yeah I got heartbreak that I reminisce about
She doesn’t notice the cold blooming beneath her skin or the delicate frost climbing the bark at her back. Doesn’t see the petals opening all around them, soft and white and impossible, because Jack is everywhere—inside her, around her, crashing through her thoughts like a wave that never learned how to break. Later, she’ll remember the flowers. Later, she’ll smile at the way his magic spilled out of him, but for now? Now she’s pinned between the tree and the only man who’s ever known how to ruin her properly, and gods, it briefly occurs to her to channel Frey in order to pause the moment for her to properly enjoy it.
Her gaze locks onto Jack’s, her pupils blown wide with lust and love and something harder to name. She’s a mess already—chest heaving, lipstick smeared, legs trembling around his waist—and when he gives the order, her body obeys without question, like he’d hardwired the command into her blood. She lets go of his jaw only to slip her hand down between them, fingers trailing over the thick length of him just as he pulls back. Her touch is greedy and deliberate, sliding along either side of his cock with a teasing squeeze before she finds what she’s after.
When her fingers press against her clit the spark of it is immediate. Heat roars outward, licking down the backs of her legs, curling into her toes like her orgasm is trying to rise from the earth itself. The pressure builds so fast and so bright it almost hurts, stretching and gnawing at the bottoms of her feet, clawing up her spine in waves that make her gasp into his mouth. "Jack," she moans, the name not just spoken but given, shuddering out of her like a spell, like a prayer. Her forehead presses against his, her breath stuttering in bursts across his lips as she pants, needy and wrecked and utterly his.
"Gods, I want you to make me cum," she whispers, her voice raw silk, soaked in reverence and filth in equal measure. “"Please, fuck—Jack—" She bites down on her bottom lip, hard, the pleasure already fraying at her edges.
Her gaze locks onto Jack’s, her pupils blown wide with lust and love and something harder to name. She’s a mess already—chest heaving, lipstick smeared, legs trembling around his waist—and when he gives the order, her body obeys without question, like he’d hardwired the command into her blood. She lets go of his jaw only to slip her hand down between them, fingers trailing over the thick length of him just as he pulls back. Her touch is greedy and deliberate, sliding along either side of his cock with a teasing squeeze before she finds what she’s after.
When her fingers press against her clit the spark of it is immediate. Heat roars outward, licking down the backs of her legs, curling into her toes like her orgasm is trying to rise from the earth itself. The pressure builds so fast and so bright it almost hurts, stretching and gnawing at the bottoms of her feet, clawing up her spine in waves that make her gasp into his mouth. "Jack," she moans, the name not just spoken but given, shuddering out of her like a spell, like a prayer. Her forehead presses against his, her breath stuttering in bursts across his lips as she pants, needy and wrecked and utterly his.
"Gods, I want you to make me cum," she whispers, her voice raw silk, soaked in reverence and filth in equal measure. “"Please, fuck—Jack—" She bites down on her bottom lip, hard, the pleasure already fraying at her edges.
some real big things I still gotta figure out
