♡

You sit up as you answer the phone, mentally preparing yourself to be told that the ED needs some extra hands. “Hey Doctor Abbot, everything okay?” 

Jack cleared his throat before speaking, “Hey, yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine. I, uh, just needed to ask you a question about a patient that came yesterday that you treated? They’re back in tonight and what they’re telling me goes completely against what you charted so I figured I’d just call you to get some clarification.”

“Ask away!” You relax a bit and as he starts speaking, you let your mind wander.You tried so hard to focus as he spoke. It’s been hard lately. Working together most of the time, you hear him talk very often. Recently though, you get this fire in your stomach when you hear that gravely, husky voice. So, you started talking to him more often. Which soon developed into both of you casting glances across the ED, then a hand brushing against someone's back when passing by or bumping shoulders when working on a patient together, and of course some casual flirting when there was time.

Ok, focus. Jack goes on and on about last night’s patient of yours. Some idiot hurt himself doing some stupid internet challenge. Just some minor burns. You couldn’t discharge him fast enough. Jack seems to agree that this guy was a dumbass if his tone was anything to go off of. You started to get distracted again. His voice ringing in your ears, you start to fantasize about what else he could be saying to you right now instead. How he could be whispering in your ear the filthy things you want him to do to you. 

Without even thinking, your hand starts to trail down to your aching core, slipping under your underwear, and you start tracing circles around your clit. You were already slick with arousal just from hearing him speak. You try to keep yourself quiet as he continues speaking. “...the guy said that he was dared to do some shit with dry ice but you wrote that it was a chemical burn. Did he tell you what he was doing? I have a feeling this guy is either the stupidest piece of shit I’ve ever met or he’s drug seeking so I just want to narrow it down.”

God, when he curses it just makes you feel even hotter. You’re almost panting. Shit, right. I need to respond. “Uhm, no he didn’t say-ah, say anything. Just that he was doing some tiktok challenges. Shit…” Oh fuck, did he hear that? “You okay? You sound out of breath. Maybe you should come in so I can check you out.” You would love nothing more than for him to ‘check you out’. That just makes you wish he was here even more. You breath out your reply. “No, no Jack. I’m fu-fine, I promise. Can you just *ah* keep talking please.” You know you sounded extremely desperate but maybe he’ll throw you a bone and pretend he doesn’t notice. He coughs then there’s a long pause, and you’re worried you scared him off. “...Doctor Abbot?”

You hear the sound of the ED passing by the speakers, a door shut, and then a sudden quietness. You check your phone and he hasn’t hung up. You’re about to call out to him again but you’re cut off. “You’re playing real dirty y’know. Thinking I wouldn't notice. How long have you been touching yourself?”

Ok, so he’s smarter than you gave him credit for. Not that you were being subtle or anything. Actually, the fact that he went to an empty patient room or something equally as private makes you think he might be into whatever this turns into too. “Not long. I just, I like hearing you talk. I-I ah couldn’t help myself.” You hear him chuckle and it goes straight to your cunt.

“Shit, Sweetheart. You’ve been driving me crazy lately. I can’t stop thinking about you. And then you pull this?” You hear what sounds like him struggling with something for a moment and then a throaty groan. “You are going to be the death of me.” He says with a sigh.

You bite your lip at the thought that he’s touching himself too. You decide to turn it up a bit. “Jack..” “Yes darling?” And he said I was gonna be the death of HIM? “What would you do to me if you were here right now?” 

Another light chuckle from him. So quite you could have missed it. “What wouldn’t I do to you? I’d start by kissing down your neck. Leaving some marks so that everyone here would know you’re mine. *pant pant* Then I’d run my tongue down your breasts…”

You run a hand along one of your breasts, trying to imagine Jack’s hands in place of your own. The thought drives you wild and you let out a moan. “Fuck. I’d do everything I could to hear more noises. Anything that will get you screaming.”

“I want to hear you too.” You surprise yourself, but decide to be bold and continue. “I-I think about pulling you into the staff lounge and wrapping my fingers around your cock.” A shaky breath comes out of the phone speaker. “I think about us in the back of my car relieving stress after a hard shift.” 

“Sweetheart, I want you to you fuck yourself with your fingers. Imagine it’s my cock driving you senseless.” Not one to disobey an attending's orders, you do as he says, pushing two fingers into your heat, and bringing your other hand down you continue working on your bud. “Jack, fuck!” 

“Good girl.” You can hear his stroking speed up on the other end. You thrust your fingers to try and match his pace. You clamp down on your fingers as you hear him breathing fast in your ear.

“Jack, I’m so close…” Your nerves are on fire, the knot in your stomach growing more and more. “Come for me baby. I want to hear you come all over my cock.” And with a few more thrusts you come, not holding back your gasps and moans. Whimpers come from the speakers before one hearty moan as he finishes too. 

Silence overtakes the call as you both come down from your orgasms. The reality of what you’ve done now crashing down on you as both of your minds sober up. You really don’t want things to get weird or for either of you to regret it, so you decide to be bold once more before you miss your chance.

“Come over, after you finish up your shift. This was fun but now I need the real thing.” A beat passes as he mulls it over. Then, with a smile in his voice, he finally responds “There’s nothing I’d love more, Darling. I’ll text you when I’m on my way. Don’t touch yourself anymore until I get there, okay?”

“Hi there,” he says with a smile, reaching up to slide his carry-on suitcase into the overhead compartment. As he does so, the hem of his t-shirt lifts slightly, revealing a stripe of toned skin just above the band of his pants. 

“Hi,” you say back as he settles into the seat, quickly busying yourself with the self-soothing (and self-destructive) act of picking at your cuticles. 

As the plane takes off, you command yourself not to lose your marbles, summoning the strength of the arm rest you’re digging your fingers into. If you’re not careful, your nails might actually snap off. At least then, you’d be distracted from the fear bubbling in your gut, if only for a moment. 

By some miracle, the plane finds its path, the seatbelt light turns off, and smooth sailing is promised by the pilot over the intercom. You remind yourself to look at the flight attendants. If they aren’t panicking, all is well. Or maybe they’re all trained to hide it, saving face until the moment the plane breaks in half and they no longer have one because it’s torn from their skeleton–

“Drink?” 

You let out a breath that had been building in your lungs, the huff of air escaping through parted lips. It’s the voice of the man beside you, reiterating the question asked by the attendant pushing the beverage cart. 

“Nothing for me, thank you,” you reply sweetly, and the attendant moves on. You’re far too afraid that, if you fill your bladder (which may be impossible as you look at the size of the cups they hand out), you’ll have to stand up and use the restroom and you’ll tumble and fall right through the floor of the plane and into the sky by some defiance of nature’s laws. 

When the plane hits a rough patch of air, your hand races to the forearms of the man beside you, your fingertips digging into his brawn as your eyes screw shut. Thankfully, the turbulence passes just a moment later and your panic subsides.  

“Sorry about that,” you say with a nervous titter. 

“All good. Nervous flyer?” He asks, pivoting toward you. 

You nod. “Is it obvious?” 

His brow quirks slightly and he tilts his head back and forth an inch. “A little.” 

You’ve never liked planes. There’s something so unnatural about being suspended in the sky, held up by nothing but air, and you tell him exactly that, to which he responds with the science behind the laws of gravity that hold the plane in the sky, and how technically, there’s no way for the vehicle to just fall from the clouds. He likens it to an object submerged in jell-o. It’s stuck, unmovable. 

“Are you an engineer?” You inquire, impressed by his miniature lesson on airplane physics. 

He chuckles breathily, shaking his head. “No, no, I’m a doctor.” 

“Ah. That makes sense.” He arches a curious brow, begging you to elaborate. “You’re a very calming presence, and I’m sure that translates to your bedside manner. Let me guess. Pediatrics?”

“Emergency Department, actually,” he corrects. “But we do get our fair share of kiddos who need a teddy bear to squeeze. Didn’t bring one with me today. Sorry about that.” 

“Makes even more sense. Deal with a lot of crazy people in there? Crazier than a grown woman afraid of flying?”

“You have no idea,” he says, rolling his eyes, testing the next phrase on his tongue. His eyes glance down at the plastic cup sitting steadily on his try table. “None as beautiful as you, though.”

Your face burns, heat rising to your cheeks as the compliment settles in your belly, warmth blooming across your chest. 

“I’m Jack, by the way.” 

You give him your name with a smile, shaking the hand he’s extended toward you. The two of you share biographies, your respective reasons for flying to your shared destination, and you beg him for at least one emergency-room horror story to distract you from the wave of turbulence that rocks the plane. 

“That sounds awful,” you say with an exaggerated wince. “Tell me another one.” And so he does, and it works. The ball of tension between your shoulders loosens, and you’re able to stop bouncing your knee like a maniac. 

Maybe it’s his face, or the slightly rasp to his voice when he speaks softly to you, or perhaps it’s the freckles that dot those deliciously muscular arms. But it’s not long until you’re able to sink back into your seat and laugh heartily at his humor. That is, until the plane bounces and you convince yourself that a nosedive is impending. The turbulence lasts too long, the seatbelt light flickering back on, and an announcement from the pilot that the rest of the flight might be bumpy. 

“I am never flying again,” you promise aloud. “I wish someone would just hit me over the head and knock me out, put me out of my misery already.” 

That garners you a laugh that quickly dissipates into thick silence. He leans into your space, filling the air with the faint scent of his cologne, the clean musk of his skin. “I have a better idea.” 

You turn your head to face him. “Like what?” 

“You can tell me to stop, anytime.” His hand lands on your knee, palm caressing its say up the length of your leg. 

“Jack, we’re in public,” you say, quickly tossing your jacket over your lap, hiding the hand he has trailing between your thighs. And I just met you.

“It’s hardly public. We’re in the air.” 

“Same difference. Someone could see.” 

He shrugs. “Eh, don’t worry about it. Everyone’s sleeping anyway.” You glance around the plane. It’s dark–the lights off, every window shut–and quiet except for a gentle hum. Lots of eye masks and fallen heads. “Just focus on being quiet for me, alright?” 

You turn to him, nodding as you lock eyes, staring intently into a pair of warm, hazel irises. He’s so handsome, and that’s all it takes apparently–salt-streaked hair, fine lines that tell of a life well-lived, and a charming smile–for you to let his hand snake all the way up to the apex of your thighs. 

He uses his right hand, the one you share an armrest with, to discreetly travel to the button of your slacks, to the zipper below it. Undoing the blockades with only a surgeon’s precision, he gains access to the band of your panties, slowly trailing beneath them tauntingly trickling your pelvic bone with a fingernail as it traces up and down your skin. 

For the first time in your life, you’re grateful you went with the best deal and chose a seat in economy. The rows are close together, and the flight attendants have hardly ventured past first and business classes. It’s just you and Jack, and his hand down your pants.

“Shh,” he says, slanting into you. There’s a slight smile tugging at his lips as he whispers in your ear. “Feeling better?” 

The plane shakes with almost perfect timing. “No,” you say, leaning over slightly, giving him your cheek to bump the tip of his nose against. 

You nearly whimper when he slides his fingers, splitting them on either side of your clit, just slithering up and down the valleys between your lips. Thigh instinctively clenching, head tilting back, you let out a gasp. He draws a few lazy circles on the bud, pinching here, tapping there. Then, he inserts the pads of his fingers, stretching you out before thrusting the full length of middle and pointer into your pussy. 

“That’s it,” he rasps at your ear, his voice still low and hushed. “You like that?” 

You can only nod, the gift of speech being snatched from you, your voice completely out of commission with the exception of a few strangled gasps and muffled moans. 

“Just breathe,” he coaches, and you take his cues to inhale and exhale, letting the anxiety melt off your chest. You meet his eyes, pupils affixed to your mouth as he listens for the breaths leaving your lips. “In and out. Just like that. Good girl.” 

The praise has your vision blurring at the corners, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he works you open with them. With studied and practiced movements, he crooks his digits at the knuckles, pads finding the button behind your front wall. His hand stays in place, only bending at the hinges to keep pressing against the spot that has you grappling at his forearm, swallowing moans. 

“I’m so close, Jack,” you breathe, your abdomen tensing and releasing, your core squeezing his fingers like you’ll never let them go. 

“I know, I can feel you.” He continues his ministrations, though your body is aching for more of him. “Don’t chase it,” he says. “Let it happen.” 

And with that advice, you take in a cleansing breath, forcing the tension from your hips, letting your head fall back against the cushion rest behind it, and your pleasure continues to grow. The climb is violent, and if you weren’t confined to a seat and to the strictures of polite society, you’d be crying out like a dog, clawing at whatever could fit in your fists to help quell the heat rushing through your veins. All you can do now, is sink your fingers into Jack’s forearm, his thigh. 

“You’re so close, that’s it. Keep going,” he coos at the crook of your neck. “You can do it. I wanna feel you come around my fingers. Give it to me.” 

Overwhelmed by the pressure in your core, the lulling words dripping from Jack’s tongue, you reach your peak, thighs shaking as you right through your violent high. As you come down, one labored breath at a time, Jack removes his hand from your pants, taking with him the sticky evidence of your orgasm. The sheen coats his skin, and he brings his fingers up to his mouth, sucking the moisture right off of them. 

Like he hasn’t interrupted at all, you’re talking, hands moving the whole time, telling him how Miles took her to his cousin’s wedding as a plus one, introduced her to his whole extended family, and then got weird the second she used the word relationship in a sentence. 

Jack genuinely cannot follow half of this. He’s thirty seconds behind the whole time, stuck on the wedding part, trying to work out what kind of man brings a woman to a family wedding and then chickens out over a label. 

Honestly, he’s kind of enjoying not understanding it, watching you get worked up over somebody else’s nonsense relationship, all animated hands and soft pouts and that furrow between your brows that he’d kiss off your face if you weren’t so deep in it.

“Did she ask him what they are?”

“She’s scared to.”

“Why?”

“Because if she asks and he says nothing, then it’s real, it’s confirmed nothing. But, right now it’s like, undefined nothing, y’know? Kinda feels better somehow even though it’s like million times worse.”

Jack blinks at you, quite a beat too long. He has, in his entire adult life, never once thought this hard about anything that wasn’t a differential diagnosis. But, here you are explaining tiered levels of nothing, like there’s a flowchart somewhere for this. (He thinks you’re going to pull it up one of these days. Educate him, like you keep saying.) 

It should annoy him. It really should. Some kid your age too much of a pussy to know what he wants, doesn’t deserve the headspace you’re giving him, though he keeps that one to himself.

You flop down next to him mid sentence, grabbing his arm and using it as a pillow without asking, and he thinks, not for the first time, that he would listen to you explain literally anything for this long if it meant you stayed exactly like this against him.

His free hand finds your waist, thumb rubbing slow into the dip of it, like he can’t sit next to you for longer than a minute without needing his hands on you somewhere. “You know what I think?” 

“What?”

“I think you people invented whole new vocabulary so nobody has to just ask a question out loud.”

“Okay, boomer.”

“I’m not a boomer.”

“You said ‘you people.’ That’s such a boomer thing to say.”

“I’m fifty.”

“Boomer adjacent.”

He doesn’t really have a comeback for that, mostly because he’s laughing. You’ve created an entire generational subcategory just for him, like he needs his own little demographic bracket. 

Now you’re on some other detail about Miles and a group chat and a screenshot that got sent to the wrong person. 

Jack’s given up on the plot actually, checked out three Mileses ago. He’s just watching your face do fifteen different things in one story, outraged, then gleeful, then outraged again, hands doing most of the narrating on their own, and that’s a hell of a lot more fun to keep up with than Miles.

“Are you even listening?”

“No.”

“Jack.”

“I stopped around the screenshot thing. I got lost.”

“You’re useless.” You smack his chest for that, more out of principle than anything really. 

He catches your hand before you can pull it back, holds onto it, thumb running over your knuckles.

You’re now saying something about how Miles needs to lock the fuck in, or lose it.

Jack’s only half listening. He has zero clue what half your words even mean and somehow could not give less of a shit about that right now.

once she was finally asleep in your bed where she really liked to be, you made your way into the bathroom. it was then that you finally got a good look at yourself in the mirror and holy shit did you look like a nightmare. hair a wild mess from the pool, makeup streaked all down your cheeks, and eyes bloodshot from the nonstop crying you had been doing. you couldn't help but laugh through the tears a little, knowing how insane you looked. again, it was like deja vu to the night you left the cody's for the last time, except pope was banging on your door begging to be let in.

it was like you were asleep, the banging ringing through your ears like a bad dream. except you weren't asleep. it wasn't a bad dream. someone was actually banging on your door. you sprinted through the apartment to your front door, not even crying anymore but pissed because you had just got sunny to go to sleep. you flung the door open without even checking through the peep hole, a sigh leaving your lips at the sight in front of you. there stood pope, looking like a beat puppy. "did you shut your phone off? i thought you were dead," he spoke immediately, his heart breaking at the sight of you standing there looking so disheveled. "don't bang on my door like that ever again. i just got her to sleep," you mumbled, going to shut the door but he was quicker, putting his foot in to stop it.

all you could do was sigh, turning to walk away because trying to win a fight against him seemed almost impossible most of the time and you were exhausted. his hand wrapped around your arm, forcing you to turn to face him. "you don't get to keep walking away from me. you've done it too many times," he spoke, his voice a bit shaky. he wasn't one to cry ever but you could tell he had been. the red of his eyes, the slight pink hue of his cheeks, and his curls a mess from running his hands through it so many times gave it away. a scoff left your lips, arm pulling from his grasp. "you're right, i have. you stood there and let your devil mother call ME a bad mom and didn't say a single thing. i have bent over backwards for our daughter, i let you see her whenever you aren't doing smurf's dirty work, i take her to all her appointments. i do everything for this child and still let you have your time with her," you hissed in a whisper, finger jabbing into his chest over and over as you made your points. you hated speaking to him this way, hated trying to make him feel bad, but the ship of protecting his feelings had long sailed. "sure, you pop in and play daddy once or twice a week at most. you give us money thinking that will keep me happy. but guess what andrew? im not happy. i want you doing these things with me but you're always too fucking busy," you spat with one final poke to his chest, arms coming back to cross over your chest as you finally looked up at him.

in your whirlwind of anger, you didn't even notice the bag he had brought with him now sat at his feet. the sight of it caused you to start laughing, probably looking like an insane person as you laughed and the tears began to stream. "you think you're staying here? think you're sleeping in my bed?" you smirked up at him, your foot moving to nudge the bag at his feet. he scratched the back of his neck, staring at you for a moment before reaching to pick up the bag and moving past you. he knew you had a hard time saying no to him, especially when it came to involving him being around sunny. "i won't sleep in your bed. i will sleep on the couch. let me stay for a few days. will get an apartment and out of smurf's," he mumbled as he moved past you to the couch, setting his bag down before he began to take off his jacket, turning back to look at you.

"oooo mommy is gonna be mad," you snorted at the thought of smurf waking up in the morning to realize her precious pope was gone. yes, it did warm your heart a little to know he was finally going to be out of her place, but he wasn't just out of the blue yet. "you don't get to waltz in here and think everything is just fixed. your family is what ruined us in the first place and it is happening all over again, pope," you spoke finally after a few moments of silence, turning to lock your front door. he hated when you called him pope. the entirety of your relationship he was always andrew. andrew, andy, my andy. he missed it so bad. the thought of him staying for a few days did excite you a little, sure, but it was only a matter of time before smurf was begging him for his help for a job that had a chance of him ending up either in jail or dead. "you and sunny are my family. you come first from now on. i want my family back," he spoke, his voice cracking as he spoke quietly to ensure he didn't wake your sleeping daughter who was just up the stairs. you shook your head, still standing at a distance from him. "we should have came first to begin with. this is our fucking child we are talking about. you have missed out on so much with not being here all the time," you hissed, your tone still sharp and mean. he finally sat down, hands running through his hair over and over to try and stop himself from letting any tears fall.

"i know that. i know. i beat myself up for it every day. you don't have to keep reminding me that i miss out, okay? i know that. i love my daughter more than anything in this entire fucking world and im going to prove that to you. i love you more than anything in this entire fucking world and im going to prove that to you," he said as he forced himself to look up at you, the tears finally falling down his cheeks. you were such a sucker for his puppy dog eyes and tears. a sigh left your lips as you moved to stand in front of him, frowning down at his teary face. all you wanted to do was wipe his face and hold him so tight but you stopped yourself. "i will let you stay. but that woman is not to step foot on this property. i swear to god, andrew if i find out she is even on this street i will kill her," you mumbled to him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. he couldn't help but chuckle a little, knowing you couldn't hurt a fly let alone a grown woman. "don't laugh. im serious. you have to be out by the end of the week too and in your own place. a place that smurf does not have any reign over. i don't even want her knowing where you live," you continued on, fingers toying of the sleeve of his shirt you still wore.

in all your sadness and anger of the night, you hadn't even got the chance to eat or clean yourself up. suddenly you were so conscious of the state of yourself that a wave insecurity rushed over you and you could tell he took notice of it. "no smurf. i promise," he nodded, wiping his tears away as quickly as they fell. "i will be out by the end of the week. just please please do not walk away from me again. i can't take it anymore," he begged, his voice still in a whisper as he continued to stare up at you. a sudden cry from upstairs that came from your daughter snapped you both out of conversation, a small sigh leaving your lips as you turned to make your way up the stairs. he was quick to stop you, hand grabbing your wrist. "go get cleaned up. ill get her, yeah?" he spoke, rubbing your arm gently where he had just held it. you hesitated for a moment, looking up at the stairs as sunny's crying continued before back to him. all you could do was nod, a barely visible smile on your lips before he was pushing past you and making his way up the stairs.

your shower was spent silently crying, basically praying to whoever was listening that pope wouldn't go back into his ways. that he wouldn't disappear for days on end then return like nothing was wrong. all you wanted was your family back. when you finally got out of the shower, the apartment was eerily quiet, your daughter's crying no longer heard. it sent a chill down your spine. he wouldn't just run off with her would he? this wasn't a whole plan made by smurf to kidnap your daughter was it? you were slipping from your wet feet as you wrapped yourself in your towel, rushing to your bedroom where your daughter last laid. you pushed through the door, adrenaline racing as you swung the door open. there, like two perfect angels, slept pope with your daughter on his chest in your bed. all your nerves seemed to melt away at the sight, a small smile on your lips. you crept around your room not to wake them, quietly getting dressed. you were going to stick with the words you said to pope, you were not going to sleep with him. you had tip toed down the stairs, baby monitor in hand as you made yourself comfy on the couch.

you couldn't believe you actually gave your bed up to him and forced yourself to the couch. if that was what it took to get him to stay, you would sleep on the couch every day for the rest of your life. you knew he would probably throw a fit in the morning at the sight of you asleep downstairs but you didn't mind. he had never got the chance to sleep with sunny so you were finally going to give that to him. you wanted him to get the chance to see what he could have had these past two years. you wanted him to feel that guilt because maybe then it would get through his thick skull that his mother tore your family apart. the tv played softly as you dozed off on the couch, finally being able to fall asleep. you were already deep asleep, a phone buzzing and lighting up on the coffee table in front of you. the exhaustion from the day kept you asleep through the constant buzzing. your phone had still been shut off though so it had to be pope's. text after text continued to come through. it could only be from one person.

CHAPTER FIVE

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, angst, implied sexual assault, fight with zuko, zuko is kind of a prick ngl, protective aang, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER SIX

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, angst, blood, stab wound, cauterization, lots of fire, a little tension, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER SEVEN

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, slight panic attack, a very bad injury (not detailed), takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER EIGHT

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, alcohol consumption, underage drinking (?) [idk their legal age for drinking, but in this fic it's 21], takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER NINE

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, angst, kidnapping, restraints, sexual assault, character death mentioned, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER TEN

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, angst, bad father, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, angst, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER TWELVE

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, angst, zuko spirals a little, multiple minor character deaths, ozai appearence, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER THRITEEN

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, angst, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, angst, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, blood, mentions of premeditated murder, angst, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER WARNINGS. 18+, mdni, blood, mentions of premeditated murder, head injury, angst, takes place 10 years after atla, age gaps, reader is 21, established relationship, fem reader, atla spoilers, no spoilers for legend of aang, not proofread.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

coming soon...

It was all because of a stupid joke Toph made at dinner; one that everyone took lightly but you.

“So since Aang’s still alive..” she started with a dirty snicker at the man’s absence, quite tipsy, playfully nudging Katara’s side. “That means the Airbenders could be brought back. Think you and him could repopulate the Air nation, Sugar Queen? Have little Airbender babies filling up the temples?”

“What the hell— No!” Katara shoves her off, flustered and embarrassed, groaning in defeat at the others’ laughs.

Zuko offers her a timid smile, his words a little slurred from the drinking. “But it’s true, no? That would be a very heroic act, Katara.”

“Drop it, you guysss..” she sighs, downing one more shot, Toph’s noisy cackling mingling with Sokka’s until they’re interrupted by their synchronized hiccuping, which only causes them to laugh even louder.

Your grip tightens around your glass. You were glad nobody was looking at you; you wouldn’t know how to justify the glare you were throwing their way.

Images of Aang and Katara naked and tangled under the sheets suddenly plagued your mind, and you couldn’t tell if they were the cause of your headache or if that was the work of your sixth drink.

You huff, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking the thoughts off. This was ridiculous.

You push yourself up from the floor, and that piques Katara’s attention. She looks up at you, a little worried. “Leaving already? Is everything okay, sweetie?”

A twinge of guilt tugs at your heartstrings at the genuine worry in her voice. You give her a small nod, and your best attempt at a smile, “Just had too much to drink, don’t worry. I’ll go upstairs, to check on Aang.”

“Gooood,” Toph drawls through a fit of giggles, raising her hand to give you a thumbs up while Sokka refills her mug. “Tell him that Katara’s gonna bring back the Air nation while you’re at it. Gonna give him loooots of babies. Pregnant Katara, pregnant with little Airbenders. Buuunch of ‘em.”

Your lips purse tightly, and as much as you wanted to, you refrain from throwing your glass at her face. “.. Alright. Goodbye.”

You walk off, Katara’s exasperated denials and Toph’s increasingly dirty jokes fading into a dull noise as you storm up the stairs.

You don’t even know why this was upsetting you so badly. Sure, you had a little crush on Aang but.. it’s not like he was yours. He probably would never be.

You weren’t even a bender; so why in the world would he ever pick you over Katara?

Sweet, pretty, skilled Katara. Unbearably perfect Katara.

Everyone in the group pictured them together for good reason; she was the perfect match for him. And you did love them both a lot as your dear friends.. so why were you this worked up?

Tears prick at your eyes when you stand in front of Aang’s door. You quickly wipe them off with the back of your hand, bewildered at the fact that you were actually crying over this.

You sigh. You shouldn’t have had so much to drink, this was all the alcohol.

After a few more minutes of mulling over your words and composing yourself, you knock on the door softly. Three knocks.

“Come in!” His voice, breezy like always but a little weighed down by the exhaustion of night work, shoots right through your chest like an arrow. You suck in a sharp breath, then slowly slide the door open.

“Ohh, thank Spirits you’re here.” He practically whines as he tips his head back against his chair, limp as a ragdoll. “Dumb Avatar work won’t end, I swear I thought I was about to die from boredom. You’re my savior.”

You force a small smile and walk over to his desk, setting down your glass with a bit of sake left, that he wastes no time in stealing and chugging down in a second.

He exhales with a wide grin, very pleased, melting back against his chair. “Really, really my savior.”

You stare at him silently. Your gaze lingers on the pretty arch of his eyebrows, the light blush already tinting his cheeks because he had the liquor tolerance of a two year old, the adorable twinkle in those tired, happy doe eyes..

You look further down, noting the squeeze of his too-big back against the borrowed chair, and the way his legs twisted uncomfortably to fit under the somehow small-for-him desk.

Downsides of a bigger build, huh. Your mouth dries up a little.

It physically hurt that you couldn’t have him.

His puzzled, sad frown snaps you out of your haze. “You’re not even listening to me.. am I boring you?”

“Oh, no, no, not at all. I’m sorry.” You wave your hands wildly, embarrassed and grateful that he seemingly didn’t pick up on your inappropriate leering. “I just.. just..”

The more you look into his eyes, the heavier your heart feels.

Your friends’ words keep ringing in the back of your head, the filthy images of him and Katara together in different positions refusing to leave your tipsy mind.

Spirits, you felt like you could cry again. Damn you, inhibition-lowering alcohol. And damn you, Toph.

Once again, you’re pulled out of your thoughts by him. His large hand wraps around yours, his features scrunched in worry at the sight of your teary eyes. “Are you okay, sweetheart? Tell me what’s wrong.”

Now was not the time for his stupid nicknames. This was so unfair to your poor heart.

“I am. It’s just.. this dumb thing that happened earlier.” You look down at your hand in his, your eyes welling up much to your embarrassment and dismay.

His fingers gently curl around yours, urging you to look at him. “What dumb thing? Please tell me.”

‘No.’ You wanted to say. ‘It concerns you, so how could I tell you?’ You tell yourself.

Staying silent or lying was the smart idea.

..

Maybe you would’ve been smarter sober.

With the alcohol in your system, and those beautiful eyes boring into yours so intimately in the dark of the night, the moonlight reflecting in his pupils.. you don’t feel the words spill out of your lips until you hear them yourself.

“It’s nothing. Just a joke Toph made,” with each syllable that left your mouth, your brain desperately tried to hit the brakes and shut you up, regret already pooling in your gut as you helplessly watched yourself commit the stupidest mistake of your life. “About.. you and Katara. Talked about you two.. uhm.. repopulating the Air nation, or whatever. Like.. Airbenders aren’t totally extinct since you.. you’re still here. You could, y’know, make more—”

“I-I get the gist,” he interjects, blushing while his grip tightens around your hand. He sighs lowly and shakes the thought off. “Of course it’s Toph. But.. I’m still lost.”

He tilts his head, blinking up at you so sweetly you almost melt. “I think I get the joke. Dirty, sure. But I’m not sure why it’s sad?”

“Sad?” You answer back, just as puzzled. “It’s not sad, though?”

He nods, both of you like lost puppies. “I know. So why is it making you cry?”

Fuck.

Your addled brain racks itself to come up with a reason fast enough, but oh, who were you kidding?

“It’s just..” you look down at the empty glass, wishing it was full so you could down it and hopefully choke on it. “..I don’t know.”

Could you have picked a worse answer? Hard to tell.

A long silence settles between you two, and you can feel his heavy, curious gaze on you without even needing to look at him. You regret doing so, because with the way his eyes suspiciously narrow, his oblivious mind exhausting the possible explanations for your state, you can see him work closer up to the conclusion.

“Welp,” you force an awkward chuckle, patting his hand before sliding yours off his grasp and taking a few steps back, hoping to make it out of here before he figures it out. “I’m sorry to bother you, Aang. It’s nothing really, I think it’s just the drinks getting to me. You know how they always make me soo emotional. Anyway, I just wanted to check up on you, so I’ll get going now.”

You turn around and pick up your pace, but before your fingers find the knob, a gust of wind pushes the door just right out of your reach.

“Wait.” His voice sends a shiver up your spine, cold sweat suddenly rolling off your temples. “Are you..?”

He trails off again, and your limbs grow shakier. This was such a dumb idea, why did you even have to go up to his office? Dumb, dumb, dumb.

You take a deep breath and take one more step to the door, but this time it’s slammed shut with a sharper gust.

“Were you..” You can hear the scraping of his chair as he stands up, your heart sinking down to your ass. “.. Jealous?”

And, unfortunately, there it was.

Even then, knowing Aang, you could’ve still flipped it around. Laughed and played it off. Told him he was wrong. He would’ve believed you.

But, unable to even look up from the door knob, the dumbest answer rolls out of your heavy tongue, a tipsy lightheadedness washing over you for a second. “.. Yes.”

At this point, you didn’t even care anymore. It couldn’t possibly get any worse than this. Maybe now he could laugh at how weird you were being and send you off, finally putting off the burning flames in your chest.

You wait for the longest time, neither of you moving, and right when you expect him to burst out giggling, a firm command escapes his lips instead. “Turn around.”

You blink, dazed.

You slowly turn around, and your breath hitches at the sight before you. Aang standing with his palms flat against the desk, his chest silently heaving, wisps of steam slipping out of his parted lips, more redness across his cheeks, broad and bulky and scary with his no longer sparkling eyes.

There was only what you could describe as heat in them. Not from anger, no, but something awfully akin to lust that had a foreign heat pooling deep in your lower tummy.

Was the alcohol making you see things? Was this just wishful thinking?

“Come here,” he orders again, but it’s shaky this time. Your feet comply before you can process it, and you feel your guts twisting with dread and hopeful anticipation.

Spirits, did you make him uncomfortable? You’d never seen him like this before.

When you finally stand before him, only the desk separating you, your fingers curl around your skirt in guilt. “Aang, I’m so sorry. You already have enough on your plate, I shouldn’t have said anything— Mmf!!”

You’re cut off with a rough kiss, sudden and heated from the get-go, big hands cupping your cheeks as his lips smush against yours in a sloppy mess. You want to make sense of it, but it’s hard to care when your brain’s this fuzzy and you’re living out one of your nightly fantasies.

Neither of you want to stop, breathlessly lapping at each other’s warm tongues and moaning at the unfamiliar feel, swapping sweet sake-flavored saliva.

He reluctantly breaks it with a wet pop, gazing down at you so desperately it had you squeezing your thighs together.

“Don’t move.” Aang whispers, trailing around the table to stand behind you, the order nailing your feet down to the floor. A soft gasp slips from your kiss-bitten lips when his hands tentatively rest on your hips, his breath hot against your ear as his buff body presses against your back. “Is this what you wanted?”

With his touch slowly travelling down to your thighs, all words die out on the tip of your tongue and you can only nod, swallowing thickly.

“You were jealous.” He states again, his voice low and gravelly, like the fact wasn’t embarrassing enough being said the one time. “You’d rather Toph made that joke about you, correct?”

You would’ve answered that, if something huge didn’t poke you in the ass the next second.

Heavens, what the hell was— Oh.

“You have nothing to worry about,” Aang murmurs into your ear, giving your thighs reassuring rubs as he grows unbearably hard against your backside. “I don’t want to.. repopulate the Air nation with Katara, if that’s any consolation. I don’t.”

The words do soothe you a little, but the dirty images are burnt into the back of your eyelids, looping in your mind like a cruel parade, making you shudder against him. “Thank you. I just.. I keep imagining it, and it kills me. Just imagining you on top of her and fucking her— Ah!”

You squeal, startled, when you’re swiftly spun around with not so breezy hands, facing his towering figure with a lick of your bottom lip.

His hands hook around the hem, sliding his shirt off to reveal his muscular frame in all its glory, your gaze sliding down the arrow tattoos, but you’re not given much time before the same hands slide down to the back of your thighs to lift you up on the desk.

He sweeps off the paperwork, crowded between your legs, and you can’t help but moan at how much your thighs have to spread just to wrap around his waist.

So big. In every sense of the word.

“This— Is this what you imagine?” The question’s breathless, lowering himself to look at you and you throb at the eye contact. So does he, judging from the twitching you feel against your inner thigh.

You let out a quivery sigh, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders while he leans even closer, his steamy breath mingling with yours. “..Kind of..”

He nods at that, glances around hesitantly, then decides to push you flat down on the desk. It’s firm but not rough, your head landing softly on the hardwood thanks to an air cushion he swirled up. “How about this?”

You’re about to reply with a “maybe” when wild fingers swiftly fumble with his belt, lowering his pants enough for him to spring up— WOAH!

Your face is set ablaze, quickly looking away, eyes blown wide open in a mix of shock, dread, and helpless arousal.

His hands find your hips once more, tugging your skirt up to reveal your plush thighs and a patch of your lacies that has him choking on a gasp.

He grabs your jaw, turning your head back to face him, desire and uncertainty swimming in his pretty brown eyes. “Are you.. sure about this? There’s no going back.”

“Please,” it slips out of you with a needy gasp, your legs wrapping around his waist while your hands roam over his wide shoulders. “Yes.”

With the blood rushing in your ears, you can’t hear his whispered word, but from the way his face scrunches up, you assume it was a curse.

Your skirt is fully ridden up with a gust of wind, one that (unintentionally or not) flicks up against your clothed folds and has you shivering in his grasp.

Thick fingers tug the delicate fabric to the side, and he moans in awe at the sight of your drooling slit, already so ready for him.

“So wet,” he comments as he admires the slick coating your glistening cunt, not ripping his eyes off it like it was a piece of art. The prolonged staring makes you self-conscious and embarrassed, but when your thighs shift just a little bit to hide yourself, firm hands keep them separated and he looks up at you, mildly offended. “No, don’t hide from me. You asked for this.”

“Well, I didn’t think your staring was on the menu,” you sputter out, flushed.

“I’m sorry, she’s just so beautiful.” He sighs softly, and your breath is knocked out of your lungs when he starts tracing your folds. “I can’t believe you’re already this wet. You wanted me this badly?”

His questions are genuine, but they only increase your shame. Aang senses that, and so decides to finally give you a taste of what you want.

“Fuck—!” Your back archs off the desk with a yelp, two of his abnormally big digits prodding at your sopping wet hole. It takes some time, but when they finally slip inside you, your pussy greedily sucks them in, earning a pleased grunt from him. “Good girl. Gripping me so nicely.”

It feels illegal to even hear such words from him outside the fake scenarios you touched yourself to at night. More desperate mewls are coaxed out of you when he starts scissoring you open, the pads of his fingertips pressing skillfully against your spongy spot and curling upwards.

“Need to get you ready for me,” he breathes out, stretching you out with a third finger that has you ferally clawing at his back. “So you can take me.”

Steam is wafting off him as he pounds his fingers in and out of your tight walls, unable to look away from your fluttering cunt. His calloused thumb comes to swipe over your perked up clit, a wail ripping through your throat. The sound has him lifting his eyes to check on you, and the sight of tears filling the rim of your eyes, your lips contorted into a quivering pout, your hair pooling so prettily around your head, sends a hot jolt of arousal down to his cock.

“Spirits, you—you’re so pretty.” He babbles dazedly, dragging another scream out of you with a thrust of his fingers. “Pretty, pretty girl. I need you now.”

With a few more rubs to your puffy clit, he suddenly pulls away, your arms tightening around him with a pitiful cry.

“No no, don’t cry, please.” Aang wipes the tears off your eyes, stealing a warm kiss from your puckered lips. “I’ll take care of you now baby, I promise.”

His entire body burned hot with his firebending, but especially his hands; scalding as they slid up the back of your thighs to push your legs up against your chest in a mating press.

But even his hot touch paled in comparison to the heat between your thighs.

He exhales through his nose, one of his hands ditching you to wrap around his girthy cock, lazily fisting himself as the tip flushed an angrier red, veins forking up the length.

You gasp when he lines himself up, the leaking tip gliding over your slit like he owned it, and your eyes roll back at its pure thickness.

You didn’t even know if you could take him.

He lowers himself over you, his bare chest pressed flush against yours as he litters your neck with warm open-mouthed kisses. “Ready for me?”

He takes your pathetic whimper as a “yes”, swallowing it with his tongue while he slowly pushes in.

His pre-cum mixes with your slick in filthy squelches, and you both moan loudly when he finally pushes through the tight ring of muscle, plunging into your velvety walls.

You’d think it’d be easier with him prepping you with three of his fingers, but the big stretch was still scream-worthy.

“I—I can’t,” he whines against your lips after some minutes pass by, frowning down at you so sweetly. “I really want to be gentle and good to you, b-but it’s so hard. With how you feel around me, I just wanna— wanna— ugh, lose control. You— feel so good..”

His words have your organs collapsing against each other, your cunt fluttering around him with arousal at the thought of rough sex with the sweet, tender Avatar before you.

How could you resist such a nasty demand made with the most adorable look?

“Lose it.” You whisper into his mouth, feeling his entire back tense up under your hands. You pull him in for a brief kiss, “I want you to lose it.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, your eyes widening at the flickering of his tattoos. “D—Don’t say that.”

His slow thrusts grow faster and rougher, each inch splitting you further and completely numbing your tipsy mind, broken moans ripping through your hoarse throat when he bottoms out.

You try to adjust to his size, the lingering pain only increasing your pleasure as he rolls his hips into the flesh of your ass, his grip deadly tight around your folded thighs. “Spirits—”

The desk clatters under you, mewling in tandem while he tries to fight the Avatar state, flashes of blinding white forcing you to shut your eyes but they were just as quickly forced back open at the animal pounding that accompanied them.

Holy mother of God, you could feel him in your womb.

“Is—” He grunts, suddenly ripping your top off with his teeth to bare your chest to his hungry gaze. You’re taken off guard, choking on your startled yelp when he hikes your hips up to deepen his angle and fuck you harder, his eyes drinking in the bounce of your gorgeous tits. “Is this what you imagined?”

You could hardly tell if it was Aang anymore, tears streaming down your face and hiccuping sobs while his wild thrusts bruised your cervix.

You feel him twitch inside you, his pace stuttering for a second, and that’s when you know he’s close.

He leans down to capture one of your peaked nipples between his teeth, nipping and licking at the sensitive bud as he reveled in your whiny cries. His svelte fingers take care of the neglected one, twisting and rolling it while his tongue flicked harshly against your left.

When his lips close on it in a sucking motion, your mind goes blank and your eyes cross, drool leaking out of your mouth when you open it to beg for release.

With your pleading and the way your cunt lovingly squeezes around his throbbing dick, he completely loses it and brutally picks up the pace.

“Gonna.. gonna cum,” he slurs, latching off your chest to gaze down at your wrecked face. “Pump you full of me. That’s what you want, right?”

He takes your loud moan to his words as approval, drunk on your noises as he fucks you with the stamina that could only belong to the Avatar.

“Fuck, need— need to breed you.” He turns into an incoherent mess, each thrust fucking your earlier scenarios right out of your head, Katara’s image gradually being replaced by yours. Your nails draw blood, scratching down his muscular back while he gets off to the thought of knocking you up, his fingers sliding down to rub fast circles on your clit. “My—my sweet girl, gonna give me lots of little Airbenders. You want that, don’t you? Stuffed full of my cum, bearing my children. You’ll make me a daddy.”

If his cock destroying your cervix wasn’t enough to make you cum, his words definitely did it.

Your orgasm crashes over you, your toes curling in the air, gushing all over him with a broken cry and so does he, the feel of your walls clamping down on him so tightly tipping him over the edge as hot ropes of thick cum paint your insides white.

It’s so warm — and so much — you almost cum again from the sheer sensation.

“Gonna get you pregnant,” he breathlessly pants, angling your hips up for none of his cum to slip out of you. Your pussy spasms around him, thoroughly milking him dry and you don’t know if it’s just the tipsiness, but you could swear you felt all his warm seed seep through your cervix and fill up your womb.

You’re both drenched in sweat, fighting for air. He gives you a few more thrusts for good measure, draining himself out entirely, eliciting an overstimulated mewl from you, before reluctantly pulling out of what he would later consider his home.

Dazed, he watches your swollen folds clench around nothing, and when he sees some of his cum dribble out of them, he tuts and fingers it back inside you. He does this for the next minutes, making sure you’ve taken all of him, appreciating your needy squirms and whimpers each time.

When he’s satisfied with himself, he exhales deeply, all his earlier savageness gone for an affectionate look in his eyes as he gazes down at you. He gives you a fond smile, pressing his large palm flat against where your womb is. “You’ll grow me some Airbenders in here, won’t you? Birth me back my nation?”

Too fucked out to answer, you nod weakly, limp in his grasp. He leans down to kiss you tenderly, slow and warm and wet. “I can’t wait. In some months, everyone will know what happened here. They’ll know who you belong to, who you craved tonight. You’ll be all big and swollen with my babies.”

The thought has you furiously blushing, your arms wrapping tighter around his shoulders. “W-Well.. it’s still too early to know if I’ll be preg—”

“Oh you will be.” He answers with a cheeky grin, patting your belly again. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

You blink at him, incredulous, a small smile tugging at your lips too. “But that’s not how it works. There’s no guarantee that I’m pregnant, even if you know what you’re doing.”

At that, he groans, tucking his face into the crook of your neck while his heavy body rests over yours. “But I’m the Avatar. My stuff’s gotta be special. I’m sure it worked, you’re definitely knocked up.”

You return his tired hug, letting out a soft exasperated sigh. “.. Sure, Aang.”

Meanwhile, everyone downstairs remained blissfully ignorant of what the hell happened a floor above them, all busy with their drinks and tipsy banter.

All, except for a very drunk earthbender that heard everything through the walls. Who was thankfully way too drunk to properly tell the others, only shouting garbled congratulations to the ceiling that nobody bothered to understand. “Niiiice. Good going, Twinkle toes. You lucky dog.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

masterlist

* i’d be popping out babies left and right with this yummy bald man.. if you see any mistakes leave me alone i hate proofreading.

Dinner was good, you’ve missed his grilling but will never admit that out loud. It was familiar, which made a weird light in your chest go off, but you’re choosing to ignore that now, coming back from the bathroom and seeing your toddler sleeping on the couch. “Shit” you sigh, not wanting to wake her, but knowing you have to go.

Sammy looks over from the kitchen sink, eyes scanning the situation. He turns it off, grabbing a dish towel to dry his hands as he walks over. “Stay” he shrugs, looking down at her. You scoff softly looking at him “Sammy“ he sets the towel down on the armrest of the couch. “I mean it, it’s only one night, I can take the couch.” He says quietly, softly soothing your daughter’s hair out of her face, careful not to wake her.

“I don’t have any clothes” you bite your nails, looking down at the sundress you’re wearing. “I don’t mind” he says, smirk laying on his lips which makes you roll your eyes and shove his bicep, hiding your own smile. “C’mon, it’s not safe to drive at night in LA, you know that, especially with her in the car.” Fuck. He knows exactly how to get you.

You sigh, nodding and letting your hands fall to your sides, “yeah, yeah okay” you nod. You can tell Sammy’s trying to hide his smile as he picks her up from the couch, disappearing into her room with her in his arms.

He comes out a few minutes later, finding you sitting on the couch watching the late night news. Sammy plops down next to you, stretching his arm behind you on instinct. You notice, you don’t move it. He notices it and smirks, eyes glued to the TV.

After a while he’s turning his head, close enough to smell your shampoo and inhaling, dragging his nose along the vein in your neck. You let out a soft shaky breath at the feeling, letting out a soft warning whisper of his name. “Look s’ beautiful” he whispers into your skin.

You’re craning your neck subconsciously, giving him more room, which he of course takes. Nuzzling his face into the side of your neck, placing wet kisses to it, his hand snaking around your waist, squeezing at your hips.

“Please” he whispers, “please let me make you feel good, been dreaming about it.” You should say no, you should get up and get your daughter, get in the car and leave. But his mouth feels to god damn familiar on your skin and you’re nodding before you realize what you’ve done.

His other hand that was resting behind you moves and grabs your face, smashing your lips to his eagerly. You sigh relief into his mouth, kissing him back just as rough. He moves his body, standing over you but mouths still connected before he pulls back, dropping to his knees in-front of you. “Sammy” you breathe.

He nods and lifts your ankles, kissing them sweetly, pushing your dress up your legs, his mouth trailing behind it. You’re running your fingers through his hair, chest rising and falling heavily. Your summer dress is bunched around your hips when he gets to your thighs and when he sees your panties with a wet splotch his forehead falls to your leg, almost in defeat.

“‘S fucking perfect” he whispers, biting softly at your inner thigh. He looks up at you as he hooks his finger in the waistband of your panties, making you nod and lift your hips. He tugs em’ down and you swear you can hear him whimper at the sight.

You see him shove them into his pocket and make a mental note to tug them out later. You can feel his breath on your folds as he leans in, “missed you” he whispers, and you can tell he’s not talking to you but to your cunt, making you smile and roll your eyes, running your fingers through his curls.

He leans in, placing a soft kiss directly on your clit, making you moan softly and arch your back. He hums into you, long tongue sticking out and parting your sticky folds. His big hands both squeezing your thighs and pushing them apart as he settles his shoulders between them.

“S-sammy” you breathe, eyes squeezing shut. “Yeah?” He chuckles against you, lips wrapping around your clit and his middle finger prodding at your dripping hole. “Thank you” he whispers into you, finger curling inside you. “Thank you for letting me do this baby, God I missed doing this.” He says, finger speeding up, making a wet squelching sound as his tongue flicks against your button.

You moan, biting down on your bottom lip trying to stay quiet, fingers tugging at his hair. “Love you, s’ much” he whimpers into you. “Sammy, I’m gonna-“ you gasp, back arching off the couch cushions. He nods, speeding up his movements and shoving another finger inside your hole. “I know baby, I know, come for me, c’mon.” He’s nodding.

You come on his face with a gasp, thighs clenching around his head and you can feel his teeth against you as he smiles. He parts from your pussy with a soft kiss, moving up your body and kissing your lips softly now. “I can take the couch.” He whispers against your mouth and you can still taste yourself on his lips.