusts his breathing to deep breaths in and out and feels you trying to follow him through your tears and hiccuped breaths. “Five things you can see, please. If you can.” He knows with the tears and swelling of your eyes it might be hard. 

You wipe at your face a little with the sleeve of your shirt. “The sheets, pillows, your shirt, your arm, the wallpaper.”

“Good.” He kisses the top of your head. “Four you can feel.”

“Your shirt, your hands on my back, how warm you are, my face throbbing.”

That last one hurts Jack a little and he has to fight from sniffling and making you aware he’s crying. He doesn’t want you to start taking care of him and he knows you will. He clears his throat and hopes you won’t think anything of it. He’s sure if he doesn’t he’ll sound like he’s been crying. “Three you can hear.” 

You take in a deep breath, breathing calming and starting to match his. “The AC, your heart and your breathing.”

“Two you can smell. Again, if you can. I know your sinuses are probably swollen.” He gives you another kiss to the top of your head. 

You try to take a couple of breaths in through your nose. It’s not completely in vain. “You. Your body wash and you.”

“And one you can taste.”

“Metal. The adrenaline.” He’s the one who taught you that. “It’s fading though.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Jack kisses the top of your head again and can feel you go to speak. “Don’t apologize for anything, but especially not the shirt.” It pulls a little laugh from you which makes him smile. He’s conflicted, wants to kiss you so badly but knows you’ll be able to tell he was crying and he doesn’t want you to feel responsible. He reaches over and hits the button on the lamp on his table. The darkness provides cover. “Let me kiss you?”

You nod, move your head back and lift up a bit as he leans down to you, gives you a couple before you both settle back. And then you sit in a comfortable silence. There are words at times. Most from Jack, quiet reassurances, he loves you, he’s got you, he’s so so so fucking proud of you. Some from you, apologies he tells you not to give, thank yous and you love hims. Eventually you fall asleep in Jack’s arms and he lets you. He doesn’t wake you to try and get to some resolution of your feelings tonight. That’s not what you need. You need sleep.

Jack stays awake a bit just holding you and studying your face. Your eyes and lips and nose are all swollen, lashes still a bit clumped from your tears. You snuffle more in your sleep because of how swollen your sinuses are. And he loves you, so fucking much. And he hates seeing you like this, hates seeing you struggle despite how human it is. 

Jack knows all too well that life breaks parts of you sometimes. But it doesn’t mean you’re broken, it means you’re human. Life forces you to learn that all humans have pieces of them they’ve had to try and fuse back together. That to be human is to break at times. 

He knows that in grieving and healing, you pick up the pieces and tape them back together, and when they fall apart again because the adhesive of the tape wears away you glue them back together. Each time you put the pieces back together the bond used to do so is stronger because you’ve grieved and healed a bit more. So when something hits just right and the glue fails, you pick the pieces back up and weld them together. 

But Jack knows all too well that even what’s welded together rusts. Metal corrodes and holes form on welding seams. Because no bond is ever perfect, ever strong enough to keep together something whole that’s already been in pieces. Grief never goes completely away. He knows this will never go completely away. Not for him and not for you. And he accepts that, the way you accept that the things that have happened to him and resultant grief will never go completely away. 

That doesn’t stop Jack searching for the perfect thing though, the perfect thing to do that will make it like this never happened. The perfect words to tell you or the perfect look to give you or the perfect kiss to give you or the perfect way to hug you to bond everything back together permanently so that you’d never have to hurt over this again. 

Neither of you wake until the alarm Jack set goes off in the morning. You’re in the same position you fell asleep in, both of you out hard. You stir on Jack’s chest and he shifts you both so that your face is next to his, pulls you further out of sleep with kisses to your face and neck. You don’t talk about your panic attack much, he checks in with you, makes sure you’re okay and asks if you want to talk about it. You tell him you don’t, you just needed to get that out and if you talk again you’ll break down again and you just want to finish the trial and talk about it once you’re home. Jack respects that and doesn’t push, just gives you a kiss and says okay.

You don’t know it but once the trial is over and there’s a conviction Jack asks the DA for a copy of the tape that was played while you testified. The DA, rather inexplicably, agrees and gives him a copy of it. 

And Jack becomes obsessed with it. 

He goes to bed with you. Some nights he waits until you’re asleep to slip out of bed and go watch it at the kitchen table on his laptop. Other nights he falls asleep and wakes up in the middle of the night and goes to watch it. Over and over and over again. 

You notice that he seems more tired than usual. You ask him about it and he chalks it up to getting used to being back at work after being off. You believe him but there’s a certain part of you that has a little doubt. You don’t push it though, know sooner or later it’ll come out or he’ll come to you. 

Jack doesn’t get the opportunity to come to you about it. Because one night after he’s slipped out to go watch it at the table you wake up, have a moment of panic when he’s not next to you. But his side of the bed is warm and when you open your bedroom door and walk out in just his t-shirt a faint glow from the kitchen reassures you. He must be getting a drink. 

You pad to the kitchen and are confused to see him sitting there, headphones in, watching something on his laptop. You feel bad because there’s no great way to get his attention without startling him. But as you get closer you get a glimpse of what he’s watching and ice floods your veins. 

“Jack?” You call loudly, hoping he’ll hear you, and he must, just enough to make him glance to see if you’re really there or if he made it up. 

He knows by the look on your face that you’ve seen what it is he’s watching. He pauses the video wordlessly, pulls off his headphones. The two of you watch each other for a second. “Where did you get that?” 

Jack looks away from you, back at the laptop. “DA.” 

You nod slowly. “Just gave you a copy?” Jack looks back at you, defensive. You hold your hands up. “I believe you, I’m just… surprised I guess. That they would do that.” 

He shrugs. “Well they did.” 

You shift on your feet a little as you try to think of how to progress the conversation. You don’t want to force him to talk to you but you need to know what this is about. “Is this why you’ve been tired? How long have you had it Jack?”

“Does it matter?” He fires it back just a little too quick, a little too acerbic. You furrow your brows and let your lips pull down a little. “No, fuck-” he sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. That was defensive. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.” You nod at him, a silent acceptance of his apology, give him time to collect his thoughts. “I got it a few days before you started noticing I was more tired than usual. Week or so ago, maybe.”

You take in a little breath and let it out. You’re mad at yourself for missing it, for not pushing him more on why he seemed so tired. Mad at yourself for letting him suffer alone because of you. You catch yourself. You’re internalizing his feelings into guilt. You think back on what your couple’s therapist has taught you both to stop. Or at least to try to. 

“Why?” you ask delicately as you walk a bit closer to him. “Why did you want it?”

Another shrug. It’s unlike him. Very unlike him. “I don’t know.” He glances back at it again. He’s still a little defensive. “I just wanted to see what happened.” You don’t say anything, just tilt your head a little. You can tell he wants to say more. “I wanted to see what happened to you. Up close. I thought maybe it would help me relate or understand better.” 

You can tell he’s being truthful, you know he is, that he would never lie to you. But you can also tell he’s still trying to figure out how to tell you the whole truth. “Why alone? Why not watch it with me, talk to me about it?”

“I didn’t want to put you through that just because I wanted to try and understand more.” He’s too stoic. His face too emotionless. 

“Honey, if you’ve been watching this for a week” you let out a sharp breath as the realization of it really hits you. “If you’ve been torturing yourself by watching this for a week, I… You should have come to me. Did I do something? Is there a reason why you didn’t want to?”

He lets out a little huff. His façade is starting to crack. “Like I said,” it’s a touch snippy, and you know he feels bad about the way it comes out the second he says it, can see it in the way his eyes narrow just slightly. “I didn’t want to put you through it.”

“Jack-”

“Because how was I supposed to watch it with you?!” It’s not yelled, his voice isn’t raised, not as such. He just says it with a certain force, not of anger but of sorrow. “How was I supposed to watch it with you?” Jack repeats, voice cracking as tears make his eyes glassy. “How was I supposed to sit here and watch it with you?” It’s whispered. His whole jaw trembles as he clenches it to try and keep the tears away, shaking his head a bit. Jack lets out a breath through his nose and looks at you. 

“I’m a doctor. I take away people’s pain, I make them better. And I can’t take away your pain now or make you better, mentally or physically, and I couldn’t when you got shot or when you were in a coma or any of the times you’ve panicked or sobbed into me and I am just so fucking aware of it. Of how I fail you. I’m not saying this to make you feel bad or because I want to make your struggle about me or to make you feel guilty for leaning on me. I want that. I need it. You need it. We need it. It’s not your fault, at all, it’s his, and I don’t want this to make you feel guilty even though I know it will, but I still want to talk to you about it as selfish as that sounds maybe.” Jack stops to take a breath in. You both know it’s not selfish.  

“It kills me that the thing I do, the thing I do well, I get to you, the most important person whose pain I could ever take away and make better and I just can’t. You’re the only person that matters. Fuck everyone else. And I can’t use my skills and knowledge to make you better. I’m failing you, I feel like I'm totally failing you, and sometimes I get so in my head and sit and start worrying about the day you’re going to realize I’m failing you and just how badly I’m failing you and leave. The day you realize that I’m able to take away everyone else’s pain and make them better but not yours, not you. The day you realize how unfair that is and how totally fucking shitty of me that is.” He lets a shuddery breath out.

“And so I watch this video like it’s going to give me answers.” He shakes his head a little as a few tears slip down his cheeks and he takes a breath in through his teeth. “It’s like I think if I can identify the exact moment you got shot somehow that’ll give me all the answers and I’ll know exactly what to do and how to take away your pain and make you all better so that this never hurts you again. I’ll know the perfect way to hug you and hold you and kiss you and how to look at you and know what you need to hear and then I’ll do it all and put all the pieces back together just like that,” he snaps his fingers, “so that you’re better and aren’t in pain.” More tears stream down his face. “Because that’s what I do. I take away pain, I make people better. But not for you. Not for the most important person, the only person who matters.”

Jack sniffles and wipes some of the tears off his face. “And I know it’s stupid, and it’s not how the world or healing or grieving or any of it works but I have to try. I have to try everything, just in case maybe the world and healing and grieving will work like that for this, and this will be the rarest outlier case that makes no sense but somehow is real.” 

“Oh sweetheart,” you murmur as you walk over to Jack, lean over him and run your hand down his chest, kiss at his neck. Jack leans his head in against yours, hands coming to clutch at your forearms. “It’s not stupid. It’s not stupid at all.” 

“I just hate it,” he whispers. He turns his head into yours more and you understand, turn yours to so you can kiss him, let him take whatever he wants and needs from you. “I hate that I can’t make this better and take away your pain. I hate seeing you hurt and being so useless and helpless. And I hate how I’m making it about myself.”

“I know you do. But you’re not making it about yourself. This happened to both of us,” you say against his lips. You let your hands run over his chest for a moment. It’s one of those moments where how much you love and adore and need him overwhelms you. You never thought you’d ever have anyone who would sit alone at night and watch a traumatizing video over and over for weeks just to try and figure out how to help you. And as much as you wish he hadn’t because you don’t want him hurting himself, the fact remains that he did and that means something. It means a whole lot.  

The feelings make you want to cry not from sadness but just from the overwhelm and a bit the frustration of knowing you’ll never be able to tell him how much you love him. “I love you so much. Come back to bed with me?”

“Okay. Love you too,” Jack whispers and nods before stealing one more kiss from you. He lets you lead him back to your room and into bed. You turn on your bedside lamp so that you can see each other better, both of you leaning against the headboard and turned towards each other a bit. You grab one of his hands and start to play with it. 

“It’s not stupid,” you repeat. “At all. It is sweet and loving and yeah, a little heartbreaking for me, but that’s okay. You are allowed to feel what you feel. And I am so glad that you told me, okay? Feeling how you do is valid and it makes so much sense to me.” You bring the hand you’re playing with up to your lips and kiss each of his third knuckles before looking back up at him, getting that true eye contact that he loves. 

“But, Jack, my love, you are not my doctor.” You say it so gently yet so firmly, like there’s no room for debate because there isn’t. And Jack knows that and that you’re right. “You need to remember that. You’re my partner. My fiancé. You’re not my doctor. I don’t expect you to be my doctor. You aren’t failing me. In any capacity. I promise you.”

Jack shrugs. “Still.” His fingers play with yours. “I’m a doctor. I make people better and I can’t make this better for you.” You nod at him, think on your feet and decide to run with it since he’s fixated on the idea right now and you know it’ll get through to him better.

“You are. You are a really really fucking good doctor Jack. One of the best. But you don’t send every patient home in perfect condition, completely pain free and fixed and all better, with no healing left to do or pain to experience do you?” You let it linger just a second to make the point. “No. You can only heal them so much sometimes. Probably most of the time because healing takes time and is more than what you as a doctor can do for anyone. People have to do some of the healing on their own. So you admit them to a service. Or you send them home with pain killers and discharge instructions,” you give him the smallest smirk at that which makes him huff a little and his lips twitch upward. “And you set them up with follow up appointments and sometimes you give them casts or braces or stitches or sterile dressings or crutches or a sling or whatever else.” You tilt your head at him. “You, Peter, are all of those things for me.”

Jack’s eyes water again a little bit at your statement, eyebrows furrowing inward and up a bit, asking if you mean it. You nod. 

“You say that you can’t take my pain away or make me better but you do Jack. You do. Just by being here. By showing up for me every day no matter how bad I am, how sad or how grumpy or how quiet or anxious or numb or whatever. Just by kissing my forehead in the morning and saying you love me as you walk out the door and filling up my drink when you get up and making sure some part of you is always touching some part of me when we’re sitting on the couch together. You’re always here. Even when you’re physically not. I know for a fact I could call you at work and say I needed you, fuck I wouldn’t even have to say it, you’d hear it in my voice as I said your name and you’d be on your way. I could call you anywhere and you’d show up. You know how much pain that kills? You know much better that makes me? Just to know I have you? Just to know you love me? To know I’ll never have to sit here alone in the grief and guilt and sadness? To know you’ll always sit here with me in it if that’s what I need? I don’t know where the fuck I’d be with all of this without you Jack.” You lean in and kiss his forehead, rest yours against his after a second. 

“You are not failing me. You are healing me, Jack. Helping me heal. Helping me get better. You take away my pain, even if some days it’s not completely. There’s some pain even the strongest drugs can’t get rid of completely. But you make it so that it’s always bearable and hold my hand and me while you do it.” You pull your head back, run your hand through those salt and pepper curls you love so much. “I know that you think you need to find the perfect thing to say or do to make me better and pain free from this forever, but we both know that’s not real life, just like I can’t find those perfect things to make you better or pain free from all of this forever. Every kiss and hug and smile and I love you and pat on the ass and cheeky boob squeeze when you walk by me in the kitchen or wherever and cuddle is perfect, and puts me back together a little tighter so that it hurts a little less. Yeah, there are some bad days where I feel like I’ve taken seven thousand steps backwards, but you know who the person taking those backwards steps with me and holding my hand and helping me take the first step forward again is?” You give him a soft smile with slightly crinkled eyes you can only hope reflect how much you love him. “You.” 

Jack reaches for you, pulls you up against him in a tight hug. He doesn’t really know what to say in the moment, feels like words have run out. “Thank you.” You can feel him shaking a little and it makes you squeeze him tighter, kiss at his chest wherever you can reach. 

“Any time. Always.” You know he wishes he could say more but that he can’t, not as he processes it all, especially with how exhausted he is. And you’re okay with it, more than. He doesn’t need to say anything as long as he heard you and tries to take what you said to heart. 

His hands slip under his shirt that you’re wearing just to seek out more of your skin, just to help ground himself a little further. You pull back a little and his hands are already moving to get the shirt off you and tossed to the floor. You settle back on his chest in a close hug. 

“I’m sorry for not saying anything. And for keeping the video from you. I know I should have talked to you about it, I just really wanted to find the answer on my own and I became convinced it was somewhere in that video.” Jack nuzzles his nose into the top of your hair. “I’m not saying that as an excuse either.” 

“I know you’re not. And I forgive you, to the extent there even really was anything to forgive. I understand Jack, I really do. But it’s going to be okay. We’re going to keep getting through this together.” You move your head from his chest to capture his lips in a couple of sweet kisses. “And now that trial is over we’re getting back to normal again and we’ve got France soon. What happened isn’t going to define our lives or our life together, Jack. We’re not going to let it. There’s just going to be hard moments.” There’s a few minutes of comfortable silence as you just hold each other. 

“Do you feel guilty? Because of what I told you? Like you’re somehow responsible?” Jack murmurs, keeping your faces close together, hands running up and down your back. 

“Honestly? A little.” You nod as you make the admission. “But I’m thinking about what we’ve learned in couple’s therapy and trying to use the things we’ve talked about and so it’s not so bad. Not like it would have been if we hadn’t started going. You feel guilty?”

Jack nods into your neck before kissing you there. “A little, yeah. Like you said though. Not like it would have been.” He slides his hand up your neck as he moves his head back, holds your face. “We’ll delete it tomorrow,” he nods. You nod back at him, bite the tip of his nose, making him fake scoff and shake his head. 

“Let’s go back to sleep?” You scratch at his scalp and Jack leans into it, eyes fluttering closed. 

“Mmm,” he hums, nodding and rolling you over so that you’re on your back. His hands find the waistband of his pajama pants. “There’s one more thing I think I’d like to do. You know. To make us both sleepy.”

You bite your lip and giggle as he starts taking his pajama pants off. “Oh yeah?”

Once the pants have joined the shirt on the floor Jack looms back over you, presses his body against yours, hips grinding against yours just enough to pull a little gasp from you when you feel him. He nods as he leans in and kisses you. “Yeah.”

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

It comes up fairly early on, while you and Jack are both still at home and chatting about wedding stuff one night. You’re on the couch with your head in Jack’s lap, attention split between the show you put on TV, listening to Jack think out loud while he does the crossword and scrolling Pinterest.

“Four words lead to this declaration.” Jack has the crossword on the armrest of the couch, his left hand intermittently resting gently on the side of your neck, thumb brushing over your cheekbone, or on your arm. He clicks his pen in thought. Because of course he does the crossword in pen. “Three letters. Nothing filled in.” You hum in acknowledgment at him, your way of saying you’ll think.

 “Pennsylvania recognizes self-uniting marriages. We could just marry ourselves,” you suggest.

“We could, yeah.” You turn your head and look up at Jack after he says it. There’s something on his mind. “Five letter word for blowhard.”

“Storm,” you both say at the same time, share a little laugh about it. You sit up and Jack makes a little noise of discontent. 

“I’m staying right here, don’t worry,” you tell him as you curl up next to him and wrap your arms around his left upper arm. “You don’t want that.” It’s half question half sentence. You’re trying to give him the space and opportunity to say what he’s thinking about who he’d like to marry you. 

“I, no. It’s not that I don’t want that or that I wouldn’t love that.” He shakes his head.

You give him a second. “But you’d prefer something else? Someone else?” An imperceptible nod. 

“It’s going to sound stupid.” 

“I sincerely doubt that.” You give him an encouraging smile.

Jack clicks his pen a couple of times before turning to really look at you. “I was thinking, what if we asked Robby? I know he’d have to do the whole getting ordained online thing, but…” Jack trails off for a second. “He just, before you, before I had you, Michael saved my life more than once. Metaphorically speaking. And he’s saved your life. Literally. And he’s my best friend and I don’t know. It just felt like maybe it was right.”

A slow smile pulls up on your face, all gooey and in love. “I think that feels perfect.”

“Really?” Jack raises his eyebrows at you. He’s not really shocked per se, it’s just one of those moments where it falls out of his mouth. 

“Really.” You nod. “I know how much he means to you. He means a lot to me too. You know the whole saving my life thing.” You lean in and give Jack a kiss on the cheek. 

“Okay,” Jack nods with you. “We’ll have to find a time to ask him, decide how I guess.”

“I have confidence that we will figure it out. We have time.” You squeeze Jack’s arm and then pull away, start to go back to the position you were in. 

“I do,” you say as you settle your head back on Jack’s lap.  

“A little premature, but I love to hear it.” Jack smirks at you as you look up at him. 

“The crossword clue.” You playfully roll your eyes at him. “Four words lead to this declaration. The answer is I do. The four special words are ‘will you marry me.’”

You end up deciding to do it at the Pitt one day. 

You considered planning it and asking to do dinner and make it a thing but that all felt a little too formal and almost pretentious. It didn’t fit. Doing it on the fly while he was working felt right. 

“Can we talk to you?” Jack asks Robby, you standing next to him holding his hand. Jack just finished his day shift at eleven thirty in the evening, had you come to the hospital around seven just in case he got off on time. You chilled in the break room the last four and half or so hours, chatting with people as they came and went. 

Robby looks between the two of you. “This feels ominous.” 

“Yes or no question Michael.” Jack deadpans. 

“Jack!” You chide him a little, but your smirk belies you.

“I’m sorry,” Jack mutters, “can we please talk to you?”

Robby rolls his eyes at Jack calling him by his real name. “Yes. I suppose you can.” 

“Thanks Robby!” You smile at him. 

Robby thinks it’s odd. You seem almost nervous and so does Jack, but Jack is harder to read at the moment. The shift he just finished was the last on his run and he didn’t get off within four hours of when he was supposed to a single one of those three shifts. Plus this shift was particularly trying. Between all of that and him still adjusting to being back he’s exhausted. It makes him even harder than usual to read.

“In here,” Jack nods, opens the door to the family room. 

“Okay, you guys are kind of freaking me out because this is ominous and now you’re taking me into a room where we tell family members their loved ones have died.” 

“It’s not bad, I promise.” You try to smile at him reassuringly. Robby nods at you like he doesn’t quite believe you as he sits down in one of the chairs, you and Jack taking the two across from him. 

“So.” You clear your throat. “Obviously you know we’re getting married.” You hold up your left hand and flash the ring at him, which pulls a little smile from Robby. 

“Robby,” Jack starts. But he stops. He looks emotional, like this is a hard conversation to have but not because it’s bad but because it means something. Jack takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Michael,” he starts again, earning a slight eyebrow raise from Robby because of the tone, “we were wondering if you would consider getting ordained and officiating our wedding. If you, if you’d marry us?”

Robby’s head lolls forward a little and his eyes widen, brows raised as he looks at Jack and then you and then back at Jack and then away from you both as he leans back. “Wow,” he breathes out and laughs a little. “Holy fucking shit you guys! I thought you were bringing me in here to tell me one of you had some terrible illness.”

You and Jack laugh a little, your hand finding his and squeezing. 

But it’s then that your words really hit Robby. He looks back at the two of you. He’d deny it if anyone asked but his eyes are a little glassy. “You want me to marry you?” He has to clear his throat of some emotion. “Really?”

“Please,” you nod. 

“Seriously,” Jack says quietly. 

Robby still looks a bit stunned but a huge smile pulls onto his face. “I, fuck, wow, yes. Yes, of course. I would be honored.” He stands and you follow, let him pull you into a big hug. “You’re sure about this?”

“Of course.” You smile at him as he releases you. “Nobody else we’d rather have do it.” 

Jack stands up behind you and you step to the side, let the two embrace.

“Thanks brother,” he says quietly to Robby. 

“I mean it Jack. It’s an honor.” The two step apart and you lean into Jack, all three of you smiling at each other. 

You exit out of the room and walk by the lockers so Jack can grab his backpack and you guys can leave. You wait by the desk, chatting idly with Robby and Samira until Jack walks up behind you. 

“Ready Doll?” 

You can hear how tired the poor man is. It almost makes you feel a little bad about sharing the thought you just had. Almost. 

“You know, I just realized that everyone up on the altar will have seen my boobs!” Your lips turn up and turn into something between a grin and a smirk. 

You hear Jack take in a big breath and release it as a breathy, “Oh my god.” He just shakes his head and finds your hand with his, laces your fingers together. “Come on, you, we’re done here.” 

Jack starts walking towards the doors, tugging you along with him and you just giggle.

“Oh so you’re just leaving me here to explain that?” Robby calls after you. It just makes you giggle louder. 

“I’ll show you my tits if it’ll make you feel better, Fruitcake,” Myrna offers Robby from her wheelchair, suddenly right behind him, as she raises her eyebrows at him and goes for the hem of her shirt.

“Jesus!” Robby nearly jumps. “Where did you even come from? When did you get here? Stop lifting your shirt up!”

You turn around a little and look back over your shoulder and wave. “Bye! Thanks again Robby!” 

Beside you Jack lets out a tired and huffed laugh because he loves you so much. When you turn back around he slips his hand out of yours and winds his arm around you, making you do the same. Jack pulls you a little closer to him and presses a kiss to the top of your head as you walk out the doors. “I love you Doll.” 

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

“You okay?” Jack asks, squeezing your thigh and interrupting your thoughts.

It takes you a second but you look over at him. “How could I possibly be anything less than okay right now, Peter?”

“Hey,” he laughs quietly, “I was just checking. You seemed a little zoned out.” 

“I’m on a plane, in very nice seats, sitting next to my unreasonably handsome fiancé who I’m on my way to France with.” You set your hand on top of his and squeeze. “I was just thinking I’m glad this came after the trial.”

The trial finished about a month and a half ago, just long enough for you and Jack to heal from all the emotions it stirred up and settle back into your routine so that things were normal when you had Robby drop you at the airport earlier tonight. You had been concerned for a bit that the trial might shortly after your trip. Neither of you wanted that because then it would be all either of you were thinking about during the trip. 

“Me too.” Jack nods. “I’m ready for some time alone with you, truly alone and away from all the bullshit. I’m glad I decided we’d start with a couple of days in Nice. That was very smart of me.”

You giggle and roll your eyes at him. He’s right though, it was. “It’ll be very nice to have some time to just lay out on the beach and relax before making our way up the country.” You pull the armrest up and lean into Jack who wraps his arms around you. “I’m ready to nap on the beach with you under an umbrella.”

Jack yawns at the word nap. “Yeah I’m going to need a nap on the beach alright.” He’d booked you a red eye, leaving at almost midnight Pittsburgh time so that you get to Nice in the morning and can maximize your time in France. You both know the first day will be a lazy one though and you’re both more than okay with it. Napping on the beach together being an option and all.

“You should sleep,” you encourage him. 

“You should too.” He raises his eyebrows at you a little. 

“I don’t sleep well on planes.” You shrug. 

“Yeah, but you sleep well on me.” He cocks his head at you and gives you a bit of a lopsided smile. 

You laugh silently through your nose, shaking your head at him. “You’re pretty slick sometimes, you know that?” 

“I just speak the truth, Doll.” Jack pulls you a bit closer to him and grabs the traveling blanket you’d brought with you from the seatback pocket where he’d put it earlier. You help him spread it over the both of you and then snuggle into him as much as you can in airplane seats. Jack’s breathing evens out pretty quickly. It takes you quite a bit longer to find sleep, but once you do Jack is right. You sleep pretty well.

Nice is gorgeous and relaxing and so what you and Jack need, some lazy time together to focus on each other and nothing else. Your hotel is stunning and right on the beach giving you easy access to it. You’d spent your first day at the beach too given how tired you were and how nice it was to just lay in the sun together and relax. You’d walked around Nice your second day and picked up the car you’d be driving through the country in. You’d taken a little drive to Grasse, and looked around, gone to Fragonard and done the museum before you and Jack decided on a perfume for you and cologne for him.

And now you and Jack are spending your last day in Nice back at the beach all day. 

You’re both laying out on towels on the sand currently, your stuff on top of the shaded lounge chairs you’ve claimed. Jack’s wearing the beach leg he got so that he can be in the sand and sea. The softness and warmth of the sand is relaxing against your backs. If you and Jack weren’t intermittently talking you’d probably fall asleep. 

There can’t be much more than a foot between you and during a lull in conversation Jack blindly feels for your hand. He plays with your fingers once he finds it. You sit up and take a moment to admire him.

“France looks good on you, Dr. Abbot.” Your eyes trail up and down his body appreciatively. With the time you’ve spent out in the sun Jack is unfairly tanned, skin glowing. It makes his freckles pop even more which is something that drives you insane. You’d really noticed it yesterday when the two of you showered together.

You dragged him out of the shower quickly and to bed so that you could try to kiss and count each one while telling him how hot and gorgeous he is, how unfairly so and that you can’t believe he’s given himself to you, that you’re the one that gets to see him like this and have him. You’d spent the rest of the night loving on him.

And apparently you’re not ready to be done. 

“Oh yeah?” He turns and smirks a little at you. 

“Yeah.” You lay back and roll on your side, put your elbow in the sand and rest your head in your hand.

“I love your hair like this.” You run your free hand through it. He didn’t get a chance to get it cut before you left. It honestly can’t be more than a centimeter longer, but it’s just enough to show off his curls a little more, especially when they’ve dried from the sea’s salty water. “Just a little longer. Gives me a little more curl to enjoy.” You hum for a second. “To pull on.” 

“Really?” Jack’s basking in your attention and love

You pull your eyes from his hair down to his face. “Yeah, really,” you nod. 

“You want me to keep it this length always?”

“Would I like that? Absofuckinglutely. But it’s your hair. And I love it shorter too, like when we met. So you should keep it how you like it.” You scratch at his scalp a little. “I will love my salt and pepper curls no matter their length.” 

“Yours?” Jack raises his brows and gives you a teasing grin.

“Mhm.” You nod. “Mine.” You roll a little more and lean your head towards him. “Just like these are also mine.” You kiss at the freckles on his shoulder and chest, PG enough for the beach but with enough of a lingering edge and a nip to make him feel it in his groin.   

“Yeah?”

“And so is this.” You drag your nails down his happy trail, stopping just short of his cock. Obviously you couldn’t rub it here to make your point as much as you’d have liked to.

Jack lets out a harsh breath through his nose. “Careful, Doll.” He can feel himself starting to get hard. 

“What?” It’s all fake innocence and pout. “All of you is mine. Isn’t it? Just like all of me is yours?”

“Of course.”

“So let me have you tonight. Let me appreciate what’s mine, focus on you.” You grab one of his hands and bring it to your mouth, kiss at his fingertips. You give the tips of his ring and middle fingers the quickest kitten lick. “Because your face twisted in pleasure, and the groans I pull from you, and the way you say my name and look when you come are also all mine.”

Jack has to sit up and bend his knees at that. His heart is beating much faster now, lust and need coursing through his veins. He’s hard and that’s a problem in these swim trunks. 

You follow him, sitting up and leaning back on your hands. “Unless you wanna go back to the hotel room now?”

“Yes,” he breathes, a frustrated edge to it. 

You smirk. “Let’s go.” 

“We have to wait a minute.” 

“Oh?” You raise a single brow at him. “Why’s that?”

Jack huffs. “You know exactly fucking why.”

“I swear, I have no idea what you mean,” you’re giving him your most innocent doe eyes, the subtlest hint of a smirk at the corners of your mouth, “Dr. Abbot.” 

Jack’s jaw clenches hard, eyes searing into you. “Get up.” 

You do as he asks, start to collect your things. Your movements are hurried, you’re just as desperate as him, swimsuit sticky already with how wet you are for him. 

You go to grab your towel but Jack stops you. “Yeah, yeah, I got the towels, thank you very much.” You furrow your brows together for a second in genuine confusion before Jack stands up and quickly drapes your towel over the arm he’s holding against his lower abdomen and grabs his and does the same so that the towels hang down and cover what would otherwise be his very obvious erection. 

“Oh dear,” you tut, finally letting a self-satisfied grin pull on your face. “That’s why we needed to wait?” 

“Go.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

He tries to stay stoic but you don’t miss the way he clenches his jaw again and rolls it, how he shifts on his feet just slightly. You widen your smile and kiss his cheek before throwing the last few things in your bag and taking his hand. 

You giggle as you walk back. With how much bigger Jack’s steps are than yours and how fast his desperation for you is driving him to walk you’re almost having to jog a little to keep up with him. 

Once you’re back in the hotel room and have literally just dropped all of your shit and the towels and get to the side of the bed you try to push Jack back onto it but he doesn’t let you, uses your motion to push you back onto the bed. 

You whine and try to get up. “No. You can have me tonight like you said.” Jack’s hand comes to your chest and pushes you back down.

“Jack!” You whine. But you can feel your heartbeat in your clit, have to rub your thighs together a little, which doesn’t escape Jack’s notice.

“You really thought you were going to get me painfully hard in public and call me Dr. Abbott and sir and get away with it?” Large, strong and dizzyingly warm hands make quick work of your swimsuit and toss it aside.

“I thought you’d let me focus on you.” You push your lips out in a little pout.  

Jack leans over you, caging your head in between his arms. He ghosts his lips over yours. “You thought wrong.”

He pulls up and starts taking off his swim trunks. You make a high-pitched noise of protest as he gets off you. “Not even a kiss! You won’t let me have you like I want and you won’t even kiss me when you were right th-”  

“Stop talking.” It’s firm. He’s hit order territory. It makes you shiver. You like it when he gets like this. This edgy kind of dominant that’s distinct from other times he’s dominant. Just a little rough at the right moments. Manhandling you however he wants. Using you for his pleasure. 

You could reply in one of two ways, both of which would rile him further, just in different ways. But right now the choice is clear. 

That makes you smirk and arch a single brow at him. Jack already knows what you’re about to say. “Make me.”

Jack hums a dark laugh and smiles at you. “With pleasure Doll.”

You’re a little confused when he walks around to the foot of the bed and grabs under your arms and yanks you further onto the bed. The suddenness of it makes you shriek a little. “Jack!”

He moves your lower body so your legs are out in front of you comfortably facing the head of the bed and then pulls you down further so that your head is hanging off the bed. Jack’s a little rough shoving his fingers in your mouth to open it and get them wet. You know what’s coming when he pulls them out. 

Jack lets out a slightly strangled sigh of relief at the feeling of your mouth around him. “There we go, hm, Doll?” He leans over you, shoving himself further into your mouth but not too far, he controls the angle of his hips. You realize he didn’t just move like that for himself when the two fingers wet with your saliva come to circle your clit and slide down, tease your entrance. You already know he’s going to edge you like this. 

You swallow your whine when he pulls his hand away and then are choking around him from the shock and pleasure when his hand comes down to smack your clit. “Look I’m even being so nice,” Jack coos at you, “giving you what you wanted. Because this is what you wanted right? To be choking on me?”

Jack pulls out of your mouth so you can answer. You take a couple of breaths before you do, mostly to prepare yourself. “I don’t know. Is it?” 

“Hm,” Jack laughs again, smacks your clit before pinching at it, pulling another little shriek from you and a moan of pleasure that he can see you fighting to keep down. He likes when you make him work for it. “Be careful what you wish for, Doll.”

After dinner that night, which you were actually a little surprised you were able to walk to, Jack does let you have like you talked about on the beach. He’s a man of his word and it’s quite the opposite of a hardship.

The next day you guys hop in the car and start driving. You hit Arles and then go up to Avignon to look around, spend the night there and go walk through the city to find a cute café to have breakfast at. 

From there you head to Nîmes, and then on to Carcassonne. You spend the later part of the day looking around the town before heading to the hotel you’re staying at. Carcassonne leads you up to Rocamadour. 

All of France is beautiful, but there’s something about the way the town is literally built into the side of a stone cliff that really stuns you both. It’s just so incredible and makes you feel so small in a way for some reason. It’s hard to comprehend the reality of it. 

“I could spend so much money here,” you whisper to Jack. The two of you are browsing in the most incredible leather store you’ve ever been in, and probably your favorite shop of the trip so far.

Jack stops walking and flicks his head a little, staring at a spot on a table a bit down from you before looking down at all of the things he’s carrying in leather bags you’re getting. “I think you are spending so much money here, Doll.” 

He doesn’t mean it in a bad way, isn’t complaining about it at all. He’d buy you the whole store if it would make you happy and he feasibly could. He’s happy to spoil you, though he’s well aware there’s going to be a fight when you go to checkout about who’s paying. 

You look back at him and stick your tongue out a little at him. He rolls his eyes at you and does it back as you walk over to him and show him a little cosmetics bag you’ve picked up before adding it to one of the bags he’s holding. Jack nods at it appreciatively. ��It’s not all for me.” That’s true. You’re getting quite a few gifts here for all the people in your lives. “The leather is just so beautiful and well priced.”

“It is.” Jack picks up a nice leather wallet and looks it over. “And not everything we’ve got here is something you picked out, I’ve added my own stuff.” 

“What?” You look up at him with mock offense. Jack’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head, bunching his shoulders up. “And you haven’t been showing me?”

Jack looks at you for a second. “No?” You give a little scoff, but it’s teasing. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to?”

“Well, you are,” you say matter of factly. “So show me.” You nod when he doesn’t move, smiling at him. You’re adorable when you’re this excited. “I want to see! I like seeing! That’s half the fun of shopping!” 

“Okay! Okay! Give me a minute to dig it all out!” Jack laughs a little, shaking his head at you. A wave of love and adoration for you crashes into him and he gets a little overwhelmed by it as he goes through the bags to pick out what he’s put in. He just loves you so fucking much. He shows you and you love all of them, take another spin through the whole store before checking out. 

You leave Rocamadour then and head to Lascaux II. You’re particularly excited for this one. You’re in awe the second you get down into the replica cave. Jack almost wants to record you in Lascaux II because of how fucking precious and cute you’re being and how completely fucking oblivious to it and how it’s affecting him you are. 

“This is so incredible,” you say for probably the tenth time. “Look at this Jack. I couldn’t do this now. Imagine them doing it 20,000 years ago. That’s just… I don’t even know. It’s making me bizarrely emotional.” 

“Aw, baby.” Jack breathes through a little laugh, pulls you close to him. He gives you a little squeeze and kisses your forehead before you step away to go back to chatting with your tour guide as everyone looks around this room. He knows it defeats the purpose of the visit for him and that you’d lovingly chide him if you knew, but Jack doesn’t care and spends more time smiling and watching you take it all in and chatter away with the guide than he does looking at the cave paintings. He never wants to leave.

The tour, however, does come to an end and you look around everything else and the gift shop and leave Lascaux, head to Limoges to spend the night and tour tomorrow. From there you tour Château de Chambord and then Amboise, where you go wine tasting and get quite tipsy together before making your way back to your hotel room with the both of you in a fit of giggles.

In the morning, you and Jack leave Amboise and drive to Ohama Beach and the Normandy American Cemetery.  It’s not sad as such, just kind of somber, which makes sense. 

You and Jack walk through the rows silently, hand in hand with Jack reading name after name. It gets to him a little. Makes him feel kind of bad. Here he is all the way in France on vacation doing this and thinking about people he doesn’t even know. He lives less than four hours from Arlington and hasn’t been back since the last funeral. 

He thinks about the rest of his unit, the ones still alive. They’d all moved across the States, settled different places where they or their spouses had family or just wanted to live. They kept in touch though, texts and calls. He went to a couple of weddings, knows each time someone welcomes a baby. All but one are coming to the wedding and the only reason he’s not is because his wife is due only two weeks later. 

He’s told you some about them. He realizes in the moment though that he’s told you more about what happened when he lost his leg. You know pretty much everything, everything he can remember at least. It took him a while to open up about it, not even so much because it was hard to talk about, talking to you about it was actually not easy but not as hard as he thought it would be because he knew you had him and would really be listening and there for him if he fell while talking. It was more he struggled with the idea of you having to know, having to carry it around similar to how he does, less so obviously but still. He didn’t want that for you, felt it was like a burden almost, a cross to bear with him. But he’d spoken with his therapist about it and been able to see it wasn’t.

“You know if you ever want to take a trip to Arlington I’m there with you, yeah? You don’t have to go alone unless you want to.” You squeeze his hand.

Jack smiles to himself and nods. You would know what he’s thinking about right now. “I know.”  He squeezes back. You don’t say anything else, know that you don’t need to. 

You end up getting sandwiches from a little café and have lunch sitting on a wall overlooking the beach. Jack shares some stories about his time overseas and on base here, most of them funny and making the both of you laugh. “Have I ever shown you pictures?”

“A couple, yeah. From weddings after or photos of new babies or pregnancy announcements.” You give him a small smile and tilt your head. “You don’t have to show me or tell me anything, you know?”

“I want to,” he nods as he pulls his phone out. It takes him a minute to find them, but when he does he scrolls through them and tells you the context, points out who everyone is. Tells you who was lost, little things about others, where they are, if they’re still in. 

One he shows you is old, from when he first joined. “Oh my god, you’re a baby!” You take his phone from his hand as he laughs. “Look at you! How old were you here?” You look up at him. Jack tells you and you look back down at the phone. “Wow,” you breathe, “do you have more of you younger?”

“Yeah.” He takes his phone back from you and scrolls. He’s a little bit older in these ones. “Right before I deployed on my first tour.” He swipes. “This was taken the day we arrived over there.” 

You bite your lip to try and hide your smile. You know it’s maybe not appropriate in a way, but you only do so because of how young he looks. You’ve never really seen him this young before. It’s always been much younger, baby photos, middle school, high school graduation. 

Jack bumps your shoulder with his. “You got any of you this age?”

You grimace at that and shake your head. “I mean, yeah, but you don’t want to see them, trust me.”

Jack barks a laugh at that. “I trust you on everything Doll, but not that.”

You deepen your grimace as you look at him. “You should.” 

He shrugs. “Prove it then.” 

You groan at the challenge. “Fine,” you mutter, “but I expect a ‘you’re right I’m so sorry for doubting you’ and you take my ‘I told you so’ without comment or a look.”

Jack’s giving you a look already because he knows you’re full of shit and he’s going to love them. “If that’s warranted then I promise I will. But I know it won’t be.” 

You drive into Paris in the late afternoon early evening, get checked into your hotel. Jack did good. Jack did real fucking good. Your room has a stunning view of the Eiffel Tower and a big jacuzzi tub. It’s just large enough but is still small enough that it’s cozy and romantic. You look around with big eyes and a look of disbelief.

“Jack, this is so beautiful.” You open the balcony door and walk out onto it. You’re almost a little speechless. Not even from how beautiful the room is and the view and the tub but from the fact that he chose this hotel and this suite for you. Because you know the only thing he was thinking of when he booked it was that he wanted to spoil you and make you happy and see you smile. “It’s incredible.” You murmur it but you know he’ll hear because you can feel that he’s standing right behind you even if the noise of the city covered his footsteps. You recognize his presence.

Jack’s hands find your hips and his chest presses into your back as he kisses the top of your head. “I didn’t order the champagne.” There’s a very nice bottle sitting in a bucket of ice for you, two flutes on the table it’s next to. 

You turn, shaking your head at him. Jack’s hands opening and settling back on your hips once you’ve turned all the way. “That’s not what makes it incredible.” 

Jack gives you a little knowing smile and nods. “Anything for you, Doll.” 

You lean up and kiss him, again and again until you’ve managed to maneuver the two of you so that Jack’s pressed against the balcony wall as you makeout. “You know this is very unfair,” you whisper against his lips when you break apart for air. Jack flicks his eyebrows up at you. “You get to plan the honeymoon too. When is it my turn to plan a vacation and spoil you?”

Jack laughs softly, catches your lips in another kiss and slips his tongue into your mouth for a second. “You can have the next one, okay? After the honeymoon.”

“Okay, good.” You kiss until you’re breathless again and then pull apart. 

“What would you like to do before the Tower and river cruise tonight?” Jack asks you with a little tilt of his head. “Champagne and a little moment on the balcony?”

“I’d like to start,” you take a step back so that he can walk past you and into the room, “with you getting on the bed. Fully clothed.” 

He cocks his head further. “You don’t have to do anything to thank me. I wanted to do this for you. Wanted to see the smile you gave me when you walked in and looked around.”

“I know I don’t,” you reassure him with a nod. “But I want to. I want to suck your cock for you and see the smile you give me right after you’ve come.” Hands squeeze your hips a little harder. “So please. Get on the bed.” 

Jack looks at you for a moment, genuinely wanting to make sure you know you don’t have to and he didn’t do this so that you’d take him in your mouth once you’d seen the room. When your eyes and expression convince him he nods and does as you ask.

Once Jack’s finished and recovered you decide to head out and walk around, just soak in the City some before you go to your reservations at the Eiffel Tower. 

Jack thinks he could live here and spend every day for the rest of life watching you and the look of wonder as you lead him through Paris. 

You and Jack share champagne on the top of the Eiffel Tower before you find a cute Seine side café for dinner. At 10:30 you board the boat that will take you up and down the Seine letting you see lots of the sights uplight and bathed in different shades of light. They of course pause down by the tower just before 11 and once it hits the Eiffel Tower sparkles and your face lights up exactly how Jack knew it would. He snaps several photos of you, the angle perfect and letting him get your profile and the tower in the same shot before he gets your whole face so he never has to even imagine this look again. His favorite is the one he gets when you turn to him beaming to thank him for this because of the expression on your face and how happy you are and how you’re looking at him like he’s the only thing on the planet that matters to you. 

It’s his phone’s wallpaper before you even disembark. 

The next morning you start with Notre Dame and Sainte-Chapelle before heading to the Louvre. 

“I think it’s this room.” Jack nods towards one. 

You take a cursory glance at it and keep walking. “It’s not. It must be further up.” 

“You didn’t even look!” Jack catches back up with you in two strides. 

“I promise you that when we get to the room you won’t need to ask if it’s the room.” You look up at him and try to give him a convincing smile. He narrows his eyes at you but nods. 

You guys walk up a bit more and come to another doorway off the side of the hallway. 

“Ah,” Jack clicks his tongue. “I understand now.” You share a look with him but don’t say ‘I told you so’ or even give him that specific look. 

You only have to glance at the room to know it’s the one housing the Mona Lisa. The huge mass of people making it difficult to even get through the doorway makes it quite obvious. You and Jack slip in and stay off to the side. You manage to get a good opening and are able to work your way in a little bit to see it before you quickly get out of the room, overwhelmed and done with all the people. 

“It’s smaller than I thought,” Jack comments as you walk down the hall a bit away from the room. 

You stop walking and look up stoically at the wall in front of you before looking at him as he keeps walking for a minute before realizing you’re not next to him and spinning. “Doll?”

“If only you had someone who told you that it was going to be smaller than you thought before you even stepped foot into the country.” You tilt your head at him. You’re not mad or annoyed, just playfully teasing him. The smirk pulls up on Jack’s face just a little too quick. He said it to fuck with you. “You asshole,” you mutter, narrowing your eyes and shaking your head as you walk ahead again. 

Jack chuckles as he catches up with you. “Sorry, Doll, I couldn’t resist.”

You shake your head, have to laugh with him for a second. “It’s not even you doing it, it’s the fact that it fucking worked on me.”

“I can be very convincing.” Jack laces his hand with yours and squeezes. 

You slow to look at a painting but look at Jack first. He’s already looking down at you, smiling, shoulders tensed just slightly in a way that tells you he’s about to lean down and kiss you. “Yes you can, Dr. Abbot.”

That earns you a little twitch under his eye before he leans in and kisses you. 

You spend the next day at Versailles. “Golf carts?” You furrow your eyebrows but smile. 

Jack lets out a bitten back laugh. “You know it doesn’t scream Jardins du Château de Versailles, but with how big the gardens are I get it.” He looks around. “They have a little train too.”

You and Jack have finished touring the palace proper and have walked out to see the gardens and trianons. You shake your head. “Oh no. No, no. We are so renting a golf cart.”

“Yeah, I know.” He grabs your hand and starts walking towards the booth you rent them from. “I knew the second you said golf carts.”

“Are you saying I’m predictable?” You bring your other hand across you to poke the side of his tummy. “Ow!” It doesn’t even hurt, it was just more unexpected. “I’m not saying that at all, believe me, Doll, you never fail to keep me guessing. I’m saying that wanting to rent a golf cart to drive through the gardens of Versailles is so you that it’s like they decided to do it just for you.”

You smile a little at that. You like knowing you keep him guessing but that he thinks things are very you at times. “I’m driving.”

Jack nods. “Knew that too.”

The day after Versailles you do more of Paris. You’re walking around the Palais Garnier headed towards the gift shop, your tour of the opera house having just finished. 

“We could do a Phantom of the Opera roleplay.” 

Jack breathes out a laugh that makes it clear how much that is not what he expected to come out of your mouth. “We could do a Phantom of the Opera roleplay,” he mutters, shaking his headband bowing his chin to his chest for a second. He looks back at you. “We could, yes.”

“It would be very hot.” 

Jack laughs. “Any roleplay would be very hot with you, Doll.” You’re both keeping your voices low enough for only the two of you to hear. 

You stop walking and smirk at that. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jack emphasizes the word as he nods. 

“You’ve thought about it before?” you simper, resuming walking. 

“You haven’t?” Jack shoots back with a smirk of his own.  “What have you thought about?” You need to know now, need to know if they match your own fantasies and if you could taxi back to the hotel right now and act one out, tour of the Catacombs be damned. 

“We can talk about it at dinner. Or after dinner.” He squeezes your hand and keeps walking you both towards the gift shop. 

“Or we can talk about it now.” 

Jack knows this is a battle he’ll lose and he’s honestly okay with that. “Can we at least do the gift shop and then grab some food and talk while eating? I’m hungry.” 

“Yes. I can live with that, but can’t live with you being hungry.” You let go of his hand as you walk in the gift shop so that you can look at things. “I’ll be speedy.” 

The rest of your trip passes too quickly for either of your liking. Before you know it you’re walking into your hotel room for the last time. You’re back a little earlier than usual but you’d decided to come back after dinner to spend the night together in your room and in the tub and on the balcony just focusing on each other. Neither of you are looking forward to having to go back to work. Back to being apart. It’s going to be hard going from being together 24/7 to only having mornings and nights except for the weekends if Jack has it off. 

You’re both ignoring it, don’t want it ruining your last night here. There will be plenty of time to be sad about it tomorrow at the airport and on the plane. 

You order a bottle of wine and bring it to the tub with you, sit and soak across from each other while giving each other foot massages and talking about your favorite parts of your trip. 

“This isn’t a very fair deal, you know.” You can hear the teasing in his voice. 

“I can’t help that my hands are smaller and not as strong as yours! I’m doing my best!” 

Jack laughs. “That’s not what I meant, you give the best massages.” You raise your eyebrows at him and shake your head to ask what then. One of Jack’s hands falls from your foot to find the other one underwater. “This,” he pulls it up and puts it next to your other foot, toes sticking out of the water a bit, “is what I meant.” 

“Oh my god,” you roll your eyes at him and flick some water at him. “You are so full of shit, Jack Abbot. You know for a fact that once you’re done with my other foot I’m going to get closer to you and massage your leg. If anything, it’s nice for you because my hands get a break and aren’t as tired so I can go longer.”

You’re correct. Jack does know that for a fact, he just likes to fuck with you sometimes. “Did you just flick water at me?”

Your head shrinks back a little at the question because it is not what you were expecting. You let out a laugh. “And what if I did?”

Jack tightens his lips together and nods his head at you once quickly. “Then I would have to do something about that.” You stare at each other for a moment, your eyes narrowing as you try and figure out what his move would be.

“Don’t.” You try to stay serious but laugh a little. “You will send water everywhere.” You know he isn’t just going to flick water back at you or even send a wave at you. The playful look in his eye tells you that he’s going to lunge for you which will force the water forward with him and out of the tub just so he can grab you and pull you close to him. 

Jack’s smile widens. “We have lots of towels.”

“Jack.” You try so hard to stay serious but his adorable goofy grin makes it nigh on impossible. “I don’t want to spend our last night in Paris mopping up the bathroom floor.” 

“You should have thought of that before you flicked water at me.” He shrugs.

You scoff in shock and gape at him. “How was I supposed to know your reaction to a small flick of water was going to be to want to attack me at the opposite end of the tub and make a fucking tsunami in the procecss?”

“That’s just a risk you take with me Doll.” Jack clicks his tongue and shakes his head with mock solemnity. 

You stare at him. He’s going to do it. “You’re cleaning it up.” 

“You’ll help.” Jack smirks. 

You both know he’s right. “Fuck you.”

That makes Jack grin at you and lunge.

You find yourselves sitting on the balcony now. You’re dry from the tub and wrapped in the big fluffy towel robes the hotel has. Jack had at least managed to angle his lunge so that most of the water was pushed toward the tile wall behind the tub and not on the floor. It hadn’t taken long to mop up with towels. 

It’s getting later, closer to time to go to bed. As much as you’d done a good job of ignoring the reality that your trip was ending, it’s harder to now, and some of that sadness is in the air. It grows a bit with the small lull in conversation. 

Jack glances down at his watch. He leans back in his chair a little, appreciating how deep the seat is. He stands and moves his chair so that it’s just inside the balcony door. It’s a good height, his feet are flat on the ground when he sits in it. He grabs the small table and drags it to be what he estimates is the right distance from the chair.  “Peter?” Your heavy confusion is evident in your voice. 

Jack sits back in his chair and beckons you. “Come here, sit on my lap.” You’re never going to turn that down, so you do without really thinking about it. But before you can sit, “Robe off. I want to feel you. You can put it over you like a blanket.” It makes you pause for a second but Jack opens his robe so that it won’t obstruct your skin from touching and so you do as he asks, then sit. “Good girl.” It’s whispered low and right at your ear. 

He adjusts you so that your back is against his chest as you pull the robe over your like a blanket as he suggested even though you’re back in the privacy of your room. Your feet instinctively find the edge of the table to rest on and help you balance since you can’t reach the floor like this. 

“I love you,” he murmurs, slips his arms from his robe and wraps them around you under yours. 

You swallow hard. “I love you too,” you whisper. 

You stay like that for a couple of minutes, Jack holding you on his lap and you resting your head back against his chest. Jack slips a hand down to your thigh and squeezes to get your attention. “Spread your legs.” 

Your heart rate picks up just at his words. “Why?” 

You ask the question but do as he says while you do. “Good,” he praises you again. The hand that had squeezed your thighs dips between your legs. “So I can do this.” His finger circles your clit once and then slides down. He smiles at how wet you are. “Always so ready for me,” Jack murmurs against your ear.

“Jack,” you breathe out his name, hand wrapping around his wrist, not to stop him but to anchor yourself. You can feel him growing hard behind you and you grind into him a little. 

It makes him grunt a “Fuck.” Jack’s other hand slides up and grabs one of your breasts, squeezing at it before rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger at the same time he slips a finger inside you. 

“Oh,” you moan. “More! Please,” you pant. He’s quick to listen to you and slip another finger inside of you with how wet you already are. 

Jack’s breathing harder too, cock fully hard and aching with each wiggle of your ass as he makes you squirm. “Is that enough?” You shake your head against him, try to roll your hips in time with his fingers drawing in and out of you as they curl perfectly so that he’ll slide even deeper. “That’s not an answer.” 

“No!” The word shakes as you cry it, Jack’s hands already winding you tight. 

“Another one?” Jack slides another finger into on this pass and you keen for him, wiggling so much he groans from the stimulation and how it’s not enough. Once you settle again he resumes, works his fingers in and out of you, spreading them inside you sometimes. You’re letting out the softest high pitched moans with each breath you pant out. “This is enough?”

“No,” you shake your head hard. “No, no, I need your cock. Now. Please. I’ll be so good,” you start to babble just a little, “so good for you.”

“You already are being good for me.” His hand stills with his fingers buried in you. “My sweet good girl.” Jack lets out a harsh grunt at how tight your cunt squeezes his fingers at that. “How could I ever say no to you?”

He slowly pulls his fingers from you and brings them up to his mouth to suck clean. “You taste so fucking good,” he almost growls. “Makes me want to get you on the bed and just eat you out all night instead.”

You whine at that, torn between the thought of his tongue and his cock as grind yourself back against him. You shake your head. “Need you. Need your cock, please Jack. Tongue later if you want, later.” Jack laughs softly at your conflict and then the desperation with which you ask for his cock. “Cock first Jack, please.”

“Shh,” he soothes you, using one arm to lift you up a little and adjust you into a position that will work to get him inside of you. “I’ve got you Doll. I’ve always got you.” Jack shifts a little. “Help me, yeah?”

Your hand is there almost immediately to help guide him inside of you. “Fuck Jack, fuck fuck fuck.” Every word is moaned out as Jack moves his arm and helps you lower yourself onto him. 

The groan Jack lets out once he’s bottomed out in this position is strangled and almost pained. “You are so fucking tight like this Doll,” he’s panting hard now and he hasn’t even started to actually fuck you, “holy fuck.”

“I know,” you whimper, shaking a little from the pleasure already. “You feel even bigger, I feel you everywhere.” 

Jack starts to thrust up into you. With the angle there’s not a ton of movement but there’s just enough for his head to rub that spot inside you over and over and over again with every thrust. Your robe eventually falls off but neither of you give the slightest fuck, you’re in the room anyway and plenty warm. 

Your hands cling to him, one at the side of this thigh and the other at the upper part of the arm he has diagonal across your chest and tummy, fingertips ghosting teasingly over your collarbone and making you shudder, every so often running along the bottom of your jawline. 

Both of you are already panting and struggling to form coherent sentences, when the top of the hour hits and the Eiffel Tower starts sparkling. 

“Oh,” your panted breath catches in your throat. 

“Thought you might like that,” Jack grunts out as he keeps fucking you. He slows a little though, wants to draw it out. 

Jack’s hand slips under the back of your neck and he shifts you to the side a bit so he can see your face better and you his. It’s now his breath that hitches as he takes in you in, eyes roaming your face and chest, greedy and unabashed. The glittering light falling all over your face makes you look unreal, ethereal and divine and how on earth are you his? “Gorgeous,” he rasps between heavy breaths. “You’ll never fucking- fuck” Jack throws his head back for a second as a heavy wave of pleasure rushes through him at the way you clench even tighter at his words before looking back down at you, eyes burning into you hotter than they ever have before, “you’ll never fucking know how perfect you are to me.” 

Coupled with the way he’s looking at you as he says them, Jack’s words fully steal your breath for a moment as you stare back at him, go beyond making it harder to breathe. You have never felt more loved or more beautiful than you do right now. And you know that Jack isn’t just saying it solely because he’s in the throes of passion and that he’s not just talking about your looks. He means it all of the time, he thinks it all of the time. You’re always perfect to him, in every way. 

“Breathe for me baby,” Jack coos at you through a panted breath out. 

The reminder has you taking a shuddery gasp of air in. “Jack, I, I.” You shake your head a little as pressure builds behind your eyes, tears starting to form. You don’t even know what you’re trying to say, there’s no real words, just Jack. He nods at you to soothe you and tell you he knows.

It almost feels silly or cliché somehow but there’s something about the sparkling lights that almost makes it more intimate. His eyes look beautiful like this, the flicker of the light showing off every color in them. The constantly moving shadows on his face highlight every feature, highlight just how handsome he is, especially like this, flushed and panting and sweaty. He’s breathtaking. He’s yours. Body, mind and soul. This man has given you all of him, keeps giving it every day. 

You somehow get your voice steady enough to whisper to him. “You’re beautiful, Jack.” 

His hips stutter at the compliment. Jack’s not sure he’s ever been called beautiful before. There’s a little shake of his head that you catch as the Tower stops sparkling. He’s not disagreeing with you, he’s trying to explain he doesn’t know what to say. 

“S’okay, you don’t have to-” You’re cut off by a gasp as Jack’s hips shift. “Oh Jack!” you mewl, “Jack, Jack, Jack. Don’t stop, please don’t, please.” Your reaction tells him he’s found the perfect stroke and so he keeps it. Doesn’t stop or slow down or speed up, just keeps it and revels in the way one of your hands finds his hair and tugs, the other clawing and surely bruising his thigh just above his knee. “You don’t h-have to say anything,” you finally choke out as tears of pleasure hit your eyes, “just know you are.”  

Jack holds your eye contact, always does whenever possible. You watch as they grow glassier with every stroke. You talk to each other through looks, thank you and I love you and I can’t believe you’re mine and what did I do to deserve you and you feel so fucking good. 

Jack finally breaks the silence with a low “I love you,” like he hasn’t been telling you how much he loves you with his body and eyes this entire time. 

“Love you too,” you breathe on a pant out, “love you so much. Please, Jack.”

Jack’s hand finds your clit, starts working you perfectly. He has you memorized and you know it. There’s no lead up, no working his way into the touch you need to come. He’s just there with that touch immediately. Because he needs you to come.

“Fuck Jack!” you moan, jolting at his touch and how direct it is, how he’s so desperate there’s no lead up. “I’m gonna come.”

“I know,” he pants. “Come for me.” With how tight you are Jack knows that seconds after you come he’s going to follow. “Please Doll.” Jack can feel how close you are, rubs at your clit just a little faster as his hips get sloppy. “Need it, Doll. Fuckin need it. Make me come, please.” They’re all choked out and broken with how out of his mind on you he is. He keeps winding you tighter, so tight you still and go silent, become convinced your muscles are going to break all your bones with how deep the pleasure has you clenching them. “Please. Love you so m-much. Need it sweet girl, please.” The last please is cracked and pure desperation. Jack rarely begs but he is right now. 

It shatters you. 

Your orgasm rips through you, white-hot and searing every nerve in your body with unbridled bliss. It’s dizzying, has you clawing at Jack and tugging his hair even harder as you struggle to breathe through it, tears finally sliding down your face as you sob a little, almost unaware of how Jack’s name drips off your tongue so fast they slur together. 

Jack is mere seconds behind you, coming with a broken shout of your name. He shakes from the ecstasy of it, from how fucking good you make him feel, wave after wave of pleasure making him breathless as he struggles to cope with the rapture. “Doll,” he groans, over and over, “fuck, you’re so good,” his words are strangled, caught in his throat and forced out because he needs you to hear them, “feels so good, love you, love your pussy, fuck.” 

Jack is completely pussy drunk as he fucks you both through the crest, doesn’t still his hips or his fingers on your clit. He drags it out of you, never wants it to stop for either of you, never wants to leave this moment.  

But once he feels it ebbing for you he moves his fingers off your clit, leans over you to reach your lips and kiss you. It’s sloppy and breathy and there are moments where he can barely kiss you back with how overrun with pleasure he is. You keep sighing his name, keep whimpering it as tears keep slipping down your face. 

His hips keep thrusting as he works himself through it, sloppy and even less movement hunched over you to kiss you but it doesn’t matter. It and how tight you are and how you’re fluttering around him as you try to come back down is enough to drag it out of him and keep him coming. 

“Are you?” you breathlessly giggle at him.

“Yes, fuck!” Jack hisses. “You’re too good, pussy’s too good I can’t,” he pants, almost sounds pained by the pleasure, “stop.” 

You deliberately clench at his words and it pulls another groan from Jack, pulls a little more cum from him, and a grunted “Fucking shit!” as he stills his hips but pushes up to grind against you a bit.

Jack stops grinding after a few seconds because it becomes too much, rests his forehead against yours as you both shiver with aftershocks for a few minutes. Eventually he brings his head up and rests it against the back of the chair with his eyes closed as he pants and readjusts you, both of you hissing at the movement of him inside you as he does. He wraps his arms around you tighter, and you exchange murmurs of sweet nothings as you both attempt to come back to earth.  

“Oh fuck,” Jack pants after a few minutes, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re fucking unreal.”

You giggle at him. “Mm, I’m very real, Peter.” It’s a little slurred. 

He just hums at you, words still hard. You sit like that for another couple of minutes, Jack’s hands starting to rub and down you as your fingers draw soft circles in the crease of hips. “I want to get us to bed so we can cuddle properly but I’m not sure if I can walk.”

“I know I can’t,” you laugh. “Cum is going to get everywhere.” It’s already leaking out of you, always does, but with how long and how much he just came it’s going to be worse. 

“I’ll get you to bed and eat it out of you,” Jack mumbles. He means it too, as tired as he sounds. He’s not really tired as much as he needs more time to recover. 

“I might actually cease to exist if you do,” you tease. 

Jack chuckles at that. He knows he’d have to wait too long to give you time to not hit a more painful than pleasurable hypersensitivity the second he started. “Can’t have that.” Jack doesn’t have to say more, doesn’t have to reassure you he’ll take care of you and clean you up. You know he will. He takes in a big breath and lets it out. “Alright, I can feel you getting cold, we’re gonna do it.” 

You nod against him and take your feet off the edge of the table and fall forward a bit, Jack slipping out of you in the process, little moans from both of you at it. Jack keeps strong hands on your hips as you stand up, legs just a bit wobbly. He follows you up and gets beside you, wraps an arm tightly around you. It’s actually not as bad as either of you thought, you recovered better than you realized while sitting with each other. Getting to the bed is pretty easy, all things considered. 

Jack shuts the patio door and then grabs a washcloth, gets it a little wet with warm water before coming over and cleaning you up. He takes it back to the bathroom and rinses it, leaves it to dry with all the other towels, shaking his head slightly at the sight. 

And then he finally climbs into bed with you, rolls on his side and starts pulling you close to him at the same time you move towards him. Once you settle he smiles as he looks at you, his eyes flitting about your whole face before settling on your eyes. “There she is, my pretty girl.”

“My handsome man.” Your voice is rough, a bit ragged from the moaning, but not as bad as after the second proposal. 

Jack leans in and kisses you. Just because he can and he loves you and he’s in bed with you in Paris and you’re marrying him. 

You look sad when he pulls away, maybe it’s more a preemptive forlornness. “I’m going to miss this,” you murmur. 

“I know. I am too.” Jack nods. Because he is. He hates seeing you upset but he wants you to know that he hears you and your feelings are valid before he tries to distract you. “We’ll always have Paris.” He fails to hide the smile that wants to grace his face, corners of his lips twitching up a little. 

“Oh my god,” you laugh, shaking your head. “I can’t believe you just said that.” It worked. You’re smiling now, distracted.

“What?” Jack sings the word a little. “You were supposed to be impressed I can quote Casablanca at will.”

“I don’t think one needs to even have seen Casablanca to know that line.” You love him, him and the way he validates you but coaxes you into a better mood when it’s right. 

“Okay but I have.” He waggles his eyebrows at you. “Have you?”

You smirk. “We said no questions.” A little challenge for him. 

Jack nods, presses his lips together and pulls them down, raises his eyebrows at you. “Here’s looking at you, Kid.”

“Aha!” you laugh, “you really have seen it and you remember it!” A bigger smirk pulls on your face. You want to see how far he’ll go. “Play-”

“I’m not singing As Time Goes By,” Jack cuts you off. 

You gape at him a little, smiling as you do. “I love you so much.”

“Did you mean for that to be a quote?” He smirks. 

Your jaw slackens a little bit as you smile. “I-” you shake your head. “No. No I did not.”

Jack laughs softly. “I love you more, Doll.”

You shake your head at him, lean in to kiss him, to taste him and consume him and be consumed by him. And then you blink and it’s morning, and blink again and you’re walking back into your apartment together. 

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

“Hawaiʻi is always a good option, especially if you don’t want to go international.” 

You and Jack are out on a date. He’d planned it, chosen a nice restaurant where you currently find yourselves, your favorite cuisine, of course. You’re doing something after but he won’t tell you what yet. It’s the weekend after the string of anniversaries. Your second anniversary together which you spent together out doing your favorite things together and getting a couple’s massage and having sex. 

That anniversary was followed a month later by the anniversary of the shooting and when you went septic and when you came home. There had been a lot of emotions with these three, but you and Jack got through them together. You didn’t try to ignore the meaning of the day as such, but you did try to take the days back, especially the day of the shooting and the day you went septic. So you spent the days together doing fun things both out and at home and enjoying each other and your time with each other and laughing and being close and having sex and yes, sometimes crying. Jack had thought a date the weekend after the last anniversary passed would just be a nice little thing to do, so he’d planned this.

“You don’t want to go international?” Jack asks. 

“No, no I never said that. I’d love to go international. I’d prefer to go international, honestly. I was just thinking out loud.” While you take a sip of your drink you make a little thinking face that Jack finds so adorable. “Fiji looks beautiful. Or any of the Caribbean islands. Bali. Mexico.” You get another bite of your food on your fork but pause before bringing it to your mouth. “We could go ziplining any of those places I bet. Ooh! Or horseback riding on the beach!”

Jack gives you an amused smile while you take your bite. “Anywhere else?”

You bob your head back and forward as you chew while thinking. “I’ve always thought one of those Viking river cruises would be cool! They go a lot of places now I think, and that would be a really cool way to see a region of Europe potentially.” You hum. “A tour of Italy. Or Spain. Or Croatia maybe!” You realize you’ve been doing all of the talking. “What about you? I’ve been the only one throwing places out there, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Jack shakes his head and takes a sip of his drink. “I was having fun listening to you think of places and watching your face as you spoke about them. You’re very cute.” You give him an almost shy shrug and Jack is tempted to end the date here and now and take you home to have his way with you. “I like all of those places. Ireland would be cool I think, especially if we got a car and drove around. I’ve always wanted to do Japan too. Kyoto and Osaka. But then Greece or Crete or Cyprus also sound amazing.”

You nod as he speaks, smirk a little. “You’re going to have one hell of a decision to make, Peter.”

“I am,” Jack laughs softly. “Really depends on what we think we’d like to do on our honeymoon.”

“Each other, ideally. A lot.”

Jack lets out a huffed laugh, he should have seen that one coming. “Well, yes of course. There will be a lot of doing each other I have no doubt, Doll. But you know, do we want to do museums? Do we want to go look at historical sights? Do we want to just lay on the beach all day? Do we want a combination of all three?”

“No, I know what you mean, I was just teasing.” You run your foot up and down his left leg under the table. “I would be happy with any of those, genuinely. I know that’s not particularly helpful, but you could pick wherever you wanted and I’d love it. As long as we’re together.”

Jack smiles at you. He knows how much you mean it and he understands because he feels the same way. You guys could stay at your apartment for a week on a honeymoon and he’d be content. That’s not going to happen on his watch, but still. He knows it’s about the person and to some extent the reason and not so much the place. “That’s very sweet.” He lets his foot brush against the side of yours under the table. “It’s very unhelpful, you’re correct, but it’s very sweet too.” 

You playfully roll your eyes at his teasing. “I mean it. And you want to plan the honeymoon and do this as a surprise and I don’t want you to feel like you have to pick a place I said or that we have to do any of the things I said. We have a whole life together to go see all the other places.” 

“I know,” he reassures you, “I don’t. I just wanted to hear your thoughts and ideas.”

“Okay.” You nod and finish off your drink. “As long as you know that the honeymoon destination that will make me the happiest wife is the one that you pick because you put the time and effort into thinking about it and picking it and planning it.”  

Wife. You say it so nonchalantly but Jack’s brain glitches out and scrambles at the word. Of course he knows you’re going to be his wife, but hearing you refer to yourself as it leaves his mind fuzzy and reeling in the best way. It takes a second for him to process the rest of your sentence. 

“Jack? You okay?”

“I’m perfect, Doll. You okay?” The smile he gives you as he says it is so beautiful you curl your toes in your shoes to keep from screaming. 

“Yeah,” you nod, “but what was that? Something happened there for a sec.”

Jack’s smile doesn’t fade. He almost feels a little self-conscious in a way, being so affected by it. Sometimes it still fucks with his mind that you are going to be his wife. That you choose him. That he’s lucky enough to get to love you and be loved by you. But you are, and you do, and he is, and there is nothing in the world that makes him happier or prouder and so he doesn’t fucking care that the word got to him. 

“Wife.” You raise both of your brows at him, raise your chin a little too in question. “You said ‘honeymoon destination that will make me the happiest wife’ and my brain just got totally snagged on the word wife for a second.” You bite your lip and giggle at him. “Don’t laugh at me!” He’s laughing as he says it, no real meaning or force behind the statement because he knows you’re not really. 

“I’m not! I just think it’s cute!” You tilt your head at him. Something about the revelation makes you emotional in a way because you get that way with him and the word husband. And you get that way because it hits you how lucky you are and how much you love him and how proud you are to be his and call him yours, and so the thought of him having those same thoughts about you makes you emotional. “You say husband sometimes and the same thing happens to me, and so I just think it’s cute that it happens to you too.” You shrug a little. You seem almost flustered. “And, I don’t know,” you shake your head slightly, “it just makes me feel good knowing the same thing happens to you when you hear me say wife.”

“Of course it does.” Jack gives you his own shrug. His smile turns a little teasing. “Lots of things you say snag my brain sometimes.”

“Oh? And what things-” You’re interrupted by your waiter asking if he can clear your plates and if you’d like to see the dessert menu. “Yeah, I guess we’ll have a look, thank you.” You take it from him and help him collect your plates. Once he’s gone you look back at Jack to finish your question but he’s smirking and shaking his head. You know he won’t tell you. 

“Anything look good?” He asks, nodding at the menu in your hand. You roll your eyes at him, but your smile makes it clear how you really feel. 

You look over the menu, hum to yourself a bit as you do. “It all looks good.” You hold the menu out for him to take. “Look, you can practice your decision making skills now and pick for us.”

Jack shakes his head and smirks. “I don’t need the menu. I know exactly what I’m having for dessert.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter under your breath, closing your eyes and shaking your head. But again, your smile gives you away. You open your eyes back up and keep shaking your head at him. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“Mmm,” Jack hums. “Technically you didn’t take me here. I took you here. On the date. That I planned.” You roll your eyes at him. “Let’s skip dessert here. We can get it after the next thing, okay?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “I want to know what the next thing is.”

“And so you will soon.” Jack flashes you one of those smiles of his that completely disarms you before turning his head and grabbing the attention of the waiter to get the bill. 

Once you and Jack step out of the restaurant you lace your fingers with Jack’s and wrap your other hand around his upper arm. “So do I get to know what we’re doing next now?” You shake him a little bit to show your excitement and emphasize how badly you want to know. 

Jack smirks at you and cocks his head. “You know I wasn’t going to tell you.” You pout at that and he brings his free hand up and swipes his thumb over your downturned lip. “But you’re so cute and adorable that I will.” Your eyes widen a little, sparkling in the street light. “We’re going stargazing.” 

Your head tilts forward a bit, a confused smile pulling onto your face. “Stargazing?” 

“Stargazing.” He nods at you and gives you quite the self-satisfied smile at your reaction. You’d told Jack early into your relationship that you found space and stars incredibly interesting, and that you like looking at constellations and learning about their meaning. He happened to see something in passing that reminded him about it and gave him the idea. “That okay?” Your silence doesn’t worry him, but he just wants to check. 

You shake your head a little. “So much more than okay. I love it, thank you.” 

“Good, and you’re welcome, the pleasure of setting it up was all mine, Doll.” He offers you his arm and it makes you grin and giggle like a love sick fool. You take it, looping your arm through his and letting him lead you to wherever it is you’ll be stargazing together. 

It requires a trip on the light rail and when you get off you’re even more unsure of what exactly Jack’s plan is. You’re near the Steelers’ stadium. “Are we stargazing at the stadium? Are they like doing an event?” 

“Nope.” Jack pops the ‘p’ a little and leads you down the street. 

“I’m very lost, I don’t think I’ve ever been down here at night.” You pause. “Not sober at least.” 

Jack chuckles softly to himself. “Hold on, we’re almost there.” You guys walk a bit more and Jack stops. “We’re here.” 

“This is where we’re stargazing?”

Jack points to the building up just a bit in front of you. “The planetarium.” You look where he’s pointing, the hand not holding his coming to rest over your lips. “I saw that they were doing late night programs and it made me think of you. You said you liked stars and space once, constellations. I’d love to take you real stargazing, and I promise to one day, but I wasn’t sure how long it would be until we could steal away to somewhere with a lot less light pollution. So I thought this was a nice compromise. I know we might not be able to talk as much as if we were out in the middle of nowhere, but at least we’ll have someone explaining what shit is. There’s a couple different shows we can see too.” He thinks it’s ridiculous how his heart rate speeds up, how he’s engaged to you and seen you almost die and been with you for more than two years and he’s still nervous about whether you like his date idea. 

“Compromise?” You laugh breathlessly as you turn back to him. “Jack, this is… incredible. I…” You close your mouth and laugh a little. “I’m kind of speechless. I had to have told you that back when we first started dating. I want to say I can’t believe you can remember but fuck,” you shake your head a bit, “I think you just remember everything about me.” 

“I try to keep track of it all. Sometimes I get lucky and my memory gets pinged, like when I saw the poster for this.” He lets out a breath. “Okay, good. I’m glad you like it, I got kind of worried there for a second.” 

“I more than like it Jack.” You slip your hand from his so that you can take his face in your hands. You smile at him and you’re sure it looks as gooey and in love as you feel. He knows that look.

Jack stifles a laugh. “You wanna say it together?” You keep the smile but scoff a little. “What? You get a look. It’s this very particular smile. I know what it means.” You squeeze his face a little and take a small breath in. 

“You’re a romantic, Jack Abbot,” you and Jack say in unison. He beams as he shakes his head at you, laughing softly and looking at you like you personally hung the moon and all of the stars you’re about to go see together just for him.

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

After the anniversaries pass you and Jack really start to focus on wedding planning. While you didn’t want a two year engagement because you both just wanted to be married already, you knew it was the right call. You didn’t want the first anniversary of the shooting to fall a month and a bit after the wedding, since you’d chosen your anniversary as your date. And you needed the extra year for that day to fall on a Saturday, so you both felt it was just meant to be.

The first thing you end up really doing for the wedding is your registry. You weren’t even going to make a registry until Dana found out and convinced you that you should. It’s a spur of the moment thing one weekend. You haven’t done anything for the wedding really but you have a date and that’s enough to start a registry so you decide to go do it even though it seems out of order. It makes a great date for the two of you that has you laughing and dreaming about your future together. Neither of you expect anything from anyone. You make a couple at different places, to give people options. And because it’s fun to do. 

You and Jack browse Crate and Barrel. You don’t know why the sight of him in Crate and Barrel makes you a little giggly, but it does. “An espresso machine.” Jack cocks his head at it. “What do we need an espresso machine for?” he asks, scanning it in anyways despite his question.

“Espresso.” You offer no further explanation. 

Jack stops walking and lets out a deep sigh, hanging his head for a second and then shaking it to himself. But you both know he loves it, the sass. “You hardly drink espresso,” Jack points out.  

You shrug as you keep perusing. “Well maybe I would drink more if we had an espresso machine.”

“You really want someone to buy us an espresso machine?”

“Nobody is actually going to buy us an espresso machine. People know us better than that. And if they don’t then that’s what returns are for.” You turn around and smile at him. He’s shaking his head at you but wears a smile. 

“And when whoever gets it for us wants to come over and doesn’t see it out on the counter?” He raises his eyebrows in a little challenge as he walks closer to you and uses his free hand to squeeze your hip. 

You contemplate for a second. “We’ll make a list of people we can never invite over. Or we’ll keep the espresso machine.”

Shortly after making your registries you nail down a venue. It’s fairly overwhelming trying to find one in Pittsburgh because of the sheer number of options. And that’s just if you stay in Pittsburgh and don’t consider the surrounding areas. “I don’t know, Doll, I’m not good with that stuff. With words.” You and Jack are driving around the city looking at different options today. 

“I don’t know, Jack, the speech you gave as you proposed was pretty damn good.” Jack throws you a look. “They don’t have to be flowery or some crazy level of poetic beauty or whatever. All they have to be are vows from you. From your heart. I’m going to love them no matter what as long as they come from you. It’s not like I’m some poetic master.” You put your hand over his where it rests on your thigh. “If you really don’t want to, I’m not going to make us I just-”

“No,” he cuts you off because he doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea. “It’s not that I don’t want to, at all. I do want to. I don’t want us to get up there and only say the traditional vows. I like the idea of personal vows, I want that.” He lets out a big sigh. “I’m just concerned about my ability to… execute.”

“Can you name a challenge you took on and failed to rise to the occasion and execute?” You trace random shapes on the back of his hand, wait for an answer. One never comes. “That’s what I thought, because I know I’ve never seen it happen. Why don’t we plan to do them, and if we get closer and you’re concerned then we can revisit, yeah?”

Jack shakes his head as he pulls into a parking spot at the next place. He turns to look at you once he’s parked. “We’re doing them. No reevaluating. I want to do them. I have a lot to say to you, a lot to promise you.”

You beam at him. “I have a lot to say to you and promise you too.” You lean over the center console and push your lips out for a kiss that he’s happy to give you. “Come on. Maybe this will be the place we do all of our saying and promising.” 

This place will overwhelmingly not be where you and Jack get married. It is comically bad. You and Jack are both having to focus hard on not losing it with laughter.

The person showing you around is blissfully oblivious to your guys’ struggle. It’s not even so much that the place is bad, it’s how different it is than the photos you saw online. Your brain is truly hurting trying to figure out where the photos you saw online were taken and how the spaces could have ever looked like the photos. 

“I would love to know who took the online photos for them because they sure are talented,” Jack whispers as you follow the man into the reception room. 

“Same, I’d hire them for our wedding in a second.” You have to swallow hard right after saying it to keep from laughing. 

You and Jack both walk around the space and pretend to be interested as the man continues to talk about all the various features of the room. You make the mistake of glancing up and over at Jack. He’s not even looking at you, he’s standing behind the man showing you around who is somehow still talking about the features of the room staring at him with a look of concerned horror mixed with bewilderment. 

You spin so that you’re facing a wall and neither Jack nor the man, hand flying to clamp over your mouth as you bite your lip hard to keep from laughing. You walk away a bit, standing over near a random swatch of carpet embedded in one corner of the dancefloor. 

“Oh, yes!” The man calls to you and you shake your head to yourself a bit, have to let out a small scoffed laugh just to ease some of the tension in you. “The dance floor is great, isn’t it! A great size and the flooring is beautiful.���  

You nod. “Yeah, it’s so pretty,” you force out, voice a couple of octaves higher as you hold in your laughter. You don’t have to be looking at Jack to know his eyes snap to you, the shit-eating grin that pulls up on his face radiating off him even from across the room. 

You already know he’s on his way over to you so you take a couple of deep breaths and pull yourself together. You focus on the wall in front of you. You know that if you look at Jack you’ll break. 

“Everything alright, Dear?” Jack asks in a whisper as he walks up to stand next to you all fake saccharine and concern in his tone. The man has launched into some tale about some famous Pittsburgh native who had their wedding here.

“I’m great.” You nod, swallowing hard. “I’m really great.” 

“You sure?” He’s smirking now. “You can’t even meet my eyes.” 

“I’m not looking at you. And you know why.” You shake your head, keep your eyes focused on the wall in front of you. 

“But I have a very cute face. You tell me so all the time.” You can hear his pout. 

“Jack,” you warn, lips twitching up. 

“Okay! Okay!” The way he gave it up so quickly has you on edge.

“Jack. I swear to god.” You do your best to sound stern but there’s too much of a laughing lilt to your voice to be at all effective. 

“I said okay!” he protests. You’re still suspicious. 

And you’re right to be. You and Jack move across the room and get a bit closer to the man, do your best to pretend you’re interested in the story and the space. You make the mistake of looking away so that Jack is no longer in even your peripheral vision. And that’s when he makes his move, casually reaching his hand towards you and pinching your ass.

“Jack!” You manage to keep your shrill laughed yell of his name at a relative whisper as you bat away his hand. The only thing that saves you from cracking up is your very smart choice not to look at Jack.

Not quiet enough though. The man turns around. “Pardon?”

You’re immediately grabbing Jack and turning him, pretending to point at something across the room. Your voice is still a couple octaves higher as you fight back the laughter. “Oh, I was just pointing… that out to him.” You smile and nod at the guy. It evidently placates him enough because he launches straight back into whatever his current story is about. 

“That? That is what you came up with?” Jack whispers, finally looks like you’re making him struggle to keep from laughing. 

“I couldn’t pick one of the many fucking thats in the room fast enough!” This time you reach out to poke his side but he’s too fast, catches your hand with a smug grin. But you’ve played this game enough times with Jack. 

While he focuses on the hand he ends up catching you’re subtly moving your other hand near him. So the second that smug grin hits you poke his side, arching a brow and giving him his own smug grin back when he jolts and lets out half a laugh that he then pretends was a cough. 

You look away from him and take a few steps away because it’s getting to be too much again. “Jack.” Another warning as he comes up behind you again, still too much laugh in it for it to be particularly effective.

“I promise I’ll be good.” You believe him this time, can hear it in his voice. He presses his lips to your temple. 

“You better be,” you whisper. You can feel him smile and give you another kiss there before pulling away. 

Mercifully, the man concludes the tour and asks if you’d like to come in to book a date and discuss options. You’ve recovered enough to let him know you guys are going to look at a few more just to be sure. 

Both you and Jack are surprised when the guy appears to be fine with that and doesn’t insist you come back to his desk for some hard sell. You’re sure fucking grateful for it though because there’s no fucking way you guys would have kept it together at a table with this man.

The man walks you to your car which you both find odd, but the look you exchange is an agreement that the move fits the vibe of the place. 

You had both been doing so well, no longer on the verge of tears of laughter. But then the man tells you what weddings start at for the event and you both have to stifle laughs because there is no fucking way anybody is paying that much for this. You just nod at the guy and accept the second brochure he gives you as he tells you that if you guys decide to do the wedding here he can offer you a thirty percent discount. 

Jack decides this is the perfect time to return to your little game. 

“Thank you very much, we’ll be in-” Jack chooses then to pinch your ass again, making you blurt out half a laugh that you somehow manage to stop from devolving into the fit of laughter you have the urge to break into. You clear your throat. “We’ll be in touch, thank you.” 

You stand there frozen and smiling until the man is far enough away and then let out a long breath. Jack pinches your ass again. 

“Oh my god! Jack Daniel Abbot!” you shrill as you turn to him. “You were so trying to make me come unglued in there and out here you asshole!” It’s all bark and absolutely no bite. You’re not mad or even really trying to chide him. You love it. 

“Oh?” Jack laughs. “Whisky on your mind, lover? Because I know my middle name isn’t Daniel and I know you know that.” 

You huff and roll your eyes. “It just came out okay! It’s just what rolled off my tongue in the moment because I’m so mad at you!”

“Oh no, you’re not mad at me. Not even a little. You fucking love it.” Jack smirks, looking like the cat who got the cream. And he’s right and he knows it.“But would you like to see what can roll off my tongue in the moment?”

For whatever reason that’s what makes you crack. That comment. Within seconds you’re laughing so hard you can’t breathe, and Jack is right behind you.

“That was so bad,” you almost whisper through your laughter. You both laugh so hard you go soundless, laugh so hard it hurts and you both cry. You end up leaning into Jack to help stay standing because you can’t stop fucking laughing.

“I can’t breathe,” you laugh, keep laughing even after you say it, tears dripping from your eyes.

“If you can laugh and talk you can breathe,” Jack manages to get out, wiping away some of his own tears of laughter.

“Oh,” you give him a fake glare through your tears, “don’t you get fucking medical with me right now, Dr. Abbot.”  

You both start to calm down, laughter trailing off and giving way to sniffles and coughs to clear your throats, the occasional giggle from both of you. Jack gives one last huff of a laugh. “Come on, Doll. Let’s get in the car.” 

Jack’s hand finds the small of your back and he leads you the little bit of the way left to the car, opening the passenger door for you and shutting it once you’re in. You’ve been together over two years now and him opening and closing the door for you still makes you melt. It’s just so Jack in a way you don’t know how to describe.

Jack gets in the car and closes his door and you both let out long breaths at the same time before spending a moment in a comfortable silence, both of you thinking back on that entire tour. 

“That was certainly…” you trail off, giving a long shake of your head as you look for the word. 

“Something,” Jack fills in for you. “That was certainly something.” 

You and Jack burst back into laughter. It doesn’t last anywhere near as long this time, but you both get a little teary again because the whole thing is so fucking absurd.

“Is it bad…” Jack trails off, sniffling and wiping some tears from his eyes as he laughs a little more. “Oh god,” he sniffles again, “is it bad that it’s so bad it almost makes me want to get married there?”

You shake your head, laughing harder for a second. “No. No, because I had the same thought for a second. It would be so bad it would be good. It’s like The Room.” The thought makes your laughter pick back up for a second before you both finally start to come down.

“We’re not going to actually do it though, right?” Jack asks as you both recover from all the laughing. 

“No.” You shake your head a bit as you sniffle and wipe the last of your tears off your face. “Absolutely not, no.”

“Alright then let’s get out of here.” Jack leans over the center console and gives you a quick kiss. 

“Yes,” you type the next venue into your phone so the directions show on the car’s infotainment screen, “let’s.”  

This time, you both fall in love with the venue almost immediately. It’s perfect for the two of you and just the right size for your smaller and more intimate wedding. You and Jack wander up and stand at the place you think you’ll set up the altar, turn to face each other and hold hands. “What do you think?” you ask him quietly. 

“I think that this is where I’m going to be standing the first time I see you in your wedding dress,” he smiles. 

“Yeah?” you breathe. “You love it?”

“I think it’s perfect.” Jack wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. “Wanna practice the best part?” You giggle as you nod and wrap your arms around Jack’s neck. Jack’s smiling as he leans in to kiss you. It’s lingering but chaste. Jack pulls away from you and you’re immediately back to smiling at one another. He leans in for another kiss and this time he catches you by surprise when he dips you and you feel him laugh against your lips. He brings you back up, keeps holding onto you. “We have a venue.”

You nod, still smiling, probably look like a love drunk fool but you don’t care. “We have a venue.”

The next item crossed off the list is a dress for you. You keep your group small, a friend from work and Dana, Heather and Mel, the Pitt crew you’ve become the closest with through all of this.

You stand at the desk with the four of them, Robby, and Jack. Dana had put in for a half shift so she could attend and you’re collecting her on your way to the store. “You’re sure you don’t want me to come? Robby can handle it here by himself.”

“Excuse me? Have you looked at the board?” Robby points up to it. 

“I’m sure.” You give Jack a knowing smile. “You get to see it on the day when I’m at the top of the aisle my love.”

“Alright, I just thought I’d offer.” Jack holds up his hands. You know he’s dying at the thought a little. It’s one thing for him to know you’ll be getting a wedding dress. It’s another for him to know you have a wedding dress and he can’t see it. 

“You’ll be fine Jack.” Dana swats at him. 

“You know I could come? If you’d like a male perspective,” Robby offers. “Jack can handle it here by himself.” You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing, Dana not even trying to hide her snicker while your friend, Heather and Mel turn their heads. 

“Absolutely fucking not!” Jack hisses. “Michael does not get to see my wife in her wedding dress before I do!”

Nobody comments on his slip. On the way Jack just called you his wife. You bite your lip even harder at it and look to the side and exchange glances with Mel, who shoots you a wide eyed look of excitement and surprise at it. 

You look over at Robby and smile. “I appreciate the offer Robby, but I think the five of us will make out okay. You guys ready?” You look at the group. When everyone agrees you turn your attention back to Jack, walk over to give him a quick kiss. “Have a good day at work, Peter.”

“Have fun dress shopping.” He kisses your forehead. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

You nod at him and the five of you leave out the ambulance bay doors. It’s not a long trip to the wedding dress shop you found, a short ride on the light rail and up a few blocks. Your consultant is nice, asks what you’re looking for. You’re not really sure and not trying to box yourself into anything so you’re kind of open to anything. You tell her about the venue, the general feeling you’d like the dress to have, your budget and trust her to go pick the dress. 

It’s strange sitting in the dressing room. You think back on everything, your whole relationship with Jack, how much you’ve already been through together. You fidget with the ring on your finger as you wait. He really did do a great job picking out a ring and you love that it’s bespoke and so yours alone. 

Eventually your consultant returns with an overwhelming amount of sparkle and tulle and lace and chiffon and silk organza and taffeta in every shade of white and some blush tones. You start trying them on. You try on five or six, come out to show your party four of them. You all agree that none have been quite right. You get closer as you try on dresses but it’s hard not to feel a bit discouraged. You want to find the one so badly. 

Once you’re out of the last dress your consultant runs back to the stockroom, tells you she thinks she’s thought of the perfect dress. You take a little gasp when she walks in with it and shows it off to you. It’s stunning just on the hanger. Just having it on before you turn to see yourself you already feel like it’s the one. The dress you’re supposed to marry Jack in. 

“Oh wow,” you breathe as you turn around and look at yourself in the mirror of the dressing room. Tears start to form but you do your best to blink them away. You head out to show the group and you aren’t even conscious of it, but you’re beaming. 

You get up on the pedestal and face yourself in the mirror. The dress highlights all the right places, the color goes perfectly with your skin tone and makes you look glowy. But most importantly it makes you feel good, which can be so hard for you to find. As you take yourself in you realize the dress makes you feel how Jack makes you feel when he looks at you. Special and beautiful.

“What do you guys think?” Your consultant helps you turn towards them. 

“That’s the one.” Dana smiles back at you.

“Unquestionably,” your friend agrees. 

Heather and Mel agree as your consultant brings over some accessories including a beautiful veil for you to decide on. You turn back and look at yourself in the mirror all done up and are handed a tissue because you get so teary. It’s perfect. 

“You guys think Jack will like it?” you ask.

All of them laugh a little at that and you half turn back around. “What?” You give a little laugh too because of the looks on their faces. 

“As cliché as it is, you could walk down the aisle in a trash bag and Jack would love it and think you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.” Heather smirks at you. 

“He’s going to love this. You look so, so beautiful.” Mel beams at you. “And gorgeous and stunning.”

“He’s going to fucking lose it when he sees you,” your friend laughs softly, squeezing Dana’s arm as Dana leans into her a little to show her agreement.

“He’ll cry.” Dana nods, a little teary herself. You know she has a special relationship with Jack, that they’ve known each other a long time and she, like Robby, has seen him through some of the worst moments of his life, helped save him too. 

“He fucking better,” you laugh through a sniffle, blotting at your eyes. You look back at yourself in the mirror and get a bit teary again. “It just makes it so real, you know? We’re really getting married. I’m getting married to him in this dress.” 

“So you’re saying yes?” Mel asks, huge smile on her face. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yes. This is my wedding dress.” Everyone claps and gets up to give you hugs. You take some photos of course and then get everything bought, get told to make sure you have your shoes by the time of your first alteration appointment. The five of you grab an early dinner and then you head home and wait for Jack. 

You’re chilling on the couch with your feet laid out on it, head propped up a bit with a pillow and the armrest, scrolling and watching tv. You’re in one of Jack’s old oversized t-shirts and a pair of booty shorts. The way you’re laying on the couch though makes it seem like you have nothing on under them. You hear the sound of the door unlocking and Jack step in. “Honey, I’m home!” he calls out teasingly as he drops his bag and gets his shoes off. “Well,” Jack drawls, voice lower than normal, walking towards the couch, “this is a sight I could get very used to.” 

You laugh and affectionately roll your eyes at him as he starts to crawl up the couch between your legs. You drop your phone to the side and widen your hips to help accommodate him. “Hi.” You smile at him and give him the kiss he seeks. Jack lowers himself so that he’s laying on you, chest to chest with his head resting to one side. He can hear your heartbeat and lets out a big sigh, shoulders sagging a bit. “Long day?” 

“Yeah. Not a bad one, just long.” You start running your hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp and it makes Jack hum, nuzzle into your chest. “That constant kind of busy that’s just draining some days.” He can’t help but let out another hum of contentment as you let him lay on you and scratch his scalp and let him listen to your heartbeat and smell you. Let him become enveloped by you. It’s always so relaxing. Sometimes he falls asleep and you stay like that until he wakes up hungry and realizing you both need dinner. 

He lets out another big sigh, this one full of fake hardship. “Plus I had to spend all day thinking about my fiancée out getting her wedding dress and knowing she won’t show me or give me a hint about it.” He playfully bites at your chest over his shirt, his voice so deliberately overdramatic it makes you laugh. “You find one?” You can hear the smile in his voice now. 

“I did, yeah.” He can hear the smile in your voice now. You don’t say anything more, in part because you have nothing else to say and in part because you know he’s going to comment. 

When you don’t speak he fills the silence like you knew he would. “You wanna show me? Give me something? A little hint?”

He can feel the vibrations of the quiet laugh his words pull from you. “Not particularly, no.” Jack makes a little noise of protest. “Alright. A trade.” Jack nuzzles into you again in acknowledgment. “You can see me and the dress if I can know where we’re going for our honeymoon.”

“No!” Jack says immediately. “I want it to be a surprise.”

His head moves with your chest as you laugh properly at that. “That’s how I feel about my dress.” You let one of your hands come up to his face, brush your thumb over his cheekbone. “You know I’ve never actually seen you in your dress blues, so really your dress blues are your dress.”

“I’ll show you a photo of me in my dress blues if you’ll show me a photo of you in your dress,” Jack is quick to offer as an alternative trade even though he knows it’s in vain. 

“Nope.” You pop the p. “I’ll wait to see you just like you’ll wait to see me.” 

You decide not to wait on wedding bands though, not to pick them out for each other and have them be a surprise for the other like some couples prefer to do. You guys want the experience of going in and doing it together. 

You go, of course, to the local store where Jack got your engagement ring. The owner is thrilled to meet you and see the woman he helped Jack design the ring for. You talk about wedding bands and what you’re looking for. You guys walk around and pick a couple out and then the owner brings over more options, from simple metal bands to more intricate bands with diamonds for you, a couple of men’s options with diamonds too. 

Jack picks one he likes and slips it on his finger. He looks down at it as he clenches his fist to see how the band thickness feels before straightening it back out. It hits him, how he’s really going to be married. To you. And seeing a ring on Jack’s finger levels you in a way you weren’t expecting. 

“Wow.” It’s a little breathy, the way you say it. It makes Jack look over at you. “I thought getting the dress made it feel real, but this, you with a wedding ring on… wow.” You look up at Jack and give him an equally breathy laugh. 

“Yeah,” he breathes back, clearly also a bit dazed. “Put one on,” he encourages. 

You take your engagement ring off, pick one and slide it on, stare down at your hand. “I know you’ve had a ring on but still,” Jack swallows thickly. 

“It’s a wedding ring,” you murmur, staring down at your hand. You slide your engagement ring back on and hold your hand out again, the wedding ring you tried on sitting nicely underneath it. “That’s so wild.”

Jack starts laughing because that’s such a you thing to say. He leans into you and gives you a kiss on the cheek. “I love you,” he murmurs. 

“Love you too,” you hum back. You both try on quite a few more. It’s easier for the two of you to pick one for Jack than it is for you. You’re overwhelmed by all the options. “I’m glad I didn’t have to pick out the engagement ring,” you mumble. 

Jack nods with you. “I’m glad I just saw the ring and knew it was almost perfect. And I’m glad we’re picking this one out together.”

“I don’t know how to decide. They’re all so pretty.” You wiggle your ring finger a bit so the diamonds catch the light as you evaluate the current option you’re wearing. You take it off and then look over the tray of rings you haven’t tried. One catches your eye. It’s over in the corner of the tray by happenstance so it was easy for you to overlook with all of the choices. You recognize it as one of the ones Jack had picked out when you were looking around. You slip it on and evaluate by itself. It’s perfect. You slide your engagement ring on top and it remains perfect, the wedding ring complementing your engagement ring as though they were made to be worn together, even with their differences. 

You hold your hand up again, wiggle it. “I really love that look,” Jack murmurs. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” you agree. “It’s perfect.” You pull your eyes from the rings and look up at Jack who’s already looking down at you with a soft smile. “This is the one. This is my wedding ring.” You lean up and kiss him. You keep it chaste and short since you’re in public with the owner nearby. “You picked it out, you know.”

Jack nods, eyes earnest and crinkling a bit at the corners with the small smile he wears. “Yeah I remember. I had a feeling. But I didn’t want to pressure you. And I promise I don’t love it just because I’m the one who picked it out.”

“I know, I never thought that.” You look back down at your hand and grab his left hand, place yours on top, fingers offset by one so that his wedding ring sits next to your engagement and wedding rings. “We have our wedding rings.”

Jack grins at you, eyes sparkling like the gemstones surrounding you. “We have our wedding rings.”

About five months out from the wedding you go catering and cake tasting. Jack loves to pretend he doesn’t have a sweet tooth but you know he does. It’s why you love baking for him so much, because you know he loves it and enjoys everything you make. You know his likes well by now. He likes sweet but not too sweet. 

“That’s alotta fucking cake.” Jack’s eyebrows are raised as he watches the woman bring the big tray of cake samples over to you. 

“Well,” you have to fight back a laugh at the way Jack said alotta fucking cake. “We certainly won’t be able to say we didn’t have options.” The woman sets the tray down. Each small slice of cake has a number in front of it, and she hands you a piece of paper that describes each of the cakes as identified by their corresponding number. “We need a whole ass pamphlet to explain what the options are.” Jack snorts at that, pulls his phone out and takes a photo quickly. “An experience you don’t want to forget?”

“I’m sending it to Robby.” He glances at you and you quirk an eyebrow at him. “He wanted to come to the cake tasting so fucking bad.” 

“So you’re showing him what he’s missing out on?” You smirk at Jack.

“No, I am encouraging him to find someone so that he can have his own cake tasting. I’m tempted to send it in the group chat with Dana so that she gets on his ass about it.” He looks so amused with himself you have to chuckle. Jack puts his phone back on the table next to yours. “Sorry. Just had to do that. I’m focused now.”

You laugh softly and lean into Jack a little, each of you holding the pamphlet with one hand. “Lemon blueberry with tangerine icing is interesting.” 

“I bet it’s good, though. Refreshing. Oh, espresso ganache,” Jack has to hold back a laugh. “How fancy.”

“I think you’re going to like that.” You point to a different one. “Ginger-infused cake with cognac. I think that’s the one that says fancy.” 

“Espresso ganache? You really think I’m going to like that? I prefer my coffee black, my americanos black. Not with mocha or whatever else. Ginger cognac does sound fancier though. I bet it’s good.”

“I am quite certain you’ll like it in the context of a cake.” You keep looking. “Almond. I like a nice simple almond cake. Oh fuck, cannoli cake I bet that’s so good, it has cannoli filling layers.”

“Yeah but their almond cake isn’t going to beat yours, so. I’m not convinced about the ganache.” Jack shrugs. You smile to yourself at his compliment. “English lavender with earl grey buttercream is probably good. Red velvet. But again, yours is so good. Glazed donut is interesting, but okay. Butterscotch bourbon, that’s probably really good. Oh, here’s the winner. Sultry chocolate cake. Not just chocolate cake. Sultry chocolate cake.” 

“It sounds like something for the honeymoon suite. Imagine having to put that on the placard things or whatever that tell people what the cake is. Sultry chocolate cake. And you haven’t tried the ganache yet, of course you’re not convinced.” You take in a breath and look up at Jack. “I think we just have to start trying. Unless there are any you want to eliminate right away.”

“We’re here now with them in front of us. Might as well try them all.” Jack shrugs. “How about starting with the strawberry champagne cake?” You nod and Jack grabs the slice and sets it in front of you. You each take a bite and make a little noise of appreciation at how good it is. You keep trying new flavors, some immediately being taken out of contention. 

“Let’s try the glazed donut. I feel like it’s going to be kind of weird,” You say as you grab the plate and bring it in front of you both. “Like if you want the taste of glazed donut at your wedding just have fucking glazed donuts.” 

Jake takes a bite and hums in appreciation. It’s not bad. “Donuts aren’t as elegant.”

You fake roll your eyes at him as you take a bite. You shrug. “It’s not terrible, but I just come back to have donuts.”

“Agree, it’s not bad but also not going to be our wedding cake flavor.” Jack nods. You both look over the pamphlet and try a few more, a couple of which you’re really considering. 

“Cannoli next?” He knows this one will likely end up in the serious contenders section of the table, clears a spot for it. Jack grabs the slice and sets it in front of the two of you, takes a forkful. 

“I’d always rather be your cannoli than glazed donut,” you hum softly as Jack starts to chew.

Jack chokes a little, managing to get the bite down in stuttering gasps, coughing and reaching for the bottle of water they’d given you as you pat his back and bite your lip. You feel bad, you hadn't meant to make him choke. Once he settles you take a bite of the cake. Unsurprisingly, it’s really fucking good. 

“What did you just say?” Jack’s finally able to whisper, voice a bit scratchy. 

You furrow your brows in feigned innocence. “That I’d always rather have cannoli cake than glazed donut cake?”

“No,” Jack draws the word out and gives a little laugh. “I don’t think so.” You deepen the furrow of your brow in mock confusion. “I think you should admit it, lest you end up my glazed donut for a while.”

You snort. “Please. You love filling your cannoli way too much. I’d be your glazed donut maybe once before I was back to being your cannoli.”

“Is that a challenge?” Jack narrows his eyes at you. 

“No.” You pull your lips down and shake your head as you take another bit of the cake on your fork. You look back up at Jack. “It’s a statement of fact, Peter.” You finish bringing the fork to your mouth and take the bite while maintaining eye contact with him. 

“Oh,” he laughs out the word softly. “Is it now?”

“Mhhhm,” you nod as you keep your mouth closed and chew. “And I love that fact about you so much, because like I said, I’d always rather be your cannoli than glazed donut.”

“Good,” Jack nods, trying his hardest to seem unaffected and succeeding in relation to everyone except for you. “Thank you for saying it.” 

“I think it should go in the serious contender area.” You flick your chin at the cake. 

“I already made a space Doll.” Jack gives you a little smirk. “I know you and your tastes very well by now.” 

You try a few more, none of which either of you really cares for. Then Jack goes to try the cake featuring the espresso ganache. You look at him expectantly with a little smirk on your face. You can see him fighting to keep his face neutral as he tries it. “Okay. I’ll admit it. You were right, it’s actually really fucking good.”

“See!” You poke at his tummy. “I know you and your tastes very well, Jack Abbot.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jack takes another bite. “I think this is actually one of my favorites. You could totally recreate this at home I bet. I could have it for every birthday or special occasion.” 

You consider it as you take another bite. You probably could. But then a slow smirk draws on your face and you look at Jack. You can’t help yourself. “Jack, my love. My darling. Love of my life. Do you know what making this at home would require?” Jack shakes his head while working on another bite. Your smirk grows. “An espresso machine.” 

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

You can tell by the way he unlocks the door and steps in. He doesn’t say anything as he locks the door behind him. Jack just drops his bag and looks at you.

“Rough shift?” You grimace a little just from his expression. He looks demoralized almost, which is rare for him. 

Jack walks over and sits next to you on the couch, leaning in to grab a kiss before answering. It feels a little different than his usual home from work kisses, lasts a little longer. 

“You could say.” He lets himself sink back into the couch. You wait, see if he wants to volunteer more. Jack shakes his head a little. “Just lost a few people, more than usual.” You reach over and squeeze his thigh, move a bit closer to him and lean on him a bit. You know feeling close to you can help. 

“I’m sorry it was a bad day, Peter,” you murmur. You know that there’s not much you can say that will help right now. This is one of those parts of Jack’s job that hits much harder some shifts than others and no words will take it away or fix it. All you can do is listen and be here for him and let him know he doesn’t have to bear it alone.   

“No kids.” Jack shrugs. “I guess at least there’s that.” Jack’s hands grab your hand from his thigh, hold it between his.

It’s a cover. There’s something about the way he says it, his tone and the particular mannerism of his shrug and the way he picks up and holds your hand between his. You nod to yourself slightly. He can’t say it out loud. Either can’t or doesn’t want to. But you know. 

“How far away was the wedding?” you whisper. 

Jack lets out a pained laugh. “Fuck,” he mutters. He squeezes your hand and you know he’s saying thank you for knowing and seeing me and understanding and asking when I couldn’t say it. “Six months.” You rest your other hand on the top of his and squeeze gently. “And now he’s going home alone with a funeral to plan and a wedding to cancel. God, and I feel so fucking selfish and like a terrible person for saying this with what that guy is going through but I really could have done without having to watch him slide her engagement ring off her finger.” The fingers of his bottom hand instinctively search for yours. 

You wince at his words, heart aching at the thought of him having to watch that scene unfold. “Thinking that doesn’t make you selfish Jack, it makes you human.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” Jack drops your hand and rubs his hands over his face. “I don’t want to dwell. It was just a rough day.” 

You respect his wish, don’t keep talking about it or try and get him to open up to you about it more right now. He’s told you that’s not what he needs. “Can I get you anything? Beer? I could go draw you a bath?”

Jack finally turns his head as it rests against the couch to look at you. “No.” Jack reaches for you, grabs at one of your hips and thighs. You get that message too and slide yourself onto his lap so that you sit perpendicular to him. Jack rests his forehead against the side of your neck for a second and breathes deep before pulling back. “I just want to be here with you for a bit.”

“Then here for a bit is where we’ll be.” You give him an adoring smile and lean in closer to him, cup his face with your hands. You kiss all over his face, but not in a flurry like you do sometimes. You take your time, plant each kiss deliberately and linger it for just a second to make sure Jack really feels it. You start at his hairline, move back across his forehead. You kiss each of his eyebrows and the space between them, his temples and then his eyelids, soft lashes fluttering against your lips. You kiss his cheek bones and the bridge of his nose, the apples of his cheeks and then the tip of his nose. You kiss the skin around his mouth, the bottom of his cheeks, and then his jawline and chin. And then you kiss his lips and Jack takes over. 

You yield to him, let him take control and deepen it, your hands sliding down to hold onto his scrub top as Jack licks into your mouth and groans. He’s needed this all day, all fucking day. Needed you. He doesn’t even need more, he just needs you, in some capacity. Eventually the two of you are forced apart by the need for oxygen. 

“I’m here,” you murmur. 

Jack takes in a big breath and lets it out a bit shakily. “Yeah,” he brings his hands up to cup your face, looks you in the eyes. “You are.” You let yourself lean into Jack, rest your head on his shoulder as his arms wrap around you to keep you close. You just sit like that for a while, let Jack hold you and feel you and come down from work.

“So I was thinking,” Jack starts.

You can’t help yourself. “Uh-oh, we’re in trouble now.”

Jack rolls his eyes at you and clicks his tongue, but he’s grateful for it, the way you help shift the mood. He needs it, to have a good night with you, the two of you just being normal together. “I was thinking that once we’re back from our honeymoon and have settled for a couple of months, what if we started looking at houses? Or a townhouse? Condo even, I guess. Something that’s ours. That we own together. As the Abbots.”

You pull yourself up from resting on him and blink at him for a moment, brain processing what Jack just asked. Not in a bad way, in a holy shit you can’t believe this man just asked if you wanted to buy a house together way. “You want to buy a house with me?”

Jack bites back a smile. “I want to do everything with you, Doll. Part of the reason I asked you to marry me.”

 “No! I know, I don’t doubt that or you, I’m sorry if I made it seem that way-”

“You didn’t,” Jack interrupts to quell your worry, one hand rubbing your back. “It was a very adorable reaction.”

“Okay, good.” You let out a little laugh. “I don’t know, I know it’s only like four months away, but sometimes I still can’t believe I’m going to be your wife and you’re going to be my husband. And we’re going to be the Abbots.” 

Jack squeezes your hip a bit at wife. “I get it. Sometimes I still can’t believe it either.” He lets out a bit of a sigh. “You know what would help me believe it more and make it even more real?”

“Oh I have a feeling I do,” you mutter, eyes preemptively rolling.

“Seeing you in your wedding dress.” There’s the slightest edge of hope in his voice even though Jack knows you’re not going to say yes. Doesn’t stop him from giving you his biggest puppy eyes though. 

“There it is.” You shake your head at him. “Not happening, sir.” You pause for a second. “But I do think it’s kind of cute how you keep trying.” You boop his nose and he moves his head up to playfully try and bite your finger. “To answer your question though, I would like that. A lot.” 

A slow smile spreads over Jack’s face. “Yeah?” He nods once as he says it.

“Yeah.” You nod too and lean in to kiss him. “I want to buy a house or something with you.” You run your hands through his hair and tug at his curls just slightly as you kiss him again, a little way you have of saying you love him.

“That reminds me,” Jack breathes when you break the kiss finally. “Do you want me to keep my hair this length for the wedding or get it cut shorter like I kept it when we met?”

You shrug. “It’s up to you, it’s your hair. You didn’t give me any input on my wedding hair.”

“Well no, but it’s a bit different.”

You give him a bemused smile. “I don’t think it is Peter.”

“A little.” You go to speak again but Jack beats you to it. “Your preference? Please.” He gives you a little pout. 

“Jack,” your eyes dart around his face a little trying to read him before moving up to his hair,  “you know what my preference is. But I want you to be happy and feel good more than I want my preference.” 

“Do I?” He ignores the last sentence which makes you laugh slightly. You realize something in him just wants to hear you say it right now. That you love his curls, that you prefer it at the just slightly longer length he has it now because it shows more of his curls. Just to feel close and talk about the wedding without talking about the wedding given what happened today.

“I love your curls. I prefer it at this length because it shows them off a bit more, but you’re the most attractive and handsome man I’ve ever had the privilege of laying eyes on, let alone calling mine, however you have your hair.” You run your hands through it, smiling to yourself a little without even fully realizing it. It’s a bit fluffier right now, the curls pulled out a bit from how much he must have ran his hands through his hair this shift. You love it so much. Love him so much. 

“And I love the salt and pepper. God, Jack, I really fucking love the salt and pepper.” You shift on his lap slightly, roll your ass just a little. “I love it everywhere.” You look him in the eyes and lick your lips. 

Jack’s eyes darken as his pupils dilate, cock starting to harden in his scrubs. Jack has started to go gray everywhere and you can both very easily and very clearly remember the night it first became visible enough for you to notice. He throbs just at the thought. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hum as your hands find the hem of Jack’s scrub top and start pulling it off. You deliberately keep his undershirt on, love the way he looks in it alone, how tight it is against all of him. “All of it drives me insane.” Jack lifts his arms and you finish getting his scrub top off, tossing it wherever. You nuzzle your cheek against his, stubble grown out a bit since he last shaved. “Stubble too.”

You slide yourself off Jack’s lap and he whines a bit, tries to grab at your thighs to pull you back but you don’t let him. “Shh, let me do this for you, okay?” You coo at him as you move yourself to stand in front of Jack, his legs opening for you automatically. 

“Doll,” Jack breathes as you sink to your knees in between his, one hand starting to rub at his now fully hard cock over his scrub pants. “You don’t have to do this-”

“Oh I know I don’t have to, Jack. I want to. I’ve been thinking about having you in my mouth all day. So please?” You push your bottom lip out for him. “Let me help you relax, Dr. Abbot.” 

“Fuck,” Jack groans, eyes fluttering shut and head tipping back a little already. “You’re so good to me.” 

“No, I just treat you how you deserve,” you hum as your hands find the waistbands of his scrub pants and boxer briefs, eyes taking in the outline of his cock intently before you go to pull them both down at once. 

“Wait.” You pull your head back to look up at him and take your hands off his waistband. Jack grabs a pillow. “Here, put this under your knees. I know you like the bruises but you need to let the ones you have heal.”

“You’re so good to me.” You mirror his words back at him, eyes sparkling with adoration as you take the pillow from him and put it under your knees. You smirk as you return your hands to his waistband. “Just makes me want to give it to you even sloppier, Jack.”

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

“Thank you for having a late lunch with me and dropping me off at work,” Jack gives you a little smirk as you stop near the fire hydrant at the corner where the street turns into the ambulance entrance. He’s working an odd mid shift today to help cover. 2 p.m. to 2 a.m. It kind of sucks because it’s a Saturday, but you at least made the most of the morning and had a nice lunch out together. 

“Anytime, Peter. Thanks for asking.” You smile at him and set your hands on his chest as his come to rest on your hips. “Do you know what is exactly three months from today?” Your eyes sparkle as you say it. 

“Hmmm,” Jack hums, pretending to think. “The best day of my life?”

You press your lips together and smile, tilt your head at him and grab at his scrub top a little. Your eyes get just a little bit glassy because you know how much he means it. “That was really good,” you laugh. 

“I thought so.” He gives you a self-satisfied grin. “It’s true too.”

“I know,” you nod, “it’ll be the best day of mine too.” You slide your hands up around his neck and hug him, relish in the feeling of his hands sliding off your hips and around your back as he returns your hug, backpack hanging off one shoulder like always. “Have a good shift, okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” he nods. “You should just take an uber home.” You raise your brows at him. He glances up at the sky. “It might rain. You don’t have an umbrella. It’s not a long walk home but it’ll feel like it if it starts to rain.” 

He’s right. The clouds do look threatening but when you looked at the weather earlier it said it wasn’t going to rain until later. Hence why you didn’t bring an umbrella. “Okay.” You shrug and pull out your phone. “I’ll let you know when I get home. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Jack pulls you in for one last kiss, lets it linger before pulling away and squeezing your hand. He turns and walks down towards the ambulance entrance and you stay where you’re at while you order an uber.

Jack nods at Robby as he walks in, slows for a second when he hears a car honking. It’s harder to tell this far away but it’s definitely coming from the direction he just came from. It stops though and he takes a couple more steps when the sound of screeching tires, crunching metal, shattering glass, the high pressured spraying of water and screaming draws everyone’s attention. An accident right outside the ambulance bay. Good spot for it, Jack thinks until it hits him. The water. The fire hydrant. 

You’re standing on that corner. 

No, no no no. This is not fucking happening. This is so not fucking happening. It’s three months to the fucking day before your wedding. The universe cannot possibly be this cruel. 

The problem is Jack knows it can be. That it often is. 

And he knows that you were standing on that corner because of him. Because he asked you to have lunch with him and walk with him to work. Because he said you should just get an uber home and you listened to him instead of walking like you were going to. And now what? He’s going to be left with a wedding to try and cancel and a funeral to plan and wedding rings you never got to give each other and a wedding dress he never got to see you in? 

All that and a hope and a prayer Dana has a photo of you in your dress so he can see you in it just once. 

All of these thoughts go through his mind in mere seconds. Jack is panicking. Silently and for the most part stoically. He looks up at Robby for a second and Robby just knows by the look in Jack’s eye. 

Jack drops his backpack and takes off running out the door, multiple people following him. They’re all headed to help victims, anyone who might need help. Jack is headed for you and you only. He almost hopes he doesn’t see you but he knows there’s no way you got an uber and drove far enough away in the twenty or thirty seconds it took him to walk in. 

But there you are. 

Walking down from the corner towards him and calling his name and trying to reassure him already, holding your arms out a little for him as he gets to you, not sure what his instinct will be. As soon as shit had stopped flying you’d started walking quickly towards the ambulance entrance doors, taking a bit of an arc to avoid getting soaked. You knew Jack likely heard the accident and would be worried and out looking for you. 

He says your name as he gets closer to you, panting less from the short run and more from the intensifying panic. “Are you hurt? Were you hit?” Slip of the tongue there that you both catch. His hands cup your face as he looks over your face. They drop quickly though to hold so that  his eyes can trail unobstructed up and down your body almost methodically.

“I’m okay, I promise.” You grab his hands. “Jack, I’m okay. I wasn’t involved and the crash wasn’t even that bad, it sounded much worse, some guy drove straight into an empty and parked car and someone swerved to avoid him and hit the hydrant. I saw it coming and moved down the street.”

“No offense Doll but I’m okay is so the fuck not going to do it this time.” The way he says it isn’t mean or snippy or angry. It’s scared. Jack finally looks at you, really looks at you in your eyes. “You’re coming in for an exam. You could have been hit by debris, a sharp piece of headlight plastic and you’re probably having an adrenaline rush so you might not feel it and you’re in all black so I can’t get a good look at you and blood isn’t obvious. So just, you’re coming in and I’m going to look you over.”

You tilt your head a little and go to say something but stop for a second as you fully take in Jack. In addition to the sacredness in his voice you can tell  he’s panicked by how he looks physically, pupils blown wide and chest heaving. He looks like he could be sick at any moment. While you know you’re genuinely fine this time you know that Jack doesn’t and that he can’t believe you as much as he trusts you, he just can’t, not on this, not after what happened last time. You know Jack’s not going to be able to see another human being until he’s checked you over. 

“Okay.” You nod at him. 

“Doll, please don’t argue, it’s not excessive or overdramatic-”

“Jack,” you say his name and drop his hands so that you can hold his face with yours. “I said okay. Let’s go in and to a room, yeah?”

“Oh,” Jack nods. He shakes his head slightly and it’s like he comes back to. “Yeah, yeah, come on.” He wraps an arm around you as you walk towards the ambulance entrance like he’s trying to be prepared to catch you when you drop any second now. Because he is. Because Jack is convinced he’s going to get you in a room and find something wrong, some horrific injury that’s going to leave you fighting for life again. Because Jack is right back to that day, the PTSD episode taking over his mind fast and gripping him like a vise.

He grabs his bag as you walk by it, catches Dana’s eye as he opens the door to central 6 and leads you inside. She gives him a knowing nod as Jack pulls the curtain to give you privacy since the door has a window.  

You set your purse on the bed and turn to face Jack, grab the hem of your shirt and start to pull it over your head. Jack sets his backpack down and his hands find yours before you can. 

“Let me,” he whispers, eyes still a bit crazed. You move your hands and nod, lift your arms when needed so he can pull your shirt off. He tosses it over your purse and looks at you, asks a silent question with his eyes. 

You nod and Jack unhooks your bra, puts it on top of your shirt. His hands find the waistband of your pants and underwear and he kneels as he pulls them down. You rest your hands on his shoulders as you pick up one foot at a time for him to get them all the way off. Jack stands back up and sets them on top of your bra and shirt. 

It feels like you should be uncomfortable or embarrassed standing like this, naked in front of a fully dressed Jack, even though he’s seen you naked a thousand times now, showers with you all the time, and has seen you in far more compromising positions than this. And in some sense it is because you don’t have a ton of self confidence despite all of Jack’s constant praise and body worship. But it’s also not because it’s Jack and the way he looks at you and takes you in, even now for the reason he is, makes you feel like the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and like he’s thinking to himself how lucky he is that you’re his and he gets to have you and see you like this. That you let him. And that is in fact what he thinks to himself. 

Jack starts with your face out of habit of looking in your eyes. A hand gently trails behind his gaze, fingers running softly over your skin, pressing just a bit like they’re looking for something. Jack just needs to feel you, feel your body and warm skin. He moves from your face down to your neck, covers it all before his eyes move to your shoulder and down your arm to your hand. 

It’s not clinical, the way he looks over your body. It could feel clinical easily given the setting and the fact that Jack is checking for injuries. But it’s not. Instead it just feels like the man who loves you is taking in every piece of you to make sure you’re unharmed. Like a man who is so in love with you that he won’t be able to function again until he’s made sure you’re uninjured is taking reassurance from you body. Like being loved.

His eyes and hand go up and down you slowly, methodically. He does the top half of your body first and then crouches to do the lower half. Not a scratch on you. Jack stands back up, kisses at a couple of your scars as he does and then your forehead and then your lips. 

Neither of you have said anything since Jack whispered to let him and you haven’t needed to, still don’t need to. He grabs your bra first, helps you get it back on then does your shirt for you. He crouches again to help you with your pants and underwear, pulls them up with you as he stands back up. You adjust your clothes and smooth them out a little as you get situated again, Jack’s eyes still trailing over your body some. 

It’s then that he looks back into your eyes. They’re normal now, his pupils aren’t dilated and he doesn’t look so out of control with worry. There’s definitely still some worry there, but not like there was. Jack starts to move just a half second or so before you, stepping closer to you and cupping the back of your head with his hand. He pulls you into a hug like that, one you were already moving to give him. His hand stays on the back of your head, moving to the side a bit as he holds your head to his chest, his other arm wrapping around you to hold you tight. You wrap your arms around him, let him hold you as tightly as he needs to and hold him back just as strong. 

Jack nuzzles his nose in your hair and smiles at the familiar scent. It helps ground him. He presses a couple of kisses to the top of your head, lets his lips linger with the last one. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispers. He releases you so that you can take a step back and look at each other. But his hands stay on your waist to keep you close, thumbs brushing back and forth absentmindedly, your hands rest on his chest. “I’m sorry if I was mean out there, I hardly even remember, I was just so…” 

“You have nothing to apologize for. You weren’t mean, I promise, Jack. You were just worried. That’s okay.” You slide your hands up his chest to his neck into his hair, scratch a little. You know he loves it. “Did it help?”

He wraps his hands around your waist and pulls you a bit closer again. “Yeah, thank you. For letting me. I just needed to know and see with my own eyes that nothing had happened to you.”

You smile at him. “Of course, it was a pretty easy ask.” You try to give him a little smirk to see if he’ll smile and he does, just slightly. “Jack,” you tilt your head at him, encouraging him to speak to you but not demanding it. He’s still way in his head even if he’s come down from the panic he was in.   

He lets out a long breath and sits in one of the chairs. “I was standing there and heard it and thought to myself that was a good place to crash. Right by an emergency room. And then it hit me that you were on that corner. And it was like the entire world was falling out from under me again. I was right back there in a way, it was like I was right back there.” He shakes his head a little and runs a hand through his hair. You know where he means. 

You step closer to him and he automatically opens his legs so that you can stand between them. You rest your hands on his shoulders. “That makes sense.”

Jack settles his hands on your hips and bows his head forward so that his forehead rests against your tummy. “Maybe, yeah.”

“No, not maybe.” You move your hands, one rubbing the back of his neck and the other running through his hair. “It does make sense Jack. It was a PTSD trigger even if the circumstance wasn’t exactly the same. You feared for me and my life. Of course it’s going to take you back there. And I know it’s not my fault, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you’re going through this and feeling this way right now and hurting. And if there is anything I can do to help Peter, please tell me.”

Jack squeezes your hips and lifts his face a little to give your tummy a kiss. “You’re already doing it,” he mumbles against you. “Just being here and letting me look you over and talking to me.” He pulls his head from your tummy and looks up at you, cocks his head slightly. “You know?” 

“I do,” you nod. “Because you do the same for me. You heal me just by existing in this world with me.” 

The two of you share a moment of eye contact before Jack pushes his lips out. You lean down and kiss him until he pulls away. “I should get to work.”

You nod. “Probably, yeah. I actually need to talk to Dana about my last fitting so it’s good I ended up coming in.”

There’s a comfortable silence as you share a look. Jack knows that you do need to talk to Dana but that it’s not the only reason you’re staying. You’re giving him a little more time to come down with you still in his sight. “Okay. Just let me know before you go, yeah?”

“Of course.” You smile at him and give him another kiss before the two of you leave the room. After you speak with Dana you find a reason to hang around the Pitt for a while longer. You chat with everyone who’s on and gets a couple of minutes to spare, hang around the desk without being intrusive or disruptive. You can feel Jack’s eyes on you frequently as he runs around from patient to patient, nurse to nurse, doctor to doctor. The two of you share a look at some point and you can see the gratitude in his eyes even as far away as you are. 

Eventually though, you know you need to leave. You track Jack down to let him know. 

“I’m going to head home, okay?” You smile reassuringly at him. 

Jack stiffens just slightly for a second. When you rest your hands on his chest he relaxes a bit. “Yeah,” he nods, “okay, that sounds good. Make sure you get some dinner, yeah?”

“I will if you will.” You give him a knowing look. 

“You know that’s not fair.”

You give an overdramatic huff. “Fine, but please try and have dinner if you can.”

“I promise you I will try.” He pulls you in for a hug and kisses the top of your head. “Text me when you’re home, yeah?”

“Of course, Peter. Call if you need anything. Or text.” The two of you step apart and Jack walks you over to the doors. “I love you.” 

Jack leans down and kisses you. “I love you too.”

You try so hard to stay awake for Jack, but you slip asleep reading your book on the couch without even realizing it. You had told yourself when you laid out on the couch that you would end up falling asleep but you convinced yourself you wouldn’t because you were at such a good spot in your book. Famous last words. The book is now face down on your chest rising and falling with your steady sleeping breaths. 

Jack thinks it’s odd when he opens the door and the lights are on but you don’t say anything. You’d have heard the door. He drops his bag and takes a few steps in to see if you’re on the couch or just forgot to turn the lights off when you went to bed. Maybe you left them on for him deliberately. 

He smiles when he sees you asleep on the couch, walks over and grabs your book off your chest and marks the spot for you. You stir awake at it, blinking rapidly to clear your eyes before giving him a sleepy smile. 

“Sorry, I tried waiting up for you.”

Jack smiles wider. He loves your sleepy voice. “I can see that,” he teases. “Don’t apologize. Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

You nod and sit up. Once you’re standing Jack grabs you for a quick kiss. “Dinner is in the oven staying warm for you, bring it to bed.” You yawn a little. You rarely have to do this anymore now that Jack works days but whenever he’s covering a night or mid if you make a real meal for dinner you always leave some in the oven for him with it set to warm. It is really such a simple thing but makes Jack feel so incredibly loved and taken care of and cared about and appreciated. “The granola bar or yogurt or whatever you had stored away that you ate doesn’t qualify as dinner.” You give him a knowing look, a little bit of the edge lost with how sleepy you still seem.

“Thank you, Doll.” You just nod at him, wait for him to grab it. You both change and you sit on the bed with him while he eats, chat a bit about his shift. 

“You want to talk?” He knows you’re referencing what happened earlier today with you. “Need to?” Jack also knows you’re not pressuring him, just genuinely asking and reminding him that you’re here if he needs. 

“I’m okay, honestly. Being busy at work helped,” Jack explains once he swallows the bite he’d taken. 

When he finishes the two of you go to the bathroom and brush your teeth, wash your faces and get ready for bed. You curl up together once you’re both in bed. You wind up with Jack’s head on your chest, tangled together in the perfect position that’s comfortable for you both. “You’ll wake me if you have a nightmare?” You’re half asleep already when you ask.

“I will, promise. But I think I’ll be okay.” Jack nuzzles against your chest a little, telling you without words that the sound of your heart beating in his ear seems to keep them away. “I love you.” 

“Good. I love you too.” Your words are all sleep slurred and Jack chuckles a little. “Sleep tight Peter. Less than three months now.” 

And it’s just under two months until the wedding when Jack pushes open the trauma room door and raises his eyebrows at Robby. It’s nearing the end of their shift. “What’s up?” He’s a bit confused why Robby called him in. It’s an MVA victim and the patient, while critical and in need of further stabilization, diagnostics and treatment, isn’t circling the drain. Robby can handle this with his eyes closed. He has a great team running it with him too. So Jack is confused why Perlah came running to grab him. “You’ve got this-”

“Jack, it’s Leah’s sister.” Robby’s voice shakes as he says it. 

“Oh fuck.” Jack doesn’t need Robby to say anything more. He goes to grab a gown and gloves and jumps in, displacing a new intern. 

“We can’t lose her Jack, we cannot fucking lose her.” Robby’s shaking his head as he finishes intubating her. “I can’t talk to her fucking parents again.” 

Jack finishes off a chest tube and after a minute Jesse yells out a new round of vitals. They’re strong as she stabilizes further, strong enough that Jack can take a second. 

“Robby,” Jack calls to him but Robby doesn’t look over, just starts moving to do something else. “Michael!” That gets Robby to look up and Jack catches his gaze. “We’re not going to.” Robby’s frenetic anxiety has made the entire room far too wired. “Okay everyone stop!” Jack isn’t mean about it, but it’s firm. There’s no room to argue or do anything but stop. “She’s stable for now so everyone take a breath.” Jack is still looking Robby in the eyes. Everyone takes a breath and lets it out. “Alright,” Jack nods, “let’s go.” 

Jack is right. They don’t lose her. She stabilizes nicely and gets admitted and taken upstairs. Robby tries to talk to her parents but Jack doesn’t let him. He’s not sure where Robby went off to, but he can guess. 

He calls you first quickly. You answer on the second ring. “Hi! Sorry I was turning the bath on to soak, so it took me a sec to get to my phone.” Jack smiles to himself at you explaining as if you needed to. “You have nothing to apologize for, Doll. I just wanted to let you know that I’m finally fucking off but it’s going to be a bit still.”

There’s an edge to Jack’s voice that concerns you. It’s almost like he’s had a bad day but not quite. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“I’m okay, I promise.” He lets out a sigh, rubs his free hand over his face. “Robby had a MVA victim today. Leah’s sister.” 

“Oh fuck.” You walk over and turn the bath off. 

Jack lets out a little laugh at that. “Yeah. Robby called me in and told me it was her and I said the exact same thing. She made it. She should be fine, she’s admitted upstairs. I spoke with her parents this time.”

“Robby’s not though.” Your heart aches for him. It’s around that time of year too. You weren’t around for Pitt Fest, but Jack has told you pretty much everything at some point or another. 

“Robby’s not though.” Jack confirms. “I’m pretty sure he’s up on the roof. I’m going to go talk to him and then some people are going to the park now, I’m going to try and get him to go to see how he is.” 

“Okay, Peter,” you murmur.

Jack knows the sadness lacing your voice isn’t because he’s just called you to let you know he’ll be home even later than he already texted you he’d be. It’s because you’re sad for Robby. That empathetic heart of yours is something he loves about you so much, but he knows it means you feel real emotional distress at times. “He’ll be okay.”

“No, I know, I just… wish I could make it better for him.”

“I know you do Doll. I do too. I’ll text you, okay?”

“Yeah.” You nod even though he can’t see you. “Jack?” You say it before he can start to say goodbye,

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s really hard watching your best friend hurt. I’m here, okay?” You chew on your lip a little. You know it hurts Jack to see Robby struggling and vice versa. 

“I know you are. Thank you.” You can hear the smile in Jack’s voice. “I love you and I’ll let you know when I’m on my way home.”

“Okay, love you too.” 

Robby is exactly where Jack expects to find him. “You’re not allowed to jump off the roof,” Jack calls to Robby as he walks over to where he stands beyond the guard rails. 

“Jack, I really don’t want to do this again. It’s too much déjà vu for one day.” His voice is steady at least. He’s not crying or near tears. Jack takes that as a positive. He gets closer and leans against the guard rails near Robby.

“We don’t have to do anything. But you knew I was going to come up here to find you,” he says pointedly. Robby tries to shake his head at first but ends up giving him a nod. Jack can tell Robby really doesn’t want to come apart here again. He gets it. “I’m serious. Can’t have my officiant jumping off the roof. Especially not this close to the wedding.” 

That at least gets a huff of laughter from Robby. He lets out a long breath and shakes his head. “I don’t know Jack.” Robby turns and ducks back under the guard rails and stands next to Jack. “It was years ago,” Robby laughs and runs a hand through his hair, “but right now it feels almost like that night.” 

“Yeah,” Jack nods slowly. “That’s PTSD for you.”

“I recognized her.” Robby looks over at Jack. “They looked so alike. But I couldn’t place her. And then someone was going through her stuff and read her name and it hit me at the last name. Leah’s sister. I felt fucking awful that I didn’t recognize her. I should have. Shouldn't have forgotten. And then it was just like I can’t lose her. I can’t do that to her parents again. And I should be over it, and it shouldn’t fuck with me this much still.”

Jack lets the words hang there for a minute, in part to see if Robby will say anything else. “First,” he starts, “should is a stupid word.” That earns him a look from Robby that Jack waves off for later. “Second, she wasn’t Leah. You shouldn’t have recognized her. They looked similar, yes, but still. You’d never seen her before, had you?” Robby shakes his head. “Then how would you have known? I get the not losing her thing. And even if you hadn’t called me in you wouldn’t have. You’re a good doctor, Michael. Leah was effectively DOA, you know that.” 

Robby takes in a big breath and lets it out. “Yeah.” He shrugs. “Still.” It’s whispered and Jack knows Robby’s getting close to his limit. 

“I know. Come on, let’s go to the park. Even just for one.” Robby grimaces at Jack. “It’ll be good for you.”

Robby gives Jack a look that says he doesn’t believe him but nods anyway and they head down, sit on their usual bench. It’s much livelier than it had been when Jack thinks back on the night of Pitt Fest. More people. 

Everyone chats and laughs but Jack can read Robby and knows it’s all fake, all forced and shallow. It’s unsurprising but Leah’s sister hit him hard. Jack wonders when the last time he spoke to Jake was. 

After what can only be five or so minutes Garcia smirks and looks over at Jack. “Your girl decided to join us?”

Jack’s brows furrow together in genuine confusion before his eyes follow Garcia’s. Sure enough, there you are, in leggings and one of Jack’s oversized sweatshirts you’ve stolen. Jack tilts his head as he gets up and walks towards you, reaching you before you hit the group. His heart rate ticks up a little. 

“Hey,” he calls to you before he reaches you, his hands wrapping lightly around your upper arms when you’re close enough, eyes starting to move over you. “You okay? Did something happen?” 

You melt a little inside. He’s so protective and caring. You know some of it stems from trauma but he was like this with you before you were shot. You bring your hands up and squeeze Jack’s forearms softly. “I’m okay, promise. I didn’t come for Pitt services.”

Jack believes you but he can’t help the way his eyes give you one last scan. The way they linger at your torso doesn’t escape you. “Okay, good.” He releases your arms and you his as he pulls you in for a hug, kisses the top of your head. “So why are you here? Not that I’m not thrilled to see you or that you can’t come see me randomly.”

You separate a little so you can look at each other. “I don’t know. I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Robby shouldn’t be alone. As long as you’re okay and don’t need my undivided attention.” Your eyes flit around Jack’s face as you look for any signs he does. “I love Robby, but you always come first.” 

Jack smiles at you and shakes his head slightly before leaning in to give you a kiss. It’s chaste, there’s no tongue or real movement, he just lets it linger to communicate how much he loves you and appreciates you. “I’m okay.” He looks you in your eyes like he loves. “I promise.” 

You nod. You believe him, know he is. “Good.” The two of you exchange small smiles and agree on the plan without speaking a word of it. It’s just intuitive. Jack swallows hard because you’re so good not just to him, but everyone in his life. 

Jack laces his hand in yours and walks you over to the bench with him. You greet everyone, smile and nod at Robby as you sit down by Jack. You aren’t there long before Robby stands up and says he’s going to head out, starts walking. 

“You ready?” Jack asks you. You nod at him, both of you saying your goodbyes. 

You don’t wait for Jack though as he finishes saying goodbye. Instead you walk quickly to catch up with Robby. 

“Robby!” You call out as you get close. He stops of course, turns to look at you, is about to ask if something is wrong. “Come to ours.” 

He raises an eyebrow and takes a deep breath in as he gives a single nod, grimaced smile pulling up on his face. Jack told you at some point. He’s not mad about it.

“That’s very kind, but I’m fine. I’ll be okay.” He starts to turn to walk again but you follow beside him. 

“I don’t know that I believe you that you are fine, and it’s okay not to be.” You give him a little look when he looks over at you. “Even if you are, you don’t have to work towards being okay alone.” 

Robby’s steps slow. “It’s okay, honestly.” He sounds much more emotional now but also like he doesn’t know what to do with the offer for some help. “I’m sure Jack would like some alone time to decompress.” He’s trying to deflect. 

“I spoke to Jack before I offered, he’s okay with it.” The two of you are standing again. “Well it’s less of an offer at this point and more me telling you. You shouldn’t be alone and I know you well enough at this point Robby to know that you don’t want to be. So come to ours.” You grab a fistful of the sleeve of his sweatshirt. You know you have him and don’t need to say more but you give him another reason. His favorite thing you bake. “Let’s go. I’ll make you white chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies.”

You don’t wait for him to say anything, just tug at him by his sleeve and turn around, start walking over to a waiting Jack. Robby doesn’t protest, walks by your side. 

“She’s persuasive isn’t she?” Jack smirks as you approach. 

“She grabbed my sweatshirt and started pulling, I’m not sure if that’s persuasion.” 

“I said I’d make him white chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies,” you tell Jack as you release Robby’s jacket and lace your fingers through Jack’s outstretched hand. 

“You better,” Robby huffs as he smooths out the creases your hand had caused in the sleeve of his jacket. The attitude is all fake. 

“Or what, you won’t marry us?” you fire back, largely to distract him. 

“Ha!” Jack laughs loudly which makes you join in. Even Robby has to as much as he tries not to. 

“I am a woman of my word, thank you very much. I will make you the cookies.”  

It’s not a long walk to your and Jack’s place. You kick off your shoes and walk in as both men drop their bags and get their own shoes off. You’re in the kitchen by the time they come to find you, assembling supplies and ingredients. 

You glance up at them as they walk in. “Shower. Both of you. If you want. But also do it.” You look at Robby. “There’s a clean towel on the guest bed for you, and I put a pair of Jack’s pajama pants and a shirt on the bed for you too. There should be stuff in the shower but just yell if you need something that isn’t in there.” 

Jack’s standing a little behind Robby and staring at you. It’s one of those moments where he really thinks you’re too good not just for him but for the world. You did all of this after getting off the phone with him, planned for it, came to see him, yes, but also to check on Robby and silently ask Jack whether Robby needed this, to not be alone. All because Robby is his best friend. You and Robby are close in the sense that he’s Jack’s brother effectively and so you know him well and most everything about him and love him like family, but you’re not best friends. This is something you’re doing for Robby, yes of course, but also for Jack and he knows it. Jack catches your eye and mouths he loves you. The smile you give him says you love him too.

“I will, uh. Thank you.” Robby gives you a small nod, both he and Jack walking down the hall to their respective rooms. 

While they shower you order a pizza and start on the cookies. The dough doesn’t take too long to make and you have it blast chilling in the freezer and grab the pizza from the delivery guy and have it on the counter by the time Jack comes out and finds you in the kitchen. “Hi.” He wraps his arms around you from behind and hunches a bit so he can kiss at your neck.

“Hi.” He can hear the smile in your voice as you tilt your head to give him more access to your neck. “You okay? Nice shower?”

Jack lets his lips stay against your neck. “I’m good, Doll. And it was okay.” He kisses his way up to your jaw. “Would have been better if you’d been in it with me.” 

You giggle, turn your face more so that you can share a real kiss. “Tomorrow. I promise.” Jack hums, loosen his grip around you when you go to turn all the way. You run a hand through his still wet hair. You really do love that he’s keeping his just slightly longer now all the time. “I love your hair,” you sigh, tilt your head at him. Ever since France he’s been keeping it that centimeter or so longer. He doesn’t have a huge preference and you’ve made it clear just how much you love it like this. And he does too with how feral it can make you and how it lets you tug on it even harder when he’s got his between your legs or is fucking you. 

Jack lets out a laugh through his nose. “You know I’ve picked up on that.” You tell him you love his hair all the time, play with it all the time, run your hands through it. You love his curls and the salt and pepper. He teases you all the time that you’re the reason for the increasing amount of salt. 

“I’m jealous.” 

“Picked up on that too,” Jack laughs. “You got us pizza?”

“Mhm, I knew the chances of either of you having eaten something substantial were slim to none.” You give him a soft smile. 

He loves you so much. The way you anticipate his needs, seem to think of everything. He’d love you as much as he does even if you didn’t, but you do. Jack tilts his head and leans in for a kiss, this one far less chaste than any you’ve had since parting for the day much earlier this morning. Jack starts to deepen the kiss even more, push you into the counter a little as he gets closer and you let him, scratch at his scalp to make him groan. 

The shutting of the guest room door startles you both and ends the kiss. Jack whines softly as he leans his forehead against yours. “Eat, Jack.” You poke his tummy softly. He grumbles a little but kisses your forehead and walks over to the box of pizza, grabs a slice. “You too,” you tell Robby once he walks back into the kitchen. “Eat.”

Robby looks over at the pizza and nods. “Thank you.” 

Jack opens the fridge once he finishes his first slice and pulls out two beers. “Doll?” He raises his eyebrows at you. 

“No, I’m okay but thank you for asking.” He nods at you and takes the tops of both, hands Robby one and grabs another slice of pizza, as does Robby. You’re all mostly quiet as they eat, grabbing more slices when they finish one, and you take the dough out and scoop it out onto some cookie sheets. You give both of them a look when they each grab a little dough out of the bowl to eat. 

Jack and Robby move into the living room while you finish and get the cookies in the oven, a timer set. You follow them into the living room, just for now. You’ll give them some time together once the cookies are done. 

The two sit at opposite ends of the couch, both leaning on the armrests a bit. You sit right next to Jack, feet curled up almost under you and lean back into him a little. “Tell her what you said on the roof.” You look back over your shoulder with your brows slightly furrowed at Jack. “You’ll see, just wait.” Robby’s brows are even more furrowed than yours. He has no idea what Jack means or what part of the conversation he’s referring to. “About being over it.” 

“Oh,” Robby runs a hand through his hair and looks at you. “I should have recognized her and I didn’t. I should be over it. It shouldn’t fuck with me this much this far out. And normally it doesn’t, but today it sure fucking did.” 

You nod as soon as he says the word, squeeze Jack’s hand. “Should is a stupid word.” 

Robby lets out a little laugh. “So I’ve been told.” 

“I didn’t tell him the rest,” Jack informs you. “I think hearing it would benefit him though.”

“You could have told him.”

“Yeah, but I like hearing you say it. And it seemed like something that would be more convincing tonight coming from you.” Jack runs his hand up and down your thigh now. 

You nod, look at Robby, catch his eyes so that you’re really looking at each other. “Should is a stupid word,” you repeat. “Nothing should or shouldn’t be. Things just are. And it’s okay for them to be as they are. It’s okay for this to be as it is. It’s still going to fuck with you, Robby. Some days more so than others. And no fucking shit it did today. It was her sister, in your trauma room. You’ve gotta give yourself some grace.” 

Robby is quiet, has to look away from you as he thinks. But you saw how glassy his eyes grew, how close to tears he was before he looked away. Jack knows he isn’t sure how to respond to that. So he moves the conversation forward a bit. “When’s the last time you talked to him?”

Robby takes in a deep breath through his nose and holds it for a second before letting it out as he shakes his head. “Couple of months. Four or five maybe.” He clears his throat to try and get rid of some of the emotion, takes a sip of his beer. Jack shifts slightly so he’s a bit more turned, can rest his hand on the top of your thigh. “He just doesn’t want to talk. He’s still mad. I think at least. Sometimes I feel like it’s something else but can never figure out what. Talk about it in therapy every now and then, but there’s not much left to say.” Robby swallows thickly, sets his beer down. 

You and Jack are both quiet for a moment. You’re trying to read both Robby and Jack, trying to see if further input from you is wanted or if this is a shut up and listen moment, or something Robby is telling Jack for later, when they’re alone. 

Jack can damn near hear you thinking and squeezes your thigh. He’s sure Robby needs to hear whatever it is you have to say. You shift down the couch a little, sit a bit closer to Robby, fully facing him on the couch with your legs crossed under you. You grab his hand and hold it. Not like you hold Jack’s but like you hold the hand of a friend you’re comforting.

“Sometimes you don’t think he’s mad anymore. Sometimes you convince yourself he’s not mad anymore. I think, maybe, instead you think he’s over it, or as over it as he’ll ever get and he’s just done with you.” You let out a small breath as Robby squeezes your hand hard. All three of you know that you’re right. “You think he has gotten used to you not being there, has moved on from you and doesn’t want you to be in his life anymore. You think he’s no longer angry and grieving and confused and struggling. You think he just doesn’t need or want you. And the thought that he just doesn’t need or want you hurts much more than him blaming you for her death ever did. Because he’s a son to you. And so the thought that he just doesn’t need or want you anymore is the pain of losing a child in a way, Michael. You’ve gotta try and let yourself feel that.” 

Robby looks at you. “Holy fuckin shit.” He’s stricken and you know it’s an uncomfortable realization but if life and therapy have taught you one thing it’s that sometimes having words, knowing how to say what you’re feeling, is helpful, makes it better, no matter how hard those words are to say or hear. “You… I…” Robby drops his head, takes his hand back from you so that he can hold his face in his hands.

“I know,” you murmur. You scoot just a bit closer and wrap your arms around him from the side, rest your head on the back of his shoulder and just hold him in the hug as he finally starts to cry. 

Robby drops one hand from his face and holds onto your arm that’s across his chest, just as something, someone to ground him. He never has this, never has someone with him when he’s like this except for maybe occasionally his therapist and every so often Jack. And you’re offering him this platonic affection and comfort of a hug and so Robby lets himself have it. 

You don’t say anything or move. Just hug him silently. Jack watches the two of you and thinks about how funny it is that he’s always thinking there’s no way he could love you more and then you do something, something like this, and somehow he does. 

The timer for the cookies goes off around the time Robby starts to calm down so you take your arms back and get off the couch, give Jack a quick kiss before going to the kitchen. You get the cookies on the cooling rack and fan at them a bit so they set up enough for you to get them on a plate, take them into the living room. 

Robby and Jack have sat quietly together while you’re gone to give Robby some more time to collect himself. You set the plate on the middle of the couch between them. “I’m going to bed, but come get me if you need anything. There’s more cookies in there too, if you run out.” 

You step a little closer to Robby off to the side and lean over, run a hand over his hair and hold the back of his head while you kiss the top of his head off to the side. You move over to Jack, stand between his legs and lean down for a proper kiss, hold his face in your hands. “I love you,” you murmur against his lips, smiling. 

“I love you more.” He wraps his hands around your wrists and gives you another kiss, another few, honestly, Robby still so out of it he doesn’t even make a comment or fake a gag. You giggle a little and give him one last one before pulling away and heading into bed.

“She’s right,” Robby admits once your bedroom door closes. He grabs a cookie, so does Jack.

Jack takes a sip of beer and nods. “She usually is.”

Robby shakes his head and rubs his face with his hand, takes in a deep breath. “I never know what to think with him, Jack. Sometimes we text and it feels so normal. Other times it feels like he’s sending answers because he feels he has to and like it’ll end the conversation faster. Sometimes we do frequently, a couple of days in a row and then this. We go months.”

“When’s the last time you spoke on the phone? Or facetimed or whatever?”

Robby has to think about it, grabs another cookie while he does. “His birthday. He answered when I called. It was short, but he answered. That was like nine months ago.”

Jack raises his eyebrows to himself as he grabs another cookie. Nine months is a long time. He’s not judging Robby, at all. It’s just a long time and he knows how much it must kill Robby. 

“She got married,” Robby says quietly. 

“Janey?” Jack’s kind of surprised by the news but he doesn’t really know why. 

“Yeah.” Robby shrugs. “So he really doesn’t need me,” Robby tries to laugh, “he has someone else, someone who didn’t kill his girlfriend.”

“You didn’t kill his girlfriend Robby. And I have a lot of doubt that some guy his mom married when he was over 18 has replaced you.” Jack finishes his beer and sets the empty bottle on the end table. “Jake loves you, a lot.” Jack shakes his head as Robby starts to interrupt him, grabs a cookie and shoves it at him to try and keep him from talking. “No, don’t tell me he doesn’t. I saw him that day before he left, I saw how he looked at you. He might have been mad at you, might have hated you in a way, but he loved you when he left the hospital Michael.”

“I don’t know if that makes it better or worse,” Robby sniffles. “Even if he loves me and I haven’t been replaced and even if he needs me,” Robby shrugs. “He still doesn’t want me. And not wanting me wins over the rest and I don’t know what to do with that.”

Jack sits up a little and lets out a breath. “Have you tried asking him if he wants to do something together, in person, since he started talking to you again?” It had taken six or seven months for Jake to respond to Robby’s texts after Pitt Fest. He gave Robby the coldest of shoulders at Leah’s funeral, almost looked mad he was there.

“No. Why would I? He doesn’t want to and then it just makes it awkward for him to have to try and find a way to say no.” Robby shakes his head, finishes his own beer and sets it to the side. “I don’t want to put him through anymore than I already have.” He grabs another cookie.

“But maybe he does want to, Robby. He’s still a kid, even though he’s over 18 and it happened when he was 17.” Jack catches Robby’s gaze. “Maybe he doesn’t know how to text or call first or maybe he doesn’t know how to ask you to do something or be back in his life and have things be like they were before Pitt Fest because he thinks he hurt you too bad and doesn’t know how to apologize and can’t imagine you ever forgiving him. Maybe he thinks you don’t want him. Maybe he’s hurting just as bad as you are and maybe he misses you just as much as you miss him.”

Robby’s gaze falls from Jack’s and Jack can tell he’s thinking. Jack can tell he’s hoping. 

“I don’t,” Robby starts but then stops, shakes his head a little. “You think?”

Jack shrugs. “I think it’s a possibility, yeah. Wouldn’t surprise me.”

Robby nods. He grabs another cookie and Jack sits with him in silence.

“I think I need to sleep on it,” Robby finally says. 

Jack nods. “That’s a good plan.” Jack knows that’s also Robby’s somewhat subtle way of ending the conversation. Jack stands up and grabs his bottle, holds his hand out for Robby’s. “You taking those to bed with you?”

Robby rolls his eyes as he stands up and grabs the plate and follows Jack into the kitchen. “No, just a couple.” Jack snorts a laugh as Robby grabs some and a paper towel. He gets the rest of the cookies and those left on the plate in a ziploc and sets them on the counter in front of Robby. Robby tilts his head at him. 

“She made them for you. So they’re yours.” Jack shrugs as he walks out of the kitchen towards your room. “I hope you don’t get too many nightmares tonight,” Jack calls back to Robby. It’s his way of saying sleep well because Jack more than most people understands what sleeping is like after a PTSD episode.

You’re asleep on Jack’s pillow when he walks in, he’s just able to make out your form in the darkness. He heads to the bathroom and quickly brushes his teeth and gets ready for bed. 

Jack slips in behind you, bare chest pressing into your back as he wraps his arm around you and pulls you even closer. You stir, push yourself back into him as you take in a breath. “Hi Peter,” you mumble. Your sleepy voice is so precious and adorable Jack swears he has to stop himself from biting your shoulder. 

“Hi Doll, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers back, kisses the side of your face. 

“Wasn’t sleeping hard, trying to wait for you. Didn’t work,” you let out a little sleepy laugh that turns into a yawn. You can feel the vibrations of Jack’s chest when he chuckles at you. 

He squeezes you a little for a second and then fully settles behind you. “Thank you. For doing this for Robby.”

You hum softly. “Course. Robby’s family, you don’t need to thank me.”

“Still. Not every girlfriend or fiancée or wife would do this, even for family. I know it’s been a long week for you and that you’ve missed me and Robby coming over meant we wouldn’t get much one on one with each other tonight.” Jack kisses at your neck. “You didn’t have to. Do any of it. Show up or get him to come over or get pizza or make cookies or talk to him.”

“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. For him and you. Even with as much as I wanted it to just be us tonight. He needed to not be alone.” You give another little yawn, smack your lips a little. “And what can I say?” It’s a little sleep slurred. “Guess I’m not every girlfriend or finacée or wife.” Jack’s arm is still draped over you and you grab his hand, bring it up and kiss haphazardly at his knuckles. “Just yours.” 

Jack nuzzles his nose against your neck and kisses there. “You’re not just anything.” Hearing you say you’re his always gets to him and he can feel himself filling out a bit, especially with your ass pressed back into him. “But you are mine, yes,” Jack confirms. He feels your breathing start to slow and even out as you fall back asleep. “And I’m yours.”

A week later you and Jack are laying in bed reading and intermittently chatting. It’s Friday and it has been a long fucking week for you. Working late and going in early and barely taking lunch and just constantly busy. And it’s all been particularly emotionally draining. 

“Are you having anyone walk you down the aisle?”

That question makes you pause, sit up a bit stiffly and look up from your book. Somehow during all of the planning it never occurred to you. “I… don’t know I guess.” You shake your head as you look over at Jack.

He shrugs. “I just wondered. You don’t need to have it figured out right now, there’s still time.” 

“Yeah.” You nod to yourself. But you stay sitting up and stiff. Jack watches you out of the corner of his eye and glances at you every now and then, hoping you’ll relax and go back to reading. He hadn’t meant to upset you or cause you stress or anxiety, but he realizes now with how exhausted and emotionally zapped you are from the week your brain has been looking for a reason to spiral and he just unknowingly at the time handed you one. 

He sets his book down on his lap. “Hey.” You look over at him and Jack can almost see the dizziness you’re feeling in your eyes from how fast your thoughts are churning in your head. “You don’t need to know right now, okay? You don’t need to decide tonight. There’s seven weeks still. You have time.” 

“No, I know.” You nod at him. And you do know. Jack watches you carefully. “I’m just thinking now.” You slip out of bed and start to pace. Jack chides himself mentally for his comment even though he knows he didn’t deliberately give you something to spiral about, he still hates the fact that he did. “It’s going to be so much attention on me. On us.” You look up at him as you pace. “At the altar. Walking down the aisle, like everyone is going to be looking at me and what if I fall? And then the first dance and cutting the cake and like we have to say our vows in front of everyone and what if I just like forget how to read.” It would be funny if it weren’t causing you such real distress. Jack’s eyes stay on your face so he can try to read your expression as you pace at the foot of the bed. “Maybe we should downsize the wedding, maybe that would be better and then there wouldn’t be so many people.” 

“Downsize the wedding,” Jack repeats, very obviously confused to an extent because you’d discussed this together when you started planning and were deciding how big you wanted your guest list. He’s about 95% sure this is anxiety and exhaustion talking, but he wants to hear you out of course, wants to help and that means listening and asking questions so he fully understands you.  “In what way?” 

“Yeah, like what if we just didn’t have a big wedding? Just like a handful of people, maybe less.” You walk over and sit facing him on the edge of his side of the bed. “Or like you know,” you shrug, “what if we just flew to Vegas tomorrow and eloped?”

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

I know that’s like a little baby kind of cliff-hanger but I felt like I had to keep it interesting I’m sorry! 😭 I hope it was otherwise okay! I did not feel particularly great about any of this but it's hard to know if that means something or is just how I always feel lol. Part 5 and the wedding will be here soon!!

If you made it this far, seriously thank you, I know it's a lot to read and I appreciate you taking your time to read, I know how precious time to yourself can be so I am very grateful. I would love to hear your thoughts and comments!

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[holmoris]

hobby cheerleading from someone who's ancient by tumblr standards and has been through the whole burnout process repeatedly:

make it something that's completely unrelated to your job; it'll help massively in keeping you from burning out from either since you can go do one and forget about the other entirely for a while. this absolutely 100% means making it something that's not on a computer if you work on one, this is critical. make them completely separate spaces if at all possible. (this is goes triple if you work from home; don't do hobbies in the work room)

if it's something that's got dedicated public spaces, community college classes or clubs go hang out in them and try to get over being intimidated by other people - it really sucks until you get used to it but a lot of things like gym/makerspace activities or metalworking or pottery are all things you can do solo and nobody who matters will really judge you for it because a lot of the other people feel the same way. if you do want to talk to people about stuff wear a pin or shirt from a piece of media you like because it's a super simple icebreaker and you know you both instantly have two interests in common if someone comments on it.

if it's something that requires specific gear that costs over $30 or so try really hard to find the aforementioned dedicated space for it because more often than not someone will have one you can borrow so you don't have to buy said gear before you know if it's something you're going to stick with or not.

people get extremely histrionic about gendered hobbies and thinking that all of them are populated by very specific negative stereotypes. it's fine to go lift weights if you're a girl or do pottery/join book clubs/sew if you're a guy. nobody who matters will care, if anything people will just have super excited autistic conversations about the hobby with you.

the most important one:

if it sucks do something else. you're not being paid to be there. you don't have to stay. this is much easier if you didn't commit to buying the gear. try something else you'll never know what you actually enjoy.

bonus very specific gym one because literally everyone finds them super intimidating at first: if you're interested in anything gym-related i highly suggest finding an actual healthclub that has a bunch of stuff rather than just one activity like weights. they might be kinda pricy but if you're willing to drop like $60 a month that's generally the entire static unchanging cost of the hobby and will generally get you access to a pool anytime you want, massages, weight room, classes, etc. this is especially important if they have a cheap family plan for like 20 bucks over the cost of an individual and you've got relatives or young kids to take care of because 'hey i wanna go to the pool and go on the waterslide' is much less of an ask when the costs are already covered. the cost barrier to entry also keeps most of the social media look-at-me types out and is almost a guarantee that people who are there will actually be focusing on what they're doing and clean up after themselves.

also, specifically avoid planet fitness. it's something like $20 a month but it's also horrifically depressing and THE place that people have bad gym experiences up to and including equipment being unmaintained and dangerous, body shaming/antidisability stuff from the actual staff and bad shit with creeps/transphobes.

I don’t think I can stress enough how many people on here need a hobby like 95% of what people refer to as jobless behavior is actually just hobbyless behavior. Take up watercolors or tabletop or join a hiking group or something you probably won’t feel as much of an incessant need to freak out on the internet every day

[undyingdecay]

i like to imagine bob drools quite a bit so making out tends to get pretty wet n messy with spit spilling down his chin and the corners of his mouth 🤤

kissing bob is always a little wetter than you expect.

not in a bad way—never that—but in a needy way. a desperate, all-consuming, spit-slick way. he’s not shy about it either. he likes the mess. likes the shared warmth, the trail of saliva that strings between your mouths when you pull apart, the sticky sound your lips make when he pulls you back in like he can’t be apart for more than a second.

he’s into it—really into it. saliva swapping, as gross as it might sound out loud, is something bob thinks of as intimate. grounding. weirdly sacred in that broken, reverent way of his. he calls it sharing. of breath, of taste, of you.

and you quickly learned: he drools the most when he’s at peace.

when he’s got his lips wrapped around a swollen nipple, cheeks flushed, eyes fluttering like he’s being rocked to sleep by the softness of your breast and your palm in his hair.

when he’s asleep—completely starfished across the bed, limbs all tangled in the sheets and jaw slack. there’s always a little wet patch on the pillow. always. you tease him for it, but you still kiss him anyway, because he looks so soft like that. so vulnerable you almost forget he could rip a hole in the world.

and especially—especially—when he’s pussy drunk.

his curls damp and stuck to his forehead, arms trembling on either side of your head as he stares down at you like you’ve hung the stars just for him. his mouth hangs open, breath heavy, pink lips glossy and already dripping—drool sliding from the corners of his mouth to your chest, catching on your nipple, sometimes even smearing across your cheek.

he doesn’t even notice it half the time. too far gone. too overwhelmed by the feel of you, the taste, the warmth.

you’re everything. he wants everything.

and you let him.

because no one has ever needed you the way bob reynolds does—mouth first, always.

[ineedpaigebuckets]

Paige seeing azzis tan lines for the 1st time from after the cruise after Paige’s game!! Could be smut or fluff… whatever you thinks make sense!

tan lines

paige is still buzzing when she walks out of the locker room, hoodie clinging damply to her back, game still thrumming in her chest like an echo. the hallway is mostly quiet now, trainers finishing up their clean-up routines, teammates drifting toward the exit in clumps of laughter and leftover energy. but her eyes find azzi before anything else.

she’s leaning against the wall in a tank top paige has never seen before—light blue, thin straps, something summery and soft that doesn’t belong in a gym, doesn’t belong in the cold fluorescent light of this hallway, and still somehow azzi makes it work. she always does. her hair’s pulled half-up, the rest curling gently at her shoulders, and her skin—god. her skin is golden. warm. glowing, almost. sunkissed in a way paige hasn’t seen in months.

and then she sees the tan lines.

azzi shifts her weight as she looks up and spots paige, and the straps of her shirt slide slightly, revealing the clean edge of pale skin beneath. like her shoulders still remember the cruise. like the sun kissed her everywhere the fabric didn’t.

paige slows without meaning to, her footsteps faltering, her eyes locked on the sharp contrast. it does something to her—something quiet and aching and maybe a little possessive, but mostly just longing.

“you got tan,” she says when she finally reaches her, voice quieter than it was in her head.

azzi smiles, bright and easy, like she knows exactly what paige is looking at. “i did. like it?”

paige reaches out before she answers, fingers brushing along azzi’s shoulder, soft and reverent, tracing the faint border between golden and pale. her voice drops even lower. “yeah. i really do.”

azzi’s breath hitches, just barely, and her smile turns playful. “you gonna keep staring or are you gonna kiss me?”

paige doesn’t hesitate. not this time.

she leans in and kisses her like it’s instinct. like it’s gravity. like azzi came all the way back just so paige could do this. and maybe she did, because she melts into the kiss instantly—like her whole body was waiting for it.

it’s slow. familiar. deep in that way that feels like home. and when they pull back, foreheads touching, paige is smiling like she’s drunk on it.

“you taste like gatorade,” azzi teases, and paige shrugs.

“you taste like vacation,” she murmurs. “not fair.”

azzi laughs and threads her fingers through paige’s. “come on,” she says. “you need a shower. and food. and then maybe… we can talk about how much you missed me.”

⸻

they walk back to paige’s apartment with their fingers intertwined, paige stopping every few steps to tug azzi closer, to steal another kiss, to touch her shoulder again like she still doesn’t believe she’s real. azzi lets her. leans into every brush of skin, every soft smile, every whispered “i missed you” like she’s been saving up her own answers for weeks.

back inside, the air is warm and lazy, the way nights get when no one’s in a rush. paige disappears into the bathroom while azzi flops down on the couch, scrolling through photos from the cruise to show her later. when paige comes out—hair wet, skin flushed from the heat—she’s in a clean hoodie and shorts, barefoot, and her eyes go straight to azzi’s legs tucked beneath her on the cushions.

“your tan goes all the way down,” she says, grinning.

azzi raises an eyebrow. “did you think it stopped at my shoulders?”

“i didn’t think,” paige says, already climbing onto the couch, head in her lap without hesitation. “that’s the problem.”

azzi lets out a breathy laugh, hands settling at paige’s stomach. “so what now?”

paige shrugs. “just… need to be near you for a while.”

and they stay like that—wrapped up in each other on the couch, azzi tracing lazy circles on paige’s thigh while paige leans her forehead into azzi’s stomach. they don’t talk much, just the occasional soft exchange. a memory from the cruise. a story from the game. tiny things. nothing and everything.

eventually, paige falls asleep against her, hands curled into azzi’s shirt, breathing slow and even. azzi doesn’t move for a long time. just watches the rise and fall of her chest, the way her face softens in sleep, the way her lips part slightly like she’s still trying to tell her something even now.

she presses a kiss to paige’s hair and whispers, “i missed you too.”

⸻

later, when they finally make it to bed, it’s not rushed. it’s slow, like their bodies already know the pace, like they’ve been waiting weeks to come back to this exact rhythm. the room is dim, the sheets cool, the city quiet outside their cracked-open window. and paige is all over her—careful and greedy at the same time.

she kisses the places the sun touched first. shoulders. collarbone. down azzi’s arm, until her lips meet the soft inside of her elbow. she keeps going, down over the slope of her chest, her ribs, her stomach—familiar territory.

the tan lines are new, but everything else… paige knows it. she’s missed it.

her mouth hovers just above azzi’s belly button, and she smiles against the skin there, because the ring is still in place—small, silver, with a tiny sparkle that catches the light.

“love this shit,” she murmurs, thumb brushing over the skin just beneath it.

“of course,” azzi says, her voice soft and steady. “you like it too much.”

paige hums, satisfied. “i do.”

and then she settles there, stretched out between azzi’s thighs, chin propped just above her belly, hoodie pushed up to her elbows, hands tracing lazy shapes along her sides. it’s one of her favorite places to be. not even doing anything, just there. letting her weight rest on azzi’s stomach, letting her feel it when she shifts or breathes or laughs.

she dips her head and kisses around the piercing, not rushing, just taking her time. she’s done this before—ridden the steady rise and fall of azzi’s breathing with her hips pressed low and slow, making azzi feel it everywhere. but tonight, it’s quieter. gentler. not about teasing. not even about sex. just closeness. just the need to be there again, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat.

azzi threads her fingers into paige’s hair and keeps her there, not saying anything. just breathing. just holding her. and paige lets herself melt into it. lets her lips trail back up azzi’s body, kissing every warm, golden inch, up to her ribs and her chest and finally her mouth.

when she gets there, azzi’s eyes are already half-lidded, her smile soft.

“you’re obsessed with me,” she whispers.

paige grins, kisses her again. “like you didn’t know that already.”

azzi laughs and pulls her fully on top, and they move together easily, like they’ve done it a hundred times before. because they have. because this is what they know. this soft, tangled thing. this quiet ache that lives between them.

they don’t even undress all the way. azzi’s shirt is pushed up, paige’s hoodie bunched around her waist, legs slotting together naturally, like they were always supposed to end up here.

and when it’s over, or at least quieter, they don’t untangle right away. paige stays pressed to her, face in her neck, hand still resting low on azzi’s stomach where the piercing sits cool against her palm.

“you’re gonna have to re-tan those lines,” paige mumbles sleepily.

“you volunteering to help?”

paige lifts her head just enough to kiss the curve of azzi’s jaw. “only if you wear something tiny.”

“so… like my cruise bikinis?”

“exactly like your cruise bikinis.”

azzi laughs again, tired and happy, pulling the blanket over them with one hand. “you’re the worst.”

“you love me,” paige says into her neck, already half-asleep again.

and azzi doesn’t argue. just kisses the top of her head and whispers, “i do.”

they fall asleep like that. warm and quiet and wrapped up in skin and jewelry and summer. like they’ve got nowhere to be except here.

and sometime in the middle of the night, half-asleep and wrapped around each other, paige murmurs, “next time, take me with you.”

and azzi, without opening her eyes, whispers back, “always.”

[vaginalvr]

OMG reader is a babysitter for JJ and when reid goes and visit her kid he gets babyfever and just wants to creampie her

yes ofc I just got over my pregnancy scare!

cw: baby fever, soft dom!Spencer, oral (f!receiving), unprotected PIV (established relationship), creampie, domestic themes, possessiveness, slight breeding kink, aftercare

REQUESTS OPEN!

JJ was running late, unsurprisingly. A local case had them scrambling to close paperwork, and you were more than happy to help by watching Henry for the evening. He’d just fallen asleep after an exhausting hour of hide-and-seek and story time. His little hand had curled against your shoulder before you laid him gently in his bed, watching his chest rise and fall.

You loved babysitting Henry. He was sweet, polite, and easy. You didn’t mind JJ’s late nights either—her trust in you meant the world.

You were halfway through cleaning up blocks from the living room floor when a knock startled you.

You padded barefoot across the rug and cracked the door open.

“Spencer?”

He gave a soft, sheepish smile and raised a small paper bag. “JJ said you were here tonight. I brought dinner. Thought maybe you hadn’t eaten.”

You blinked at him, touched. “You thought right. Come in.”

He stepped inside, careful not to let the door creak. He looked… different here. Less stiff, more boyish. The cardigan and soft blue dress shirt made him look impossibly cozy. Domestic.

You couldn’t help the flutter in your chest as he looked around JJ’s house, eyes scanning the toys and coloring books scattered on the coffee table.

“She always tells me how much Henry loves you.”

“Really?”

Spencer nodded, setting the bag on the kitchen counter. “He once said you make the best dinosaur roars.”

You laughed, blushing. “That kid has too much dirt on me.”

You sat together on the couch, eating takeout out of plastic containers, the occasional baby monitor buzz drifting from the kitchen. At one point, Spencer’s eyes drifted to the hallway toward Henry’s room.

“Can I… see him? Just for a second?”

You paused, then smiled softly. “Yeah. He’s fast asleep. Come on.”

You led him quietly into the nursery, watching as Spencer leaned into the doorframe and gazed down at the little boy curled up under a blue blanket.

His face changed—eyes softening, mouth parting just slightly. His usual anxious energy had melted into something else entirely. Reverence. Wonder.

“He’s gotten so big,” he murmured. “I remember when he was born.”

You watched him, heart tugging.

“You ever want one?” you whispered.

He looked at you then, and something in his eyes flickered—like you’d flipped a switch he didn’t know he had.

“All the time lately,” he admitted, voice low. “It’s strange. I never used to think about it. But now I can’t stop.”

“Why now?”

He looked back at Henry, then to you, gaze dropping to your lips.

“Maybe because I finally found someone I could see it with.”

Your breath caught. The room was still, heavy with that quiet, loaded confession.

And suddenly you weren’t in the nursery anymore.

—

Back on the couch, neither of you was saying much, tension thick in the air. You could feel his gaze on you as you tucked your legs under yourself, playing absently with the hem of your shirt.

“You’d be a really good dad,” you said softly, glancing at him.

He didn’t smile. Not this time.

“I’d want to do everything right,” he said. “Be present. Be patient. I’d read all the research. Buy the safest crib. Cook every meal from scratch. I’d… hold them on my chest and sing them lullabies in Latin.”

You let out a quiet, breathless laugh. “Of course you would.”

He shifted closer. “But only with someone who’d love them just as much as I do.”

You turned toward him—and he kissed you.

It started soft, but quickly deepened, all the weight of longing pouring into the way his hands cupped your face, how his thumb grazed your cheek like he couldn’t believe you were real.

He kissed like a man who’d dreamed of this a hundred times and didn’t want to wake up.

When you gasped against his lips, his hands dropped to your waist, pulling you into his lap. You straddled him, fingers in his hair, heart pounding.

“I can’t stop thinking about you like this,” he whispered. “Here. In this house. Holding a baby. Wearing soft things and calling me home.”

You whimpered, rolling your hips instinctively. “Spencer…”

“I want to see you pregnant,” he groaned, lips dragging down your neck. “Swollen and glowing. I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

Your panties were soaked.

He slipped his hands under your shirt, fingers trembling slightly as he lifted it over your head. His mouth dropped open when he saw you—bare, flushed, pupils blown wide.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re perfect.”

His mouth latched onto your breast, sucking gently, tongue flicking your nipple until you whined. Your hips rocked again, pressing against the growing bulge in his slacks.

“Bedroom,” you gasped. “Or we’re not gonna make it.”

You led him down the hall like you belonged there. Maybe you would, one day.

—

JJ’s guest room was small, cozy, and dim. The second the door shut, Spencer had you against it, kissing you like he’d die if he didn’t.

You reached for his belt, but he caught your wrists, guiding you to the bed instead.

“Let me,” he whispered.

You laid back, trembling with need, and watched him undress. His shirt slipped off first—soft chest, pale skin, lean and familiar. He kissed your ankle, then your knee, then your thigh, spreading your legs gently.

“Stay quiet, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Don’t want to wake the baby.”

You nodded frantically as his mouth lowered to your soaked panties, dragging them down your thighs. The first swipe of his tongue was slow, savoring.

You clutched the pillow, biting it to muffle your cry.

He ate you like he meant it. Like your pleasure was a prayer. He licked deep, slow circles, flicking over your clit before sucking it gently into his mouth.

You came with a soft sob, shaking in his arms, and he kissed you through it—whispering praises against your skin.

“So good for me… so beautiful…”

He lined himself up without hesitation, eyes locking with yours.

“Ready?” he asked, stroking the head of his cock through your slick folds.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please, Spencer…”

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, groaning low when he bottomed out.

“Fuck, you feel like heaven,” he rasped. “So warm… so tight…”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him deeply as he started to move. Each thrust was slow, deliberate—like he wanted you to remember this for the rest of your life.

“I want to fill you up,” he whispered in your ear. “Want to see you dripping with me.”

You whimpered, nails digging into his back.

“You want that too, don’t you?” he asked. “Want to be full of me? Walking around with my baby inside you?”

Your walls fluttered. “Yes—Spencer, yes—”

His pace faltered as he buried himself deep one last time, groaning into your shoulder. You felt him pulse inside you, hot and overwhelming.

He held you through it, hips rocking slowly until you both came down.

—

Later, he stayed pressed against you, hand resting on your belly like he could feel the future there.

“Someday,” he whispered. “If you want.”

You turned to him, brushing hair from his face.

“I think I do.”

He smiled, slow and real. “Then someday, it’ll be ours.”

You kissed him again, and in the next room, Henry stirred—but didn’t wake.

[utter-queer-nightmare]

1. Currently it's The Key Is from the Alice By Heart soundtrack (highly recommend!)

2. It's not really a "go to", but my old reliable is Kitchen Nightmares, it's so cathartic!

3. Ooh, that's a tough one... Probably reading, just because writing takes so much more effort 😅

4. I think it's called mirth? The feeling that makes you laugh. A close second is proper elation, the kind that makes you cry

5. I wrap myself up in a duvet and listen to an audiobook while doing something mindless with my hands. Always with a snack and drink

6. I don't light candles a lot, I'm not allowed them in my student halls. But I love the way "vanilla cake" candles always manage to specifically smell like cake, and not just vanilla.

7. Probably my friend who lives in my building. I do make an attempt to be good company, but I feel like I change myself the least around her.

8. The fur from my childhood bear, and the soft stretchy cotton blend most children's dresses are made of

9. My grandma used to pick me up from school and she'd always leave a packet of biscuits on the seat for me. I'd put music on and eat them on the way home, about a 45 minute drive.

10. Last night, I was re-listening to an audiobook and realised I'd forgotten about an especially funny scene. It took me completely by surprise 🤣

11. My childhood bear. He's a Harrods Christmas bear with the year on the foot. I'm a December baby and he was a birth present, the first present I ever got.

12. Music or books. Audiobooks when I'm too keyed up to focus on reading, and angry songs if I need to let it out before I can calm down.

13. Bath! I live in a flat that only has a shower, but I love the feeling of being submerged in water.

14. Short term, my university's summer ball is this weekend! Long term, the Hadestown proshot is confirmed and might be coming soon!

15. Either Italian or pub food. A nice spicy pasta or a proper hearty pie.

16. I've got a new colour by number book coming in the post, and I'm kind of planning/writing a new story.

17. Unconventional and very telling, but I feel so well cared for when I'm in hospital. I know it's not quite love, but I always feel so safe and looked after when I'm in hospital. And I think that's all love is. Being made safe and looked after.

18. Maybe late 20s/early 30s? I should be on ADHD meds by then, and have finished uni. Lower stress and brain noise.

19. Nope, but I did write a little letter to myself on here that should turn up in a few years. I think that counts as both?

20. Walking along the seafront in my hometown, usually eating ice cream. Sometimes with my mother/grandmother/siblings, sometimes with my friend, sometimes alone. Sometimes day, sometimes night. Feeling the wind on my face and smelling salt.

21. Hot chocolate, but it needs to be proper hot chocolate with milk instead of water, and plenty of sugar/sweetener!

22. Alice. It's made up of various songs that reminds me of the story of Alice in Wonderland. There's obviously a lot of Alice By Heart on there!

23. I have actually! A friend of a friend gave me some after one of our theatre shows, and later that year my mum sent some for my birthday.

24. I have two, one from the theatre group and one from my flat. I think I'm closer to the one from my flat.

25. I used to think it was purple, but I think it's pink now!

26. Somewhere luxurious and relaxing in Italy, and I'd probably bring my baby sister, but only once she's old enough to live away from our mum full-time

27. I'm quite ambivalent towards gardening. I dislike mud and I'm not very able-bodied, so I don't really consider it. I have some potted roses that have lasted almost a year though!

28. Probably that I'm still alive to be honest, closely followed by the sheer amount of hobbies and responsibilities I manage to fit into my life.

29. I don't know. Sometimes I think I am, or at least sometimes I think I try to be. But I'm also quite selfish and lazy. But I don't think it matters if I think I'm kind. It matters if other people think I'm kind. And I hope they do.

30. Colourful. I have ADHD, so I have a lot of hobbies. I'm part of a theatre group and an aerial/circus group. I bake once a week, and colour/write/sing as often as possible.

I know this isn't how this works, but it feels nice to do the whole list at once like this ☺️

✨soft asks✨

What song makes you feel better?

What is your go to comfort show?

Reading or writing? Why?

Whats your favorite feeling?

How do you like to take care of yourself?

What’s your favorite candle scent?

Who do you feel most like yourself around?

Whats a fabric/texture that’s nostalgic for you?

Best childhood moment?

When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried? (or just felt really good afterwards)

Do you have a comfort item? Tell us about it!

What calms you down?

Bath or shower to relax?

Whats something upcoming that you’re excited for?

Comfort food?

What’s something you want to create soon?

How do you feel best loved?

What age in life do you think you’ll feel most yourself at?

Have you ever written or received a love letter?

Tell us about a memory you hold close to your heart.

Tea, Coffee, or hot cocoa?

Name of your favorite playlist?

Have you ever received flowers?

Who is your bestfriend?

If your soul was a color, what would it be?

If you could live anywhere with anyone you want, where would it be and who would you bring?

Do you like to garden? Have you ever grown something?

What are you proudest of?

Are you a kind person?

What do your hobbies look like?