A/n: hey lovelies! First time writing for dadaman Jaafar! It’s been a while since I wrote anything so if it’s not so good that could be why.. but enjoy!
Divider credit: pixopix
You were sitting in your shared bed, the lights drawn low, the noise of the tv now faded into the background. Both you and Jaafar exhausted from a long and hard time at work and craving the comfort of one another.
Jaafar laid almost directly on you, his head buried in the croak of your neck, pressing soft and tender pecks.
Your hand found his curly hair, grown out long and thick, due to him taking on the role of his uncle.
“I love when you grow your hair out” you say, while you raking your fingers through his curls.
“Really?” He sat up a little, his face scrunched with curiosity, the want of knowing the reason for this random but sentimental statement.
“Yeah..” you say as you stretch a strand out. “There's just something about it.” A grin finding you in the midst of your sentence. “It just makes you look so good, so beautiful.” you spoke.
“Is that so?” He smirked, which gained a gentle swat from you.
“Oh shush!” You joke, “All I’m saying is I think it compliments you well.” You smiled, your finger found the curve of his jaw, stoking lightly at the soft skin.
“So I don't look as good when I cut my hair?” He joked.
“Jaafar Jeremiah Jackson.” You have a half annoyed, half amused look towards him, “you know that’s not what I meant.” and at that he cracks his radiant smile at you.
“I know baby, you're always too kind to me.” he says as he wraps a strong arm around you and pulls you onto him, tickling your sides while peppering your face with many kisses.
“Jaafar!” you giggle, trying to wiggle away from your mischievous fiancé.
His joking antics finally come to an end, and you settle into his chest.
“I love you.” Jaafar says, as he pushes a strain of hair away from your face.
“I love you too baby.” placing a kiss on his chest, right where his heart is.
Warnings: absolute tooth rotting fluff, kissing (because wuh luh wuhh), reader is low-key a joker (as in very funny NOT the joker!).
A/n: I started writing this hours after making the mood board because how couldn't I resist writing about my wife. Olivia dean fueled this fic so let's all thank her. Enjoy lov
The sunlight peeked through your bedroom curtains, bright and warm, just like the weight on the right side of you.
Beautiful and bright, with dark hair and a softness about her you couldn't even begin to describe.
Today was Trin’s off day so you decided to let her take it easy, so with that you attempted to slip away from her warm body without her stirring awake.
To your surprise you found Dennis, “oh I didn't know you woke up this early huckleberry?” you tease him, opening up the fridge before searching for the eggs, bacon, and sausage.
“Yeah I normally don't.” he said causally before smirking “but I like to keep you guys on your toes.” he teased back.
Dennis was one of the many friends of Trinity's, that you enjoyed their company.
He was helpful around the apartment, everyone got along, and now you guys had a built-in friend.
“Do you need breakfast?” setting the ingredients on the counter with a soft force, scared that the slightest noise would wake up your hard-working sleeping beauty.
“Nah, I'm actually about to head out, meet with Javadi and maybe Mel? I'm not really sure.” He looked puzzled at his plans, but you met him with a nod and continued to get a pan out to cook the eggs and bacon.
It wasn't too long into cooking that Dennis made it known he was leaving and wouldn't be out late.
You never really understood why he always added that last part in, it's not like you and trin would be mad if he was out late.
You were about to flip over the bacon when you felt a hand wrap around your waist, ”God, you're so quiet. Nearly gave me a heart attack baby.” you let out a quiet laugh.
“Good thing I'm a doctor.” she grumbled, her face resting on your back.
“Very good thing, because you are sneaky.” you rest the spatula on a plate before turning around, meeting her beautiful green eyes. You move the fly-aways of her hair out of her face, “Good morning baby” you smiled at the sight of her face before cupping her jaw in your hand.
“Good morning,” she said with a shy smile, you loved it when she did that. Leaning down to capture her soft lips in a gentle kiss before releasing her lips and admiring her.
“Have I ever told you just how pretty you are?” you whispered, soaking in the quiet morning.
“You’ve mentioned it a few times.” a faint smirk playing on her plush lips.
“Yeah? Well let me just remind you how gorgeous you are, my pretty baby.” you said, wrapping your hands around her waist before pulling her up, she wraps her legs around you.
You walk over to your soft couch and sit her down, “Get comfortable baby, today is a relaxation day for this household.” you say as you walk back to the kitchen, “minus huckleberry!” you shout from the kitchen.
All you hear is her quiet laughter from the living room.
-
“Here you go, made by your masc-tor chef!” you say as you hand her the breakfast masterpiece you've made.
“Theres no way you just came up with that?” she laughed, taking the plate from you.
“I swear!” you throw your hands up in an exaggerated movement. “Just accept my greatness and we shall move on.” you try your best not to let out the laugh that's lingering.
“I accept all your greatness, I guess.” her voice full of a teasing tone.
“You guess? Oh baby I'm ride or die.” you laugh stealing a piece of bacon off her plate, you plop down right beside her.
“Hey! My breakfast.” she gasped dramatically, “Sorry, you had to be taxed after being unsure about my greatness.” you tease.
“Remote, please.” Trinity's hand rests in the air towards you.
“Your remote, my lady.” You place the remote in the palm of her hand.
“Do you wanna watch this new medical show? I think it's on HBO max?”she asked, taking a bite of her toast.
“I’d love to beautiful.” You said as you snuggled up to her.
You and dennis woke up late this morning, but you miraculously now have a few minutes to kill before your shift. What could possibly happen in 10 minutes?
wc: 1,642
warnings: dry humping—semi public (they’re in the car but in a parking garage), r is a freak who js wants her man (real), getting caught, hickies, pet names (angel, baby, love) santos n langdon getting along??? (sort of)
an: HI GUYS!! NEW CHARACTER UNLOCKED!!
i have another whitaker fic in the works in case y’all fw him. s/o to my gf for inspiring me to make this bc she loves whitaker (me tew). more abbot coming soon too :p
feedback is always welcomed! feel free to send requests as well :]
Imagine making out with Dennis in your car, parked in the PTMC parking garage.
The pair of you had woken up late, so there was absolutely no time for your pre-shift, morning quickie—much to your dismay.
Luckily, though, traffic was q—not bad, which gave you and your fiancé about 10 minutes in the car.
He parked towards the corner, which is out of the ordinary for him, but there was no way he’d be able to survive a 12 hour shift without getting his hands on you.
And you felt the same way, so it worked out.
Dennis kisses you passionately as you straddle him in the driver’s seat. His hands glide from the back of your neck to your spine, and then eventually the curve of your ass.
You can’t help but moan in delight once he gives you a firm squeeze—almost as if he needed to in order to breathe.
Between your shared kisses and Dennis’ light panting, you’re sure the windows are starting to fog up. Barely any light enters the car between the dimly lit parking garage and the sun that is slow to wake. He can’t see all of your lovely features because of the shadows’ influx—but what he can see makes his heart skip a beat and his pants start to twitch.
Eyelashes tickle his cheeks as your closed eyes flutter ever-so slightly. Your urgency brings your brows to furrow; Dennis’ hand goes to caress the side of your face then lightly brushes the lobe of your ear. His touch reminds you of a dandelion that sways through the sky: both gentle and faint.
Your hands grip his scrubs tightly, as if your world were crumbling and your icy-blue-eyed man was your only salvation.
Once Dennis feels you start to pull away, he lets out a noise akin to a whine, murmuring a soft ‘no’ against your lips.
“Time check?” You ask breathily with a love-struck grin and a twinkling gaze before diving back into the enchanting pool that is Dennis’ lips.
He peers over your shoulder at the digital clock, blinking simultaneously as it shines the numbers ‘6:55’.
Dennis parts briefly to murmur, “Five minutes.”
You scan his face, eyes glinting with something Dennis reckons is far from innocence. “Think I can get you off in five?” You ask with an experimental roll of your hips. The doctor that sits beneath you groans and immediately places his hands on your hips, halting you from moving any more. “Jesus—” he huffs. “Y-you and I both know you can—oh god…” A gasp rips from his parted mouth.
He clears his throat sharply. “Angel, I cannot be two minutes i-into my shift and already change my scrubs..!” Dennis sighs as your tongue licks the side of his neck. “They’ll—mmn! They’ll know, baby,” Dennis whispers, because he knows that anything louder will display his growing need for you.
Your grinding stops and it takes everything in Dennis not to whine. You take your index finger and drag it down the slope of his nose, watching as his slightly glossy eyes follow your movements carefully.
“If you want me to stop, then I will, love.”
Dennis swallows, taking another peak at the clock.
6:57.
Three minutes until the two of you had to waltz into the ED and pretend as if you weren’t dry humping in the car.
Dennis knows his boner isn’t going away without a little help in three minutes.
“Oh fuck—please—” Dennis grits through his teeth before rolling your hips on his lap. You sigh and let your head tilt back for a second. Dennis grinds up into you with hurried movements; his chest rises and falls quickly as he pants.
“Fuck,” you whisper with an inhale. One of Dennis' hands lightly presses on your back, pushing you to the crook of his neck. “Oh god…” Dennis groans, voice oozing with rasp.
You lean back into him, kissing his lips with feverish intent. You’re starting to lose where you stop and where Dennis begins, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.
That is, until the harsh rocking of your hips results in your ass hitting the steering wheel.
Specifically the horn.
“Holy—”
“Jesus chr—”
Teeth clash into each other; foreheads bump; curses leave mouths in flurried strings.
You’re quick to raise from Dennis' neck, gasping for air as you look down in shock. He looks equally as perplexed, but his stare bores over your shoulder.
You glance back and your eyes widen to the size of a saucer.
The corner of the parker garage is now being illuminated by the hazard lights on Dennis' car, which somehow turned on in your panicked frenzy.
You whip your head around the opposite way, nearly giving yourself whiplash as your finger scrambles to the button.
You feel Dennis sit up beneath you, and the two of you sigh in relief once the lights stop their blinking. You pinch your eyes shut, and when you open them, you take a second to look out of the windshield.
That’s when you realize that it didn’t matter how quickly you turned the hazards off—because the damage had already been done.
In front of you stands none other than Frank Langdon, who completely fails—though you don’t think he’s trying—to mask his state of pure and utter disbelief.
His shoulders are wound up tight; his palms face outwards, as if his astonishment won’t allow him to even close his fists; and if it were possible, his jaw would be completely on the floor.
You feel Dennis stiffen underneath you, and all you can do is gape at Frank like a fish out of water. The car is dead silent—you and Dennis can’t even let out a peep through your bated breath.
The brunette’s eyes flicker between you and Dennis before a mischievous smirk fixes its way onto his chiseled face.
“No—no,” you exclaim worrisomely, holding your hand out to the glass for Frank to ‘wait’ as he starts to walk backwards. You fumble to gather your bearings before opening the driver’s seat door.
Dennis sputters, “Wait! Baby—” but before he can finish, you’re hopping out of the car, trekking after the senior resident with ferocity Dennis has never seen you exhibit.
He sighs, running a hand over his face before adjusting his scrubs as he listens to the sound of your ranting grow faint.
Dennis comes in at 7:02 with his head down and an unusual pep in his step.
“Running from the cops, Huckleberry?” Trinity snorts when he passes by, but he doesn’t have the will to respond.
Despite the wave of doctors rolling in, Dennis finds himself relieved when he makes it back to the central hub without another question thrown in his direction.
“Hey, Prince Charming!” Frank chirps.
You hiss in Frank's direction. You want to walk over to Dennis when you hear him groan, but you decide to look at your clipboard for the upteenth time—you totally weren’t re-reading each word on the page waiting for Dennis to walk in. absolutely not!
Frank crosses his arms, glancing at his watch before setting his sights on your boyfriend. “Few minutes late, Whitaker. Everything alright this morning?”
“Just fine,” Dennis mutters with annoyance.
Trinity muses, “Doesn’t sound fine.”
Frank suddenly laughs—it’s both loud and obnoxious. “Holy shit, Whitaker! Doesn’t look fine either, look at that!”
Both you and Dennis freeze as if the world had stopped. Your eyes shoot up to him and the two of you quickly discover the red-ish mark that adorns the side of his neck.
You’re too far away to see the teeth marks as well, but Trinity isn’t.
She’s quick to exclaim, “No fucking way!” This causes a few heads to turn, including Robby's as he looks over quizzedly for a beat. Dennis immediately shushes Trinity with a finger to his lips and a hand shooting outwards.
“Both of you keep it down, please!”
Frank hums. “Bet you couldn’t keep it down in the car with Sunshine, huh, Dennis?"
Trinity guffaws, “Oh-ho, this is good!” She leans in—which is an unusual sight for you all.
Frank murmurs, despite Dennis' protesting, “Saw those two getting frisky in the parking garage like 10 minutes ago.” he points between you and Dennis, and suddenly you’re fascinated by the boring paint color of the Pitt. “Clumsy asses honked the horn,” he adds with a snicker.
Trinity has a cocky grin on her face. “Y’know, this is the first time you’ve proven yourself useful,” she says, watching as the smirk on Frank's face dim slightly whilst he tilts his head at her.
“But you two,” she whips her head around in your direction since Dennis had gradually gravitated towards you, her ponytail swishing with her every move. “You two—are bad,” she huffs a laugh.
Frank hears his name called from the opposite direction and starts to head over, but not before grinning and saying, “Next time you decide to bring your sexcapades to work, bring some concealer, yeah?”
You clear your throat instantly, looking down at your clipboard. Dennis' face beats cherry red, making Trinity laugh once again before pulling her phone out from the pocket of her scrubs.
She then takes a picture of Dennis' face before he can stop her. “This is laugh of the week, Huckleberry! Oh my god!” She then struts away with a newfound sense of joy.
“So,” Dennis whistles, rubbing the back of his neck—a nervous tick of his that stemmed from Robby. “It could be worse…”
Dana then makes her presence known, peering over her glasses. “Kid, nothing could be worse than getting caught in a supply closet.” She then walks away with a small smirk gracing her lips, leaving both you and Dennis to stutter out in defense.
Yeah, next time, you’ll leave the quickies for the mornings at home.
“abbot and reader deal with valentines-day cases at the pitt” well what if THEY were one of the cases???
smut, fluff, angst
you and your husband had the 14th off, so right now, you’re definitely not pleased to hobble around triage with jack’s arm wrapped tightly around your waist. well, that last part wasn’t that bad
it’s 6:01pm, which hopefully means that the day shift is starting to clear out, because the idea of someone like robby or even dana seeing—
“thought you two love birds were off today?” the sound of the charge nurse’s accent feels like a bucket of cold water being splashed on you. of course.
you grimace, “we are—shouldn’t you be heading back to the lockers now? it’s time for trade off.”
dana chuckles, eyeing both you and jack, “well, i was, but now i’ve got to hear this.”
robby rounds the corner, his brows raised and the ghost of a grin on his lips. “think i do too,” he crosses his arms and looks at jack for a second, “what happened, brother?”
robby glances at dana, ushering you and jack to walk with him. “fifteen’s open,” dana calls out.
jack holds your frame tightly against him, allowing you to put most of your weight onto him. he huffs rather nervously before speaking, “shower got a little too steamy, and not because of the water’s temperature.”
“f—fuck j, right there!” you pant as you try to swallow the lump in your throat.
though, it’s pretty hard to because jack’s teeth nip at your skin before his tongue soothes the ache.
your entire body feels as if it’s on fire between the warm droplets that showered down and the heat that radiates from your husband.
jack—ever the praise junkie—smirks against you. “yeah? ‘m i hitting that sweet spot, honey?”
any other time, you’d retort with something along the lines of “you love hearing yourself talk, don’t you?” but the pressure building in the lower region of your stomach keeps you from doing so.
jack ruts up into you shamelessly from his position below you on the built-in seat; his moans are borderline pitiful and it just makes you clench around him more.
he shudders, “oh god. you feel so good, baby—oh you feel so good.” he heaves heavily, and you can see his freckled muscles flex with every thrust as you straddle him.
you choke on a breath, “sh—it! m-make me come, jack. ‘m right there, honey!”
jack raises his head and kisses you roughly, your tongues clash recklessly and jack exhales through his nose just as you inhale sharply.
he breaks the kiss reluctantly, as if it pains him. a flurry of curses leave his lips in a frenzy as jack lets his dull nails leave crescent marks on the backs of your thighs. your shared moans flow through the steamy air as you both reach your climaxes with a few harsh thrusts.
your body jolts with his every move, and your hands grip his silver-ish curls with vigor.
jack whispers unintelligible, lust-filled sweet-nothings into your ears are you hold him against you tightly.
after a beat, you unfurl yourself from jack’s embrace and you go to stand. his hands slowly slip from your ass as his head goes back to rest on the wall.
you seemingly underestimate the effect the passionate sex had on your legs because as soon as your feet touch the shower’s porcelain tiles and you take a step back, your knees buckle.
your hand goes to grab the shower door , but it merely slides down as you begin to slip. you shout instantly, and jack’s eyes snap open. your body twists, and your back meets jack’s hands as he holds you up to keep you from completely falling.
but the sharp pain that pulses through the outer side of your foot tells you that the damage had already been done.
“fuck!” you yell, scrunching your face up. jack scrambled to grab you nearly by the arm pits before he drags you back to sit in between his legs on the seat.
jack blinks several times and sputters, “jesus! are you okay, honey?”
you groan, “i don’t know, but i do know that my ankle feels like it was electrocuted.”
“okay,” jack blurts, “we’re gonna go to the ed, just to be safe.”
you sputter at your husband’s words, trying to shift in order to face him, “what? jack no—” you hiss once your foot moves. jack quickly coaxes you into facing forward like before, but he’s not as successful as he wants to be, because you’re still squirming.
“im fine,” you huff.
jack argues, “you don’t know that!”
“wh—i’m a senior resident jack, how could i not know that?” you hate to point out your rank because jack used to do it in order to get you to take care of yourself in some capacity.
but the thought of getting dressed, getting into the car, and then later limping your way into the pitt over something minor as this frustrates you in every way possible.
“you could’ve fractured something—or hit your head—” the words rush out from jacks mouth.
you’re quick to interrupt him, “for one, i highly doubt i fractured anything. and for two, i didn’t hit my head, you literally caught me, jack—”
“we’re going! okay? this isn’t up for debate.” he sighs once you stiffen against him slightly. “i’m—im sorry, i just,” he trails off. “i wanna make sure you’re okay.”
your lips straighten into a line once robby and dana look back at you simultaneously. “got too into it, somehow slipped and now my ankle feels like it’s two seconds from falling off.”
robby opens the door to the room, waiting for dana to follow the two of you before clicking it close.
“not as spry as we used to be, i guess,” jack chuckles. dana snorts under her breath before turning to the computer.
you roll your eyes as you sit in the chair, quietly wincing once robby touches your calf to lift your leg.
robby hums, “how much does it hurt, scale of one to ten?”
“ten, robinavitch.”
“just askin’, shortstack,” robby says with amusement. He continues to poke and prod around your ankle.
you look up and see your husband standing a few feet behind robby with his arms crossed. “i’m thinking an mri,” he says while letting his nail graze his teeth. “maybe a ct too.”
“is that really necessary, jack? i guarantee the pain will be better by the time i wake up if i elevate it and put ice on it.” you sigh for the umpteenth time.
jack frowns at you. “well—we have to be sure, honey. what if it’s more serious than we thought and you need an ankle arthroscopy?”
robby watches the exchange and doesn’t speak, but you can see that old bastard laughing under his breath.
you’re quick to reassure jack, “babe, you and i both know that this isn’t that serious.”
“rather be safe than sorry,” he murmurs; he now stands next to you as he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, and your knuckles a loving kiss. all you can do is huff in response.
luckily, you had convinced jack to let you off without a ct. but, by the time your mri results came back and you were asked a dozen more questions, over an hour had passed. dana had bid her goodbyes, but robby stayed.
well, he didn’t really have a choice.
you begged robby to stay once you heard the night shift crew role in. it was bad enough that gossip spread around the pitt like wildfire, but you weren’t too keen on dealing with the immense amount of teasing you’d get from them before getting a few good hours of sleep.
you even offered to pay him $50 for his extra time.
he almost accepted, but decided against it.
walsh noticed you immediately while she was walking by; thankfully, she only looked at you suspiciously without even saying a single word.
the same cannot be said for ellis and shen, though.
john saw you and completely stopped in his tracks. his coffee sipping ceased as he looked at you with wondering eyes. you glared at him, and he slowly turned into the opposite direction.
five minutes later, he came back with parker in toe.
no matter how many times they peaked their head into the room, you refused to utter anything about your current situation.
and you sure as hell didn’t let jack say anything either. especially because he had guilt written all over his face rather than his usual nonchalant demeanor.
you’re 99% sure that by the end of the night, an entire betting pool will be established on the cause of your injury.
“alright, everything’s fine, y’know what to do,” robby sighs. “i’ll go get you a brace so we can all get outta here.” robby raises from his seat with a grunt before walking out of the room.
you’re pleased to know that all is well, but you frown when you look up from your foot to see jack standing with his arms crossed near the corner of the room. you murmur, “c’mere, jack.”
there’s a flash of surprise that you see in his eyes, but he’s quick to anywhere but at you as he slowly steps towards you.
jack’s been far too worried for a sprained ankle. he’s always a bit on edge when you get injured, but this?
this was something more—something deeper. and you weren’t leaving without an explanation.
jack stands between your legs, he looks down at your bruising ankle.
you gently reach out to him, putting your left hand on his stubbled cheek. you know that the sight of the ring on your finger will provide him at least an ounce of solace, and that’s all you want right now.
“what’s wrong, j?” your tone is as hushed as leaf blowing in the breeze.
you can tell jack’s doing that thing where he starts to close himself off, because he starts to mumble. “nothin’. was just worried about you, sweetheart.”
you gaze at him softly, “why?”
this makes jack pause quizzically, “cause you’re my wife? why wouldn’t i be worried?” he chuckles, but it’s shaky, and lacking its usual humor.
“‘s not what i meant, jack.” you sigh. your hand goes down to hold his, and your finger brushes the band on his ring finger, while your other hand goes to rub his heart through his chest. “you knew it’d just be a sprain and nothing else, what’s got you so worked up?” you try to speak as gently as humanly possible to coax your husband.
jack swallows deeply and trembles so lightly that anyone but you wouldn’t even be able to notice. “when i heard you yell, it felt like my blood ran cold,” he confesses.
you nod, signaling for him to continue. “i was so scared that i’d open my eyes a-and you’d be on the floor and there’d be blood and—”
you shush him softly once you see his eyes start to gloss over. your hand presses more onto his chest, showing him that he was here, and you were right here with him still.
“‘m not going anywhere, honey,” the smile that you give him is tight-lipped—both warm and sad.
jack’s hand takes yours and brings it to his lips, where he kisses each of your fingers before allowing you to continue rubbing his chest. “think tonight showed us that we can’t decide that ourselves, hon.”
you’re fully aware of jack’s past: his time in the army, where he’d have to physically watch people he cared about slip right though his fingers. you also knew about how he lost his first wife years ago, and that getting him to open up after his period of grieving was nothing short of a miracle.
you know that these anxious feelings stem from the hurt that he thought he’d never escape before. and you wish you could just take it all away from him.
you swing your good foot back and forth, letting your foot nudge jack’s leg. you twist your lips, “i know it was scary, and—”
“don’t say you’re sorry,” jack cuts you off softly.
you scoff playfully, “i wasn’t. anyways, stuff happens, even if it’s less than ideal. but we can’t pause life, we just gotta keep going, j—gotta adapt.”
jack sighs, “i know, i just can’t lose you—i can’t live without you.”
you lean over to kiss his nose. “you won’t have to, i’ll be extra careful. besides, who’s gonna help you find your glasses every day?”
jack finally lets out a true, hearty laugh, “you’re right, what ever would i do? and also, you’re gonna be extra careful regardless, ‘cause you’re not lifting a finger when we get home.”
“my ankle’s sprained, not my wrist, jack,” you roll your eyes with a snort.
“i don’t care! you’re on bed-rest until further notice!” jack chortles.
you giggle in turn, “i’m gonna have to go back to work, j.”
before the attendee can retort, robby comes through the door and peels the curtain back. “okay,” he hums before quirking his brows a bit, realizing that he may have just interrupted a moment between the two of you.
jack steps back immediately, opting to stand by your side rather than your front.
“y’know the protocol: ice and elevation, don’t go trying to put a bunch of pressure on it. don’t want the ed’s golden girl out for longer than she needs to be.” robby looks at you pointedly.
you widen your eyes mockingly with straightened lips, “i’ll be on my best behavior.”
robby doesn’t bother to look at jack—doesn’t bother to tell him what to do because he knows jack’s more than capable of taking care of you. physician or not.
you’re still his wife.
robby stands after putting the brace on, nodding his head towards the door, “lena’s got a wheelchair for you.”
you can’t help but let out a whine, “did you tell her?”
robby snickers like a teenage girl, “didn’t have to tell her much—said i needed a wheelchair for you and she put two-and-two together. she might have the wrong idea, though.” he smirks.
you sigh, looking over at jack. you’re met with him holding back a laugh, to which gets him a playful slap on the arm.
robby heads to the door and opens it for lena, who automatically walks in with amusement all over her face. she looks as if she’d heard the dirtiest secret to ever walk the earth.
and honestly, she did.
her eyes flicker from you to jack; you look down sheepishly and jack clears his throat, which makes lena’s smirk widen.
she doesn’t say anything, only hums as she—alongside jack, and robby for nearby support—helps you stand to make your way into the wheelchair.
“gonna have to be a little more careful next time, hm?” lena muses with a whisper in your ear as she wheels you out of the room. you choose to ignore her as embarrassment wraps around your bones.
jack tries to take over, but he’s immediately swatted away by the night shift nurse. you know she’s getting a real kick out of this.
robby and jack exchange a few last words, and robby then rounds to the front of you while lena continues to wheel you gently. he walks backwards and says, “next time, don’t get adventurous, save it for the bed.” he then walks away with a grin.
lena looks up at him scandalously with her jaw dropped once the words register in her brain, she then laugh boisterously as you groan.
you look across to the desks and see ellis and shen looking right back at you. your eyes flutter shut with annoyance. you can hear jack sigh from where he walks next to you.
yeah, there’s definitely going to be a betting pool that overflows like a tsunami.
but hey, maybe you can get robby to win some of that money.
maybe it could go towards some more safety measures for the shower, like a bath mat for the shower floor.
this is longer than it was supposed to be. also srry this is late blame my gf ✌🏽
summary: While Dennis is treating Louie, a picture of Dennis and his wife falls to the floor. Dennis shares little glimpses of his personal life, and has a hard time coping after Louie's death
warnings: mentions of death, hurt/comfort, sad wet cat Whitaker, she/her pronouns
wc: 2.5k
a/n: Dennis Whitaker hit me out of nowhere and now I am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure for him. This is my first fic for The Pitt so I'm still trying to find my footing <3 Please enjoy.
E-7
Dennis’s mouth was practically watering! The vending machine guy had just restocked the machine in the breakroom. The tall, buff bald man had hyped up the new snack selections that the company picked out. He was right, they were as good as he said. The new doctor almost had his face pressed against the glass as the glossy black coil released the Nerds Juicy Gummy Clusters from its vending machine prison. Just a few more inches and they’d be all his to get him through this shift. “Come to papa,” he all but moaned.
His anticipation was cut short by his work phone. “Jesus Christ,” he cursed, passing his wallet to his other hand and hastily pulling the phone out of his pants pocket. “Hello,” he answered out of breath. Dana, on the other line, had started to tell him about two of his patients who were waiting for a trip up to the OR. He nodded along to what she was saying, crouching down and sliding his hand into the machine to retrieve his snack.
“Oh, and Louie was complaining about his mouth, Princess says it’s gettin’ worse. You need to come check him out right now. ” A sudden rush of panic rushed through his veins. Oh Louie. Dennis gave Dana a quick confirmation and hung up, shoving the phone back into his pocket. Taking in a deep breath, he crossed the room and exhaled as soon as he left. He wanted to uphold all of this “new Whitaker” energy that all the nurses were commenting on. He was cool, experienced, and relaxed.
He didn’t necessarily feel that way when he sped into Louie’s room. “Doc,” The man whined as he spotted him, his hand clutching the side of his face in obvious pain.
Dennis looked down at the bag of candy and his black leather wallet still in his hand, and not so gracefully put them in his pocket. “Sorry, Louie,” he apologized, a comforting smile appearing on his lips, “I’m here now, let's check out that abscess.” he gloved up and grabbed a few things from one of the drawers.
“Wait, Doc,” Louie shimmied up a little higher in his bed and used his free hand to point at the doors. “You dropped something there.” The doctor looked over and saw a small white rectangle lying on the old linoleum floor.
“Uhh I guess I did,” he muttered, confused as he fiddled with his gloves. He walked over and plucked the white rectangle from the floor. Flipping it over, his eyebrows upturned. It was a Polaroid taken at Abbot’s New Year’s party last year. He sort of remembered that photo being taken… he had too many of Garcia’s Baja Blast Jello shots that night. Santos had gotten a new Polaroid camera from her girlfriend that Christmas and brought it everywhere.
“Get in here, Huckleberry,” Trinity had slurred, calling him over from the bar, “don’t be shy!”
He took a swig of his Heineken and stumbled over to the large green velvet couch, bumping into partygoers as the back of your head got closer into view. He stood behind the couch you were sitting on and wrapped one arm around your chest, pulling you back towards him. You tucked your head into his elbow and placed your hands on his strong forearm. “Smile, you crazy kids,” Santos chuckled, holding her camera up. Just before the flash went off, Dennis pressed a kiss to the side of your head.
Dennis shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. “Sorry, it, uh, must’ve fallen out of my wallet.” He scurried over and sat down on the stool beside the other man.
“What is it?” he asked curiously, letting go of his mouth so Dennis could check on his abscess.
A rosy blush appeared on Whitaker’s pale cheeks. “It’s, uh, o-of my…wife and I,” he managed to stutter out. Make no mistake, Dennis Whitiker was head over heels in love with you; he would scream it from the top of every mountain top if he could. The ED was a different world; you were the one piece of his private life that he wanted to keep close to his chest. It was very rare for him to bring you up to a patient.
Louie’s lips broke out into a wide smile, ignoring the pain that shot through his mouth. “Let me see it, Doc!” Dennis flashed a look of uncertainty. “It’d make me feel better.” It was hard to deny Louie of anything right now, especially with the pain he’s been going through. He pulled the picture out of his pocket and gently passed it to Louie. The older man sighed and let out a dreamy hum as he held it. “Well, aren’t you two just the sweetest?” he chuckled, “How long have you been together?”
“I’m going to take a look at this,” the nervous doctor said, turning on his flashlight and grabbing a tongue depressor. “We met freshman year of college. She worked at the school library, and I had only gotten one hour of sleep one day. I crashed at one of the tables, and she found me, so she hit me with a book a couple of times and let me use one of the private rooms for a nap,” he spoke lovingly as he inspected the area. “We’ve been together ever since. Got married two years ago.”
“Where’d you get married?”
“Court house downtown,” Dennis chuckled and administered pain meds, remembering the morning the two of you decided that you didn’t want to wait any longer. No guest lists or shopping for venues and flowers you couldn’t afford. Just a dress from the back of your closet and a small bouquet of Trader Joe’s flowers. Yours and Dennis’s parents were nice enough to host a reception in Broken Bow. It was the perfect little barn party.
“Kids?”
“No!” he coughed, embarrassed about how fast and loud he answered Louie’s question. “No, not yet, at least. We’re nowhere near financially ready for children. We’re enjoying it being just us right now…and I like it.”
Louie nodded, his face scrunching in agreement. His thumb swiped along the photo, smiling at your ring that shone in the camera’s flash. “What’s your favorite thing about her?”
A warmth spread through the doctor’s body. He loved everything about you. He rolled away from the older man and placed the tools on the table behind him. “I think,” he began, “I love how understanding she is. With college, then med school, and now residency, it’s a lot on her. She’s always there for me and just gets me. I couldn’t do this without her.”
Louie stayed silent for a while after that. His shaky fingers held the photo, his eyes locked on the couple. The doctor glanced over once or twice, trying to get any idea of what was going through his mind. He didn’t say anything because he’d never seen the patient so quiet before; he almost looked at peace. “Alright, Louie. I’ll be back in two seconds to drain this. Should be nice and numb soon.”
He hummed in delight and handed back the photo. “Thank you, Doc.” Louie put his hand over the doctor's and looked at the photo, then up at him with tears in his tired eyes. “Take care of her.”
Dennis gave him a reassuring smile. “I will.”
A short while later, Louie had passed, and Dennis felt numb. Should he feel grateful that he wasn’t the one in the room when it happened, saving him from further guilt? Or should he have been there? Maybe there was something he could have done, and Louie would still be here. He felt his chest start to tighten, and his breathing started to become shallow. He was not in the mood for a panic attack right now in the middle of the debrief. Cassie put a hand on his back, and the rapid rise and fall of his chest began to calm down at the motherly touch.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
She smiled sadly. “Anytime.”
“Found this with his stuff,” Frank chimed in as the team shared stories. Dennis’s eyes flickered up, a small, worn photo was pinched between his fingers. “Who knew he was married?” Oh God. He was going to be sick.
The team started to pass it around, and Robby explained that his wife, Rhonda, was his high school sweetheart. The attending locked eyes with his own, and he passed the photo to him. Dennis took one look at the sweet photo and passed it to Cassie like it was on fire. His fingers continued to burn, and tears started to well in his eyes as Robby continued to tell Louie and Rhonda’s story. His chest started to hurt, panic rising again.
No wonder Louie held on to the picture of the two of you. The stare was a look of longing and remembrance of the great love he had with Rhonda. Donnie placed the photo on Louie’s chest as a final goodbye. “May his memory be a blessing.”
“Are you ok, Whitaker?” Cassie asked as they left the room, everyone going back to work in a sad silence.
Dennis nodded and thinned his lips. “Yeah, I just need this shift to end.”
When it finally ended, he had never been happier to be home. The soft, warm light of the apartment and the smell of clean linen soothed his soul. He closed the door behind him and dropped his bags in the entryway with a soft thud.
You came out of the kitchen with a glass bowl of microwave popcorn and a can of soda in your other hand. “Hey, baby! How was your day?” you asked cheerfully as you rounded the corner. You looked over at him, his sad, tired eyes and slumped shoulders raised several red flags. “Denny?” Your voice wavered as you spoke.
Placing the soda and popcorn on the side table, you wrapped him in your arms and pulled him close to your chest. “I had a hard day,” he mumbled, his strong hands gripping your back as if he was afraid to let you go.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not yet.”
“You know I’m here when you’re ready. Go get cleaned up and watch the movie with me if you’re up for it.”
He stayed silent for more than half the movie, his head in your lap and arms crossed across his chest in defense. A soft buzz vibrated from the arm of the couch, and you let out a soft giggle as you picked up your phone and read a text from your coworker. Dennis turned his head away from the tv to look up at you, his eyes catching the photo locked in place under your clear phone case.
It was a picture of him from when the two of you took a trip to Nebraska, and Trinity let you borrow her camera. “Is that new?” he asked weakly, finger tapping your phone.
“Yeah,” you said brightly, “I was going through my photo album and found this one. You looked so cute with the horses.” He loved taking you to the stables on his family’s farm; the horses loved to see the two of you when you came to visit. He’s the closest with Sunshine, a blond mare with pretty white splotches on her face. You took a dozen photos of their sweet interactions, putting them all into an album until you decided that the picture of Sunshine pressing her cheek against Dennis’s belonged on your person.
Tears pricked his eyes, and your smile faded. He sat up and interlaced your fingers, “We lost Louie today.”
You heard many stories about Louie, like how nice he was and how he managed to brighten everyone's day if they got to treat him. Your husband had been treating him a lot since Langdon went to rehab; it was the one case he didn’t mind. ‘“Oh, Denny,” you sighed, “I’m so sorry.”
He finally let the tears fall, his body softly rocking back and forth for a sense of comfort. “I was getting a snack, a-and he needed help. The picture of us from Abbot’s party fell out of my wallet, and he saw it… he wanted to see it.”
You put your head on his shoulder, feeling his poor body tremble. “I know the one you’re talking about,” you told him softly, “then what happened?”
“He just stared at it and asked questions about us. T-they found a picture of him and his wife with his belongings. They were expecting a kid when he lost them, he kept that photo wth him since she died,” he sobbed. You held him close, all the emotions of the day finally releasing.
“He never got over her,” you whispered in awe.
“I’d never get over you.”
“I don’t like to think about that,” you sniffled.
“Me either, but that’s all I can think about right now.” Dennis looked around the room, looking at the photos in small decorative frames. Mostly art pieces and pictures of friends and family. “I’m sorry, it just put me in a weird mood.”
“Don’t apologize,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “it was a hard loss, it’s ok to be sad, my love.”
A few moments of silence passed as Dennis tried to control his scattered thoughts, eyes rapidly moving around the room. “We need m-more pictures together. W-we don’t have e-enough. I want to take them…or-or maybe we can just take them of each other. I want to make sure that if we have kids or something, they know us,” he rambled, his thoughts spilling out. He lurched from the couch and ran his fingers through his messy hair. “Louie and Rhonda looked like they were so in love. The photo in my wallet… I love you so much. I want people to see how much I love you.”
You nodded meekly, tears slipping from your eyes, folding your hands into your lap as he paced back and forth. “We can do that,” you managed, “I love you too. I love you so much.”
“Maybe we can go back to the library where we met…take a couple of pictures. We never had a real engagement photoshoot. Why didn’t we do that! We have no memories of it!”
You slowly stood up, carefully walking up to him like a scared animal. “We were so broke.” You put your arms around his waist and put your head between his shoulder blades.
“Still are,” he joked, putting his hands over yours, his thumb fiddling with your wedding ring. “I lost it… I’m sorry.”
“You’re grieving, don’t apologize.”
Another sob escaped his lips, “I wish we could have saved him,” he whimpered.
“I know, baby. They did everything they could, you know that. If Robby couldn’t save him, no one could have.”
Dennis just nodded, his grief clouding the reality of it all. “C-can we go to bed? I just want to go to bed now,” he asked.
“Sure,” you answered kindly, pulling away to turn off the tv. He caught your hand and brought it to his lips. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he whispered back, turning off the last light.
Your dearest husband Steve just looks too good as a baseball coach, so could he really blame you for jumping his bones after practice ended?
wc: 4,287
warnings: porn with plot, whiny!soft dom!Steve, bossy!reader, cunnilingus, fingering, kind-of public sex? (they do it in the storage room w/ the doors closed), unprotected p-in-v, overstimulation (r receiving), creampie, Steve lowk has a breeding kink (i’m sorry), Steve being the biggest ass man evaaa, lots of pet names, (honey, baby, goddess, sugar, sweetheart)
an: i listened to trap, rnb, indie, and even jazz/blues music to write this, i feel very accomplished. when i saw coach steve i nearly combusted dude. ALSO i haven’t written smut since like july i think so i’m a wee bit rusty </3 if it’s bad don’t tell me (but tell me)
feedback is always appreciated n welcomed!!
The sky glowed with orange and pink hues that were enough to make anyone swoon. You could feel the slightly-long strands of grass nipping at the skin that your socks couldn’t hide.
Your lashes kissed your face as you blinked; you made sure that your blinking was scarce, because if not, you’d miss the sight before you.
The sun’s ever-dimming glow and the fluttering butterflies weren’t your concern as of right now. They couldn’t be when there was a literal vision clad in tight shorts and a backwards cap in front of you.
Thankfully, the bipolar Hawkins weather decided to work in your favor today, because the light wave of warmth was enough for Steve to ditch his usual khakis for a pair of shorts that showed more than enough thigh.
Enough to make you bite your lip periodically throughout practice.
You’re not the type to normally do that, and you weren’t the usual type to fall for someone like Steve Harrington—especially because back when he was ‘King Steve’, his ego was somehow bigger than his hair.
But God, you’re a sucker for a man that grovels.
After Steve and Nancy had gone through whatever that whole situation was, and Steve jumped from a few other beds, the cocky brunette knocked right on your door—well, locker—and begged for a chance.
You definitely turned him down, how could you not?
But, after a few free scoops of ice cream in the Starcourt Mall, a few dozen glances at Steve's small uniform shorts, and a few hours being tormented by Russian soldiers—you finally called Steve your man.
Which leads you to now: the evening after baseball practice, where you watched your doting husband show you just how great he is with kids.
As if you didn’t know that already.
For two hours, Steve’s been running ragged while showing his team the in’s and out’s of baseball. His deadset focus made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn’t help but ogle.
A little more ogling wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?
With the way his leg muscles flexed as he crouched down to the lower shelf in the small storage room? You figured it definitely couldn’t hurt.
You take a step closer, and then another until you’re leaning with your back against the open door inside the room.
Steve lets out a small grunt as he brings himself to stand. He chuckles breathily, still facing the shelves; his laugh makes your stomach feel a wave of warmth.
“You’re staring, honey,” Steve smirked—you didn’t even have to see his face to know. He finally looks over in your direction, and you swear you melt.
His dark onyx eyes gaze at you lovingly; there’s a mixture of both mischief and adoration behind his stare.
You take it upon yourself to walk over to him, letting your arms wrap around his waist naturally once you reach him—like it was a force of habit.
“Mmm, can’t help myself,” is all that you say with a hum.
You take a second to observe the many moles and freckles that adorn his slightly-sweaty, yet chiseled face.
You’re convinced that this man’s presence works as an aphrodisiac, because you continue to grow more antsy by the minute.
Steve grabs your hands and guides them up to wrap around his neck, he tilts his head and kisses the side of your wrist.
“Haven’t been able to since I started this job, huh?” He murmurs coyly.
“Since I saw you in that backwards hat for the first time, actually,” you murmur, playing with the tufts of hair on the nape of Steve’s neck with a feather-like touch.
Steve chuckles in disbelief. “The hat—the one I literally wore to fight an interdimensional creature—is what did it for you? Really?"
You scoff and roll your eyes. “So you're telling me you weren’t completely turned on watching me shoot at those soldiers?”
“Oh no—I totally had a semi watching you be all badass ‘nd stuff.”
“Uh-huh, well..” You trail off, peering at him lustfully. “I’d be lying if I said that hearing you talk about all that sex-ed stuff didn’t turn me on..” You let your nails graze his warm skin.
You step into Steve’s personal space even further, backing him up until his broad back lightly hit the equipment shelf behind him.
Steve muses, “Oh yeah?” You hum in response. “Think you could help me with my lesson planning then, honey?”
A beamingly-bright grin makes its way onto your face. “Yeah, I can do something like that.”
You’re not sure who’s lips meet who’s first, but you know for damn sure that you don’t plan on stopping as long as you can help it.
Steve’s lips are wet and sort-of strawberry flavored.
You know without a doubt that he took your chapstick off of your nightstand this morning before work, just like he always does.
Steve’s hands trail down from your wrists to your lower back before they find purchase on your ass. He gives you a firm squeeze, making a weak whimper slip from your mouth and into his as he greedily takes you in.
Steve’s head tilts almost horizontally as his tongue peaks into your mouth. It feels as if a rose’s petal were brushing along your tongue; not obnoxiously, but in a way that makes you ache for more.
His breath is warm as he exhales through his nose with every peck; each one leading to another that was even longer. You get lost in Steve and his vices, but instead of feeling as if you were drowning—you feel alive.
You think that Steve’s always had that effect on you. You also think you do the same for him with the way his rumbling turned into something a lot more airy.
Unfortunately, your little shallow breaths weren’t enough for your heart to catch up to your brain, resulting in you breaking the kiss first.
You open your eyes to see Steve’s already glossed over. You pant and your softened stare diverts to the light string of spit that bridges itself between your lips and Steve’s. You suck in a very much needed breath, smiling alluringly as you feel it dribble down to your chin.
“Y’know..I’ll never get used to this,” Steve murmurs, licking his kiss-bitten lips.
Your eyebrows pinch, “Get used to what?
Steve doesn’t respond immediately, opting to just marvel at you for a beat. “Kissing my wife whenever I want,” he murmurs, letting his hand raise to graze your cheek lovingly with his thumb.
“Yeah?” You muse, “We don’t have to sneak around the kids anymore while they’re picking out movies.” You smirk. You recall the times where you’d visit Family Video with the kids before slipping off to the employee room with Steve for an impromptu makeout session.
“Speaking of,” you take a second to look at the field behind you, “Everyone went home? No meddling parents that want to talk or anything?” You couldn’t help but ask.
“Nope,” Steve pops the ‘p’ as he speaks, “Derek’s mom already picked him up—said something about a ‘get-together’ at 6:30.”
You hum absentmindedly, “It’s a shame we had to kidnap her and her family last year, she’s kind-of nice.”
A scoff is plucked from Steve’s mouth, “Yeah, emphasis on ‘kind-of’.” The teasing look he gives you turns into something a lot more flirtatious—hungry, even. “Anyway, why are we even talking about Mrs. Turnbow when we could be kissing a whole lot more?”
Before you can respond, Steve presses his lips to yours with a lot more fire than before.
You push him by his cheeks lightly, “Well, I was trying to make sure she wasn’t here so I could kiss you, handsome.”
Steve doesn’t bother to reply, instead diving back into the pool of your lips.
“You’re awfully eager, aren’t you?” You mutter through a breath against him.
“I don’t want to hear that from you right now considering you came in here about to jump me.” Steve sasses, lust oozing from his tone.
You planned on giving your husband a snarky remark, but the words die on your tongue when Steve grabs your hand and drags it down to his ever-growing erection.
“D’you see what you do to me, honey? Been waiting for you all damn day,” he rasps, taking it upon himself to suckle on the soft skin of your neck.
“You have me now, Stevie,” you whisper bewitchingly. Your voice reminds Steve of the sweetest syrup he’s ever been able to get his cuticle-bitten hands on. And because of your words, he releases you from his hold and quickly walks over to the rusted double doors of the storage shed.
You lean where Steve once did against the metal shelving, watching him close the doors with an obnoxious screeeak.
Steve rushes back over to you just as quick, he kisses you once again, and it’s a lot messier.
His mouth travels down to your chin, then along the column of your throat. He kisses the space between the valley of your breasts as his hands push your shirt over your head. His chin rests above the button of your jean shorts as he reaches your bellybutton. Steve licks the skin that rests on your waistband before leaving hickies on the fat of your hips.
Your nails rake through his hair once more, and you take pride in his disheveled appearance as he gets down on both of his knees. His hands drift up the backs of your thighs before they find solace in the bottom of your shorts.
“Steve,” you murmur, relishing in the feeling of his fingers kneading your ass all-too intimately.
One thing you had to get used to when it came to Steve was his obsession with ass. He was an ass man through and through.
Well, it was your ass that did it for him.
He was never picky; he never cared about fluctuating weight or lack of—he honestly just wanted to grab every inch of you.
But in moments where you were beyond sexually frustrated, it became a little disconcerting.
You huff before you can even think about withholding it, “Baby, are you going to keep groping me, or are you going to take my shorts off?”
Steve frees your skin from his teeth and his light nipping, “Depends—are you gonna be good f’me?”
You pull Steve’s hair, making Steve look up at you with a look so sinful that you can't even describe. “Maybe, if you don’t keep me waiting, that is.”
Steve clicks his tongue, “Maybe doesn’t sound too nice.”
“You love it, though,” you smirk as Steve starts to make quick work of your bottoms.
“I love everything about you, sweetheart,” Steve says with a sharp inhale.
Steve slides your shorts down and marvels at the sight of your panties.
They were his favorite ones.
Steve teases, “Assumed you were getting lucky today, huh, honey?”
“I knew I was,” you try to keep your voice from wavering as Steve’s breath ghosts the fabric of your panties.
“You’re getting cocky, think I’ve been giving you whatever you want too much.”
“I—” a sigh rips from your throat when Steve purses his lips and blows on your clothed clit. Your voice slightly wavers when you speak, “—think you should hurry up before I get in the car.”
Steve grabs the band of your underwear before sliding them down the peaks of your thighs. “You’re no fun, honey,” he puffs, spreading your legs. “We’re by ourselves, got all the time in the world, ‘nd you wanna—” Steve licks a stripe up your pussy. “—rush,” he murmurs against your core.
You let out a choked gasp, tightening the hold you have on Steve’s head, subtly guiding him to where you need him most.
“‘S not nice to take with your mouth full, Stevie,” you chide with a moan.
Steve groans, never slowing his advances, “‘M sorry—where’re my manners?” He blubbers.
Your jaw goes slack at the vibrations that Steve sends through your entire body. His tongue flutters against the inside of your wet folds.
Steve had always considered your pussy and a flower to be one and the same.
So what kind of husband would he be if he didn’t give your blooming rose bud some TLC?
Steve’s once flattened tongue pointens as it darts to your clit. You put your thigh on his shoulder, allowing his nose to nudge your mound as you get lost in the swirling sensation.
You moan softly, letting your head fall back onto a miscellaneous box behind you. One of your hands goes out to grip the shelf; something clatters to the floor but neither of you bother to look in its direction.
“F–fuck, Steve,” you heave deeply as you try to focus on the heartbeat that pounds in your ear. Your eyes squeeze shut and your lips part.
You don’t realize that you’re heaving until Steve kisses your clit with a hushed, “Breathe, honey.” You inhale through your mouth and look down at Steve, who’s looking right back at you. “Good?” He asks sweetly–as if his lips aren’t exploring your vulva.
You nod affirmatively, but Steve doesn’t take that as an answer.
He never does.
He pinches your bare thigh, making you yelp; your thigh attempts to slide off of his shoulder reflexively, but his firm hold on you prevents it entirely.
Steve tuts, “Need words, baby, otherwise I have to stop–”
“Please don’t stop!” You exclaim, and if your mind wasn’t turning into mush, you would’ve winced at your volume. “Feels so fuckin’ good, baby–I need you so bad,” you babble helplessly.
Steve gives you a lopsided grin at your obvious desire, “‘M right here, honey, don’t worry, mkay?”
You don’t answer–how could you when Steve decided to let his tongue dance around your hole without warning? You relish in the much awaited attention instead.
Weak gasps and breaths pass through your chest and flow through the air like the whispering winds outside.
Steve pauses, taking his hand that rested on your hip and putting two of his fingers into his mouth. Drool dribbles down the corner of his lips, and you moon over the fact that they now glisten with your slick. Steve releases his middle and index finger with an exaggerated ‘pop’. He looks up at you once more through his imperfectly-sitting brunette locks before slightly pushing his index finger into you.
He teases your hole–pushing his finger in little-by-little before retracting it just as slow.
Your hunger for pleasure bubbles over and takes hold of you; you grab Steve’s finger and plunge it deeply inside of you.
You shout unintelligible curses as you adjust to the stretch of his large digit–though, it doesn’t take much considering your pussy’s more than acquainted with Steve.
“My greedy girl,” Steve smirks as he curls his finger inward.
You mewl, “Right there, Steve—holy s-shit!”
Your chest rises and falls rapidly and your face scrunches as you hiss in delight. There’s a string of tension that winds itself up in the lower parts of your stomach, and it almost has you in tears.
“Hah–oh my god,” you shudder, “More–mmgh–need more, baby. Please?” Your whining is like music to Steve’s freckled ears.
Steve’s middle finger lightly skims the knuckle of his index finger before it disappears inside of you once again.
Steve coos, “Oh—is one not enough for my pretty wife? Hm, baby?”
You damn-near sob as his remark, wanting nothing more than to reach that euphoric high that makes your mind fuzzy and your ears muffle the world as you know it.
“Please—make me cum, sweetheart,” you sniffle, hoping that the use of the pet-name makes Steve relent.
If anybody knew Steve, it was you—because one glance into your glossy-eyes and at the lips that sweet-talked him had him reeling.
He swallows deeply trying to regain his composure. Your begging impels Steve to push his middle finger into your weeping hole. You cry out hoarsely as Steve wastes little time in swirling his fingers in a scissoring-motion just how you like it.
Your whimpers and angelically-breathy moans send Steve into a state of reverie; his flittering fingers don’t seem to cure his antsiness, so his mouth meets your clit in a frenzy.
“Yes—yes! Y-you’re gonna make me cum, Steve–fuck! Uh-huh–” your voice raises in pitch with almost every word. Your breaths grow ragged; your inhales are sharp and your cheeks are wet and sticky as tears pool over your lash line.
You weep pathetically as the pressure that builds inside of you becomes something more immense.
Steve mumbles words of encouragement—and they’re more directed to your cunt than they are to you, but it still has you prattling on.
“My precious girl. Just let go—Steve’s gotcha, ‘m right here, sugar,” Steve’s voice dropped an octave, but his honeyed sighs resonate all the same.
You writhe and hold the shelf beside you so tightly that the grooves indent themselves into your fingertips. Your brows furrow and your bottom lip trembles as it hangs.
Steve wriggles his head wildly around your slit and it's enough to make you see stars behind eyelids. You gasp but a sound never leaves your mouth as you reach your climax with a few more pumps from Steve.
Steve doesn’t slow his advances immediately, letting you ride your high before he leaves a parting kiss to your clit. “Y’did so good f’me, honey,” he praises, though the sounds barely break through the intense breathing that shakes your eardrums.
After a few more huffs and puffs, you take a peak at Steve, who looks as happy as can be. His face and long fingers shine with remnants of your slick.
You take a hand and run it along the side of his face, you smile as he leans into your palm and kisses it. You don’t flinch at the stickiness—if anything, the feeling just makes you want more.
“You’re beautiful,” Steve whispers as if he were in awe.
Your thumb goes to his chin and rubs at the little scruff that he decided to keep–per your request–instead of shaving. “So are you,” your tone is just as soft when you finally speak.
“Think you can handle one round, or did you finish in your shorts already?” You tease with a sly grin.
Steve sputters as he gently drops your leg from his shoulder before raising to a stand. “That happened one time—and if anything, I should be asking if you can handle another one,” his eyes darken.
You twist around, pressing one hand to the shelf and using the other to pull Steve by his belt loops as you look at him mischievously over your shoulder. “You and I both know that I can,” you flirt with a heated gaze.
Steve unbuttons his shorts with no hesitation, and his boxers are quick to follow suit and fall to his ankles. You can feel his presence behind you and the light touch of his chest against your back makes you squirm in anticipation.
Steve’s hand raises in the corner of your eye, and you know exactly what he’s asking for without a single word spoken. You spit into his palm and grin triumphantly when you hear him start to stroke himself.
You reach back and brush his thigh, pushing him impossibly closer to you. His tip glides along your folds and rubs against opening, making you clench and part your legs.
You open your mouth to sass Steve, but you’re rendered speechless once Steve pushes his wet tip inside of you.
“F—uck,” Steve shudders as you take him inch-by-inch. You both moan simultaneously.
Steve’s head immediately meets your shoulder as he buries his face into the crook of your neck and kisses the skin above your collarbone. He thrusts once, and then again slowly as he starts to find a pace. He exhales deeply with a whine. You crane your neck and hold the side of his head; your tongue lolls out to skim the shell of his ear before licking a long stripe upwards.
Steve rocks before rolling his hips, your back arches and Steve presses a warm hand to your abdomen to steady you. You kiss Steve’s ear sloppily and he does the same to your neck as he no doubt leaves a mark that’ll be plum-colored by morning.
“Mmngh—pussy always feels s’good, precious,” Steve slurs.
A hearty groan seeps into Steve’s ear. “Faster, baby,” you coaxed breathily.
Steve thrusts deeply as he quickens the snap of his hips. His happy trail scratches your lower back, and you can feel his chest hair peaking out from his fitted polo shirt.
One of the things you loved most about Steve was how vocal he was whenever you two got intimate; you loved always being able to hear him start to lose himself in you.
He’s so unbelievably close to you and it renders you speechless—you have no choice but to absorb Steve entirely.
“Shiiit,” Steve hisses as he tightens the hold he has on your hip. You know that it’ll leave a bruise, and you know for certain that Steve will pamper you to no end because of it.
“Right there, honey—f-fuck, you f-feel so good!” You say meekly.
The sounds of your skin becoming one with his almost silences Steve’s whisper, “My beautiful goddess—taking me s-so d-damn well.” He trembles and grunts as he savors the feeling of your cunt squeezing him in all the right ways.
The air is now a lot more humid than it normally would be on an evening in Hawkins, making your entire back shine with sweat as Steve’s chest rubs against it with rigor.
The warmth in your stomach coils and twists like an overgrown vine. Before you can even attempt to utter the words, Steve beats you to it. “Je-sus Christ!” He says under his breath. “‘M so close baby, holy shit!” You cry and whine in turn, letting out little ‘ah-ah-ah’s’ as the hand on your abdomen presses down, emphasizing Steve’ cock, which slightly bulges out.
Steve’s rutting goes from cocky to erratic and messy as you both chase your own release. Your hand goes back to grab Steve, and you can feel his thigh bone flexing.
“Make me cum, Steve! Yesyesyes, baby—don’t fucking stop!” You grit your teeth as Steve pounds into you mercilessly.
“Just like that, sugar—God—y’gonna let me cum in this pretty pussy?” Steve grips your chin, chuckling filthily into your ear. “Hm, baby? Gonna let me make you a momma?”
You let out a moan stronger than sin and Steve smirks as he pinches your skin with his pearly-white teeth.
Steve trails the hand that once rested on your stomach down to your sensitive clit; he draws quick circles haphazardly. “Yeah, bet you’d like that, honey—oh fuck!—Can tell by the way you’re clenching.”
“Please, Steve!” Is all you can shout as your eyes water. You bite your lip so hard it damn-near starts to bleed.
A shiver runs down your back. It travels down to your stomach, where the pooled warmth turns into a tingling feeling that even shoots down your legs, turning them into jelly where you stand.
You feel electrified; your back arches farther and your fingers flex.
The tear that slips down your cheek is such a stark contrast to the heat you feel between your bodies. You tilt your head back as the dam breaks; you can barely make out Steve’s beseeching, but you can feel his load inside you like a wave crashing against the shore.
Steve’s wet tongue curls as he licks the tear up your cheek. He leaves open-mouthed kisses to every inch of skin on your face within his reach. The hand that holds your hip goes up to your heart and serves as an anchor for your soul.
Steve still writhes and shakes behind you, and you place your hand on top of his. He pulls out of you tentatively with a hiss, and you release a matching one.
After minutes of silence—save for your and Steve’s collective breathing—you turn around to face your husband. He looks at you with wide, brown eyes and rosy cheeks. He quickly bends down to his ruffled shorts that lay at his ankles, he grabs a bandana that you didn’t even know he had and begins to wipe between your legs.
Neither of you speak at first—because you don’t have to. Steve helps you pull your shorts back up over your tucked shirt. You both take turns buttoning each other’s pants.
Steve nudges your chin up with his nose before kissing your lips just as sweetly as he does after every time the two of you get intimate. His thumb lightly ghosts the side of your neck. “Didn’t think it’d bruise up already,” he murmurs.
“You can make it up to me by carrying me to the car,” you smile slyly.
Steve laughs before gathering you up in his arms like a princess from a glittering fairytale. “You didn’t think I was already going to do that? You wound me, honey.” Steve slaps his chest dramatically.
With a giggle, you push open the door with your foot and wrap your arms around Steve’s neck.
Before he walks through the fenced-gate, Steve spins you in his arms. You squeal unceremoniously and chide him playfully, “Don’t drop me, Steve!”
“I could never drop you!” Steve exclaims with a boyish giggle before spinning you once more.
Steve’s face was illuminated as the wind whipped past the both of you.
It's moments like these that make you think about how you’d fight the world of the upside down time and time again if it meant that Steve would still be by your side through it all.
An: It’s been a while since I wrote something, and I thought with Christmas two weeks away that I would write about my dear Joel miller! Feedback would definitely be appreciated! Enjoy!!
Word count: 1k+
Warnings: Tooth aching fluff!!!
Divider cred: @/chateaubarnes
The Miller family chaos had finally settled after all of the stress that came with the Thanksgiving holiday.
Today was the last day of November, and usually you would be decorating for Christmas.
You took Christmas very seriously in your household, you always said if it were up to you and not your husband, you would’ve decorated after Halloween.
In the past, the weekend before the first of December, Joel and Tommy would put the lights on the roof and inflate the Santa blowup decorations that Sarah insisted on having and she was just too cute to say no.
But this year was different.
This year you had forgotten all about that, your mind preoccupied with undecorating your turkey-infested house, and putting away all the clutter that the Christmas spirit had slipped your mind.
It wasn't until after dinner and giving Sarah a bath, while putting her to bed when she saw the Elf on the shelf book and sparked her memory of her own elf, named Snowflake.
”Mommy will Snowflake come back?” She asked, as she helped you pull her cover up.
”Of course baby! She’ll be here. All ready to watch over you and go back to Santa!” Her little smile had satisfied your slight panic.
The thing is you had no idea where you and Joel had hid poor Snowflake. You had been afraid it would be too easy for Sarah to find, so Joel had helped you move it somewhere she wouldn’t find it.
And apparently that meant it was also hard for you two to find it.
You laid in bed with her until you could hear her little snores, slowly you slid off her bed and planted a soft kiss on her temple before quietly sneaking out of her room and closing the door.
You now had to find Joel to help you on ‘mission find the elf’.
You found him in the kitchen getting something to drink.The first thing that you uttered was the word ‘elf’.
“What?” His face filled with confusion, having no idea what you said.
”Where did we put the elf on the shelf?” You spoke too fast, your mind in a panic that you could single handedly ruin your daughter’s belief.
“Woah, calm down. You’re talking a mile a minute.” He laughed as he placed his cup on the counter and walked towards you.
”Do you remember where we put the elf?” You said, as you wrapped your hands around his waist.
“Um.. I think we might’ve put her in the shed. Maybe?” He said as his facial expression gave away that he was just as forgetful as you were.
“Well let’s put these jackets on and go find this hiding elf!” You said, as you looked for your jacket at the front door. Behind you, you could hear quiet laughter coming from your husband.
“What are you laughing at?” You questioned, curious what he could find funny in your distress.
“You might be forgetting something a little more important than a jacket baby?” He chuckled, as he pointed to your feet, there you stood in white ankle socks.
“Yeah that could be a problem.” You laugh at yourself.
You and Joel were now in the shed looking for your daughter's elf. You two had looked up and down the shed, not finding the elf anywhere yet.
“This little pesky elf is hiding from us” you laughed as you looked on Joel’s workbench.
“We’ve hid this damn elf too well.” He chuckled, as he looked at the shelf in the corner of the shed.
After a while in the shed, you were sure Joel would have to run to the local store to get a new snowflake.
That was, until you were walking towards the shed door when something caught your eye.
A red storage container labeled ‘Christmas decor’ and in little letters underneath spelled out ‘eots’.
Joel walked out the shed doors before you.
“Well looks like I’m gonna have to ride to-“ he realized you weren’t behind him. The next words he heard were ‘I FOUND IT’ and the next thing he knew, he was met with Snowflake.
“Oh thank god you found it!” He said shutting the shed doors.
“Right, I thought we weren’t gonna find her.” You said taking his hand into yours and walking back to the house.
“Now all we have to do is hide it.” He replied, opening the back door for the both of you.
You and Joel shrugged off your jackets and pulled off your shoes at the back door.
You and Joel sat down for a few minutes to warm up from the cold.
After warming up, you and Joel had come up with the “best” ideas to hide the elf.
Joel grabbed three rolls of toilet paper rolls and stacked two up before placing snowflakes in the toilet paper hole before placing the third on Snowflake's head.
It was perfect for Sarah and easy to find since she’d have to get ready in the morning for kindergarten.
You were now tasked with finding a black and orange marker to make the carrot and buttons on the “snowman”.
Quickly you found Sarah’s bookbag and grabbed her black and orange marker out of her pencil case.
You did 3 separate buttons and 11 little dots for the mouth and then lastly an orange triangle for the carrot nose.
You and Joel looked at your guys' hard work that would pay off to see your daughter's excitement to see her elf.
You two high five as you close the door behind the two of you.
“Bedtime, this elf had us running around.” You say as you open your dresser drawer for pajamas.
“Agreed” is all Joel said before slipping into the bathroom.
At 7:30 your alarm goes off, and it's time to get a start on your day.
You and Joel both get out of bed, you head to the kitchen to get breakfast ready.
Grabbing one coffee cup and Joel’s coffee cup that he takes to work and filling them up, you add creamer and sugar to yours and put the lid on Joel’s.
You start laying the bacon on the hot pan, then cracking the eggs into a bowl and whisking them.
While throwing four pieces of toast in the toaster, you grab the bacon with little tongs and place it on a plate with a paper towel to soak up the grease.
You then pour the eggs into a clean pan and wait before scrambling. Once the eggs are cooked you turn the heat down and put the lid over it so you step away.
Heading upstairs to wake up Sarah you run into Joel at the top of the stairs on his way to leave for work.
“Do you need anything from me before I leave?” He whispered.
“No, I think I got it.” You said as he embraced you before giving you a kiss and walking downstairs.
Walking into your daughter's room you turn her little lamp on and ruffle through her closet and dresser drawers to find her a warm outfit for school.
Once you have her outfit laid out, you softly sit on her bed next to her.
Brushing her little curls out of her face, “Sarah? Sweetie we have to get up for school” she stirs in her sleep, you rub her back to slowly pull her from her dreams.
“Hi mommy.” She greeted, as she slowly opened her eyes and yawned.
“Did you sleep well?” You asked, helping her sit up and still trying to wake herself up, she just nodded.
“Mommy has your clothes laid out. How about you get dressed and go potty, so mommy can do your hair and you can eat breakfast before school?” You ask as you stand up to walk her to the bathroom.
“Okay mommy.” Is all she said as she rubbed her eyes.
You open the bathroom door and flick on the lights, and met with Snowflake the elf.
At first Sarah doesn’t even see Snowflake until after she is dressed and standing on her stool for you to do her hair.
“Oh my goodness!” She giggled, her little hand over her mouth.
“Mommy! Snowflake is here!! She really is here!” She expressed as she practically jumped out of excitement.
“I see that baby! I told you she would be here.” You giggled with her.
“I wonder if daddy knows she’s home?” She questioned as you sprayed her hair with water.
“You’ll have to wait for him to come home after work to ask him.” You smiled as you detangled her hair and put it into two pigtails and braided each pigtail and added matching bows.
Sarah hops down off her stool and says bye to Snowflake before you two head downstairs to eat.
After Sarah finishes eating, you help put her jacket on and her shoes, before quickly grabbing her bookbag and rushing out the door for school drop off.
Your day goes by fast, you had gotten most of the Christmas decorating done before you had to pick up Sarah from school.
On the way home from picking Sarah up from school, Sarah tells you all about her day. She tells you how her class has an elf too, and its name is gingerbread, and her friend Amelia’s elf had made a snow angel in her kitchen.
Once you get home you give Sarah a snack and she helps you finish decorating. The only thing to do is get a Christmas tree and decorate it and you’ll be done decorating for Christmas.
After all that you and Sarah are cuddled up on the couch wrapped in a warm blanket and watching the grinch when Joel finally gets home from work.
“Daddy!!” She says as she slides off the couch to meet him at the door.
“Hi babygirl! How was school?” He asks, as he picks her up.
”It was good! Daddy, we have an elf in our classroom!!” She says full of excitement.
”Oh yeah? Did Snowflake come today?” He said, pretending to look around.
“Yes!! She’s in the bathroom.” She squeals, as she wiggles out of his grip to show him.
She takes his hand and walks him upstairs to Snowflake.
Slowly taking each step carefully before reaching the top of the stairs.
She continues to pull Joel until they meet the bathroom door, Joel opens the bathroom door and switches on the lights.
“Oh my..” he pauses, “She came, and she made a snowman!” He looks at Sarah grinning with happiness as she watches her father just as excited.
After Sarah showed Joel Snowflake, they went back downstairs to finish watching The Grinch.
Towards the end of the movie out of nowhere Sarah blurts out, “I think I want Santa to send another elf to our house!” She smiles looking at you and Joel to reflect her thoughts.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah Amelia has two elves!!” She say holding up to fingers before going back to watching The Grinch.
“I think this elf thing might get outta hand,” Joel whispers to you.
“'Tis the season for outta hand.” You laugh quietly with your husband.
hiii💕 just wanted to know what you use for your smau insta posts. do you use an app or do you just use instagram itself?
Hi lovely! I use the app social dummy and social maker.
Sadly both of them were deleted by the App Store and can only be used if you had previously downloaded before it was deleted :(
I have looked for different apps similar to what I use because this is a frequent ask, I’ve found that PhotoNote is very similar. the only thing about it is that you can’t comment under post..
synopsis: paige pulls up in her white mustang and invites you on a late-night drive, saying she’s been thinking about you. the two of you ride through the city in silence until you finally admit your feelings, breaking the promise you both made to keep things casual. your confession hangs heavy in the air, and paige, unsure and afraid, chooses to walk away — leaving you alone. days later, you run into her again by chance, and the tension between you reignites. you share a charged, intimate moment in the mustang, the same car that once drove you apart, and in the aftermath, paige chooses to stay — this time, ready to try for real.
the streetlights flicker on one by one as the sky bleeds into a dull purple. you’re sitting on the cracked curb, just watching the night settle around the quiet neighborhood. the air is thick and still, like the world’s holding its breath. you don’t know how long you’ve been here, but your thoughts are tangled up, twisting and pulling at something you’ve been trying to ignore.
the sound of a car engine pulls you out of your spiral—a low rumble that grows louder, then softer, until you see it. paige, in her white mustang, gliding down the street like she owns the night. she slows, pulls up beside you, and the window slides down with a smooth click.
“hey,” she says, voice calm but maybe a little nervous. “felt like driving. thought maybe you’d wanna come with.”
you don’t hesitate. something about the way she’s looking at you, like she’s been thinking about you too, pulls you in. you slide into the passenger seat, the familiar smell of leather and her perfume wrapping around you like a quiet comfort.
the engine hums to life, and the city blurs past in streaks of light and shadow. she doesn’t say much at first, just lets the car carry you both through the streets, windows down just enough for the night air to touch your skin.
“been thinking about you,” she finally admits, eyes on the road but voice soft like she’s sharing a secret.
your heart thuds hard, the words hanging between you heavier than the night. you swallow, then turn to look at her. “i’ve been thinking about you too.”
she glances over, surprise flickering across her face, but she doesn’t say anything more. instead, she takes a turn onto a quieter road, away from the glow of streetlights and the hum of the city.
you both sit there, the silence filling up with everything you want to say but don’t know how to say.
“i can’t keep pretending it’s nothing,” you finally whisper, voice shaking more than you’d like. “we said it was nothing. that it was easy. but it’s not. it’s always been more.”
paige’s eyes search yours, and you see that flicker of something—maybe fear, maybe hope. “you shouldn’t say that,” she breathes. “not when we both promised.”
“yeah, well,” you say, your voice breaking, “i’m done pretending.”
for a long moment, she doesn’t say a word. then she looks away, jaw tightening. “maybe some things are better left alone.”
the words hit harder than you expect. “so what now?”
she takes a breath, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “i think i need to leave you alone. for a while.”
your chest aches, and you don’t argue. the car becomes colder somehow, the white mustang no longer a refuge but a reminder of the distance growing between you.
when she pulls up to your place, you don’t say goodbye. the door shuts quietly, then the engine roars and she’s gone, leaving you alone with the weight of your confession.
days pass slow and hollow. you catch yourself reaching for your phone to call her, but you stop before you do. maybe some things aren’t ready to be fixed.
then one afternoon, you see her again. standing under the neon glow of a diner, rain slicking her hair, the white mustang parked nearby.
her eyes find yours immediately, and for a second, it feels like nothing’s changed.
“hey,” you say softly.
“hey,” she replies, a tentative smile tugging at her lips.
she steps closer, the space between you charged with all the things left unsaid. the rain starts to fall again, heavy and warm, and neither of you moves to go inside.
“why didn’t you call me?” you ask, voice cracking, barely holding together the storm in your chest.
she doesn’t answer. her eyes flicker down to your lips for a second, jaw clenched like she’s choking on everything she couldn’t say. then suddenly, she grabs your face and kisses you hard—like she’s angry, like she’s sorry, like kissing you is the only way she knows how to speak.
the rain is relentless now, soaking into your clothes, your hair, everything, but you don’t move. neither of you do. it doesn’t matter. not when she’s kissing you like she’s starving and you’re the only thing she’s ever wanted.
your hands tangle in the fabric of her soaked shirt, pulling her closer, closer, until there’s no air between you. her teeth graze your bottom lip, her breath coming hot and ragged against your mouth.
then she spins you around and presses you against the side of her car, her grip rough, hands sliding down your sides with a kind of urgency that sends heat spiraling low in your stomach. she touches you like she’s memorizing the map of your body—like she’s terrified she’ll forget it if she stops.
your hands roam across her chest, down her torso, fingertips slipping under the hem of her shirt, skin to skin. your gasp catches between her lips when her hands trail down your waist and slide over your hips, slow and sure.
her fingers dip beneath the waistband of your shorts, teasing just along the edge of your underwear. she leans in close, lips ghosting over your jaw.
“you drive me crazy,” she whispers, her voice ragged, full of frustration and need. “i couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
you part your legs just slightly, inviting her in without words, but when her knee slips between your thighs and presses against you, you can’t help but let out a soft moan.
your hips shift instinctively, grinding down against the pressure of her leg. “paige—” you breathe, but she cuts you off with another kiss—deeper this time, wetter, full of heat.
“just—shut up, okay?” she mutters against your mouth. “i didn’t mean what i said. i didn’t mean any of it. i can’t hide this anymore. i can’t keep fucking pretending like i don’t love you. like i don’t crave you every goddamn day.”
her voice cracks on the last part. it’s raw. real. and it undoes something in you.
you kiss her again—slower this time, but just as desperate. your hands move to the back of her neck, threading into her damp hair.
“don’t push me away again,” she whispers against your skin, her voice smaller now, almost a plea.
you rest your forehead against hers. “i’m not going anywhere.”
she kisses along your jaw, then down the slope of your neck, her lips soft and reverent, and your body arches into hers like instinct.
her hand slides back down, this time with purpose, fingers undoing the button of your shorts, then the zipper. you gasp when she slides her hand inside, brushing over your underwear, teasing you gently through the thin fabric.
your thighs tremble when she dips past them, fingers finally slipping under and finding you wet and aching. you whimper, head falling back against the car. her mouth follows you, kissing along the side of your throat, breathing you in.
“fuck, you’re soaked,” she murmurs. “and not just from the rain.”
her fingers glide through your folds, slow and deliberate, spreading you open. she rubs lazy circles over your clit, drawing soft, breathless moans from your lips, your hips rocking into her touch.
then she slides two fingers inside, deep and smooth, curling them up just right. you cry out softly, your hand grabbing at her shirt, the other buried in her hair.
she watches you with hungry eyes, her breath caught in her throat. “wanted you for so long,” she whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth, then the hollow beneath your ear.
her fingers begin to move, a steady rhythm that pushes you higher, each stroke precise, like she knows your body better than you do.
your legs shake as she pins you against the mustang, the rain masking the quiet, needy sounds spilling from your lips.
“yeah, that’s it,” she growls, her voice gravelly, lips pressed to your ear. “give it to me. let me feel you fall apart.”
you’re close—too close—the knot in your stomach tightening with every thrust of her fingers. you press your hips into her hand, chasing it, needing it.
“c’mon, baby—come for me,” she breathes, her pace quickening just enough to push you over the edge. “please—i need you to.”
you moan her name, your whole body tensing before it releases, your climax crashing through you like a wave. she holds you through it, kissing you, whispering against your lips, grounding you in the middle of the rain and heat and everything you are to her.
she doesn’t pull away. she just stays there with you, forehead pressed to yours, fingers still inside you, her other hand holding the back of your neck.
“you’re mine,” she says quietly. “i’m done pretending you’re not.”
your breathing slows, your pulse still fluttering against your skin. paige’s hand gently slips away, but she doesn’t move far. instead, she wraps her arms around you, pulling you against her like she’s afraid you’ll vanish if she lets go.
the rain continues to fall, softer now, and you both just stand there—soaked, shaking, but finally still.
you bury your face in her neck, your fingers curling into the back of her shirt. for the first time in weeks, the ache in your chest eases, replaced by something warmer. something whole.
“you meant it?” you whisper. “what you said?”
she nods slowly. “yeah. every word. i’m so tired of running from it.”
you pull back just enough to look into her eyes. “so don’t.”
her lips curve into a faint, wet smile. “i won’t.”
you both get into the mustang after a while, clothes dripping, hair stuck to your foreheads, laughter breaking through the silence when your soaked thighs stick to the leather seats. she reaches across the console, taking your hand again, lacing her fingers through yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
and maybe it is. maybe it always was.
because tonight, the mustang didn’t drive you apart.
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ um, hi. i know this was supposed to be posted a while ago, but yk. shit happens, and a lot of it did. but i’m back, hopefully for awhile.. 😭😭 lmao
