I’m 24 (she/her or they/them) I post about a lot of stuff. Memes, Fallout, kpop, anime. I’m pretty nice so feel free to talk to me, I’m really shy tho 😂
Requests are open! I will be writing for Tokyo Revengers, Haikyuu, and Jujutsu Kaisen. I will write suggestive but I will not write smut. I will write angst but it will most likely include fluff.
Contains: sexual suggestion but no smut, kissing, police, handcuffs, fluff. Think Terry McCandless but as Sammy!
--🩷--
You heard the siren before you saw the flashing lights behind you. Fuck.
You were driving home from a date. A terrible date. The kind of date that made you want to swear off men forever.
You were going to kill your friend for the set-up.
You hadn't noticed the speed limit change as you fiddled with the radio.
You were poor as fuck and did not need this.
You pulled over to the side, jaw flexing, wondering how you'd get out of this one.
The door of the police car opened. You watched in the side mirror as the officer step out. Fucking hell.
His black uniform looked two sizes too small. It stretched across his muscles in a way that could only be described as obscene. He came closer. He was young, with a baby face covered in a dusting of orange freckles. His auburn hair glowed under the street light and he ran his bottom lip under his teeth as he came up to your window.
'Do you have any idea how fast you were go-'
The rough voice cut off. You looked up as you were winding down your window.
The officer was bending down to your height, leaning with one arm on the side of your car. One large hand splayed against the window, Titanic-style.
His voice broke as he took in your outfit. You were wearing a low-cut dress barely halfway down your thighs. (You had been hopeful after your friend had talked your date up so much). You were unashamedly desperate for sex. You must be ovulating.
His freckled face wore an expression you couldn't place.
You waited for him to continue.
'Licence and registration,' the officer continued, slightly shaking his head.
Wordlessly, you handed them over. You were panicking about how you could wriggle out of this. Pulling away and leaving him stood there crossed your mind as a genuine possibility.
You looked down at the stick. It wasn't completely out of the question.
'D'ya know how fast you were goin'?' The officer finally managed to ask his question, looking at you with piercing hazel eyes.
You could smell his cologne. You tried to hide your swallow.
You thought you'd seen this scene in a bad porno once...
You interrupted before this could go any further. Before he named the amount to pay which you just couldn't afford.
'Please, officer,' you looked up at him and did your best to flutter your eyelashes. You read his uniform. Bryant. 'Don't give me a ticket. I won't do it again.'
You played nervously with the hem of your dress, and his eyes flicked to it.
He shot you an arrogant smirk, trying not to laugh.
'Are we playing a little game?' He asked. His eyes twinkled in the dark.
'What?' You were confused.
Officer Bryant searched your face with a smirk, that shifted into an exaggerated sad face.
'No, please, officer,' he mocked your voice, his head tilted to one side.
His voice was in a higher register than his own to exaggerate yours.
You almost laughed in surprise, but your breath caught.
The arrogance of it did something to you.
'Are you gonna beg me not to give you a ticket?' His plump lips flashed you a faux pout as he exaggerated you pleading.
The condescending tone shot straight between your legs despite yourself.
You didn't know what to say.
'.... probably yes.' You shot him a pout back.
He laughed loudly at that. 'Good... But as much as I'd love to see that ma'am, 'cos you're beautiful, you shouldn't offer yourself up.'
You eyed him. 'I wasn't offering myself up... you were.'
He laughed again, adjusting his police belt.
'Seven inches of up.'
'Brat,' he couldn't hide his smile as he shook his head. 'I'm Sammy.'
You pressed your palm against the window to match his, just a thin pane of glass separating your fingers.
'I suppose asking you to get out of the vehicle and spread your legs is out of the question?' Sammy teased, biting his lip.
His vibe was cutesy and sweet. Nothing like the positively creepy date you had just been with.
'If you make me put my hands above my head, it isn't,' you shrugged, smiling.
Something unreadable passed over Sammy's head before he laughed.
'Don't,' he warned, shaking his head.
'Don't what?' You whispered, enjoying watching the tips of his ears turn pink.
'You know what,' Sammy shuffled and adjusted his belt.
Sammy's eyes flicked back down to your thighs, stopping at your painted lips before returning to your eyes.
'It's a shame you couldn't keep that charade up, Officer Sammy,' you gazed into his eyes. Your teasing tone had tailed off quieter than you had intended.
'Sammy,' he corrected, eyes flashing, 'and don't call me officer like that.'
'Why not?' You asked, giving him your best innocent wide-eyed look. 'You are an officerrr, Sammy.'
Sammy's whole face flushed red.
'I'm supposed to be in control here,' he coughed, trying to rearrange his face.
'You can be,' you purred.
'Jesus Christ.'
Sammy scrubbed a hand down his face.
'Don't you need to press me up against something and search me?'
'Stop that.' Sammy's expression was half amused and half tortured.
'I have a weapon in a strap on my thigh,' you nodded at him solemnly, 'you should check.'
'Look-' Sammy began.
'Oh, I am.' Your eyes slowly looked him up and down. He was hot. Like... really hot.
'You're trouble,' Sammy shook his head, biting down on his lip again. 'You're not gonna speed again, are ya, sweetheart?'
You pretended to consider this.
'I might when I know you're on duty.'
Sammy closed his eyes for a second.
'I'm about two sentences away from doing something incredibly unprofessional,' he admitted.
'I'm begging you not to give me a ticket,' you whispered, looking up at him doe-eyed.
'No, please, officer,' Sammy said again, except his tone was darker than condescending and carried a warning, as he opened your car door.
His large hand wrapped around your arm. Not tightly, giving you every opportunity to stop him from pulling you out to standing.
You let him.
Sammy tried to keep his eyes on your face, but he just couldn't. He shamelessly looked at you, from your cleavage and down your legs, and slowly back up to meet your eyes.
He turned you round to face your car, gently pushing you up against it. You tried to stifle a moan.
'Spread your legs,' Sammy instructed, a slight wobble in his voice.
You shifted them open in your heels.
'Wider.' Sammy used his boot to push your legs further apart.
A soft sound escaped your mouth.
He tugged your arms behind your back, grunting slightly as he slid the metal into place around both wrists.
Your arms were secured together. You had submitted yourself to this man. Rendered yourself completely helpless.
'A weapon, you said?' Sammy bent down, running his large hand down the outside of your thigh.
You tried to suppress a shiver and failed. Sammy made a quiet wounded sound behind you.
His fingers danced lightly across your ankle before running more authoritatively back up your leg. His large hand spanned across the back of your calf, palm skimming the whole muscle, before tickling up your inner thigh.
'Mm-hmm.' You didn't trust yourself to speak.
'Now I'm one sentence away from doing something really unprofessional,' Sammy groaned.
You looked back at him over your shoulder and steadily met his eyes. 'I'm so sorry,' you pouted in the way he had done earlier, 'officer.'
Sammy was on you in seconds with a hungry whimper. He turned you round so your back was against your car. Your handcuffed arms cushioned your back.
Sammy looked deep into your eyes as his fingers rose to your jaw.
His hazel constellations stared into yours for a second too long.
Then he moaned and leant in, pressing his mouth against yours.
You nearly melted.
Sammy's lips were soft and tentative. Almost like he was desperate to kiss you but was holding himself back.
'Is this actually okay?' He murmured against your lips.
You leant further into him as an answer and opened your mouth. His warm breath entered it, and Sammy accepted the answer.
The kiss was deeper, hungrier, exploratory. Warm, open kisses. Sammy tasted like coffee and spearmint chewing gum.
You moaned into his mouth.
You heard him whimper a soft yeahhh as his hands played with your hair.
Sammy backed you flush against the car, the handcuffs pressing into your hips.
His pheremones were making you dizzy as you kissed him. You gently pushed your tongue past Sammy's lips, hearing a moan leave the back of his throat. You swallowed it greedily, proud you were the cause of that moan.
Sammy pushed a soft curl back behind your ear and slowly pulled away.
'Come on,' he said, almost with regret. He gently stepped back and turnrd you back round, releasing your handcuffs. 'No ticket today.'
Sammy rubbed your wrists in a comforting way, although he had purposefully secured them loosely.
You stood, confused.
'You're clearly goin' somewhere dressed like that,' he smiled at you. Sammy's head moved to the side to keep him in your sight as your eyes dropped. 'It's okay, y'know.'
'Coming back from a bad date,' you mumbled.
'Bad date?' Sammy shook his head. 'Look at you.'
You didn't say anything.
'You deserve so much more than a bad date,' Sammy's voice softened. He shook his head and reached into the top pocket above his sunglasses and radio.
'This is my card. If you want a better date, maybe call me?'
Sammy flushed pink again and tried to control his breathing.
'If you kiss me, it should be cos you really wanna' Sammy finished and smiled, one eye slightly closed.
'I do want to,' you protested but Sammy cut you off, rubbing your arm.
'With no ticket involved,' he looked at you sternly.
When you sat in the morning briefing, you caught yourself staring at a training officer. He had an easy going smile, laughing with a friendly colleague, a blond lady. His head had a scrub of long auburn curls and his face a dusting of light orange freckles. His skin was tanned, too long outside in the field. Had this man not heard of sunscreen??
But the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed made you want to smile. He had aviator sunglasses hanging out of his uniform pocket. His uniform was tight, straining against his biceps. He must have felt you staring and lifted his gaze to you. Fuck. The blond lady followed his eyeline and looked at you too. He didn't smile, just held your gaze. You dropped your eyes to your desk and trained your eyes on the superintendent. You had enough to be nervous about.
It was your first day at this precinct. You'd earned your one stripe, proudly sat in your long black sleeves, but anticipation fizzed in your stomach.
As the briefing went on, you relaxed slightly. First day nerves. Overthinking. That's all it was.
'Here are your assignments. Officers, collect your boots.' The gentle but exhausted-looking senior passed out papers.
This was it. Make or break.
You heard the hot man make a soft joke and all the officers around him laughed. Fuck. Not him not him not him not him.
'Mornin', I'll be your new training officer,' a rough voice interrupted your thoughts. You looked up. 'I'm Officer Bryant.'
Fuck. Of course it was him.
--- 🩷 ---
You took a deep breath as you headed out into the sunshine, holding the bag and the guns. You slipped your sunglasses over your eyes, grateful he could no longer see your full face. Officer Bryant pushed his down too, almost strutting with slightly bowed legs. He definitely had golden retriever energy.
The thought of sharing a confined shop for hours on end in this heat made your throat dry. Fuck's sake, you thought. Keep it in your pants. You're a professional. Just first day nerves, clearly.
Sherman pulled a face at you and winked as he got into his own car with the blonde officer, Chickie you heard her name was. You snorted and stuck out your tongue before getting in the passenger side.
'Got yourself a friend, have we?' Officer Bryant asked, amusement toying at the side of his mouth.
'Oh no, no!' You were quick to defend yourself, clarify. You wanted to be seen as strictly professional. 'We trained together.'
'Mmm-hmm,' Officrr Bryant murmured, like he didn't believe you. It seemed teasing but you were insistent.
'It's not like that,' you rushed. 'I wouldn't ever date anyone in the workplace.'
'That's what they all say,' Officer Bryant gave an exaggerated nod, 'until they do.'
'No, really,' you pushed.
Officer Bryant turned to look at you. You couldn't see his eyes but you felt a funny burn in your stomach. Pull yourself together.
'Okay, whatever you say, Rosa.'
You blinked. 'Rosa?'
Officer Bryant looked at you as if you were stupid. 'Brooklyn 99? Cop show? Overly defensive?'
Fuck.
'Please don't call me that.'
'Whatever you say, Rosa.'
Officer Bryant started the car and reversed out of the space. One large hand circled the steering wheel easily. How was that attractive? And you were positive that wasn't ten and two.
An older officer with dark graying hair rolled his window down. 'You won the lottery there, Sammy,' making exaggerated eyes at you. 'Pity you didn't get me, sweetheart.'
Unlike Officer Bryant's nickname, this felt more uncomfortable.
As you pulled out of the lot, Officer Bryant sighed. 'You're gonna have to ignore him. He's mostly harmless but he's a walking HR nightmare.'
You smiled.
'I, on the other hand, am a loveable rogue. Let's hit it.'
--- 🩷 ---
Officer Bryant could run fast. Like fast.
You were determined to impress him. You'd already tackled two perps, one twice your size, and straddled his back as you pulled his hands behind his back before cuffing him. Officer Bryant had stood back, just watching you.
'What..?' You asked, shy under his gaze. 'Did I do something wrong?'
Officer Bryant put his head to one side and shook it slowly. 'No, you did good...' You felt a glow of pride at the praise. 'Really good...Rosa.'
Oh, for fuck's sake.
The perp looked from you to Officer Bryant and back to you again. 'Am I interrupting a moment or am I under arrest?'
'Never met someone so keen to get to the station,' you admonished dryly, hauling him up by one arm.
'Better than being in this awkward rom com.'
'Shut the fuck up.' You pushed him in the back of the car, slamming the door, missing Officer Bryant's amused look as you walked round to the front.
--- 🩷 ---
The weeks that followed were exciting, exhausting, draining. You had never enjoyed a job more.
Sammy, he had insisted on you calling him Sammy because, as he joked, "Officer Bryant is my father", was a great teacher. He was hard on you, but only when he needed to be, and you were thriving.
It was end of shift and Sammy pulled into the lot.
'You're driving tomorrow,' he said before you could get out of the car.
You turned to him with excited eyes. 'Really?'
His hazel eyes glittered as he took in your excitement.
'Yeah. You can lose the shirt too.'
Silence.
Sammy turned bright red and pulled at your sleeve. 'Lose the long-sleeved shirt. Lose the sleeves.' His rough voice came out higher-pitched than usual. 'I didn't mean lose your shirt.'
Inside, heat bloomed in your stomach. You squashed it down and smirked at his defensiveness. You watched him squirming as he desperately tried to backtrack. It was strangely enjoyable to see him lose his usual cool composure. 'That's what they all say... Rosa.'
--- 🩷 ---
You couldn't help yourself. You turned to Sammy before the morning briefing and gestured to your bare arms. 'Don't worry, Officer Bryant,' you teased. 'I found my shirt after all.'
It didn't count as flirting, although you'd secretly love to, because it was in front of all his training officer buddies. An open joke, you convinced yourself, would take the heat out of any tension riding together that morning after last night's awkwardness.
You watched his face flame as their eyes widened, gawking between you and Sammy.
'You found your what?'
'When did you lose your shirt?'
'Have you seen her tits, Bryant?'
Sammy looked at you and narrowed his eyes before clearing his throat and sitting up in his seat. 'Yes, Dewey, she lost her shirt somewhere in the field and ran around topless trying to find it.'
His fellow training officers stared at him in silence for a second, then started laughing.
'This one's got bigger balls than you, Bryant.'
'Doubtful,' Sammy furrowed his brows with a jokey slight shake of his head, but he found your gaze and held it for a second too long.
Heat bloomed in your stomach. Fuck. Well, that backfired.
--- 🩷 ---
'How's it going?' Ben Sherman asked, leaning backwards up against his car, arms folded.
'I'm loving it!' You gushed, realising just how genuinely you meant it. 'How about you?'
'It's going,' Ben agreed. 'I could be doing more, though.'
He had always pushed himself hard, wanting to be the best of their class.
You saw Sammy and Chickie walking down the steps towards them. Sammy pushed his sunglasses up to observe the two of you, then let them fall back down, nodding at whatever Chickie was saying.
'Well, isn't this cosy?' Sammy grinned as they approached.
'We're discussing strategy,' Ben nodded, earnest as he stood.
'Strategy, my ass,' Sammy murmured quietly. He met your eyes and then tossed you the keys.
'Rosa. Driver's seat. Now.'
Ben looked at you in confusion. 'Rosa?'
'Don't start,' you moaned. 'See ya.'
'Laters,' Ben got into the passenger side of his car, mournfully watching you slide behind the wheel.
'Bye, Shermy,' Sammy said in a teasing voice.
Was it you or had his curls grown a bit longer? It was cute. In the short time you'd gotten to know Sammy, his back seemed straighter and he seemed even more confident. More teasing. You didn't know the reason, you didn't discuss personal lives, but it was nice to see him looking so happy. It suited him.
'First things first,' Sammy turned to you over the console and tucked his sunglasses into his pocket. His radio crackled and he turned it down a little. You tried not to stare at his fingers. As his shirt moved, you could smell his laundry detergent and... was that aftershave?
'No flirting in the workplace.' His hazel eyes bore into yours.
Your stomach dropped. 'It was a joke about the shirt, I'm so sor-'
'I know, not that,' Sammy rolled his eyes. 'You and Sherman. Cut it out.'
You couldn't stop the snort that fell out of your mouth. It was a ridiculous notion that you'd ever be interested in Ben, but you kinda liked the possessive way he said it. 'I do not flirt with Ben.'
Sammy's face was smooth and controlled, but there was a flush around his neck. He shifted in his seat. 'I'm just sayin',' Sammy was still close to you, looking into your eyes with a new intensity that made you drop your gaze. 'People will think things.'
'People or you?'
It fell out of your mouth before you'd even thought about it.
Sammy looked at you for a second too long. 'People.' But you caught the slight clench of his jaw before it passed.
Was he... jealous? No, that was ridiculous.
'Sorry, Officer Bryant. I won't do it again,' you teased. There it was again. Where was this confidence coming from?
'Rosa,' his tone was a warning, but you noticed the flush reaching his cheeks. 'Shut the fuck up and drive.'
'I'm sure my training officer shouldn't be talking to me like that.'
'Rosa.' Sammy's teeth visibly clenched.
You were suddenly very aware of how close your faces were.
You pulled back and started the car. 'Shutting the fuck up,' you confirmed. 'Driving,' you added as you reversed out of the spot.
'Good girl.'
--- 🩷 ---
'Light 'em up,' you instructed as you sped up to intercept a car weaving in and out of traffic. Sammy looked amused and flicked the lights on, observing you as you pulled the vehicle over.
'You're primary,' Sammy instructed as you both exited the shop.
'Yes, sir.'
You heard an intake of breath.
Before you could even reach the car, the driver exited the vehicle and ran at you, barrelling you over and landing on top of you. The shock knocked the wind out of you as the back of your head collided with the road.
Before you had a chance to process, you felt the man fly to the left as Sammy rugby tackled him. 'Get the fuck down.' Sammy was angrier than you had ever seen him, and Sammy didn't get angry. 'You alright?' He asked, concern streaking his features as he radioed for back up.
'Yeah.' It was supposed to be a statement but it came out more like a question.
Sammy left the man cuffed on his stomach in the road and jogged over to you. You tried to sit up.
'Woah, woah, woah... you're bleeding.' Before you could register what was happening, Sammy was unbuttoning his black uniform shirt. He pulled his white tee from underneath over his head to kneel bare chested in the street. How hard had you hit your head??
Sammy leant over you to gently press the tee against the side of your head. You winced and let our a whimper. ''s okay... you're okay. I've got you.'
This was the closest Sammy had ever been to you. He leaned over you, concern etching his features. You couldn't help but look down. Who knew he was so... hot? He always looked built underneath his uniform but fuck. His bare chest and abs looked sculpted by the gods. 'Hey,' Sammy whispered teasingly, 'my eyes are up here.'
You tried to laugh but it really hurt. You winced and Sammy reflexively put his hand over yours, squeezing it reassuringly. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered. 'I'm here. I've got you. Stay right here with me.'
You looked up into his eyes as he'd asked. They were even more beautiful close up. Your mouth parted slightly, and Sammy's eyes dropped down to look at it. A moment of tension hung there in the air, suddenly thick. You made a soft moan you convinced yourself was from the pain. Sammy's fingers curled round yours. You noticed how blue the sky was, how his chest was dusted with freckles like his arms, how warm the asphalt was underneath you, how Sammy's eyes had slight crinkles in the corner, how quiet the traffic suddenly sounded, how close Sammy's breathing became. Sammy's eyes flicked from your eyes to your head to your mouth to your eyes again. He started to say something.
A wail of sirens sounded and Sammy's fingers instantly left yours.
'Wahey, now Bryant's lost his shirt!' You heard Dewey's gleeful voice but it sounded very far away, like you were in a tunnel. 'And she's seen your tits now too!'
--- 🩷 ---
'There she is.'
You blinked as you looked around, dazed. You were in a hospital cot in the emergency room, a curtain wrapped around your bed.
Sammy was looking down at you, a tired smile on his face.
'I am absolutely mortified,' you whispered.
Sammy broke into a laugh.
'Nah, you'll do worse in your lifetime.'
'Great, thanks.' You try to sit up but your head was pounding.
'Woah, woah - take it easy,' Sammy put slight pressure on your forearm. 'You've got a mild concussion.'
You groaned. 'How embarrassing.'
'Not embarrassing,' Sammy shook his head firmly. 'Dangers of the field.'
You rolled your eyes. You wanted to scoff but your head really did hurt.
'Dya' want the good news or the bad news?' Sammy asked cheerfully. You realised he was brave facing it so you didn't worry, although you noticed his fingers curled around yours again.
Sammy didn't even seem to notice, like he'd done it without realising.
'Good news,' you replied weakly.
'Good news!' Sammy smiled. 'You get to go home. Oh, and you get a fuck load of painkillers.'
You try to approximate a smile but it comes out more like a grimace. 'Bad news?'
'The bad news is you need monitoring overnight, or you can't leave.'
You groaned. 'I don't have a roommate.'
Sammy looked at you carefully. 'I mean, it's probably against protocol,' he murmured, voice dropping low, 'but if you really have no one who can look after you... I can stay with you.'
Your eyes widened in surprise.
'Not like that!' He shook his head. 'Not in a creepy, Dewey way.'
You laughed, and it hurt. Sammy's face creased in concern.
'No, in a, strictly clinical, monitor-y way,' he assured you. 'In a, sleep on the couch and check on you every forty minutes kinda way.'
You frown at him but your head is too fuzzy to think.
'Beats staying here all night. You can collect your car in the morning,' Sammy gives you his arm to help you up. 'You can remember where you live... can't you?'
'Shut up,' you grumble, wincing as you sit up.
'Here I am with the druuuugs,' sang the young nurse, before casting an appreciative eye over Sammy in his uniform.
'I love you,' you mumbled to her.
--- 🩷 ---
Sammy helped you into your apartment. You really didn't think you needed it, but the walls were waving in and out as you walked.
'Woah,' Sammy steadied you. 'Let's get you a drink of water. Brush your teeth and then into bed.'
'Yes, dad,' you mumbled. It was supposed to be a grumpy joke, but you felt Sammy stiffen. You were too out of it to register.
Sammy helped you to the bathroom and waited patiently outside. He did not come in to help you, despite you calling out for him to. Maybe you'd hit your head harder than you thought.
Sammy helped you unbutton your shirt, then turned respectfully around as you slipped an oversized, soft tee on.
'What 'you 'gon wear?' You slurred.
'Well you bled all over my vest so my uniform,' Sammy replied.
''m decent nowww,' you sing-songed.
Biting back a smile, Sammy turned around.
'Okay, so no pants?' Sammy averted his gaze. 'That's a choice.'
''don't own any...' you replied, ''lost 'em.'
'You lost them?' Sammy repeated.
''lost 'em,' you confirmed solemnly, 'like I lost my shirt.'
Sammy snorted, and it was a beautiful sound.
''like it when you laugh.' The room was starting to spin. 'Sounds all nice.'
Sammy cleared his throat. 'Okay, thank you.' He covered you with your sheet and turned out your lamp. 'Ni-' You were gone.
--- 🩷 ---
You awoke, confused. Before you'd even had a chance to move, Sammy was by your side. 'It's okay. Are you okay?'
You blinked. 'I dunno.'
Sammy was clearly biting back a laugh
''you been here the whole time?'
'Yeah.' Sammy's reply was soft.
You looked over and saw a single pillow on the floor.
'Watchin' me sleep?'
'Yeah.'
'Thasss' weird,' you reply.
'Oh yeah?' Sammy replies, clearly amused by you.
'Yeahhh,' you answer, 'but I kinda like it.'
There was silence for a few seconds. 'You clearly do not know what you're saying, young lady. Go back to sleep.'
'No.'
'No?'
''head hurtsss,' you moan. 'Sit with me.'
'I am sitting with you.' Sammy's voice is soft.
'Noooo, silly.' You shake your head in the dark. 'Can't watch me from down there.'
More silence.
You heard Sammy swallow and feel the heat of his body as he leans closer. 'I can't,' he says simply. 'You're out of your mind on painkillers and I'm staying down here.'
You're not sure why but you burst into tears.
'Hey, hey, don't cry.' Sammy's fingers are tangling with yours in an instant. 'I'm right here.'
'Please,' you whisper.
There must have been something in your voice that made Sammy relent.
'Just til I fall asleep.'
'Just til you fall asleep,' Sammy whispers.
You heard him move round the bed and climb on from the other side. He sits up against the headboard, fully clothed, staring straight ahead. He tried not to concentrate on your semi-naked body, covered by a thin sheet, next to him.
'Please,' you whisper again.
You don't know what you're asking for.
Sammy puts an arm around you, trying to ignore any other feelings coming to mind. He's watching your concussion. He's watching your concussion. He's watching your-
He feels you roll over and stiffens. 'Sammy,' you breathed.
Christ, his name had never sounded so good as it did leaving your mouth. The way you sighed it was unfair.
'Rosa,' was all he could manage back. His voice was thick and strained.
'Sammmmy,' you whined.
Fuck. Very unfair.
You nestled into his chest, heat radiating from under his uniform against your face. You hurt and were confused. You wanted comfort and you wanted it from Sammy. That's all you knew. You sighed in relief as you nestled against him.
Sammy stiffened. Now you were sighing. Fuck oh fuck.
He held his hands in the air, unsure what to do with them. Sammy was a good guy, he didn't want to touch you, he couldn't touch you. No matter how much you squirmed against him.
Sammy looked at the ceiling and tried to do his taxes in his head.
How did this escalate so quickly? Training officers couldn't be in bed with their boots. Not in any context, least of all with their boot out of their mind on painkillers. No matter how revealing of their emotions they were being.
Sammy went to slither our from under you.
'Don't,' you begged and draped an arm around his stomach to stop him from moving. 'Please. My head hurts.'
Your voice had dropped. You sounded so vulnerable and pathetic.
He was medically obliged to look after you, and he could monitor you better from up here anyway... and who needs sleep?
'Okay. Try to sleep. 'm not goin' anywhere.' Sammy's fingers found your hair and smoothed it with his fingertips.
''you promise?'
'I promise,' Sammy exhaled as he said it, wondering if he could add on some long division after his taxes. 'I've got you.'
Contains: wanting sister-in-law, m masturbation semi-public m masturbation, fingering, f and m orgasm, p in v, build up in tension, jealousy, tammi mention so cheating but she's kinda mean, pregnancy mention, police mention, creampie
Author's Note: thank you for the great request @hatosypascalbaby!! I hope you like it <33
🩷
Sammy was officially in hell.
You were sat on the sofa, chatting and laughing with Tammi, excitedly telling her a story about college. You used your hands as you spoke, your smile infectious, despite telling her how you were just kicked out of college.
He could never see anyone struggle, and it was just a few weeks. Of course he'd offered for you to crash there. You were family... and another pair of hands to wrestle Richter in line.
Sammy had such a huge heart. You were crashing on the couch, your bags spread around you. You were wearing vans sneakers, a tiny pair of shorts and a crop top due to the LA heat. Sunglasses perched on your head, perfume wafting over as you laughed.
Sammy watched you both intently. He hadn't seen you since their wedding, you were a bridesmaid and, despite only being 5 years younger than Tammi, had looked considerably younger then. Pre-college. Excited to be an adult. But now...
But if he was such a good guy, he thought guiltily, then why did he feel his cock twitching when you moved beneath your crop top? He tried not to notice how you clearly weren't wearing a bra, how your nipples were starting to stand to attention as they brushed against the material.
His gaze flicked to Tammi, who clearly hadn't noticed. Sammy bit his lip and looked at the ceiling. What the fuck, he thought. That's your sister in law.
Just a few more weeks...
-- 🩷 --
Sammy had gotten up to use the toilet. Already, your things were spread along the shelf, and the steam in the bathroom smelled like your shampoo. Sammy tried not to take a deep breath or think about you in the shower. He tiptoed through into the kitchen to grab a glass of water.
There you were. You had the lightest sheet they had covering you due to the heat. Your damp hair surrounded your head like a halo. Richter lay loyally at your side along the floor, whose eyes tracked his movements but didn't lift his head up. Sammy had tried to stay quiet but now he was frozen to the spot.
You made a soft noise in your sleep, something between a little moan and a contented sigh. Sammy wondered what you were dreaming about, as a big smile spread across your face, then realised he was staring. He turned and ran the tap as quietly as he could.
'Tammi?'' Your little voice, thick with sleep, called out.
'Um, no, sweetheart,' Sammy turned slowly, 'just me. Sorry to wake you.' A slow, guilty heat rushed to his face, even though he knew you were completely unaware of his gawking.
'Oh, sorry,' you smile, yawning and stretching your arms together above your head. Jesus christ.
'Did you, er- d'ya need something?' Sammy asked, clearing his throat.
'Oh no, I'm perfect,' you smiled. Yes you are, Sammy thought.
'Good. You, um... know where I am if you ne-need me.'
You nodded and lay back down on your side. 'Night, Sammy.' The sheet was half falling off your side, the oversized tee barely covering your thigh. If he was to move just slightly to the right, he would be able to see up it.
Before he could follow through with that thought, he quickly left the room. Climbing into bed next to Tammi, she pulled Sammy's arm around her waist and up to touch her chest.
'Unfhhh, you're half-hard for me already,' she whispered. 'I've been taking my prenatal vitamins.' Tammi tugged on his arm to pull Sammy up and on top of her. He bit his lip as she started touching him, trying desperately not to think of you two rooms away.
-- 🩷 --
You were making pancakes for everyone, a first day thank you for letting you stay. Sammy could hear yours and Tammi's voices, laughing in the kitchen as he wrestled with his tie. He hadn't heard Tammi so giddy in months. Richter flopped down in the bedroom, grumbling, pulling a flash of red between his paws. Sammy dived down to take whatever it was off him before he could chew it to bits. Richter whined as it left his grasp. Sammy looked at his fist and realised what it was. Your silky underwear, some sort of lacey see-through French knicker. He looked down in confusion at the panties which were not his wife's. It was crumpled, and Sammy realised Richter had stolen it from the bathroom after you'd showered last night. Your used panties. Jesus Christ.
As he stared at the scrap of fabric in his hand, he heard footsteps outside the bedroom. Panicking, he stuffed it into his suit pants pocket and began walking out of the room. Sammy almost collided with you. 'Morning!' Your smile was wide and genuine. 'I made pancakes!'
'Thank you,' Sammy replied, throat suddenly thick like molasses. You didn't seem to notice, your eyes dropping to his throat. 'Oh, let me!' Before he could protest, you were reaching up on your tiptoes and easing the tie from his grasp. Sammy felt your fingers brush against his, and he pulled them away as fast as possible. Your face was close to his, and he could smell your perfume and the shampoo in your hair. Sammy tried not to look at you as you worked his tie. Every time you touched his neck, it felt electric; burning hot lightning brushing against his skin. You were concentrating and seemed completely oblivious to the effect you were having on him.
Sammy curled his toes within his suit shoes as he desperately fought to keep his face neutral. Sammy's neck was sensitive, so sensitive, and it was like you knew. He felt his cock twitch against his leg, all flustered. Sammy tried to think of boring things, gruesome crime scenes. 'There,' you smiled, 'come on.' Your red underwear burned a hole in his pocket, just a thin strip of fabric separating your panties from his boxers.
-- 🩷 --
'Quickie before work?' Nate asked, grinning smugly.
'No thanks, I'm not that hard done by,' Sammy replied, as he jumped into the passenger seat.
'One - I'm way out of your league,' Nate raised his eyebrows, 'and two, I meant these.' Nate held up the red slip of fabric between his fingers, which had slipped out of Sammy's pocket into the footwell as he jumped in. 'Jesus Christ,' Sammy's face flushed bright red.
'Still trying then?' Nate asked, pulling down the street. 'What?' Sammy replied. 'With Tammi?' Nate shook his head, amused. 'Yeah, I mean, yeah... still trying.' As Nate drove further down the street, Sammy wound down his window and threw the panties out into the street. 'Well, that was normal.' Nate snorted.
-- 🩷 --
As Sammy unlocked the door and walked into the living room, he came in to see you sat on the sofa, straddling a man. Your back was too him, those tiny shorts riding up so he had a full view of your ass. Large hands were splayed round your waist as you kissed your visitor, who was pulling you slowly against his pelvis. He heard you moan.
Sammy coughed loudly and you jumped a mile into the air. 'Sammy, you're home,' you blustered, smoothing down your hair. 'This is my boyfriend, Josh.'
Josh looked like the sporty frat type, younger than Sammy with defined muscles and messy blonde hair. It was hard not to notice his bulge beneath gray sweatpants. Josh grinned at Sammy smugly, tipping his head back in acknowledgement. ''Sup.'
'Yeah, 'sup,' Sammy shook his head for half a second before moving into the kitchen. You followed him. 'Sammy, I'm so sorry, that was really disrespectful.'
Sammy carried on walking, trying not to picture what he'd just seen. ''sfine,' Sammy mumbled, a light sheen of sweat glistening over his face. 'No, it's not!' You insisted, pushing in front of him and placing your hand on his forearm.
The proximity of your body as you looked up earnestly into his eyes was almost worse than seeing you dry humping on his couch. 'Seriously, s'fine.' Sammy's rough voice was low and he avoided eye contact. He looked into your eyes for a second before removing his arm gently from your reach. ''m having a shower, s'ya in a bit.'
Sammy desperately tried to ignore your guilty eyes following him as he left the room.
-- 🩷 --
The hot water pounded over Sammy's shoulders as he closed his eyes. Tammi wasn't home yet and he was very aware he was naked, a room over from where you were probably kissing your boyfriend again. Sammy let himself picture you were kissing him for a second. His cock pulsed against his thigh. Sammy's intake of breath was ragged, the sound covered by the water. Sammy knew he should put the shower on cold, think about something else, think about his wife. But yet.... in his mind, he was sat flush on the couch, your body pressed up against him. He could smell your shampoo from the shelf. Sammy bit back a moan and closed his eyes. In his mind, you were wearing those little shorts, and he was just in his boxers. You were straddling his hips, and his hands were on your soft waist. Sammy whimpered, his cock throbbing as it grew harder. He knew he should stop this train of thought but he was too far gone, and Sammy's meaty hand was guided to his cock. As he slowly began pumping it, he imagined using your hips to guide your body, your hot core already wet with anticipation. It would leave a smear along his boxers, because you wanted him, needed to use him. Sammy's eyes closed as he tipped his head back, pumping a little faster. He replayed the small moan you'd made as you rode Josh. The head of his chubby cock would find the seam over your clit. It would be sensitive and you'd moan as he pressed against it, using the tip to grind against the little bud of nerves, against the spot you really needed. There, Sammy, you'd moan in his ear. Oh fuck... right there.
Sammy groaned, imagining how much you'd want it, how much you'd beg him for it. Sammy, please. How you'd tell him to shut the fuck up so he didn't wake Tammi, swallowing his whines with your mouth.
'Oh God,' Sammy found himself whispering. 'Yeaaahh.' He began fucking up into his fist, wet with pre-cum and the shower, one hand pressed against the wall to steady him. He was getting close. Sammy tried to shut out any feelings of guilt. He wasn't acting on it, doing anything with you, he was just thinking... Sammy imagined your tongue against his neck, sucking and licking. He groaned again, his stomach beginning to tingle, his muscles stiffening. You'd use your teeth, scraping behind his ear as you rubbed yourself on his cock. You wouldn't be gentle. No, you'd use him to take what you needed, to lift yourself higher and higher and higher. Sammy couldn't even imagine how it would feel for you to grind down hard on him, growing more and more desperate, crying out that you were gonna cum.
'Ahhh.. ahh.... mmmmf,' Sammy tried to keep quiet but it was too late. His stomach tightened and he began to see stars. 'Hi Sammy, I'm home!' Tammi poked her head around in the door. Sammy jumped in surprise, dropping his cock, the orgasm keeping him suspended on the edge receded. 'Uhh, hi,' he panted. 'Won't be a sec.' Fuck.
-- 🩷 --
Sammy was convinced you were trying to kill him. You were padding around in a little onesie. The buttons were open dangerously low, and the shorts were barely shorts, high-rise on your perfect thighs. Sammy was trying to focus on his paperwork, but his gaze kept dropping to your mouth, parted in concentration.
'All done!' You announced, pushing a plate in front of him. Homemade pasta and meatballs, covered in a spicy tomato sauce. You were bending over the counter, oblivious to the view of your tits you were flashing him down your onesie. Sammy quickly lifted his gaze to your eyes, hoping you wouldn't notice. He looked between each of your eyes, feeling a flush creep across his face. Had you held the eye contact a second too long? He looked uncomfortable and was squirming in his seat.
''smells amazing!' Tammi announced, sitting next to Sammy and squeezing his thigh in greeting. Sammy smiled at her and shifted sideways slightly so she couldn't feel the bulge straining against his jeans.
'Oh God, it tastes amazing,' you squealed, licking then sucking sauce from your index finger. Sammy made a squeak and tried to cover it with a cough as his eyes followed your wet tongue. 'It does,' he agreed, fighting to keep his rough voice low and even. 'Are you sure?' Your face fell, looking in concern at him. 'You don't seem to like it?' 'No, no, I like it,' Sammy rushed, aware he was flushing even more. A slight sheen of sweat reached his forehead. 'It tastes amazing.' He agreed in a whisper.
-- 🩷 --
You were driving him crazy but he was in heaven. The three of you were watching a movie, Tammi and you curled up on the sofa, underneath a blanket, and Sammy on the recliner. His eyes were on you more than the movie. Sammy couldn't tell if you were doing it on purpose, or if you were even aware, but you were sucking your thumb.
Each movement of your mouth on your thumb, deep inside your mouth, made your wet lips tighten around it, moving slowly up and down. Your eyes stayed forwards, intently watching the screen, but you had to be doing it on purpose.
Sammy gratefully reached for the cushion behind him, and tried to cover his hips with it, as surreptiously as possible. His cock pulsed, and his wedding ring bit into his finger.
You laughed at the film, your beautiful face lighting up, a slip of tongue revealed through your parted wet lips. This was better than watching porn. His cock throbbed insistently against his thigh, straining against his jeans. It twitched against the cushion, and Sammy breathed out in relief. No way. There was no way he was dry humping a pillow in the sitting room watching his sister-in-law, in front of his wife. And yet...
Sammy's grip on the cushion was a vice, fighting to keep it completely steady as he slowly rolled his hips against it. His cock pulsed as it brushed the rough fabric, desperate for relief. Sammy held his breath, eyes fixed on you. He felt like a creep, but he couldn't help it. There was no way he could survive a few weeks without doing something about it. Sammy was a really good guy but... maybe he wasn't that good. Tammi hardly paid him attention anymore, he was surprised she had initiated sex the previous night. She was usually mean and spaced out on weed. Sammy had guiltily pictured you making that little moan again as he fucked into Tammi, and he had finished so early Tammi didn't have chance to cum.
The friction started to build as Sammy guided his cock against the cushion. Rolling his tongue over his lower lip and biting down hard on it, he looked to the ceiling and tried to keep quiet. But his gaze soon found you again, so beautiful, your mouth working on your thumb. Sammy imagined it was his cock your lips were tight around, sucking in a light vacuum, whilst your tongue made circles around his head. Sammy was close. You laughed again at the movie and resettled on the sofa. Why did you never wear bras? He could see your nipples through your onesie, pert and waiting for him. Sammy wondered if you were wearing another pair of French knickers under there. If you had a lacy, see-through black pair, or if you had a baby-pink thong on. Fuck, he was right on the edge.
He was gonna cum in his boxers like a teenager. Spill into them with his warm load and sit in the pool, before walking out with them plastered to his cock.
He gripped the pillow even tighter. Would those panties be pushed to the side? Were they damp against your skin right this minute? Were you getting wet sitting there, smearing them with your arousal? Were you even wearing any?
'Sammy!' Tammi interrupted his train of thought, with the tone of someone who had said his name more than once. 'Hmmmf?' Sammy asked, immediately stopping his movements against the cushion, guilt filling him. 'Ice cream? Freezer? Can you get it?' 'Mmm'kay... just need to give me a minute.'
-- 🩷 --
It was Saturday. Tammi was out taking photographs in the park. It was burning hot and you were in a deck chair in the garden. Sammy walked out to join you, bringing a beer for both of you. He stuttered when he saw you, wearing what was probably sold as a bikini but in reality was a torture device. Sammy couldn't believe his luck.
Your bikini bottoms were obscene, the sides reaching way up over your hips with a tiny V heading towards your core. The top was all spaghetti straps, with little triangles of black fabric which barely covered your tits. They strained against it, giving a view of side boob and under boob, all pert and pressed together. Was this heaven or hell?
'Thanks,' you smiled, gratefully taking the beer. 'Are you not boiling?' You nodded at Sammy's tee. 'Um...' Sammy squirmed a little, sitting down on his chair. You could tell he was flustered by something, his meaty hand dragging down his face. 'No, I'm good.' His low, rough voice managed. 'Oh, come on!' You playfully tugged at his sleeve. 'It's only me!'
Sammy swallowed thickly. Only you was the whole problem. He decided to be honest. 'I've er- I've put on a little weight. 'rather not.' You lifted your sunglasses up onto your head. Fuck, you were so beautiful. 'Don't be silly,' you chided gently, looking at him with wide eyes. 'Besides... dad bods are in. Come on,' you tugged at his sleeve again.
Sammy realised he wasn't going to win this one and slowly removed his shirt. Your eyes took on his arm pits, full of thick auburn curls, and smelling faintly of body wash and deodorant. The freckles dusted across his chest matched his face. Sammy sat, embarrassed, his squishy tummy overhanging his swim shorts. You tried not to stare, or at his thick, meaty arms, or the pale, chubby hand gripping his beer tight.
Sammy squirmed under your gaze, flustered, heat blazing across his face. A slight sheen of sweat dampened his curls. 'S'stop looking,' Sammy mumbled, and you flipped your sunglasses back down over your face. 'Why? You're hot,' you shrugged and went back to your book. Sammy shifted in his seat and tried to think about his taxes.
--🩷--
You were both a few beers in and slightly buzzed. Sammy felt more confident in stealing quick glances at you. You sat up and moaned, stretching your arms out, pushing your tits forwards. The view of your breasts made it impossible to ignore and Sammy's mouth dropped open a little. He wondered how else he could pull that moan from your mouth... preferably made into his mouth.
'Please put some cream on me, Sammy?' 'What?' Sammy stared at you, guilty. Had his face given away his thoughts so easily. 'Sun cream?' You shook the bottle at him, a smirk on your face. 'Oh, right... yeah.' Sammy cleared his throat and sat sideways on his chair as you turned your back to him. 'My neck and back always burn.' 'Uh huh.'
Sammy took the bottle from you and squirted some lotion onto his hands, warming it between his fingers. He took a deep breath and bit his lip, starting along your spine and your lower back. As his hands rubbed up and down your sides, he tried to break the silence with the first thing he could think of... your body, your rolling hips, your moan...
'How're things with Josh?' Sammy tried to keep his voice even. Your skin was so smooth and soft under his thick fingers. They slipped under the string around your ribs. 'Oh, that's over,' you replied breezily, holding your hair up and out of the way of your shoulders. Sammy leant forwards, breathing in your smell, then feeling very guilty. 'That's too bad,' he murmured, trying not to feel pleased. Smug prick. 'Nah, he was a cheating loser,' you replied.
Sammy couldn't believe that anyone would cheat on you. On you. 'He must be insane,' Sammy muttered before he could stop himself, moving up to your shoulders. You snorted, 'yeah, well... he wasn't that great anyway. I had to keep faking it in the end.' Sammy nearly choked. 'Sorry,' you grinned, looking back at him. 'TMI.'
Sammy couldn't help but imagine you prone on the bed, that fucking prick above you. You look bored and sad, receiving no pleasure as Josh just used your body. It made Sammy seethe.
'No, sweetheart, you deserve better than having to do that.' Sammy's chubby thumbs pressed lightly against your neck, rubbing into the tight muscles. You moaned softly and leant back into his hands. The sound went straight to Sammy's cock, twitching in his shorts. It was just biology, he told himself. It didn't mean anything. It's just... his body doesn't know that. It's like it's a separate entity, ignoring his instructions and responding to your voice. He couldn't help it. 'Mmmm, feels so good,' you hum as you leant back harder into his thumbs. Sammy was fucked.
Sammy rubbed up your neck and back down. Nearly finished, nearly finished, nearly finished... 'Thanks!' You turn around with a bounce, smiling at him gratefully. 'Your turn!'
'W-what?' Sammy stuttered, putting on his own sunglasses to hide some of his panic. 'You don't have any on,' you explained slowly, gesturing to his chest and tummy. 'Oh er... 'sfine, I'll do it in a minute.' 'Don't be silly,' you laughed, taking the bottle from his hands, and pulling your seat closer. 'I can reach it all myself,' Sammy squeaked, gesturing to his front. 'Oh, shut uuuup,' you teased, rolling your eyes.
Sammy breathed a sigh of relief that his shorts were dark and baggy, hoping you wouldn't notice how ridiculously hard he was. His hand clenched tight around his beer bottle.
You warmed the lotion in your hands as Sammy had done, and then started along his chest. Sammy didn't dare breathe. You leant forwards and Sammy could see all of you escaping your bikini top now. Your round tits were pressed together, nipples hard and scraping across the glossy material. Sammy swallowed and had to look away.
Your hands pressed gently into his chest as you rubbed the lotion in, running your fingers through his chest hair, and Sammy had to press his mouth shut so he didn't whimper. He had dreamed of you touching him like this and, now that you were, he didn't know where to look or what to do with his hands.
You reached his tummy and Sammy bent away. 'Please don't,' he whispered. You pushed your sunglasses up off your face again and looked at him, even though he was still wearing his. 'I told you,' you repeated, softly and gently. 'Dad bods are in.' The wine was giving you a pleasant buzz and made you feel brave. 'Besides,' you said, rubbing your fingers into his squishy tummy, 'it's kinda really hot.' finally admitting to yourself that you wanted it pressed against your back, with his big, solid body wrapped around you.
Sammy dared not breathe. He must have misheard you. 'Mmmm, don't think so..' Sammy shook his head, desperate for the conversation to be over. Your hands reach beneath his belly button, then were rubbing the underside of his tummy. Sammy was frozen on the spot. The air between you shifted somehow, grew thicker. It sat heavy and charged. Your fingertips were inches, inches, away from the waistband of his shorts. You could slip them under without even moving your wrist. 'Sammy-,' you whispered, but were interrupted by a door banging shut.
You and Sammy immediately sprang away from each other, and Sammy found himself panting. His want and his frustration were warring for first place. 'You would not believe this awful... oh jesus christ, put some clothes on. Your sister doesn't wanna see that... and Sammy sure as hell doesn't.' Sammy could have burst into tears. His jaw clenched and his cheeks twitched. You glanced at him, an apology and a guilty look in one, and then stood. As you turned, Sammy got a view of your plush ass, right at eye level. 'Whatever, Tams,' you groaned, rolling your eyes. You poke her in the ribs as you walk past and she just sighs impatiently. 'Besides,' your voice floats away, 'anyone would be lucky to have this.'
--🩷--
Sammy's cock was weeping as he took a shower, the water pounding over his shoulders. It found his hand again, his meaty fingers struggling to wrap around the chubby length. He thrust his hips and fucked roughly into his fist, desperate and impatient. The tension in the air, the way you had looked at him, your fingers inches from tugging at his waistband, touching the top of his auburn pubic hair, scratching your nails down, down, down... Sammy bit his lip and tried to quieten his grunts as he pulled on his cock, imagining you taking him out of his shorts... Sammy stifled a wounded groan, he was gonna cum, he was gonna cum... 'Ah, ahhhh, aaaahhhh, mmmf,' Sammy turned his head into his bicep, biting down so hard to muffled his grunting he could taste blood. Fuck, here it comes. He was right on the edge, his balls tightened up, his stomach coiling, his toes clenching... A knock at the door. 'Sammy! Hurry up! We have takeout.' Sammy cried out in frustration. '.... you okay?' Tammi asked. For fuck's sake. 'Yeah! Fine!' Sammy hung his head and pressed it against the cold shower tiles. He couldn't remember a time he had ever been as frustrated as this.
--🩷--
Sammy barely spoke during the movie. He didn't know what to do with himself. You were back in tiny sleep shorts and a crop cami, relaxing into the sofa and laughing along. He couldn't help but take you all in. You were glowing from an afternoon outside in the sun. You were starting to get sleepy, your face all soft and relaxed, your thumb grazing your mouth. Every so often your eyes would flick to his and then quickly away, leaving Sammy insanely flustered. He had never been so desperate to fuck someone in his life.
The way you walked around in skimpy clothes, the amazing homecooked meals you made as if you had to earn your place (you didn't), the big smiles you gave him every time he came home. But then there were your nipples, always in his vision. Your peachy butt he wanted to bite down on until it bruised. Your gorgeous legs he wanted wrapped around his ears. Sammy was desperate for you with a carnal intensity, like a dog in heat.
It was heaven watching you float around his home, and hell that he hasn't had you yet. It was too much. He was going to have to do something about it.
Sammy was aching for you, so much so that it hurt. He was constantly half-hard just watching you, and his balls were so heavy; full and uncomfortable. His cock was sore for you. He hadn't even been able to jerk himself off to you, spraying the shower tiles with his cum like he wanted to, because Tammi always interrupted and ruined it. There was no relief for him. He had to fuck you. He had to.
Tammi went to bed early with a headache. For about half an hour, you didn't speak, sat in comfortable silence as mindless nonsense played on the TV. Sammy moved onto the couch and joined you under the blanket, after pushing Richter gently off. You were his favourite person, and Sammy could see why.
You turned to look at him and found him already looking over your face. You took a sharp breath, and Sammy's eyes dropped to your mouth, just for a second, and then back into your eyes.
'Sammy,' you breathed. 'I know,' Sammy's voice wavered at the end, deep and rough. He looked between your eyes with a blazing heat. 'I want to,' you whispered, searching his eyes for reciprocation. 'Fuck, I want you,' Sammy's voice was low but he was shaking slightly. 'You know we can't, though,' but you moved closer, so much so you could see the dusting of freckles over his forehead and cheeks. His hazel eyes burned into yours, darkened with want and blown pupils. 'No, we definitely can't,' Sammy agreed, moving closer still, lips inches from yours; closer than your fingers were to the waistband of his shorts. 'So we just go to sleep, then,' you whisper against his lips.
Sammy couldn't take it any more. The anticipation, the want, he had to have you. He had to fuck you. Sammy had to act upon it. 'Nuh-huh,' he disagreed, closing the space and pressing his soft lips against yours.
You made a soft moaning sound, which made Sammy groan into your mouth. As you kissed, he gently held your jaw, before pushing his thick fingers into your hair and curling them round a handful. He didn't pull hard, just enough to let you know that he could. The kiss was soft, gentle, tender. 'This okay?' Sammy whispered against your lips. You just nodded and made a soft sigh against his mouth, as if finally finding relief.
Sammy ran his tongue gently across your bottom lip, which you opened, and the kiss became more intense; full of the frustrations and anticipation of this moment, which you both knew deep down was coming. 'D'ya wanna stop?' Sammy panted, knowing how wrong this was. His wedding ring cut into his finger like barbed wire, but he didn't feel guilty. Not in this moment. Not with how Tammi treated him, and the way you were looking at him right now. 'Fuck no,' you whispered, pulling him closer to you and kissing him again. Sammy made a sound, a low whimper, and you put your arms around his neck, fingers toying with his auburn curls.
Sammy pressed his body closer to you, his solid frame soft against yoir body, large but plush at the same time. Another moan escaper your into his mouth, and he greedily swallowed it. '... 'hope that's not fake,' Sammy murmured, his hands running down your waist, finding your shorts and pulling you closer. You almost laughed. You were half-straddling him, his heat radiating onto you. He smelled so good, he felt so good. 'Somehow I don't think I'll need to fake it,' you whispered back.
Sammy growled in response, pushing you down onto your back on the couch, legs still intertwined. 'We're gonna have to be quiet,' you whispered, the door to the sitting room still open. Tammi could walk in at any time, and you felt a flush of wetness at the thought. Sammy was painfully hard, pressing against his jeans, which were damp from your wetness. He pushed his body weight down onto you and you thought you might cum there and then. 'Real quiet,' Sammy agreed as you unbuckled his belt. 'Don't want anyone to walk in 'ncatch us,' he murmured between kisses. 'Definitely not your wife,' you whispered, pushing his jeans down and pulling him close. Sammy groaned at your words, and then again at your hot cunt, as he slipped his cock against the thin fabric of your sleep shorts. 'And defnitely not my sister,' you agreed.
Sammy let out a loud, pained whine, and you covered his mouth with your palm. 'Gotta be quiet, baby,' you shook your head. 'Can't get caught before you cum inside me.'
Sammy made a pathetic, wounded sound. Pre-cum soaked the front of his boxers, smearing against the material as he slowly moved against you. The thick, mushroom head of his chubby cock rubbed against your clit, making you gasp. Your head went dizzy as the thick head made lazy circles against your bud, before roughlt flicking back and forth against it. You felt your pussy clench around nothing.
'Oh fuck,' Sammy panted. 'Ah.. uhhhh, please take me out. Please.'
When you placed a hand inside his boxers and felt the size of his cock, you inhaled sharply. This was gonna stretch you out. 'Wha..?' Sammy asked, kissing your face, your ear, your neck, your jaw. ''something wrong?' 'Nope,' you smiled, pulling him out of his boxers and shrugging them down past his knees. His cock waved against his stomach. 'Pulll these aside for me, baby,' Sammy begged, tugging your sleep shorts.
When he had access, he ran his fingers through your wetness. 'Fuuuuuck,' he breathed. 'Is this just for me?' 'All for you, Sammy.' You gently sucked along his jaw. 'Your pussy's so pretty, baby,' Sammy moaned as he circled your clit lazily, before flicking it sideways, up and down, circles, up and down, sideways... He was bringing you to the edge and letting you teeter there.
'Please le-let me touch youuu,' Sammy whimpered. You nodded against his lips, pulling him tighter to you. Sammy slid a thick finger inside you, swiftly followed by a second.
You gasped, feeling the enormous stretch as Sammy's fingers scissored inside you. The pressure and tickle felt almost too much to bear. Sammy began sliding his fingers in and out, and the obscene squelching noises filled the silent room. You pressed your head against Sammy's bicep, embarrassed. 'Hey, look at me, baby.' Sammy lowered his head to be back on your level. ''love you makin' a mess for me.'
You moaned in response, glad that it seemed to turn him on more. You felt his cock press insistently against your hip, twitching as Sammy added a third finger. You gasped. 'Sammy, I can't-' 'Oh you can, princess,' Sammy moaned, getting close to cumming from just this. 'Fuck, yeah, you can.'
He shifted slightly so he had more access to your cunt and curled his fingers, gently rubbing against your squishy spot. Your legs shook underneath him. 'There?' Sammy asked, looking up at you. 'Oh fuck,' you panted, 'there.'
Sammy continued massaging you, pulling his fingers in and out, the base of them covered in your cream. You felt yourself leaking out around his fingers, running down your ass and onto the couch. You were too far gone to care.
Sammy nudged your legs further apart with his knee when you tried to tighten them together. Sammy was fucking into the couch, humping against it, hips rolling up and down. His thrusting into the fabric became rougher as his fingers deep inside you began to speed up. His thumb circled your clit, palm pressing on your mound. 'There it is,' Sammy moaned. 'Cum for me.' Your orgasm hit you like a train. Your back arched as you saw stars, heat radiating through all of your muscles. 'Good girl,' Sammy whispered into your mouth, swallowing your moans. 'Theeere you go... you're doing so good.'
Sammy slowed his fingers down but didn't stop touching you until you had fully come down from your high. 'Fuck,' Sammy breathed. 'You're so beautiful.'
'That was amazing.' You fought to catch your breath. Your cum glistened all over his fingers from gushing into his hand. The couch was soaked from when you surprised yourself and squirted. Sammy dragged his finger down his tongue, sucking your wetness with his eyes closed. Then he leaned in and kissed you, so you could taste yourself on his tongue. ''made such a mess f'me,'
'Can I fuck you now?' Sammy's voice was cracked and hoarse. 'Please yes... fuck yes,' you replied, wriggling out of your shorts. ''m not gonna last long,' Sammy warned. 'Good,' you ran your fingernails up and down his neck, making his eyes roll back. 'It's so sexy that you can't stop yourself from cumming over me.'
You pushed his cock along your cunt, through your lips and covering it with your glistening wetness. 'Uhhh... uh. St-stop that,' Sammy stuttered. His face was completely red and screwed up, and he shuddered as you moved him. You loved seeing him, a big police detective, so flustered and falling apart for you like this. 'Why?' you asked innocently. ''cos I'm gonna cum,' Sammy let out a long groan, his eyes rolling back, and biting down on his lower lip. ''n-o, seriously... stop... 'wanna fuck you so good.'
You ran your fingernails up and down his biceps, and along his soft chest. Sammy groaned again, a guttural, pained sound, squirming as you clapped your hand over his mouth. 'Baby, you gotta shut the fuck up if you want fuck me.'
Sammy nodded desperately, obediently, too lost in the need for you to let him. He lined himself up with you and slowly pushed halfway in to you. 'You're so tight,' Sammy moaned, his head thrown back. 'Fuck, you feel so good.' 'Keep going,' you whispered, hands on his hips and pulling him closer, making him move further into you.
Sammy let out a series of broken sounds until he bottomed out; he was coming undone already.
You rolled your hips in slow figure 8s, dragging his cock along every part of your wet, warm walls, stretching you out. As his thick head bumped against your spot, your pussy helplessly clenched around his cock. 'Don't- don't do that,' Sammy begged, trying desperately not to just blow his load inside you straightaway.
'Sammy,' you pleaded, rolling your hips against his pelvis. 'C'mon... fuck me. This is what you want. This is what you needed. Come get it.'
Sammy nearly came. There was nothing gentle or romantic about the way he fucked you. He pushed you deep into the couch, thrusting down on you. His heavy weight pressed against you, and you could feel his big belly squishing hard into yours.
Sammy grunted in your ear like an animal every time he bottomed out. He fucked you with the aggressive energy of a dog in heat, mindlessly mating with its partner. Sammy's sweat dropped onto you, his face all red and screwed up. 'Uhhh... uh... huh... uhhhh,' Sammy grunted every time he buried himself in your warm, soaking cunt. You pulled on his hair and he moaned, which turned into a whine. ''m gonna cum,' Sammy's voice was broken, his eyes glassy. One was half-rolled back into his head and his mouth hung open as he buried himself deep within you.
'Cum for me, Sammy,' you whispered, one hand raking his back down hard with your fingernails, the other one reaching under him and gently holding his balls. 'Mmmmmf,' Sammy was getting louder. 'Oh I'm gonna... hnnnfgh.. I'm go-gonna...'
His hips moved rougher and sloppier, slamming into your cervix with uncoordinated precision. ''gon' fi-fill... oh fuck, 'm cumming.' You felt the load pumping into you immediately, warming you from the inside and sluicing around his cock because there was just so much cum.
Sammy let out high-pitched squeals, like a hurt dog, as he buried his face in your hair. He gave one, then two more thrusts before he stayed bottomed out, deep inside your cunt, as throb after throb of his cum spilled into you. Your insides were thoroughly hosed down, dripping out of you and onto your thighs.
Sammy lay on top of you, heavy weight pressed into you, sweaty and flushed red. You smoothed his auburn curls. 'Feel better now?' You asked. You could feel his cock softening inside you, but Sammy made no attempt fo move. 'Yeah,' Sammy's voice was shaky. 'Just for the record,' you whispered, 'none of that was fake.'
Sammy laughed against your lips, and began to kiss you - a satiated, content kiss; softer than before. 'You can't fake squirting all over me like that,' Sammy smiled smugly. 'Shut up,' you laughed. 'Can I just stay here like this?' Sammy asked, gesturing to him lying on you, cock still soft inside. 'If you're prepared to say you tripped and fell,' you snorted. 'I did,' Sammy grinned. 'I tripped and fell over and over and over and over,' Sammy tickled you, and you tried not to squeal as you squirmed underneath him. Sammy closed his eyes, his cock so sensitive still as you moved and clenched around him. 'Careful,' he warned. 'You're gonna make me hard again.'
“don’t cry sweetheart, too pretty for all that” he thumbs away the salt on your face. he smushes your cheeks. you’re emotional. irrational. littlest things have been setting you off, sammy hasn’t complained not once.
your eyebrows furrow, into a scowl, on your bunched up face. “you’re being annoying.” it comes out slurred as sammy’s got your face in his hands. his pupils are dilated, as his gaze pierces you with love.
you shouldn’t have said that - now he looks like a kid on christmas. “oh yeah?” he releases your face, to pepper you with kisses. “my gorgeous girl, crying for what?” he pulls away and pinches your chin. he holds your face tight. his thumb stroking the ends of your face. “i gotta arrest someone?” he squints. you give him the smallest satisfaction of a smile. another mistake. “ah so that’s a yes, who is it?”
“no one samuel.” you huff. your attitude bears no weight on the officer.
he scoffs, “you told me you’d only use that when i’m in the doghouse.”
“better start barking then.”
“woof,” he placates. he licks a stripe on your cheek. “woof woof” he placates once more.
you roll your eyes but you can’t help yourself from laughing, “you’re the worst.”
he smiles into your face. “that’s my pretty girl,” he presses a kiss to your temple. “there’s the pretty smile i know and love.”
summary: After Park the Shark gets a little too forward with you in the ER Jack starts to question himself and your relationship.
contains: MDNI! Angst, Fluff, a little allusion to smut because I just can't help myself.
word count: 2.4k
author's note: just a short and sweet little jack fic-let to try and work myself out of a writers block. please leave a comment if this speaks to you in any way! having a little crisis of confidence over here lol
The ER hummed with anticipation as you waited for the waterpark victims to be wheeled into the ED. As the first ambulance pulls up Robby grabs you, motioning for Whitaker, and Ogilvie to follow, directing traffic towards trauma one.
“What do we have?” Whitaker asks.
“A fall from 10 feet onto a metal fence. Right below the knee. Unconscious, maybe from the pain. Good vitals.” Robby says.
“Good lung sliding right and left,” Whitaker says with this stethoscope pressed to her chest.
“Airway patent, breath sounds bilaterally.” You add, nodding in agreement with the R1 across from you.
“Two view tib-fib.” Robby says looking down at the patient.
“Pushing cefazolin and gent now,” you say, attaching the syringe to the IV, pumping the fluid in one at a time.
“Why do we take down the tourniquet, Whitaker?” Robby looks down at the R1.
“To give the residual limb blood flow,” Whitaker nods, “just two little pumpers.”
“A couple of figure eights ought to take care of those. Park,” Robby greets the ortho surgeon as he steps into the trauma room.
“Park the Shark, orthopedic surgeon.” Whitaker leans over to Ogilvie, speaking low. Park gives you a once over.
“What are you doing later?” He nods at you, a small smirk on his face.
“Not you.” You don’t even look up from the computer, Robby chuckles behind you, as you push the scans towards Park to show him the x-ray, “favorable amputation for reattachment, pretty clean cut. Fence sliced through like a guillotine.”
“Not too bad,” Park agrees, wandering towards where Whitaker and Ogilvie sit beside the patient.
“Just tying off a couple arterioles,” Whitaker offers.
“I'm not blind.” Park says flatly, “where's the amputated leg?"
“Double bagged on ice,” you say, watching him with a hand on your hip.
“Sterile saline on the inner bag. Ice water in the outer bag. No direct ice-on-skin contact.” Whitaker says as Park slips the leg out of the bag, examining it closely.
“We spent a lot of time prepping-” Ogilvie starts.
“He still needs to look,” Whitaker mumbles.
“Antibiotics?” Park asks curtly.
“Cefazolin and gent,” you say with the same affect, “we've cleared her chest, abdomen, and pelvis.”
“Clean wound, no crush injury, rapid transport time. Replantation is a go. I'll book an OR. Irrigate the hell out of this with 3 liters.” Shark nods at you, as if you had done the entire case alone.
“3 liters?” Whitaker confirms, confused by the large quantity.
“Of saline, genius.” Shark says, voice flat.
“Thanks, Shark.” Robby says.
“Bye doctor,” Park nods at you.
“Ok,” you say, not bothering to look up at him as he leaves.
“I knew he meant saline,” Whitaker looks between you and Robby asking for confirmation that you know he’s not an idiot.
“Ignore him,” you say, still sounding agitated at the whole interaction.
“Yeah, Shark doesn’t really like anyone,” Robby offers the two, slightly shaken, young doctors sitting in front of him.
“He seems to like her just fine,” Ogilvie points a gloved finger to you and you scoff.
“That’s just because he wants to f-” you cut yourself of realizing your chief attending is standing right next to you, “I think I hear someone calling my name out there, yeah no, I gotta-” you push out the door, everyone in the room knowing that no one was calling you.
“She was going to say fuck her,” Ogilvie says.
“Thank you for clarifying Ogilvie,” Robby says, giving a curt nod.
You don’t usually work the day shift but after McKay got a call from Harrison’s school she had to bow out for the day. Robby is certainly excited to work with you and get to know you a little better, you are his best friend's favorite resident, in more ways than one. Robby knows that Jack is seeing you, however the exact parameters of your relationship are unclear to the chief attending. He’s tried to spot slip ups between the two of you during hand-offs, any indication that you two are anything more than co-workers, but you are entirely unflappable and Jack is the same. He assumes the secrecy is because you and Jack want to keep things in your private lives private but the truth is Jack himself is unsure of the exact nature of your relationship.
The two of you are having sex, hot, passionate sex, on a regular basis. He feels like a teenager again, desperate to have his mouth on yours, his hands on your body, his cock in your tight pussy. The first shift after the two of you hooked up Jack could barely look at you, his ears flushing red every time he saw you, thinking of the day before when you were panting and whimpering beneath him, squeezing him like a vice, letting him come inside you... Over time he got better at staying composed. No one at the hospital had suspected anything, he maintained his cool outer shell without an issue, but for those first couple of weeks he had felt like he was melting inside. More recently the two of you started getting breakfast together after a shift, staying at each other’s places, lingering near one another in the ER…
“Your little resident is fiery, I like her for you,” Robby smirks as Jack stands next to him at the hub, the senior attendings preparing to start hand-offs.
“Oh yeah? What’d she do to get you so wound up?” The corner of Jack’s mouth curves up ever so slightly.
“Just put Shark in his place this afternoon,” Robby says, pushing his glasses up to rest on his head.
“Park? Why? Was he bothering her?” Jack’s mouth drops, imperceptible to a passerby but Robby notices. Shit. He had just meant to tease his friend a little, not wind him up before a shift.
“Nah he’s just- he just seems to be uh, interested, but she shut him down,” Jack gives him a look, waiting for Robby to elaborate, “no he just- he just asked her what she was doing later,”
“Well, what did she say?” Jack crosses his arms over his broad chest.
“Man, you should just talk to her,” Robby sighs, regretting saying anything.
“Robby,” Jack looks at him with a hard stare.
“She said ‘not you,’” Robby shrugs, “‘what are you doing later?’ ‘not you,’ that was it- it was funnier when she said it.”
Jack’s mouth is in a firm line.
“Fuckin’ ortho surgeons,” Jack mumbles.
“I mean… glass houses, brother.” Robby says, again without thinking.
Jack raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest, silently prompting Robby to explain himself.
“You, you have been known to try to charm the odd patient… or nurse… or doctor…” Robby tries to placate him.
“That's different.” Jack’s head pulls back slightly.
“Why?” Robby scrunches his eyebrows.
“Because- because I'm seeing her.” Jack says, dropping his voice low.
“You weren’t always seeing her.” Robby pauses, looking in the distance, “actually now that I think about it she’s the only person I haven’t seen you make eyes at."
“What do you mean? You don’t think she’s charmed by me?” Jack cocks an eyebrow.
“Yeah but you don’t do the whole Dr.-Jack-Abbot-thing with her, there’s no smoke or mirrors, you’re just… being Jack.”
“Hey,” you slide next to Jack where he stands at the hub, resting your hands on the desk dangerously close to his, “heard you’re taking Dr. Al for a beer, can you put in a good word for me?”
“With Al-Hashimi? Why?” Jack turns away from you, starting to walk towards the ambulance bay.
“Uh, because she’s a smart, assertive attending with a cool, humanitarian background? I mean the AI shit is lame but I don't know, I feel like I could learn some stuff from her,” you chatter away, following him closely, not entirely picking up on his foul mood. “Not that I don’t love to learn from you but- I don't know, men have been in charge of me my whole life, it would be nice to have another woman be a mentor figure. And I wanna do a slash trach.”
“Why don’t you ask Shark to teach you?” Jack says with a little bite once the two of you step outside.
“Shark? Yeah I’ll ask him for help if I ever need to use a hammer,” you breathe out a laugh, “He’s… how do i say this professionally….” you purse your lips and tap your chin, pretending to think, “he’s the worst.”
“Yeah well he thinks very highly of you,” Jack mutters.
“Oh my god. Has Robby been whispering in your ear? Jack, it was a non-event. He does it all the time. I’m used to brushing him off.” You say sympathetically.
“He does it all the time?” Jack head snaps to you.
“Not literally,” you sigh, “you have no reason to worry about Shark, I can't stand him, there’s nothing to be jealous about,”
“Maybe you’re the one who’s jealous,” Jack turns away from you slightly, his comment prompting you to let out a sharp breath as a laugh.
“Who am I supposed to be jealous of?” You say incredulously.
“I’m not having this conversation right now,” Jack rubs his hands over his face.
“Oh my god.” you let out a breathy laugh, “you want me to be jealous. Why?”
“You’re acting like a child.” He turns to you.
“Me? Are you serious right now?” You cross your arms, staring at him with your eyebrows raised. Jack says nothing, starting to turn back into the hospital.
“Jack,” you grab onto his arm, keeping him from walking inside, “talk. It's just me.”
“Yeah that’s the problem," Jack snaps, "you’re the problem."
Your face falls at his words.
“Wh-what did I do?” You say suddenly seeming very small.
“No- you didn’t-” Jack lets out a frustrated breath, rubbing his hands down his face, “look- you’re young- god- you’re so young, and I know dating has changed since I was doing it twenty years ago but I don’t know how to do this with you- I don’t know how to see more than one person-”
“I’m not seeing more than one person-” you cut Jack off from his spiral.
“What?” He looks at you blankly.
“I’m not seeing more than one person,” you say again, sounding a little more bold, a little more like yourself, “I'm only seeing you. I only want to see you. You thought I was seeing other people? Are you?”
“No- I don’t- I don’t know-” Jack stammers.
“You don’t know if you’re seeing other people?” You raise an eyebrow.
“No- of course I’m not- I just didn’t know if-” Jack struggles to articulate himself.
“Why didn’t you just talk to me?” You say gently.
“You seriously need to ask me that?” Jack finally turns to look at you, “I’m a widower, I’m a vet, I’m an amputee. I’m a night shift ER doctor, you should know what that says about me, better than most people. I’m twenty years older than you… I’m punching above my weight here… I- I figured I’d take what I could get.”
You don’t say anything. You can’t think of anything to say. That’s how he thinks of himself? Damaged goods? He is the most confident, borderline arrogant, doctor you know and he ought to be, he really is that good. And he’s just as good of a person. Sure, he had some walls up but slowly he was letting you in, showing you his entire self, something you felt privileged to have access to...
“Come with me,” you take his arm pulling him back towards the hospital. He pauses slightly, not exactly sure what you’re about to do, “Jack, can you just- please?”
He follows you silently to the elevator which takes the pair of you to the third floor where the orthopedics department is located. The ride up is silent as you tap your foot, arms crossed tightly across your chest. The elevator dings and you step out with a determined stride, scanning the floor. You spot Park standing with two other ortho surgeons.
“Park!” you shout across the room, “we need to talk.”
Park smirks as you beeline towards him. The poor sucker, Jack thinks, slowly following you at a safe distance, stopping at the nurses station, resting his elbows on the counter, not even bothering trying to hide his interest in this interaction. The other two surgeons skulk away, god, Jack wishes he could see your face right now
“Stop smiling,” you say as you stand in front of him and his smile immediately drops, “you need to stop asking me out. First, I’m with someone, and I’m not sure he’d like it if he knew you were bothering me every time you’re in the ER. Second, even if I was single it would never happen with you and me. If we were the last two people alive it wouldn’t happen. And third, it’s fucking unprofessional. I’m a doctor, not your groupie. Am I making myself clear?”
He swallows hard, then nods.
“Say: yes doctor,” you say, looking him right in the eyes.
“Yes, doctor, it won’t happen again,” Park looks almost sheepish. Jack can’t think of a time he’s seen him look like this… ever. Despite his imposing frame, Park seems so small right now.
“Good,” you smile and turn on your heels walking back towards the elevator where Jack stands with his mouth agape. You take his hand pulling him towards the stairwell, the door dropping shut behind you.
“Can I get in trouble for that?” You turn to Jack with a slightly anxious expression.
“I was with you for the last hour and didn’t even see you go up to Ortho.” Jack smirks at you.
“Hm,” you smirk back, grabbing the back of his neck, placing a quick kiss on his lips. He keeps leaning towards you as you pull back.
“Jack,” you smile, pushing him away lightly, stepping down one stair so he towers over you.
“So who’s this mysterious person you’re ‘with’?” He gazes down at you with his hands in his pockets as you bite your lip.
“Mm,” you hum, toying with his ID that sits against his hip, “he’s just this older guy, really fuckin’ smart, measured, competent…” you pull his badge toward you examining the photo, “he’s sexy, even when he gets a little jealous,” you let go of his ID badge letting it snap against him sharply, he winces slightly at the stinging sensation but keeps gazing down at you with adoration. Your eyes flick up to his.
“And I really like him,” you finish, a small smile on the corner of your lips. Jack takes a step down so you’re eye to eye.
“Am I allowed to just say we’re dating? All these code words ‘seeing,’ ‘with,’ ‘exclusive…’ I just-” Jack cuts himself off with a shake of his head.
“Mm it depends,” you hum, a playful grin on your face, “are we dating?”
“Yes,” he squeezes your hip.
“Then you’re allowed to say it,” you say, looking up and then down the stairs, seeing that you’re still alone, placing another more lingering kiss on his mouth, your lips soft against his. You pull back and see the tips of his ears turn bright red, making you blush as well.
“But we’re not telling anyone down there,” you clarify.
“Oh fuck no, they’re all crazy,” Jack scrunches his eyebrows in agreement.
Begging for a semi continuation of the one where Jack fucks her to sleep but then keeps going after she’s out…. Pls indulge my somno fantasies, your writing hits different
OH yes... somewhat cont/remix of this gorgeous piece i req'd from @tnydolly mwah <3 think i got a little carried away and made it #freakier somehow... enjoy!!
jack groans as you roll against him. the heat of you surrounds him perfectly: he can feel the tension in your muscles, every single shift of your hips making his own control fray.
"that’s it, angel," he rasps, his fingers gripping your hips tight, guiding you into a slower, deeper rhythm. his forehead presses against yours, until your breath mingles with his. "fuck yourself on me, just like that, until you forget everything else."
he pulls back just enough to watch you, the way sweat glistens on your skin. "look at you," he murmurs. "taking it so good. you just needed a big dick inside you, huh?"
"i'm gonna pass out," you whisper in response, feeling your brain start to slow as your orgasm approaches. you're just trying to keep yourself conscious as you ride jack through your exhaustion, whimpering into the crook of his neck.
he exhales sharply, fingers tightening on your hips, both to steady you and keep you moving. "no, you're not," he says in that familiar commanding tone. "you're gonna come first. then you'll pass out."
his grip shifts, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head: supporting you as your movements grow clumsier, your breathing ragged. "you're gonna come so hard," he promises in a rough whisper against your lips. "gonna make that pretty little brain go blank."
"i am?" you sniffle, clinging onto him for dear life. the way your fingers twist into his scrubs, your whole body trembling with the weight of exhaustion and pleasure, drives jack crazy.
"yeah, princess," he murmurs against your mouth between soothing kisses. "you're gonna come so hard on daddy's cock that it'll knock you right out. come, then sleep. i'll keep you safe right here on my cock where you belong."
one hand cradles the back of your head while the other rubs fast circles on your clit, just the way you like. "almost there," he breathes against your ear, voice low and coaxing like a prayer. "let go for daddy. come on my cock, right fucking now."
his hips jerk up in short, shallow thrusts to meet each frantic grind of yours, the added friction of his fingers working relentlessly between your thighs and tipping the scales.
you moan into his neck as pleasure and relief course through you, not even noticing that you've drenched his lap and soaked through his scrubs. you at least have the decency to moan out a quick, laboured "daddy," against his ear before immediately passing out on his shoulder, as promised.
your body goes boneless against his, draped over him like a human blanket while your eyes fall shut. he adjusts instantly, one strong arm sliding under your knees to cradle you while the other supports your back.
"out like a light," jack whispers fondly. he holds you against him, fingers skimming over your skin. "good girl. daddy's got you." he presses a lingering kiss to the crown of your head as he shifts, carefully maneuvering both of you sideways on the couch so you're lying more comfortably.
"you're so pretty like this," he whispers as he pecks your temple. one of his hands strokes slow circles between your shoulder blades while the other combs through your sweat-soaked hair.
and jack loves you, and he respects you, but he's still a man, and he's still hard as fuck inside you. he exhales sharply as he starts to thrust again, slow and deep, savoring the way you take him. "so good for me," he mutters, watching your face for any signs of discomfort, or waking. "taking me so well, sweetheart."
the pace builds gradually, your sleepy murmurs spurring him on until he's lost in the rhythm of you, in the way your body responds to him even in this state. "...jack..." you breathe out in your sleep, rolling your hips back onto him.
his entire body tenses at the sound of his name escaping your lips. he presses his forehead to your shoulder, pulse hammering as he fights to keep his rhythm steady. "you're dreaming about me, aren't you?" he whispers into your collarbone.
"dreaming about me fucking you just like this, baby? dreaming about how good I make you feel?" he rolls his hips deeper, relishing the way you arch into him. "that’s right, angel," he murmurs, breath hot against your skin. "even in your sleep, you can’t help but want me."
he shifts slightly, angling himself to hit just right, and watches your face— your parted lips, the flutter of your lashes— with something close to reverence. "go on, baby. keep dreaming. daddy’s got you."
jack reading one of your smut books out loud to you while you’re both in bed … with a hand down your pajama shorts, of course. he pauses after a particularly lewd paragraph while you continue to mewl and writhe as his thick fingers rub your soft cunt just enough to keep you on the edge. he huffs, not bothering to look at you. his glasses are sat on the bridge of his nose, threatening to slip as he reads ahead a little and grumbles to you, “wow, babydoll— ‘m starting to think this book might be too naughty for my little girl.”
being lena’s babysitter and having to deal with baz wanting you terribly. like, it’s half of the reason why he hired you in the first place. you’re a college girl trying to scrape up some cash and help out a struggling dad, it would be a perfect deal if he wasn’t a skirt chaser— you’re always rejecting his advances and saying “oh, no thank you. i have a class in the morning, mr.blackwell” when he tries to get you to stay later after he gets home and lena has been tucked in.
except one night he doesn’t come home until way after your agreed time. he’s nowhere to be found, and your eyebrows furrow the later it gets. the clock strikes twelve and you can’t help but wonder if this bastard really fled on his kid or if you’re just being paranoid. but then he comes through the door with another man in tow, ranting and raving about god knows what and reeking of whiskey. you scrunch your nose up as you stand, looking between them until you’re stopped—
“you must be the babysitter lena’s always talking about… i’m andrew, her uncle.” the man drawls, eyeing you as baz storms into the kitchen.
all of your rage settles for a brief moment, and although his gaze is intense, you don’t shy away from it. not even when he steps the slightest bit closer and you can see the freckles on his face, you can smell the cologne lingering on his jacket— your lips part to speak but you’re stopped by the sound of baz’s voice, obviously catching on to the tension between you and his brother from the kitchen counter.
“she should be headin’ out around now,” he grits out as if you aren’t right there, “i don’t want to have to pay her for another hour.”
at that andrew’s gaze finally budges, shaking his head at baz and his not so subtle jealousy because why should he have to back off? it’s not like baz ever had a chance with you, anyway— doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re not impressed or charmed by him.
“get home safe,” andrew offers at the very least in a much lighter tone, turning back to watch you gather your things and walk out.
and of course you’re trying your hardest not to think about how your absolute favorite amongst all of the kids you babysit has a hot uncle on your way back to your apartment.
A/n:I don’t know if any of my lovely readers are fan of The Pitt and if anyone will read this ,but i have been obsessed with it lately,everyone there is soo fine and every character has their own complexity. Let me know if any of you love the show as well!!
➥ Robby Robinavitch
If he sees you standing little too close to a handsome paramedic at the nurse's station and laughing at something he said , Robby’s focus instantly disappears . He knows he has to keep it professional, so he won't make a scene, but his mood drops. He grabs a clipboard he doesn't really need and pretends to read charts just to have an excuse to stand near you and when he can't take it anymore, he steps up, sliding between you and the other guy with an apologetic smile “Hey, sorry to interrupt, but i really need your eyes on a file in exam room three."
Once he gets you alone in the empty room, he leans against the door, sighing, and asks if that guy is always “bothering” you like this, needing you to stroke his ego and reassure him that he’s the one you want.
➥ Dennis Whitaker
Seeing a new attending making you laugh out immediately triggers Dennis’s insecurity, he assumes he's losing you. He looks away, his shoulders slumping slightly, and suddenly become very busy with paperwork.For the rest of the shift, he gives you short answers, avoids eye contact, and declines your offer to grab lunch together, muttering something about having too much to catch up on.
You eventually have to be the one to corner him. When you finally pull him into a supply closet and demand to know why he's avoiding you and he answers with "I don't know, why don't you go ask mr. Perfect out there? You two looked like you were having a great time"That's when you grab his scrub top and pull him down reminding him that he is the one you love and he instantly folds burying his face in your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist, quietly apologizing and admitting he just felt like he couldn't compete for a minute.
➥ Frank Langdon
Frank has zero poker face. If someone is hitting on you while you're trying to work, he stops whatever he's doing in the hallway, crosses his arms, and glares at the back of the guy's head. He walks over to you, ignoring the guy flirting with you, and barks "We're needed in Trauma One right now, let's go." When the guy tries to finish his sentence, Frank just looks over at him and snaps "Did I stutter? She's busy."
He spends the entire lunch break grumbling about how the new staff has no professionalism. He only calms down when you reach to hold his hand.
➥ Jack Abbott
Jack is very confident so he doesn't really see other guys as a threat to your relationship, but he is still territorial and loves reminding the rest exactly who you belong to.And If he sees someone hitting on you while you're trying to review a chart, he confidently walks right up to you, ignoring the other guy's existence.He casually hands you a file, smoothly wraps an arm around your waist, and presses kiss to your temple. "Hey sweetheart ,we still on for dinner at my place after shift? Don't be late."He walks away with a satisfied smirk as the other guy awkwardly stammers out an apology and immediately backs off.
summary: You and Jack Abbot become romantically involved, and at first everything seems like a fairy tale. But then he disappears without any warning, ghosting you. As a result, you are forced to deal with his existence on duty, without having an answer.
characters: jack abbot x reader (robby, javadi, dana, perlah & princess, santos, langdon, whitaker, al-hashimi, dr. shen mentioned)
contents: angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of blood and medical procedures (not accurate 'm sorry!) low self-esteem, problems with anxiety and depression (briefly mentioned).
word count: 3.8k
And who's gonna hold you like me?
And who's gonna know you, if not me?
The chatter and chaos were in full swing when you stepped out of the elevator and walked over to the counter to review one of your patients' charts. Perlah and Princess were gossiping about something in Tagalog when the sound of doors slamming echoed through the emergency room.
It was just enough for you to look up and see the reason you've been sneaking through the hallways, running away like a criminal. Jack Abbot in his SWAT uniform entered the room as if he knew every inch of it like the back of his hand—and in fact, he did.
Your heart skipped a beat, your eyes widened slightly, until you lowered your head and muttered, “I'm gonna kill myself.”
The only problem was that it wasn't low enough. Dana, who was a few steps away, turned to you over her glasses with an almost incredulous expression. Robby was passing by at that very moment, pulling on a pair of gloves as he walked toward the stretcher that Abbot was pushing through the emergency room.
“Should I be worried, kid?” It was just a quick glance before he continued walking.
You felt ice flood your veins, your heart beating faster than normal.
Holy shit.
"Whitaker.“ he pointed at you. ”You. With me."
“But I—”
Robby didn’t look back. You swallowed whatever protest you had and followed, the obedient resident instinct kicking in as your feet carried you toward Trauma 1.
Hiro’s neck was already prepped, collar cut away. You slipped in on autopilot, hands steady, brain sharp, working the airway with Robby while Jack took the head of the bed. Suction, oxygen, clean lines of communication. Al-Hashimi appeared in the doorway and offered help. Jack waved her off without looking. “I’ve got it.”
Then Jack begins to saturate Hiro's trachea and Garcia calls out findings on a growing flank hematoma. You tracked everything, adrenaline humming just under your skin, acutely aware of Jack’s presence and refusing to let it show.
From across the stretcher, you caught Al-Hashimi watching Jack, like, really watching him. Then Jack glanced up, met her eyes, and smiled.
The moment landed wrong in your chest.
Once Hiro was wheeled to the OR, you stayed behind to help Robby wrap up and were surprised to hear Al-Hashimi talking to Jack. And the worst came later, when he suggested a “date” to exchange war stories.
No fucking way.
Robby turned from the monitor to look between them. You focused on your breathing, tried to ignore the irritation blooming sharp and fast, like an infection you hadn’t caught early enough.
“All set. I'm going back to my patient.”
Robby nodded and glanced at you.
“Hey kid, is there something I should know?”
What? Your stomach dropped.
“About...?”
“I don’t know,” he said mildly. “You tell me.”
You swallowed hard, afraid that your feelings were overflowing on the surface. Afraid that Robby knew about you and Jack, not that you were anything, but that something definitely happened between you.
As Jack approached, you quickened your pace, trying to avoid any kind of interaction with him.
“No. I have to go.”
And you left without saying another word.
Your patient complained loudly when you left the room—for the second time—to track down Robby. Second-degree burns, courtesy of a whole chicken and a bucket of oil. He insisted it was “basically a fryer.”
You found him putting alcohol gel on his hand after leaving Trauma 4.
“Robby, quick consult. Bay three. Hot oil burn. Tried to deep-fry a whole chicken in a bucket.”
He snorted. “God bless the 4th of July. Where?”
“Right forearm, some splash onto the chest. Second degree. Big blisters.” You hesitated. “I cleaned it, but it looks deeper than I expected.”
You stopped mid-hallway. Robby took the chart from your hands and skimmed it.
“Oil burns lie,” he said. “They stick, they retain heat. What’s your estimate?”
“Eight percent. Maybe nine.”
“Then it's not ‘just’ a nasty burn anymore.”
You exhale slowly, clenching your fingers.
“The blisters are intact. I didn't touch them.”
“Good call. If it's not broken, leave it alone. The skin is still trying to help.”
He continues leafing through the medical record.
“All the oil off?” he asked, glancing up briefly.
“Yes. IV fluids, careful cleaning.” The words come out with a breath of air, almost an ostentatious relief.
“Great. No fancy stuff.” Then he pauses. “Plan?”
“Non-adherent dressing, bacitracin, analgesia. Range of motion looks okay, but it crosses the elbow.”
Robby raises his eyebrow.
“That's the problem. If it affects the joint, the risk isn't just infection. You’re fighting stiffness.”
You bite your lip, a little frustrated. “Plastics?”
“I’d have them look, yes. Early consult isn’t failure, it’s judgment.” He handed the chart back. “Pain?”
“Significant. I started meds, but I may need to escalate.”
He nodded, already stepping away. “You’re doing fine, kid. Grab me if you need backup.”
Santos was already halfway out the door, his hand raised to call Robby, but you spoke again.
“Hiro?”
Robby didn’t slow. “He’ll be fine.”
Well, that's good. You almost asked more, almost asked the wrong name, but you swallowed it, nodded, and turned back toward your patient.
Because even if Jack had vanished without a word, even if it still sat heavy in your chest, you cared.
And that part, inconvenient as it was, hadn’t burned away yet.
A few more hours crawl by. You’re running on cold coffee and a protein bar that MaCkay tosses across the hub without breaking stride. You catch it on instinct, already moving the other way.
Then you see him on the other side of the emergency room leaning against the wall talking to a nurse, and you freeze.
Why is he still here?
The question lands heavy, unwelcome. You hate that your body reacts before your brain can catch up, heart stuttering, mood collapsing in on itself. You hate that it touches your concentration, that it steals your balance. You’re the one who smiles through twelve-hour shifts, who threads through chaos like it’s choreography. That’s who you are. Or were.
But Jack Abbot took that away from you the day he decided to be a huge asshole.
You hadn’t meant for it to happen. Not really. It started the way these things always do, glances held a second too long, flirtation tossed casually into the air like it didn’t matter. Jack is a straightforward man—he always has been. So when he wants something, he takes it for himself. And that's what he did with your heart, no mercy whatsoever.
A coffee between shifts that turned into half a sandwich in a 20-minute break—romantic, I know—which escalated to lunch at a restaurant, then dinner, until finally his bed.
It was perfect because you were opposites and attracted each other precisely because of that, your brightness against his gravity. He told you once, quietly, that when he looked at you after a bad day, the noise in his head settled. You knew his baggage. The war. The ex-wife. The things he didn’t talk about. You went in anyway, eyes open, because it felt like momentum more than choice.
Jack and you, it was inevitable.
You stole kisses in the break room, exchanged glances in a crowded room when no one was noticing, you had created a technicolor universe where only the two of you could see. Or so you thought.
Because two weeks ago, when you opened your heart and told him how you felt about him, Jack Abbot disappeared. No calls, no texts, no glances, nothing.
It was as if a fairy tale had turned into a nightmare. And you hated having to see him at shift change, or when he showed up unannounced, like today, like a damn hero, putting his own life at risk.
And it's not like you were married, or even dating, but you found yourself—again—inevitably in love with a man knee-deep in chaos.
Jack turned his face and then saw you. And you expected pure indifference, because he had probably grown tired, given up on what you were living and was moving on, just without telling you.
He held your gaze, the way he always does, his microexpressions saying a little more than he’d like to reveal. You take a deep breath and break eye contact just as Langdon touches your elbow.
“Hey! Want to jump in on this case?”
“What’ve you got?” you ask, already moving. You shove the protein bar into your pocket and snap on gloves as you follow him down the hall.
You push open the door to the room thinking you'll finally get five minutes of silence. Five. No more, no less.
Instead, you see skin.
Jack’s back is to you. Shirtless. Broad shoulders bent slightly forward as he reached, unsuccessfully, for his own shoulder. Gauze hangs half-applied, tape stuck crooked, a smear of dried blood near his collarbone. The cut isn’t dramatic, clean, shallow, already scabbing. Exactly the sort of injury he’d wave off. Exactly the sort of thing he’d never ask for help with.
You freeze.
The room tilts, pressure building in your chest like a door slammed shut from the inside.
“Sorry,” you say too fast. “I—I thought this room was empty.”
Your hand is already on the doorknob when you hear the sound of the stretcher creaking.
“Wait.”
His voice is low, hoarse. Familiar in a way that fills your chest with rage.
“I have to go,” you reply instantly, without turning around. You close your eyes and squeeze them tight. “I just need five minutes.”
“Me too.”
He gets up from the stretcher and is one step away from you. The barely started bandage hangs from his back, and you hate the fact that your eyes go straight to the wound before you remember everything else. Before you remember the two weeks. The silence, the emptiness.
“Not now.”
“I know I screwed up...”
“Jack, please.”
“And that I disappeared and...”
Your stomach twists hard. The urge to flee spikes sharp and sudden, like nausea.
“I can't do this right now.”
“Then just listen to me.”
You almost laugh. “Listen to you? You had all the time in the world to gather all your bullshit and talk to me.”
Your chest rises and falls frantically. Jack looks down at you, that taciturn gaze, which is another trait of his that makes your heart trip over itself.
“You wanted to disappear. This isn't a delayed conversation, it's a choice you made.”
He takes another step. You don't back away, but you don't move forward either. You're stuck in that tiny, uncomfortable space.
And you give it your all to maintain self-control, where your hands ache to finish the bandage, to smooth tape against warm skin, to count freckles you already know by heart.
“Just let me explain,” he says. “It’s not just that.”
“It's never ‘just that’ with you, Jack. That's the fucking problem.”
You feel the burning in your throat and that uncontrollable urge to cry, but there are at least five patients waiting for you and you can't let yourself get upset during a shift.
“I get it,” you continue, quieter now. “If you don’t want me. If you don’t want this. All I ever wanted was honesty.” A breath. “I guess that was too much to ask.”
“What? No—that’s not—”
“There's nothing to talk about,” you say, more quietly now. “You've said enough by staying away.”
Jack opens his mouth, closes it. For the first time since you walked in, he seems truly at a loss for words.
The door closes behind you with a click too soft for the weight left on the other side.
And the five-minute break never comes.
The door still vibrates slightly when Robby appears in the hallway. He almost bumps into you as you leave, your steps too fast, your eyes too glazed, your hands clenched as if holding something invisible.
He peeks as you turn the corner like a hurricane and then peeks into the room, Jack is still standing there. Shirtless. Gauze hangs uselessly from his shoulder, like he’s forgotten why he started bandaging himself at all.
Robby crosses his arms.
“Care to explain why my favorite resident just ran down the hall like she saw a ghost?”
Jack doesn't answer right away. He runs his hand over his face, dragging his fingers across his jaw, as if trying to reorganize his thoughts.
“She... came in here.”
Robby deadpans. “Astute.”
Jack lets out a short, humorless breath. “Remember the person I told you I was seeing?”
“Yeah,” Robby says. “You haven’t shut up about her for two weeks and—”
It hits him.
Robby's eyes widen and he takes a deep breath, finally connecting the dots. He exhales slowly, looking from the hallway to Jack, then back again.
“Oh,” he says. “Oh, shit.”
“It wasn't supposed to happen like this.” Abbot confesses, putting on his black shirt.
“You have...” Robby looks at his watch and then at Abbot. “Two minutes and fifteen seconds to tell me why I'm having to explain to the rest of the team why two of the most competent people in this hospital can't stay in the same room.”
Jack doesn’t answer. Which, somehow, is answer enough.
The clock strikes 6:42 p.m.
You’ve made it. Another shift survived. Another day where you held yourself together through sheer will, teeth clenched, tears packed away like contraband. You feel wrung out, empty in the way that only comes after sustained effort. Like you’ve been bracing for impact for twelve hours straight.
You avoid Robby for the rest of the shift with surgical precision. You reroute. You duck into rooms. You answer questions with clipped efficiency and give him nothing to latch onto. The fewer conversations, the fewer cracks.
With your backpack on, you sneak past Santos, who is showing Javadi something on her phone. You are finally ready to go when Dr. Shen appears.
“Has anyone seen Dr. Abbot around?”
Javadi and Santos look at Dr. Shen, while you pretend not to have heard the question.
“Last time I saw him,” Javadi says, “he was taking the elevator.”
Oh, damn.
Dr. Shen thanks you and heads off. As you walk toward the exit with Santos and Javadi, your steps slow, the weight in your chest pulling you back like gravity has shifted.
“Aren't you coming?” Javadi asks.
“I—uh.” You swallow. “I forgot my charger in the break room. You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up.”
Santos shrugs easily. “Cool. I’m starving. I’d sell my soul for a burger right now.”
Instead of going straight to the break room—another lie you had told—you took the elevator to the PTMC terrace.
As you pushed open the heavy door, the pleasant breeze hit you full force. Sirens wail below, traffic hums and collides and stretches endlessly into the city, the soundscape overwhelming, catastrophic, alive.
And there he is.
You took a deep breath and walked slowly until you were close enough.
Only you and Robby knew about this “hiding place.” How Jack hid from all the chaos, even from his own mind, by coming up here.
Jack stands at the railing, back to you, staring out at the horizon like the city owes him answers. The wind tangles his short, graying hair, pulls at the hem of his black shirt, presses fabric to muscle in a way that feels deeply unfair. The outline of him is unmistakable, so solid and familiar.
You draw in a slow breath and force your feet to move, each step deliberate, cautious, like approaching a live wire. The wind carries the scent of concrete and exhaust and something faintly metallic. The city pulses beneath you, indifferent.
Jack doesn’t turn.
For a moment, you wonder if he knows you’re there anyway. If he’s always known.
Jack glances over his shoulder, registers you there, then turns back to the horizon like it’s safer than looking at you for too long.
“They're looking for you down there,” your voice cut through the wind.
Jack nodded slightly. “I'll be back in a minute.”
“Should I be worried?”
“I'm fine.”
You nod, because that’s what you do when you don’t believe someone but don’t have the strength to argue. Your fingers curl tighter around your bag strap. When you turn to leave, you take two steps.
Again, he turned and closed his eyes, admiring the beauty of the silence between him and the abyss. When he opened his eyes again, you were there, beside him.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking.”
“Be careful.”
You gave him a ‘seriously?’ look. Because you knew how to take care of yourself and he knew it, but looking out for you was a reflex he couldn't help.
The city roars below you, filling the void as you hold on to the only thing that could keep you from falling.
“I’m furious with you,” you say, the words scraping their way out. “I’m so furious, Jack.”
“I know, sweetheart.” Jack lowers his head and then takes a deep breath. “And I hate myself for it.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah.”
You hesitate, then push forward anyway. “You could’ve talked to me, you know?” you say. “I would’ve understood. You know I’d have.” You turn toward him, hair whipping across your face, the vertigo of the height buzzing in your bones. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”
“Careful—”
Jack takes a deep breath and grabs your arm, and that alone is enough to make your heart race. Quickly, he grabs your waist and helps you jump over the steel bar to the inside of the terrace.
“Jesus,” he mutters. “You almost killed me.”
“Jack.”
He drags a hand down his face, frustration etched into every line of him. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Do what, Jack?” you almost scream, desperate for an answer, but your voice is swallowed by the wind, by the noise of everything.
He doesn’t answer right away, his jaw tightens.
“Love you,” he concludes. “I don’t deserve it. I don’t know if I’m even capable of giving you what you deserve.”
You stand there, listening to the man you love explain—quietly, honestly—why he’s afraid he will never be enough.
You stand there, stunned, tears drying around your eyes, hair whipping your face.
“I should’ve said something sooner, because this—this is all I want.” He exhales, a short, humorless laugh slipping out. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I mean… look at you.”
There’s no charm in it. Just pure disbelief.
“From the first time I saw you, you tormented my every thought and made me believe that I still deserved it, that I was still worthy of it, of this feeling, of love.”
There were unshed tears in his eyes, just as there was a rock-hard honesty on his face.
“Bottom line, kid,” he says, voice cracking, “I don’t deserve you. My head’s too fucked up to be in a relationship. To let myself fall into something where I know I’ll drag you somewhere dark, somewhere even I can’t get out of. Fuck, that's—that's fucking unfair to you because I—”
His breathing is shallow, fragile, and choppy.
“I love you,” he says finally. “I loved you long before you ever said it out loud.”
He shrugs like the admission costs him something vital and stuffs his hands into his pockets, as if he might come apart if he doesn’t anchor himself.
You blink a few times, feeling the sting of tears splashing your vision.
“So when you say I didn’t want you—when you think that—” His voice breaks. “My God, you’re the thing I want most in this world.”
You step closer. The distance between you collapses like it was never real to begin with, and then look deep into his eyes.
“I’m right here,” you whisper, eyes locked on his. “I’ve been here the whole time.”
“I know, sweetheart.” His mouth tilts sadly. “I’m just an old man with too many ghosts for you.”
“Don’t say that.” You scold him while a tear slips free, hot against your cheek. “Don’t ever say that again.”
“It's just—”
“Jack,” you interrupt softly. “I love you. When I said I loved you that day, it's because I feel it here,“ you place your hand over your chest, where your heart is pounding like a drum. ”It's because my heart overflows with happiness when I'm with you, because you complete me in every possible way. And I’ve never felt anything this real before. So when I say it, I mean it.”
Jack hesitates, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.
You move closer, touching his face with your fingertips, as if he might disappear at your touch.
“I want all of you,” you say through your tears. “The good and the heavy and the parts you think make you unlovable. We’ll carry it together. I want to make it lighter for you, if I can.”
He exhales, shaky. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
“Of all people, Jack Abbot,” you say quietly. “You have my heart.”
“And you have mine,” he adds without hesitation.
“Then let’s do this together,” you whisper. “Please.”
That crooked half-smile appears, the one that undoes you completely. He pulls you in by the waist, and the relief of being held hits you so hard you laugh softly, breathless, because this is where you belong. You sway slightly, forehead to forehead, both of you trying to memorize the feeling of still being here.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
He kisses the top of your head, and you rest against his chest, his warmth surrounding you like shelter. Your hand slips up his back, carefully, until it brushes the edge of the bandage. He shudders.
“That’s for flirting with Al-Hashimi,” you murmur.
You feel his chest vibrate as he laughs. “I'm sorry I hurt you, sweetheart.”
You lift your head, cradle his face. “You're forgiven. Now, I need you to do something...”
You’re too close now. The wind whistles around you. His hands tighten at your waist. His nose brushes yours, breath mingling, familiar and grounding.
“You don't have to ask twice.”
When he kisses you, devouring your lips with a hunger full of longing, you melt into his arms. You are as one, tangled up in wind, salt tears, and love. Jack makes a point of showing you how desperate he was without you: hands everywhere, lips eager and full of lust as he guides your head back each time he moves forward.
When you finally pull back, you wrap your arms around his neck and smile into his shoulder.
“Shen’s going to kill you when he finds you.”
“Worth it.”
You brush your thumb along his cheekbone, your eyes shining. There are still tears there, but they’re different now, it’s a love that overflows there, a strong and vibrant love that you want to give him without asking for anything in return.
“I love you,” you whisper.
He holds you tighter, kisses your head.
“I love you more, sweetheart.”
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