this is the first fic i've written about anyone other than [redacted] in ages and i'm stressed. anyway. you've been away from the pitt for eight months, doing humanitarian work in gaza, and you find yourself back home and immediately back to work during the pittfest crisis - right alongside the man you've been in pittsburgh's most diabolical will-they-won't-they situation with for years. includes fluff, smut (unprotected sex), angst, everyone fancying samira mohan (based), flirting at the most inopportune moments ever, probably ooc jack but i quite like him like this lol. enjoy! <3
you've been in gloria's office for ten minutes - and, thus, in the pittsburgh trauma medical center on the whole for about twelve and a half - when the call comes in.
it only takes you ten seconds to realise something's very, very wrong.
in gloria's defence, she does a good job of trying to maintain composure; steady voice, neutral expression, controlled breathing, all the usual tricks of the trade. to any regular person (ie., someone who hasn't known her for five years, give or take), she'd seem totally unfazed by whatever information she was getting from the other end of the phone line. but you don't miss the way her slight irritation at being interrupted rapidly morphs into composed concern, or the way her breath hitches as she listens for the first time, the way her eyes widen in accompaniment, the way her voice shakes as she ends the conversation with “i'll let the ER department know. thank you”.
manners. things really must be dire.
you tilt your head, inquisitive as ever. “how bad?”
gloria exhales. “active shooter at pittfest.”
christ. “casualties coming here?”
she nods. “we're closest.”
“jesus,” you sigh, dragging your hands down your face. “how many?”
“nothing confirmed, but it doesn't look good.”
“fuck.”
“my thoughts exactly,” gloria stands, and you rush to do the same. she smiles softly, albeit briefly. “i'm sorry to cut this meeting short, but it's imperative i speak with doctor robinavitch as soon as possible.”
the palms of your hands are clammy against the strap of your duffel bag - not out of nerves, at all, but of sudden concern for your former boss, and what extra pressure might do to him today of all days. still, you manage to hoist the bag onto your shoulder, keeping pace with gloria as she heads for the elevators. “he's here?”
in a tone that you know means not to ask for any elaboration, she responds, pressing the button for the required floor with equal sharpness. “he's here.”
“oh, okay,” the ride down is quiet, save the tinny muzak playing faintly and gloria's deep breathing, and annoyingly long - long enough, as it turns out, for you to break the unbearable quiet before you're even aware of what you're saying. “can i, um, come with you to the ER?”
she turns, raising a brow. “to do what, exactly?”
“well,” you scratch the back of your neck, still sunburnt and tender. “i wanna help. triage, stabilising, taking patients up to surgery,” you shrug. “whatever they need.”
“and you're fit to do so?”
“yes.”
“you're sure about that?”
“yes, gloria,” you huff. “you know damn well i haven't just been sitting on my ass for eight months.”
“which is exactly why i'm apprehensive, doctor,” gloria turns to look at you directly, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel a sense of déja vu about being reprimanded by a parent. “three days ago, you were still treating casualties in gaza. you flew out of jordan yesterday. hell, you've only been in pittsburgh for an hour, and you want to medically assist with a mass casualty incident?”
you swear you can't help the smirk that appears on your lips. “it's not like i don't have recent experience in that area.”
“doctor-”
“really, gloria, i can help. i want to help. you need help. please?”
she frowns. “have you even slept?”
“a solid nine hours between amman and somewhere over the atlantic.”
a beat passes. you can practically read the risk assessments gloria's doing in her head. and then, suddenly: “if robby approves… fine. but as soon as the situation is under control, you leave with the day shift tonight. you hear me?”
not a chance. “yes, boss. thank you.”
“good.”
as if on cue, the elevator dings open. gloria gently taps your arm, the most prudent display of tenderness you think you've ever witnessed from her. “let's go.”
nodding wordlessly, you follow her, weaving through the throng of gurneys and wheelchairs that have already begun to congregate around the elevator. aside from that, the pitt looks and sounds exactly the same as it did before you left - you catch a brief glimpse of mckay's ponytail swishing behind her as she heads towards the board, and a louder-than-strictly-necessary conversation in tagalog over the beeping of heart rate monitors. at the nurses’ station, you can see the backs of robby and dana's heads, facing a group of unfamiliar, wide-eyed faces that you assume belong to the newest batch of med students; gloria hurries towards them without a parting word, and you take the quiet moment to scope out the rest of the main area.
there's no sign of jack anywhere.
you aren't sure whether to feel relieved or downhearted about that.
suddenly, dana materialises in front of you, yanking you into a cigarette-scented hug and quite possibly breaking at least two of your ribs in the process. “well, color me surprised! picked a hell of a day to come back here, kid.”
“so it seems,” you return the hug, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. she's always been good at that, dana, managing to shut down all your neuroses and getting you to relax, and you didn't quite realise just how much you'd missed her. “how are you? how's the family?”
“ehh, they're fine,” she pulls away, and your jaw drops when you see the shiner she's sporting for the first time. “me, on the other hand…”
“fuck, dana, what happened?”
“we'll call it patient dissatisfaction,” dana slings an arm around your shoulders, walking you toward the staff lockers. “which is administrator talk for some asshole guy caught me on a smoke break and clocked me one.”
“i'll kill him.”
“i don't doubt it,” she snorts, pinching the bridge of her nose. “but stop making me laugh, it fuckin’ hurts. here, gimme that,” she yanks the bag from your hands, trying locker doors until she finds one that's open. “so, when did you get back?”
“left the airport like… ninety minutes ago?”
“jeez. and you've already been home with the rest of your stuff?”
“nah, this is it. gave up my apartment before i left, remember? all my stuff's- oh, thanks,” you take the fresh scrubs from her, toeing off your shoes and stepping out of your jeans. “yeah, so, everything else is in storage.”
“where you plannin’ on sleepin’ tonight, then?”
“didn't really think that far ahead,” you shrug. “a hotel, i guess.”
dana smirks. “you know damn well someone's not gonna let you do that.”
you scoff, pulling the scrub shirt over your head. “someone doesn't even know i'm in the continental U.S., so…”
“you didn't call?”
“uh-uh,” you shake your head, busying yourself with grabbing your phone and hospital ID and stethoscope from your duffel. “it's not that i wasn't gonna,” sighing, you ram your bag into the locker, resting your head against the cool wooden door before turning to face dana again. “it just all happened so fast after i agreed to come home, y'know? like, one second, i hear myself saying yes, i'll fly to new york, no, i won't be flying back here, and the next i'm on a plane to jfk. i haven't even had time to breathe, let alone call anyone.”
“well, now's the time to start inhaling and exhaling again,” dana smiles, tugging you into another (mercifully more gentle) hug. “‘cause, quite frankly, we don't have the time or resources to resuscitate you and deal with everything headed our way,” as she pulls away, her face drops into a more serious expression; still pleasant, but tinged with the gravitas you're sure everyone in the ER is hyper-aware of. “m'glad you're here, though, kid. ready to get back out there?”
you tighten your ponytail. “i'm ready.”
you're not quite sure if you believe yourself. still, you clip your badge on and - not for the first time in your life - follow dana into the chaos. nobody's outwardly panicking, at least that you can see, but there's definitely an increased sense of urgency, and an overwhelming sombreness in the air that, thankfully, you haven't felt in the pitt very often. princess, talking in hushed tones on one of the landlines, waves at you as you walk by; mckay, on her cell phone, does the same.
before you reach robby, though, a pair of slender arms wrap around you, enveloping you in lavender perfume and obvious love. you beam, turning in samira's grasp to hug her properly, heart aching and eyes welling up purely from how much you've missed her. “hi, mimi.”
“hi, angel,” samira moves, resting her forehead on yours. her eyes, too, are teary, and if you loved her any less you'd be extremely irritated by how much it emphasises her beauty. “i'm so happy to see you.”
“likewise,” you reluctantly pull back, holding her hands while you get a proper look at her. “you look good, mimi. really good.”
she smiles, squeezing your hands affectionately. “and you look beautiful.”
“you're talking shit, mohan, i've been on an airplane for a day and a half.”
“i'm serious! you look, i don't know,” she shrugs, head tilted to the side as she ponders the right word. “confident. not that you weren't before, it's just… different. like you're more sure of yourself, secure,” she steps closer to you, and you're only mildly embarrassed by the way your heartbeat quickens as she bites her lip. “it's sexy.”
“yeah?”
“yeah. very.”
“well, you'd know,” a gurney almost bashes into your leg, and you're suddenly reminded of the situation you and samira and the rest of your colleagues are about to find yourselves in. you squeeze her hands. “as much as i'm loving flirting with you like this, mimi, i should probably go and tell at least one of the attendings i'm here before the shit hits the fan.”
samira grins, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “good to have you back, angel. see ya!”
she speeds off towards the ambulance bay, pulling her phone from her pocket as she goes. biting back your grin as best you can, you turn in the opposite direction, sidestepping frantic med students and hi-fiving your favourite nurses as you make your way towards robby, who's currently fielding questions from no less than seven people at once. dana, probably fielding even more questions with the landline phone wedged between her ear and shoulder, throws a thumbs up and raised brow in your direction; you nod, copying the motion back to her, and it isn't a lie. you are okay - or, at least, settling back into the swing of things.
and then he walks in.
somewhere in the recesses of your mind and your peripheral vision, you register perlah's shocked gasp when she notices you. or, more specifically, when she notices you staring at jack, who - thankfully, mercifully, miraculously - hasn't looked your way, too hyper-focused on getting to robby and formulating a plan of action to get caught up in the chaos and notice you hyper-focusing on him. you've no idea what sort of gormless expression your face has ended up wearing, but judging from the way perlah hisses princess' name and beckons her over to watch you too, it can't be good, and you're only a little bit disappointed in yourself for feeling grateful that everyone's too busy to start a(nother) betting pool about you and jack and whatever the fuck's going on between the two of you.
you doubt even you'll ever find out. and now really isn't the most opportune time to dwell on it.
it is, however, time you got a fucking grip and spoke to the man professionally. tightening your ponytail again, as if the pressure on your head could sharpen your brain, you make a beeline for your bosses, currently locked in one of those weird bro-hugs that men their age seem to resort to like it's second nature. it's a true sign of how focused (read: stressed) they both are that neither of them seem to notice you striding towards them until you're almost there, even when they break apart and begin walking in your direction - only when robby shifts the angle of his gaze in search for disaster bins does he see you, face twisting into utter bewilderment. “now, when i asked gloria to call in reinforcements,” he deadpans. “i didn't necessarily mean the international contingent. that said, i'm very happy to see you,” hoodie-clad arms open, and you step into them for a quick, brotherly hug. when it's done, his eyes flick to look at jack, before zoning back in on you. “did we know you were gonna be back today, or…?”
you interject before jack - who, you can see from the corner of your eye, is now staring at you so hard you wouldn't be surprised if he bored a hole in your skull - can. “no, nobody knew,” gently patting robby's arm, you turn to look at jack properly for the first time. his eyes soften almost imperceptibly, and you're sure yours do the same. you've never been able to hide your feelings for and from him, after all. “i didn't even know until three days ago - they said they needed a doctor on a flight to new york yesterday, and i agreed.”
jack nods, eyes still locked on yours. fuck, he's hot. “transplant patient?”
a nod in return. “two. aged six and ten.”
“christ. did they make it over?”
“safely in the OR as we speak.”
“attagirl. welcome back, by the way,” he steps forward, all calloused hands and big arms pulling you into a shockingly tender hug. on nothing more than sheer instinct (and a hint of hopeless, hopeless desire), you turn your head closer into the crook of his neck, taking a deep inhale of the fresh laundry and sandalwood scent that's just so sorely him it threatens to make your knees give out. he worsens it, of course he does, by pressing his lips to your hair, the soft kiss punctuated by an even more detrimental set of soft words. “fuck, i've missed you, baby.”
behind you, robby coughs pointedly. your cheeks burn, but jack is unfazed, releasing you from the hug but keeping an arm around your shoulders. he nods at his colleague. “d'you wanna liaise with dana and the other attendings while the two of us start prepping emergency supplies?”
“sure,” robby looks at you. “are you sure you're feeling up to all this?”
wrapping an arm around jack's waist, simply because you can, you nod. “wouldn't be here if i wasn't, robby.”
the relief is evident on his face. “good. alright,” he claps once, pointing to jack. “briefing in ten?”
an affirmative nod, and off robby goes. jack's arm slips from your shoulders, and you're just about to pout when he takes your hand, gently leading you towards behavioural health and the emergency supplies within; the sense of sadness you feel when he drops your hand is quickly overtaken by infatuation, watching his biceps flex as he cuts the box open and begins to unpack supplies. you follow suit, sorting hemostatic bandages into bundles, and the room falls into a comfortable silence - well, as comfortable as you can be when you're brushing arms with jack abbot in a room only occupied by the two of you, that is.
he's the first to talk. “you look good, y'know,” he clears his throat, and something in your heart twinges at the fact you managed to make doctor jack abbot even slightly nervous. “really good.”
“i do?”
“yeah. like, healthy, but also, y'know. hot.”
“hot?”
“hot, sexy, gorgeous, pick a card, any card.”
you scoff. “samira called me sexy earlier, too.”
“well, she'd know.”
“that's exactly what i said. but what is with you people today?”
jack shrugs. “guess she and i just have good taste.”
“well, i came straight here after flying for eighteen hours, so i doubt it.”
“so?”
“fuck d'you mean so?”
“so what? you were on an airplane for a while. that doesn't cancel out how hot you are, you know,” jack moves to face you, hands on his hips. “you look badass, baby.”
“hmm,” you busy yourself testing the lights on the laryngoscopes, smiling to yourself when a memory pops into your head. “you should've seen me in combat training.”
his breath hitches. when he speaks again, his voice is soft, completely devoid of any flirtation. “they taught you how to shoot? you?”
“they tried. i sucked.”
jack snorts. “did they make you wear military uniform?”
“no, just my own shit,” you shake your head. “cargo pants and a tank top, to be precise.”
“what color of tank top?”
“does it matter?”
“yes, it matters” he shoots back. “i wanna make sure my imagination's accurate.”
you roll your eyes. “black. lace trim at the top, too. happy now?”
his eyes flutter closed. you genuinely don't know if he's kidding or the thought of you holding a gun in that outfit is really working for him. hopefully, the latter. “jesus, please tell me there are pictures.”
“none that i'm prepared to show you at work.”
“ooh, even better.”
your cheeks are aflame. “you're such a guy, abbot, you know that?”
“oh, i know,” his voice is bordering on gleeful; suddenly, it's right in your ear, low and gruff and doing things to your underwear that you really, really don't need right now. “but cut me some slack, baby - s'not every day the hottest woman you know tells you there's photographic evidence of her wearing lingerie while she learns how to shoot.”
“i wasn't wearing lingerie!” you hiss, doing your utmost to appear scandalised, instead of the sickening joy you feel at the prospect of jack abbot thinking about you in your underwear. as for the comment that you're the hottest woman he knows, which you think is slightly ridiculous because, hello, samira mohan exists… yeah, that's definitely not something to be pondering in the middle of a work emergency like this.
great. now he's hugging you again.
“alright, alright, i apologise for teasing,” he murmurs, dropping another soft kiss to the side of your head and leaving you reeling. before you can forgive him, he's spinning you around to look at you properly, beautiful eyes searching for something you can't quite name deep within your own. “it isn't an easy thing, what you chose to spend the last eight months doing, and i wanna tell you how proud i am of you for doing it,” a big hand softly caresses the side of your face. “d'you wanna tell me about it now, or are you good?”
you shake your head, aware of the real meaning behind his words. “i'm good right now, i think. but thank you, jack.”
“okay. good,” a gentle swipe of his thumb over your cheekbone. “you promise you'll come to me first if that changes?”
“i promise.”
“good girl.”
fuck.
before you've managed to pick your jaw up from the floor, jack's hand is back in yours, leading you towards the crowd of people gathered around robby. with a final squeeze, he lets go, shifting into chief attending mode as he moves to stand beside his old friend. once you've gowned up, you hover around the fringes of the group, waving a quick hello at john shen, and tuning into robby's speech when he mentions your name and the fact you've “returned today from humanitarian work in gaza, treating casualties in an area under constant attack. she's already one of the best residents we've ever had, but her more recent experience makes her particularly invaluable to us today.”
as you blush, jack nods, tossing you a hi-vis and turning back to address the crowd. “as such, she'll be co-primary ER with me. every other department has a single primary who will oversee their staff. if you need someone, look for the vest - we're all gonna have walkies, we can get you whatever you need,” he sidles closer to you, leaning down to address you and you alone while robby continues preparing everyone else. “sorry for springing that responsibility on you. but i wouldn't have done it if i didn't think you were the most capable person in the room.”
you nod, too overwhelmed by his gesture and his belief in you and just him to say anything. jack copies the movement, turning and easing himself back into the briefing; you do the same, listening to robby explain the colored slap-band system, and winking at samira when she's told she'll be working with you and jack. he speaks next, outlining the time restraints for stabilising patients that you now know firsthand he learned from working in an active warzone, nudging you once he's done talking the staff through the ins and outs of combat medicine. “anything you wanna add, doc?”
folding your arms, you turn towards the med students and interns, all of them visibly fighting to keep the fear from their eyes with varying levels of success. “what we're asking you to do is a total contradiction: use your instincts when you diagnose, abandon them when you treat. we're all driven by a desire to help people as much as we can, to do everything in our power to save their lives, and that desire is heightened when we see people as in need of help as those we're about to treat,” taking a deep breath, you continue. “and it won't be easy, at first, but you have to fight that desire. today, saving means stabilising, and our friends in other departments will do the rest. do only what you absolutely have to, as fast as you can, and leave it at that. it's the only way we'll be able to help as many people as possible,” you look at jack, an unreadable expression in those beautiful eyes of his. “so… yeah.”
“nicely put,” he murmurs, turning away from you and increasing the volume of his voice. “everything you need - blood, drugs, bandages - everything will be in behavioural health, that's our supply depot.”
“oh,” you interject, another piece of advice springing to mind. “i'd also recommend keeping a couple of 11-blades on you at all times. basically, we really want to be focused on resuscitation, so we can get people upstairs and treated as quickly as possible. sorry,” you tap jack's forearm lightly. “i didn't mean to interrupt.”
“not at all,” he nudges you lightly, a faint smile on his face. “you took the words right out of my mouth, actually.”
robby gestures to the two of you. “see? trust your attendings, people. alright, trauma surgery and neurosurgery will assess…”
the rest of the shift passes in a blur of blood, sweat, and gurneys, a seemingly infinite loop of casualty after casualty appearing in front of you in dire need. it would unsettle you if you were any less focused, you think, the fact that the pitt - your home, for all intents and purposes - looks and feels more like the warzone you just left than the hospital you're used to. but there's no time to think about that, not when you have patients to work on and questions to answer and jack looking at you intensely whenever he gets a free millisecond.
mid-crike on a young man with a GSW to the chest, the latter becomes unbearable. you glance up to meet his gaze. “you good?”
“hmmm? oh, yeah,” he clears his throat, eyes flitting to the procedure you're performing for a split-second, before they return to you. “peachy.”
you hum. “so why do you keep staring at me?”
he's quiet for a second. then comes the sigh. “how long would it have taken you to call me and tell me you were home, if this,” he gestures wildly. “hadn't happened?”
at the head of the gurney, princess' eyes widen. yours do the opposite as you glare at jack. “are you seriously asking me this right now?”
“please,” he scoffs. “either one of us could do a crike with our eyes closed…”
“that's beside the point.”
“...and, frankly, it's been bugging me since i laid eyes on you today,” he finishes. “so, put me out of my misery - when?”
you blow a stray hair out of your face, downing tools and scanning over the patient a final time. “princess, take him to the OR, please,” once the gurney's out of the way, you step closer to jack. “tonight. wanted to clear it with gloria before i talked to you.”
his brow furrows. “what? why?”
god, he's so stupid. “so i knew i'd only need your approval when i asked you if i could work nights, dipshit.”
jack's mouth falls open, and almost immediately shifts into one of those smirks you pretend not to find attractive. “i knew you liked it best when i was telling you what to do.”
“fuck off,” you scoff, doing your best to ignore the daydreams springing up in your mind about him telling you what to do in a more, well, intimate context. “i could still change my mind, work daytimes again.”
“don't even think about it,” he puts a hand on the small of your back, tugging you out of the way of another gurney and closer to him, far closer than probably appropriate for work. but why would you complain, when you're so close to him that you can perfectly see the border between brown and green in his eyes, focused on your own like they always are when you're around him? “you're my girl.”
adoration. that's what he's looking at you with. that's what he's always looked at you with.
and, yeah, he's right. you're his. completely, utterly, totally his. blinking up at him, you nod slowly. “yours.”
he huffs out a laugh - nothing malicious, more… bewildered. overwhelmed, maybe. “you know i'm not just talking about work, right?”
“i'm not stupid, jack.”
“no, you're not,” he agrees. “i might be, though, instigating this conversation in the middle of a fucking crisis,” someone calls your name, frantic, and jack all but shoves you towards the sound. “go, baby, do your thing. i'll find you later.”
***
“i cannot believe you let an intern do a REBOA.”
you smile around your cigarette, turning to face jack. robby, looking like the dictionary definition of the word drained, also turns to him, brows raised. “i'm sorry, one of the interns performed a REBOA?’
“exactly,” jack nods towards you. “we give her attending powers for two minutes, and she lets them run wild.”
humming to yourself, you ash your cigarette. “it worked, didn't it?”
“that's beside the point.”
“oh, please, you're just mad because i got to see it and you didn't.”
robby chuckles quietly - you think that's probably the limit of his expression of amusement, given what he just went through. jack's scowl deepens; suddenly, it disappears, handsome face adorned with a slight smile instead. “that's true, actually,” so quick you can't stop him, he plucks the cigarette from your fingers, taking a long drag of it himself with a hum of satisfaction, and you actively have to fight the urge to moan at the sight. “why didn't you just do it yourself, though?”
“interns gotta learn, don't they?” you wave jack away when he tries to pass the cigarette back, smiling politely when robby gratefully accepts it instead. “they're a good group of kids, y'know. i'm looking forward to working with them.”
robby smiles. “as long as you keep the tutorials for the crazy last-resort emergency surgeries to a minimum.”
“no promises, dude, the night shift's like the wild west.”
“and you're sure we can't tempt you into working days?”
jack elbows him in the arm. “quit trying to poach my senior residents, will you?” he wraps a big arm around your waist, pinky finger brushing your hipbone so lightly you aren't sure if he's aware he's doing it. “she's exactly where she wants to be.”
as usual, he's exactly right. well, almost - “i do also really want to be in the park with a beer right now.”
a soft squeeze of your waist. “then let's go.”
understandably, post-work drinks are quieter than they've been in the past, both in number of attendees and atmosphere-wise. but it's nice, you think, chatting quietly to samira and victoria, savouring the coolness of your drink, snuggling into jack's side without giving a shit about your coworkers seeing. between the latter and the way jack takes your hand in his to walk you home, you know your names will appear somewhere on ahmad's betting board tomorrow, but you really, truly couldn't care less.
still, you wait until you're well out of earshot before you talk. “you do know i gave up my apartment, right?”
“i do.”
“okay,” you bite the inside of your cheek, hoping your sudden nervousness doesn't manifest itself in the form of sweaty palms, because you'd hate to have to let go of jack's hand. “are we going back to your place?”
he stops. turns. gently strokes your face. “that was my plan, yeah. unless you'd rather, uh, something else.”
“no!” the word almost trips over itself in its haste to leave your lips. “sorry, i mean… no, i wanna go home with you. if that's alright.”
“of course it's alright,” his voice is as soft as you've ever heard it. “whatever you want, baby.”
just as softly as him, you reply. you're barely loud enough to hear yourself over your heartbeat (slightly tachy, but strong) pulsing in your ears, but that's okay - you've been thinking these next three words since the first day you met jack abbot. “i want you,” you exhale, slow and shaky, as his hands move to cup your jaw. “and i wanna be yours. officially, i mean,” you smile sheepishly. “you had me within ten minutes of us meeting, you know.”
“that makes two of us,” jack rests his forehead on yours, looking down at you so tenderly you could cry. “you know, i don't even think it took ten minutes for me to start thinking about kissing you. five, maybe. seven and a half at most,” he murmurs. “and i haven't stopped thinking about it ever since.”
you grin. “wanna stop thinking about it and actually do it?”
it doesn't even take him a second to get his lips on yours.
the kiss is jack in reverse - sweet, at first, soft hums and gentle hands trailing down to your waist, turning into something harder, more forceful and passionate, as you kiss him back. when you moan into his mouth, it shifts - he shifts - into something unfamiliar, something desperate, his tongue licking into your mouth and his hands grabbing your ass so roughly you think (and, honestly, you hope) you might bruise. in all the years you've known him, not once have you ever witnessed jack abbot lose even a semblance of his military-honed self-control, and now, here he is, groaning like a slut against your lips and practically grinding on you on a public sidewalk after one singular kiss.
you fucking love it.
so much, in fact, that you whine when he pulls away, slightly dazed and breathing heavily and maybe the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. jack smirks at the sound, ducking in to give you another quick kiss before grabbing your hand. “c'mon. can't have you making noises like that in public, or i'll end up getting us arrested for indecent exposure.”
you smirk right back. “god, you're so into me.”
“damn right i am.”
thankfully, the walk to jack's apartment isn't very far, even factoring in all the breaks you take to steal kisses from each other. he keeps kissing you in the elevator to his floor, too, pressing you against the mirrored wall and his thigh between your legs with just enough force to make you whimper, smiling against you at the sound while you tangle your fingers into his hair. you find yourself pressed against the back of jack's front door in a similar fashion a few minutes later, except now his lips and teeth and tongue are exploring the uncharted territory of your neck, long kisses punctuated by little nips to the smooth skin and the sexiest moans you've ever heard.
his hands are also exploring, moving from your waist to hips to ass, and you know perfectly well his silly analytical brain is determined to find the place that makes you moan loudest - when he cups your clothed cunt, he gets his answer, pulling back from your neck and beaming at you, wild-eyed. “can feel how fucking wet you are already, baby,” jack coos, and your knees almost buckle. “want me to do something about it?”
a wanton moan. “yes.”
he raises a brow. “yes what?”
“yes, sir.”
jack's jaw slackens. suddenly, your legs are around his waist, and he's moving you through the only vaguely-familiar hallways with surprising ease; even more suddenly, your back meets a firm mattress, and then, when he flicks the bedside lamp on, your eyes meet his. the old adoration is still there, peeking out within the lust, and it does something weird to your already-tachy heart.
he taps your ankle, breaking you out of the reverie you were just about to fall headfirst into. “still with me, baby?”
you nod, legs opening in invitation. “always.”
“that's my girl,” he takes the invitation, stepping closer to the bed and thumbing at the waistband of your scrubs. “may i?”
you nod again.
“need to hear you say it, gorgeous.”
“yes,” your voice is breathier than you've heard it in a long time. maybe ever. “please take my clothes off, jack.”
“fuck, baby - shit, sorry, i forgot about your shoes, let me just… okay, lift your hips for me, just like that,” as the fabric slides down your legs, he winks at you. there's a slight flush to his cheeks, and in the low light of the bedroom he looks nothing short of perfect. “got there in the end, huh?”
“mhmm,” pre-empting jack's next request, you sit up, raising your arms. he pulls your shirt over your head, and you're not quite sure if the subsequent goosepimples that flutter across your arms are because of the sudden cold or the mortifying realisation that you're wearing a bra you literally bought during the obama administration. “would've dressed up a bit more if i thought this was happening, y'know,” you smile, sheepish. “sorry.”
jack shakes his head, dark eyes trained on your chest. “nah,” he starts, looking you up and down in a manner you can only describe as predatory. it's hot. “you're perfect.”
“really?”
“absolutely fuckin’ perfect,” another kiss, the most desperate yet, jack's tongue practically down your throat and his still-clothed-but-very-obvious hard-on pressing deliciously against your heat. he's actually panting when he pulls away to talk, hands clutching at the bedsheets beside your head like a life raft. “you know, i was gonna go about this in a gentlemanly way,” he begins, breath syncing with the rhythm of your own. “but honestly, baby, i gotta fuck you, right now,” his forehead gently meets yours, the tenderness totally incongruous with the blunt desire of his words. “you game?”
what a stupid fucking question. it's not as if you’ve been getting off to the thought of that for years, or anything.
still, you nod, breathless and enthusiastic. “yes, sir.”
“such a good girl for me,” he coos, reaching round to unclasp your bra. “you wanna watch in the mirror? see how pretty you look taking my cock?”
jesus h fucking christ alive.
just as enthusiastically as before, you return to nodding, humming happily at the feeling of jack's hands feeling up your bare tits. “yes, please.”
“and how do you wanna be fucked?”
“hard.”
jack grins, yanking his shirt off. “your wish is my command.”
and, boy, does he follow orders well. better than you, anyway, proven when you watch him take off his prosthetic leg and insist upon riding him so he's more comfortable, ignoring his protests and reassurances that he's fine, he wants this, he's “been dreaming of fucking you like this for years, baby”. but you're just as stubborn as jack (some would and have described you both as pigheaded), with a years-long habit of being concerned about him and his leg (which, in any other context, he's very grateful for), and you don't give in until he pushes you forward onto your stomach and pins you to the mattress, sliding a pillow underneath his right leg and another under your hips. you feel yourself getting wetter at the casual dominance of it all; jack notices, too, and actually rips the panties off you for a better look, which only has you gushing even more for him. “oh, baby,” his voice is already hoarse. “you really want me, huh?”
“yes,” you whimper, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “need you, sir.”
“sweet girl,” jack kisses your shoulder. you like him best like this, you think, sex personified and tenderness all rolled into one. “what do you need me to do?”
you exhale, shaky, but your voice comes out strong. “i need you to fuck me.”
in lieu of a verbal response, he slides the head of his cock through your folds, gathering the plentiful wetness there - only when he meets your cunt does he speak, that fucking voice cutting through your whimpers and pleas like a hot knife into butter. “gonna slip inside now, okay?
“okay,” you whisper, breath catching at the feeling of jack finally, finally fucking you, thick cock stretching you out more than you've ever been before, hurting in the most delicious way. “feels good, feels so good, jack.”
“yeah,” he chokes out, beautiful eyes rolling back as he sinks impossibly further into you. “holy shit, baby,” another kiss to your shoulder as he bottoms out; suddenly, he's softly turning your head to kiss you properly. “you good?”
“perfect.”
“damn straight,” he pulls back, bracing his hands flat on the mattress. “gonna fuck you now.”
not a question, but a statement. a promise.
one, as it turns out, jack relishes fulfilling. your brain swiftly becomes so hazy you can barely see, even though he won't let you take your eyes off the mirror, tugging your ponytail and groaning “keep your eyes on me. eyes on me, baby… good. good girl” the second your head drops forward, but you can feel how much he wants this - how much he wants you - from the way he snaps his hips into your ass, fast and deep and rhythmic and determined, determined to make you feel good the way you've both wanted him to for so long. you've dreamed about him fucking you like this before, of course you have, hand down your pants or vibrator pressed to your clit on lonely nights, but the fantasies all pale in comparison to the real thing. after all, there's no way you could've imagined just how deep he'd be able to fuck you, or the sound you'd make when he hit that spot with just enough force to make your legs start shaking, or the way his face would light up at the realisation. “you like that, baby?”
“yeah,” you push yourself up on wobbly arms into a sort-of cobra pose, turning to kiss him sloppily. “m'gonna cum if you keep doing that.”
“god, please,” jack whines, the sound going straight between your legs. “s'all i want,” he kisses you, biting your lip and smiling when you moan into him. “wanna feel you cum on my cock. you can do that for me, can't you, baby? yeah. ‘course you can.”
fuck.
he's right, though, as he usually is - the tension is already beginning to build in your lower stomach, tightening with every movement of jack's hips. your arms give out, but you force yourself to keep your head up and your eyes locked on your own sweaty, messy-haired reflection. jack hums approvingly at your focus, leaning down to kiss your shoulder; the change of angle drives him even deeper into your cunt, so deep it's bordering on physically impossible for you, which in turn drags you onto the precipice of your orgasm and a desperate half-scream from your throat.
(what can you say? you've always enjoyed pushing yourself to the absolute limit.)
the pressure in your stomach becomes almost unbearable. you blink rapidly, chest heaving, flailing for jack's forearm and digging your nails in so hard he'll be marked for at least a few days. somewhere in the recesses of your sex-addled brain, you wonder if he's into that - then, he thrusts into you again, and your brain clears completely in favour of focusing on how taut the feeling in your stomach is. “sir,” you whimper, because it's the first means of addressing him that comes into your head, your tears falling thick and fast down your face and onto the heather-grey bedsheets. “m'close, m'so fucking close,” legs and lips trembling, you meet jack's gaze in the mirror, heart fluttering at the way he's looking at you hungrily. “please let me cum, sir, please.”
he nods. sharp, commanding, sexy. “do it, baby. be a good girl and cum for me.”
your body reacts accordingly, tension breaking apart in your stomach and skittering, fragmented, through your nervous system, soundtracked by the single sluttiest moan you've ever made. your cheeks burn, your limbs shake, your cunt clenches so tightly around jack that he actually chokes. he recovers enough to kiss your shoulder when you softly whimper his name, though, thrusts turning shallower and shallower as his own orgasm threatens to overwhelm him. “fuck, you're so good to me, baby, cumming on my cock like that,” he groans, hips falling out of rhythm for the first time tonight. “my good girl, my fuckin’ perfect girl,” a big hand finds your ass, kneading the soft flesh. “christ, baby, i'm gonna cum, i'm gonna fuckin’ cum,” jack gasps. “where d'you want it?”
no other answer. “inside, please.”
“god,” jack cums with a whine of your name, pressing his forehead to the back of your head as he pulses heat inside you. “fuck, thank you.”
you hum softly, pressing a kiss to his bicep as he flops - carefully - onto you; you're thankful for him grounding you, actually, keeping you from floating away in that hyperspecific but seldom-experienced euphoria that follows really, really good sex. there's a lingering silence in the room, aside from you and jack breathing heavily in sync, but not an uncomfortable one. it's… peaceful. contented. safe, even.
speaking of safe - jack's right hand comes up to the back of your head, fingers resting on the hair tie you've been wearing for god knows how long. “may i?”
“yes please,” you sigh as he deftly manoeuvres it out, the same hand sliding back into your hair to gently massage your scalp. “thank you for this. all of it, i mean, the sex, too,” you glance up at him in the mirror, smiling bashfully when you meet his gaze. “you're really taking care of me tonight.”
“i'd do it forever, if you let me,” he kisses your temple, voice lowering as he speaks again. “please let me, baby. i just wanna, y'know,” his voice cracks slightly. “keep you safe.”
you nod, turning as best you can to look at jack properly. “i would really like that.”
“good,” he breathes, leaning down to kiss you gently, which somehow feels even more intimate than him literally finishing inside you did. “let's go for a shower.”
the comfortable silence continues in the bathroom, you and jack too busy savouring the warm water to talk, but the casual intimacy stays; he's insistent on pulling you onto his lap in the shower chair and washing your hair for you, looking up at you like you hung the moon when you return the favour, pressing soft kisses onto your chest whenever you reach up properly to shampoo him.
you stay in there until the water goes cold, too happy and content to do anything but make out. and you'd be happy to do that once you've dried off and climbed back into bed, too, but jack has other ideas, settling you between his legs with your back to his chest and making you scroll through doordash while he traces little patterns onto your bare thigh. he keeps that up even after the burgers arrive and you've moved to the sofa, eyes flitting between you and the tv every few seconds, almost as though he can't quite believe you're actually there beside him.
you know how he feels. the kissing was one thing, the sex was another, but to be here, with jack, in his house, wearing his clothes, smelling like his body wash, curled into his chest, domestic… it's surreal.
so surreal, in fact, that you can't stop yourself giggling. jack turns, a bewildered half-smile on his face, gently poking your side. “you good, baby?”
“yeah, i'm just… i don't know, actually,” you laugh even harder, rubbing your eyes in a futile attempt to focus. “what a fucking weird day.”
“that's an understatement,” he rests his head on yours. “you know i kinda thought i was hallucinating when i saw you at work earlier?”
that sobers you up. you grab his hand, rubbing circles into the calloused skin with your thumb. “yeah, i, uh, i should've called you. i'm sorry.”
he shrugs. “i know why you didn't.”
“still shitty of me, leaving so abruptly and turning up one day like nothing had happened,” you look down at the coffee table, the remnants of dinner strewn across it. “i guess i just didn't know where else to go when i got off the plane.”
“you could've come here, you know.”
“and freaked you out even more?”
“no. well, yeah, but,” he kisses your head. “i still would've been happy to see you.”
“you're sweet.”
he makes a face.
“you are, jack. too sweet, sometimes, i think,” you smile. “it's kinda confusing, actually. i was never quite sure where i stood with you.”
jack tilts his head. analysis mode. “is that why you left? well, i mean, i know you went out there because they needed doctors, but,” a scratch to the back of his neck. nervous. “it seemed kinda… reactive. like, you'd never mentioned it, then you said you'd applied, and then you were gone the next day. and i had no idea when you were gonna come back - if you were gonna come back,” he exhales. “and there was a voice in the back of my head the whole time, telling me that it was all my fault.”
your heart sinks. “jack…”
“i thought about begging you not to go,” he twists his wedding ring, something you've only seen him do when things are really getting to him. “and i thought about calling you every day for the past eight months, begging you to come home. but i couldn't,” he laughs, mirthless. “because i was a fucking coward, and i kept putting off telling you how i really feel about you, and it would've been manipulative of me if i'd only done it to stop you leaving and doing this amazing thing,” he strokes your cheek with one hand, wiping tears from your lashline that you didn't know had formed. “please don't cry, baby. i'm sorry.”
you shake your head, lip trembling; before you start sobbing, though, jack pulls you into a tight hug. “i've got you,” he whispers, sounding like he's on the verge of tears himself. “i swear.”
“i know,” you sniffle. “god, sorry, i'm crying all over your shirt.”
“we're doctors. you know damn well i've been covered in worse.”
a weak laugh. “yeah,” you take a deep inhale of said shirt, the familiar scent of him helping to regulate your nervous system faster than any drug could. “and you're wrong by the way. about my leaving being your fault,” another sniffle. “i just… i kept getting this feeling like i didn't know what my place in the world was. and when they put the call out for doctors, i just thought what the hell, let's do it, let's go and help people who really, really need me. selfish, really,” you attempt a smile that probably comes across more as a grimace. “i just needed to feel like i was needed, and i sent myself into the middle of a fucking genocide to achieve it,” you laugh, manic, dragging your hands down your face. “selfish and self-destructive. what a fucking combo.”
jack gently pulls your hands from your face, taking them in his own. “hey,” his eyes are warm, if slightly concerned. “you're talking to someone who joined a SWAT team for something to do during the day. i get the self-destruction, baby, i really do. and as for the needy part,” he takes a deep breath, handsome face the most nervous you've ever seen it. “i need you.”
you close your eyes, an invisible weight lifting from your chest; you'd been carrying it so long you'd almost forgotten it was there. “say it again. please.”
you can hear the smile in his voice. “i need you, baby,” he kisses your cheek, trailing little pecks to and onto your lips. “i've been a fucking mess without you these past eight months.”
“that makes two of us,” you smile, genuinely, leaning in to kiss him properly. “god, we really gotta find some hobbies. how d'you feel about board games?”
“meh,” his lips are on your neck, now, drawing little satisfied hums from your throat. “i'd rather just play with you, if i'm being honest.”
“you're a freak, jack.”
“says the girl with the crippling praise kink.”
“i mean, i wouldn't say crippling-”
“you almost told a guy he was pregnant once immediately after i said you'd done a good job on an intubation. and then there was the-”
“alright, i get it!”
jack laughs. it's the best sound in the world. “hey,” he murmurs, pulling you further onto his lap. “can i tell you something i think you'll like?”
“you can tell me anything you want. except, y'know, tales of my embarrassing exploits at work.”
he smiles, the sun breaking through clouds. “i love you.”
you've often wondered what it would feel like to hear him say that. in your daydreams, it always had an earth-shattering impact, sending you into floods of tears or fainting spells - real, gooey romance novel shit. but now, in real life? nothing, with the exception of a very faint sense of déja vu, the feeling of coming home to a cosy house on a winter's day. warm. comforting. safe. familiar.
somewhere, deep down, you think you already knew jack abbot loved you.
you smile back at him, leaning up to whisper against his lips. “can i tell you something i think you'll like?”
“go on, baby.”
“okay,” you kiss the end of his nose, huffing out a soft laugh at the adorable way he scrunches it up. “i love you too.”
he grins. “enough to show me those pictures of you in combat training?”
(mdni) in which you and matty dress up for a halloween party, and he can’t get enough of your costume. part of the actress!reader au and promptober75 2024. 3911 words.
warnings: oral (f and m receiving), praise, degradation, a** e*ting (f receiving), somehow quite sweet despite all that
“Hey, are you busy on Halloween?” you ask, letting your head dangle off the bed so you can see Matty.
He grins over at you. “Yeah. There’s this girl I know, been seeing her for a while now, and I know she loves horror movies. I was thinking about buying her a bunch of tacky American Halloween candy and letting her show me all her favourites. As long as she lets me hide in her tits during the scary parts,” he adds with a little smirk. “D’you think she’d like that, love?”
You give a glowing smile. “That sounds amazing, babe. For the 30th. Because you are busy on Halloween, Matthew. You are coming with me to Maya’s Halloween party,” you declare.
Raking a hand across his face, Matty groans. “You know how I feel about parties in this city, darling.”
You smile blithely. “And you know how I feel about Halloween. Promise I won’t leave your side, okay? But this is actually important to me. Me and Maya do Halloween every year.” You pause, a grin crossing your face. “And I wanna dress you up.”
Quizzically, Matty tilts his head. “I’m listening.”
“Oh, I love you,” you grin, clapping your hands together excitedly. “So, I was thinking about Halloween last year, the Detroit show, right? Well, mostly I was thinking about how good you looked covered in blood,” you add, flipping onto your stomach and propping your chin up on your palms. “Shows how committed I am to Maya’s Halloweens. Any other day and I would’ve caught a redeye to jump your bones.” Matty laughs softly. “Anyway, I was thinking about you all sexy and covered in blood and dressed up like a male manipulator, and it hit me.”
You pause for deliberate dramatic effect, and Matty rolls his eyes. “You get mad at me when I drag things out for this long.”
“Shut your mouth. We’re going as Veronica and JD, okay?”
Matty’s eyes gleam. “Are you gonna wear the little pleated skirt?” he grins, finally getting out of the chair and crossing the room to lay next to you.
Pressing your body into his, you sigh happily. “Perv. Are you in?”
He grins, presses a soft kiss to your lips, lets his hand wander down to your ass. “Only because I love you.”
“Mmm, yeah, I’m perfect. Now, d’you wanna pick out what I’m gonna wear underneath? Something to keep you going through the night.” Matty grabs your face and kisses you deeply, grinning breathlessly as he pulls away. His hands trail down to the hem of your shirt, grasping and pulling it off, then fly to unhook your bra. “Eager,” you tease, winding a stray curl around your finger.
Matty grins against your mouth. “I need to be able to visualise it, right?” he says cheekily. “I’m an artist, I need to be able to see the full picture, yeah?” You roll your eyes, giggling and deliberately pushing your ass into his face as you crawl up the bed and relax against the pillows.
Dropping your hands to your waist, you slide your panties down your legs, flinging them at Matty with a grin. “Are you getting a good visual, babe?” You prop your laptop up next to you, start browsing through lingerie sites as Matty gazes adoringly over at you.
“Shit, y’can’t just do that, bunny,” he groans. Turning wide, innocent eyes on him, you click through to a pretty little black babydoll dress. “Don’t give me that look. The big, sweet, virgin eyes don’t work when I’ve had my tongue in your arse,” he smirks.
The memory washes over you and you shiver. “Don’t be crass,” you pout, angling your laptop screen so he can see.
The heat of his body presses into your back as he climbs into bed next to you. “You’re literally fucking naked and showing me lingerie,” he complains. “If I can’t be crass now, when can I be?” Long fingers trace over your thighs, sliding over your ass and squeezing greedily.
“Mmm, okay,” you concede. “Yeah, okay, c’mere.” You roll over, lay on top of him, kiss him hungrily. “Fuck, I want you.”
Matty grinds his hips up against yours, breath coming harshly against your mouth. “Whatever you want, you’ll get, bunny,” he grins, breaking away from you just long enough to pull off his shirt.
Leaning down, you kiss the exposed skin. “Gonna be a proper little bunny for you,” you promise, sliding your cool palms down his chest to his belt. “Wanna ride you, bounce on it, yeah?” you grin, sliding a hand into his sweats. Matty’s cock twitches in your palm, and you stroke him gently before pulling him free.
“Good girl,” Matty grins. “Good little bunny.” You sink down on him, throw your head back, get lost in his hands and his skin and his cock buried inside you. You spend the rest of the night letting him have you in whatever position he wants, finally falling asleep sweat-soaked and sated in his arms.
Halloween finally rolls around, and you’re lazing on the bed and happily ogling Matty as he splotches fake blood on his face. “No, Matty, you’re— You look like a ten year old that just ate spag bol for dinner,” you huff, getting to your feet. “Here,” you say, stepping up to him and gently dabbing a damp cloth on his face.
Matty smiles softly, eyes drifting down to your chest and the black lace cupping your boobs. He presses a soft kiss to your lips, grabs your ass under your skirt, sucks on your lower lip. “Do we—”
“I swear to God, Matthew, if you ask me if we have to go one more time, no sex until next Halloween,” you tease, dripping the fake blood over his forehead and smudging black eyeshadow over his cheek. “There you go,” you grin, pulling back to admire his pretty, sculpted features, long-lashed brown eyes blinking down at you.
“But you look so fucking good,” he whines. “C’mon, you know how fast I get you off, lemme eat you, baby,” Matty pleads.
You swat his arm, scowling playfully. “And fuck up the makeup I just put on you? Nope,” you pop the ‘p’ slightly obnoxiously. “You’re just gonna have to be patient. You can whisper all the dirty things you wanna do to me in my ear all night, and I’ll take my pick when we get home, alright?
Matty groans frustratedly. “Right now, all I wanna do is bend you over, flip up that fucking skirt and fuck you until that party is the last thing on your mind,” he groans, trying to grab you, but you waltz out of his reach.
Smirking from a few feet away, you give a little spin, tiny skirt flaring out and showing off the soft curve of your ass. Matty makes a pathetic little noise, and you scoff. “Behave yourself.” You stop in front of the mirror, turning this way and that to appraise yourself. “Tell me how pretty I am, and then it’s time to go,” you add, grinning at his reflection.
“You are…” Matty gives a deep sigh. “The most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. And the most frustrating.”
You laugh airily. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m a massive cocktease, heard it all before. C’mon, coat on, let me see the full outfit.” Matty shrugs on the trenchcoat, and you stop cold. “Oh, my God, you’re so hot,” you rush out, almost a moan. “Okay, okay, the car’s here, we need to go before I let you distract me any more.”
Ducking out of Matty’s path as he tries to kiss you, you beeline for the door. It takes you minutes to wrangle him into the car, wincing and apologising to the driver. Matty tries desperately to grope you the entire ride, and you keep swatting his hands away with teasing little giggles. The music is practically shaking the foundations of the building as you walk up, every step sure even in six-inch heels.
It takes forever to find anyone you know well enough to want to talk to, shrugging off a dozen sycophantic influencers who just want a story for Twitter. Matty’s pressed close to you, his hand in yours warm and grounding in the sticky-hot room. You can tell he’s already ready to throw in the towel, so you pull him to the bar. “C’mon. This’ll be way more fun when we’re drunk.” You press a lime wedge into his mouth before slamming three tequila shots, kissing him hard as you suck the sharp, sour taste out of his mouth.
Matty leans over and orders a drink, downs it and orders a second before you wander away again. A high squeal of your name makes you turn, grinning widely as Maya bowls into your arms. “You look amazing! ‘Oh, it’s not much,’ my ass,” she scoffs, pulling back to take you in properly. “And you!” she adds, punching Matty in the arm. “I’ve been trying to get you to come to these things for five fucking years, Healy.”
Shrugging, Matty smiles ruefully. “Sorry. But, it would’ve been six, if not for this one. Too convincing for her own good,” he says, tugging you in by the waist and kissing your temple.
Maya grins. “Yeah. I kinda hate you and Charli now, you know?” You scrunch your brow quizzically. “I had to change venues three times, ‘cause so many people wanted to come. Everyone wants to be wherever you two are. Bloody logistical nightmare,” she teases. “Now, come on. I wanna dance.” You grab her hand eagerly, throwing a glance at Matty over your shoulder. “Don’t be a snore, Healy. Come on, or you’re not getting her back at the end of the night.”
You stretch out your other hand, grinning widely, and Matty takes it after a split second. You squeal in delight, tugging him along to the dancefloor. Laughing delightedly, you let Maya pull you in, rest her hands on your hips as you grind back against her. “Are you sure it has to be him?” she teases. “It’s like you’re dating my gross older brother.”
You laugh, meeting Matty’s eyes. “I’m in love with him, unfortunately,” you mock-sigh. “Plus, I love you, but I am never giving up the sex,” you add, spinning to face her. “I mean, oh, my God. He does this thing where he folds me in half, and—”
Maya shrieks, shoving at you. “Ew! You heard what I said about him being my brother, right? Get away from me, I need to go and drink until I forget that you said that,” she groans, and you roll your eyes and let yourself drop into Matty’s waiting arms.
“We’ve done it at your house, by the way!” you shout at her retreating back, cackling when she claps her hands over her ears.
“Why are you telling my little sister about our sex life?” Matty says with a long-suffering sigh.
“You guys are such prudes. I was only telling her about that thing you do where you bend me in half, how good you are. I want you to do that to me later tonight, okay?” you smirk, swaying your hips to the beat.
Matty smirks, leans down to speak in the shell of your ear. “You’re fucked if you think you’re giving me orders, bunny,” he says, and you shudder, slinging your arms around his neck.
You dig into your purse, pluck something out at random to drop to the floor. “Oops,” you giggle, bending over and pressing your ass into him. “Wait, is that Charli? C’mon, your other half must be around here somewhere,” you say, darting off as Matty follows you with a beleaguered sigh.
Sat across from Charli, you throw back your head in laughter as she recounts a story from her last photoshoot. You’re in Matty’s lap, squirming deliberately to rile him up, even while you sip innocently at your rum and coke. “Stop it,” he murmurs in warning. “Behave yourself.”
You giggle. “Never.”
Charli pulls you off to dance again, and you lose your head in a dizzy, drunken haze of thudding bass and glowing flashbulbs. Matty’s hands are on your hips, his lips on your neck, and you grind your hips back against his. “It’s a shame there’s still so long left. I wish you could take me home already.” You take his hand, slide it under your skirt, gasping as he slips it into your panties. His fingers brush lightly over your cunt, and you can’t suppress a moan. “Feel that? Feel how wet you make me? Gonna be such a good girl for you tonight.”
“Oh, my God,” Matty groans into your neck. “Oh, my God, bunny, you’re fucking killing me. Please let me take you home. I wanna do things to you. Bad things. Disgusting, perverted things.”
You grin, spinning in his arms so you can press your back to his chest and grind your ass against his hips. “Like what?” you say, low and breathy. “Convince me,” you add, red-painted lips stretching wide around a smirk.
Matty’s hands slide around your chest, groping you obscenely and groaning. “You know what you do to me like this, love. I can’t take much more, m’gonna have to fuck you right here. When I get you home, it’s up against the wall, okay? Gonna rip those fucking panties off, fill you up, fuck you so good you can’t even remember your own name. Then you can bend over the counter for me and I’ll get you all cleaned up, yeah?”
Arousal clenches tight in your stomach. You sway your hips. “Mmm, this all sounds like normal stuff. I’m not hearing perverted, filthy, disgusting…” you tease, sweeping your hair off your neck to let him kiss there.
“You need more convincing, huh?” Matty murmurs, soft in the shell of your ear. “Alright. After I clean you up, I’d like to get you in bed. But I don’t know if we’ll make it that far. I might have to bend you over the sofa on the way. ‘Cause this skirt isn’t hiding anything, and those little panties really aren’t helping how bad I want my tongue in this pretty ass.”
Your knees nearly buckle. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimper. “Fine, you win. Call a car, I need you,” you plead, turning so you’re speaking against his lips. Kissing him hard, you melt against him as he grabs your ass greedily.
“I’m not done yet, bunny. Then I will get you in bed, on your hands and knees while I fuck your sweet, gorgeous ass, okay? Then, I’m going to plug you up, keep you nice and full of me until I fuck you again. Yeah?”
You go hot all over. “Tell the driver to break traffic laws.”
“Five minutes,” Matty grins, leaning down to kiss you slow and deep.
Someone taps their foot impatiently behind you, and you turn with a sharp grin to find Maya with her arms folded. “Will you two stop being disgusting for five fucking minutes?”
Laughing, you shrug. “That’s about all you’ve got, ‘cause we’re about to go home and fuck all night,” you smirk.
They both give shrieking groans, and you only laugh harder. “Oh, would you look at that? Car’s here, let’s go — Bye, Lim, great seeing you, won’t let it be so long next time!” Matty rushes out in one breath, tugging you so hard you stumble in your heels. You blow Maya a kiss as you scramble off, and you’re in Matty’s lap in the backseat before you know what’s happening.
You kiss him feverishly, time warping around you until, in what feels like both seconds and weeks, you’re outside your apartment building. In the time it takes to get from the ground floor to yours, it seems like Matty’s seconds away from dropping to his knees in the lift; you’d welcome it. Your body is pleading for him, hunger groaning in your chest, aching between your thighs. It takes what feels like an age to get your keys to fit in the door, stumbling inside with his lips still on yours.
“Remember what I promised?” Matty murmurs, lips against your jaw.
Giggling, you shudder. “Mhmm. But can we skip to the part where you bend me over the sofa? Please,” you breathe, spreading your legs around his thigh so you can grind on him. “I need it.”
Matty pinches your ass, and you whine. “Needy little bunny. Fuck, I love you so much. Go on, bend over for me, my girl,” he says, and you scramble to obey, draping yourself over the plush arm of the sofa and spreading your legs wide. You hear Matty drop to his knees behind you, and true to his word, tears your panties off.
The sound of expensive lace ripping to shreds makes you wince. “I liked those,” you murmur weakly, and Matty laughs.
“I’ll buy you more,” he promises, spreading apart your cunt and licking a slow stripe through. “Fuck, I’ll give you anything you want.” His tongue slices through your core, a sharp bolt of ecstasy jolting up your spine. “I love your fucking pussy,” he groans, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking softly. Grinding your hips back against Matty’s face, you whimper out a plea. “Yeah, I know what you want, sweet girl. Don’t worry, bunny, I got you. Gonna give you what you need, yeah?”
And then his tongue flickers up, just barely kisses at your hole, and your knees nearly buckle. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper, drool pooling in your mouth as Matty drives his tongue deeper. Your back arches and you moan, Matty’s hand coming up to toy with your clit and sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Whimpering, you press back against him as he rubs circles into your clit and licks down to your cunt.
You’re dizzy, nearly sick with it, your thighs slick and your mind slicker. Matty kisses your clit, slices his tongue back up to your hole, lapping greedily. “God, such a good girl,” he murmurs reverently, tracing his fingers over the curve of your ass. He slaps the side of your ass, spits on your cunt, licks your hole, and you moan out his name. You’re spinning out, crashing closer to your climax, grinding your hips back desperately.
“Matty, please,” you whine, and you feel him smirk into you.
“C’mon, bunny, I got you. Cum for me,” he orders, rubbing his thumb into your clit and coaxing you to an earth-shattering climax. Your pulse thunders in your ears, liquid ecstasy flooding from your cunt and dripping down your thighs, Matty’s tongue still roaming hungrily over your skin. Fists clenching, you whimper out his name, legs trembling and head spinning.
You crawl gracelessly onto the sofa, stretching up to beckon him. “C’mere,” you plead. “Wanna kiss you.” Matty breaks into a grin, climbs on top of you, his body firm and warm against yours.
He leans down to speak against your lips. “I gotta give my girl what she wants,” he says, pressing a soft, near-chaste kiss to your lips. You slide your hands into his hair, pull him down so you can kiss him hard, tongues sliding together as your breaths mix in the air between you.
Grinding up against him, you moan softly. “Y’so hard,” you smirk. “Let me help you?” Your hands slide greedily down to his belt, unbuckling deftly and freeing his cock. You stroke along his length, tracing the vein throbbing on his underside, and coat your fingertips in his precum. Sucking your fingers happily, you give a teasing little moan at the taste of him, and Matty gasps, buries his head in your neck.
His lips are soft and wet with spit against your skin as he kisses, licks, sucks, leaves lasting bruises that are going to be a bitch to cover up in the morning. “Fuck, I fucking love you,” he groans, grinding his hips down against your core in a way that makes need pulse through your entire body.
Your hands fly down to Matty’s waist, shoving his jeans and boxers off at once. “Let me suck your dick,” you whine. “Please. I need it, need to make you feel good, god.” You pump his cock, spreading wetness down his length, savouring his soft moan.
“Yeah, c’mon, good girl,” Matty croons, flipping you so you’re on top of him. You grin, kissing your way down his body and trailing your tongue over the tattoo at his hip as his hands thread into your hair. He gasps as you mouth gently at his cock, moaning when you wrap your lips around his head. “Fuck, y’so good. My good little bunny,” he groans, easing your head down until your nose presses against his skin.
You moan around him, bobbing your head as the smell of his sweat fills your senses. Relaxing your throat as best you can, you let Matty thrust messily into your mouth. He moans your name, fucks into your mouth, twitching and gasping. Tracing your fingers over his belly, you feel the muscles tense under your touch, teasingly pressing kisses against his base and across his v-line. “Mmm, I love you,” you sigh, lapping at his head and letting spit drip from your mouth and slide messily down his cock.
“I fucking love you,” Matty groans, pulling at your hair just enough that your scalp stings, pain weaving its way into pleasure between your thighs. “So fucking— oh, my God, bunny, fuck!” he gasps as you take him as deep as you can, gagging and drooling around him. “M’gonna cum, bunny,” he moans. “Where do you want me?”
You smile around him, pulling off and licking along his cock. “Wherever you want,” you murmur. “But I kinda want it down my throat, if that’s alright,” you tease, eyes alight.
“‘If that’s alright,’ she says,” Matty huffs, gently easing you down his cock. “Jesus, bunny, I fucking love your pretty mouth, gonna make me fuckin’ cum, make sure you swallow it all, yeah? My little cumslut,” he adds affectionately, bucking his hips as you moan around him. Your name spills from his lips amid near-crazed praises, ropes of cum splashing on your tongue as the taste fills your senses.
You swallow eagerly, pulling off to smile dazedly down at him. “Thank you,” you say, in the innocent, soft tone that drives him wild.
And, like clockwork, Matty practically whines, manoeuvres you until he gets you into his arms. “God, such a perfect fucking girl.” Your stomach swoops as he picks you up bridal style, then thinks better of it and throws you over his shoulder, swatting your ass. “Good girls get rewarded, yeah? Tell me what you want, bunny, anything you want,” he promises, and you laugh wildly as he carries you to bed.
“What if you already promised me exactly what I want?” you giggle, heat pulsing between your legs at the mere thought.
“Oh, I did, did I?” Matty teases, his smirk audible.
You gasp as Matty throws you into the bed, kissing you hard as you slide your hands into his hair. “You gonna make me say it?” He nods, grinning widely. “Mmm, okay. You promised to fuck my ass and then plug me up, remember?” you say, and he splutters at your boldness. “Get your ass in gear, Healy, come on.”
mads can we talk about the nerd and the dare. please
anything for u actually. ok! in short, everyone's favourite nerd goes alone to review the dare's show (you were reviewing another gig that night), and he's got a press pass to do an interview and ends up at afters and has a fun little time. he comes home raving about harrison and how talented he is but also how cool and nice he is - like, that's matty's new bff, and so at the next show he does in london matty's invited and on the guest list and he brings you along. the show is fun, matty nearly nuts in his pants when you dance against him, but the afters is once again the highlight; somehow, you and your bf end up alone with harrison in his dressing room sharing a joint, which always makes you kissy and matty handsy, and harrison says something like "you two have a really sexy dynamic going on. like, really sexy", and you giggle and say "you think we're hot?", and he nods like "knew he was hot. figured you would be, too - suspected it from how sharp you can be in your reviews, honestly". and it's bold, and you don't quite know why you do this, but you do it regardless - you shuffle to sit in front of him, ever so lightly touching his face like "you like it when i'm mean, gorgeous?", and when he gulps and nods and whispers "yeah, i like it a lot"... what other choice do you have but to play with the two of them?? they're both so pretty, so eager, so huge - more than willing to kiss and put on a show for you, to sit and watch and touch themselves while the other eats you out, to relish the opportunity to be inside you in some way when you let the dominant façade crack a little and beg to be eiffel towered, and reaching your fourth orgasm while harrison finishes in your mouth and matty cums deep in your cunt is maybe the best feeling you've ever felt ever in life. of course, you go home exhausted that night (but not so exhausted that a round two with your lovely boyfriend is out of the question), but you also go home with a new number added to your contacts and a rolling invitation to hit him up if the three of you are ever in the same town again; needless to say, that definitely happens, more than once. hot <3
not to mention her face after he asked the question. it looked very uncomfortable like shes tired of people asking about it. so I get where she's coming from
i'm tired and i'm nothing to do with the man so i can't imagine how she feels. and i've been a taylor fan since i was eight, but more and more i just really cannot cope with how everything everyone ever does is then always mentioned in relation to her, if that makes sense? like something happened between her and matty. we don't know exactly what, or for how long, and we won't know any more than either of them choose to tell us - TELL us, not imply or suggest - and they're both happy with other people now, and STILL her fans (and some of ours) won't shut up speculating about it. can't everyone leave it at that? and leave both of them alone? it's exhausting. and like i said, i'm not even involved like his mum is. christ. no wonder she reacted the way she did
Matty post glasto dressing room fuck the second he gets off stage 🏃
you’re still dazed and a little dizzy as you stumble offstage in matty’s arms, literally unable to fathom that you’ve sung on the actual pyramid stage during your fiancé’s actual headline slot. i love you, you whisper, tucking your body close against his as your heart races. so much. i’m so fucking proud of you.
matty grins crookedly, taking your hand in his own. you can’t tell if it’s him or you that’s still trembling. god, i love you, he says, lifting his other hand to cup your jaw and pressing his lips to yours in a head-melting kiss. you’re panting when you break away, heat starting to swirl in your belly. you whine against his mouth and he smirks, doesn’t even say anything before he’s dragging you into the empty dressing room.
frantically, you undress each other, running your hands over matty’s back under his shirt and moaning as his lips find your neck. fuck, c’mere, darling, he says, setting you on the table and tugging your trousers down your legs. why didn’t i put you in a fuckin’ dress? he mutters, and you laugh.
‘cause i look better than you in a suit, you tease. matty pulls your panties down, frees his dick with a soft gasp. yeah, that’s it, he grins, pulling on your tie to smash your lips together as he lines himself up and fills you in one motion. a moan spills from your mouth and you clench around him, whimpering when his fingers find your clit. y’feel so good, darling, he moans into your neck, fucking into you so hard the table you’re perched on shakes. fuck, matty, please, you gasp, locking your legs around his back.
so good, so fucking good, matty groans, his free hand coming up to grip your waist so hard you’re sure it will bruise. pleasure races through you, bone-deep and overwhelming. god, i wanna— fuck! you gasp, rocking your hips up against his. yeah? matty grins against your mouth, breath ghosting over your lips as your eyes screw shut. what do you want, darling?
matty’s breathing is ragged as he chases his pleasure, fucking into you and circling your clit frantically. wanna cum, you whine. wanna make you cum, wanna give you everything you want, everything you deserve, i fucking love you, i— you bite down hard to swallow a scream as matty’s fingers bring you to the edge and tip you over, ecstasy pumping through your blood. you feel matty twitch inside you, slump against you with a groan as he murmurs praise in your ear.
anything i want, huh? matty grins, and you nod, wide-eyed and still unsteady. good girl, he adds, pulling out and sliding your panties back up your legs. i want you to go out there and drink and dance with me and celebrate with all our friends with my cum dripping out of you, okay? you nod, biting your lip. matty leans in close. and i want you to let me fuck you full again whenever i want.
you're the one that makes me feel right (birthday party matty x reader fluff)
set at like 4pm last friday in a random glasto dressing room. cute as hell, extremely slutty at the end, idk i love them. enjoy <3
even amidst all the madness of the glastonbury artists’ area, full of music blaring and assistants hotfooting it around and raucous laughter at the bar, you can hear matty's voice before you even step into the dressing room. “left, zander, look left - exactly, you fucking legend. smashed it.”
“god, are they still playing?” your mum weaves her way around who you assume is a member of biffy clyro to walk beside you, towards the dressing room and the air conditioning and the ever-louder sound of your fiancé teaching your little brother the intricacies of mortal kombat. “they were logged onto that thing before we'd even left for alanis.”
you huff out a laugh, waving your all access lanyard at the security guy on the door. “you know what either of them would say if they heard you use the phrase logged on in regard to that game?”
she sighs, showing her own lanyard and nodding thanks to security. “another insistent reminder that it's an offline game, no doubt.”
“exactly,” a rush of cold air passes over you when you step into the suite of dressing rooms, and the relief from the baking summer sunshine outside is so palpable you have to bite back a satisfied moan. distraction comes in the form of your two favourite boys cheering, providing both directions to their specific location and another seemingly endless reason for you to smile; still, you can't help but deadpan. “god, i can't believe my fiancé likes me least out of everyone in my family.”
“if you bothered to play this with me, that wouldn't be true,” matty calls from through another doorway. before you get the chance to step through, he's poking his head out into the corridor, beaming at you with the adoration that always tints his gaze whenever he looks at you; you pout your lips for a kiss, and he obliges sweetly before extending an arm out to hug your mum. “how was alanis, then?”
“amazing. mum cried.”
“aww, lynne,” matty rests his head on your mum's, and she grins and pats his arm affectionately. “was that your first time seeing her?”
“since i had the kids, yeah,” your mum smiles fondly at you. “grew up on jagged little pill, didn't you?”
before you can even answer, matty giggles, moving to rest his arms on your shoulders. “honestly, babe, that explains so much about you,” he kisses your forehead, moving to guide you towards one of the sofas. “and zander, to be honest. no wonder you both turned out cool.”
zander scoffs. “i still can't believe you think my sister’s cool.”
you frown. “get out before i batter you.”
“as if you could,” he stands, ruffling your hair on the way out and beaming at your frustrated groan. “pint, mum?”
she nods, smiling - well, smirking - at you and matty. “see you two later, then.”
“bye!” matty waves, turning to you with a mildly judgy expression as soon as the door closes behind them. “you know you've threatened to batter him five times already today?”
“i think that's less than average, to be honest,” you shrug your handbag over your head, tossing it and yourself onto the sofa; matty flops down even more gracelessly a beat later. “that little shit's been pissing me off ever since i've had conscious thought.”
he hums out a laugh, shuffling you so you're sat on his lap and he can rest his head on your chest the way you both love. “i think he's a good lad. he was telling me he's excited about our wedding, you know,” he leans back against the couch to look at you properly, so beautiful you feel your heart flutter; when he grins, you fall in love with him all over again. “so am i. more excited for that than anything else, to be honest.”
you raise a brow. “this from the man literally headlining glastonbury tonight?”
“well, yeah, of course i'm excited about that, but,” matty's hand cups your face, thumb softly rubbing across your lips. “still pales in comparison to marrying you, doesn't it?”
“oh my god,” you bring your hands to your now-blushing cheeks, adoration for the love of your life completely overwhelming you; if not for him holding you, you're sure you'd topple off the sofa and onto the floor. “you're mental, you know that?”
“so i've heard,” matty leans up to kiss your jaw, nudging your hands away so he can peck your lips. “s'true, though - tonight's a dream come true, it really is, but it's scary, you know?” he nuzzles into you. “getting to officially be yours forever… that's just perfect. no downsides, no fear, nothing bad at all.”
“aside from having to sit through every future season of love island with me.”
he grumbles, arm wrapping around you tighter. “can't fucking believe we're missing it tonight,” calloused fingers lightly tap your thigh, a rhythm you recognise as the post-ad jingle from the show. “you're sure we can't just stay here for, like, five minutes longer, just to see it through?”
“delaying a pyramid stage headline slot at fucking glastonbury just so you can finish an episode of love island,” you shake your head, dragging your hands down your face in disbelief. “i can't believe i'm in love with you. i must be insane.”
your fiancé snorts. “shut up. you're obsessed with me,” he blows a raspberry into your neck, kissing up to your face when you giggle; his smile is clear against your skin. “and it's reciprocated.”
“yeah?”
“yeah,” matty's kisses to your neck get stronger, longer, more passionate, and your ability to form sentences and coherent thought and any sort of brain function is slipping away more and more in response. “gonna be thinking about you through my entire performance tonight,” a hand slides its way up your body, stopping on your tit and kneading ever so gently. “and, afterwards, when i get you back in my arms, we're gonna sneak out of the afterparty and come back here,” his lips meet yours, tongue slipping into your mouth with a sexily-familiar ease - just as you start to whine, though, he pulls back with a grin. “and we're gonna watch tonight's episode together. sound good?”
“it does, actually, darling,” you admit, glowing at the way matty's eyes flutter closed when you softly caress his cheek. “i do miss sneaking out of parties to do less wholesome things with you, though, i won't lie.”
“so do i,” matty sighs; you have to stifle a giggle at the juxtaposition of how softly wistful his voice is while he reminisces about fucking you stupid in random dressing rooms and bathrooms and hotel rooms the world over. and then he looks at you again, and you forget to focus on anything that isn't a musing on how pretty he is. “reckon we'll be too tired for that later - cos, you know, we go to bed at 10 now - but,” his hand passes over your asscheek - gently, but you can sense the intention behind it. “we are alone, and we've got hours and hours before either of us need to get ready, so if you fancied me doing any of those things we used to do now… i'd happily oblige.”
“i would very much enjoy that,” you bring your hands round, sliding them down matty's chest to the button of his jeans, smiling at his little moan. “reckon you've got enough energy to fuck me and put on a show later? or d'you want me to be on top?”
“as much as i fucking love watching you ride me, gorgeous,” so fast you can barely register how he does it, matty flips the two of you over, so you're sitting properly on the couch and he's above you, grinding into you as slow as dripping honey and pulling equally as sweet whines from your lips. “i really, really want to fucking rail you right now.”
“fuck,” you open your mouth, groaning when your fiancé spits in it before crashing his lips to yours. it's a sloppy, sloppy kiss, all licking and biting and sucking and moaning, so good that you genuinely whimper when matty pulls away and stands up. “where are you going?”
“just gonna lock the door, darling,” he strokes your face before standing, darting to the door and bolting it before making a beeline for the stage outfits rail. “and i'm also looking for… this,” as he wanders back over to you, jeans unbuttoned and t-shirt creased from your desperate grabs, he holds up the bundle of black fabric; only when he gets closer do you realise it's a folded tie, and you open your mouth before he can even ask. “oh, good girl,” matty coos, securing the already spit-soaked accessory behind the back of your head. he brings his hands round to gently hold your cheeks, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel your underwear get wetter at how obvious his love for you is in his eyes. “you ready, sweetheart?”
you nod enthusiastically, spreading your legs as much as he allows and speaking as best you can through the tie. “yeth.”
