#back shoulders neck and wrists/forearms are the key spots

[ashtraysystem]

I'm writing a massage fic and making myself jealous of the characters. goddammit.

[vivwritescrappythings]

take it all

toxic!simon riley x afab!reader

You meet Simon at a pub and go home with him.

an: i imagine this as after Soap’s death (sorry if this is a spoiler) and Ghost is trying to cope the best way he can. also i personally think Ghost is bi, sue me.

part 2

tw: smut!, toxic simon, afab and fem reader, drinking, mild dubcon (they were both drinking), biting, dry humping, oral m!receiving, cum play (in not a fun way), not proofread and bad writing.

word count: 2.6k

masterlist

MDNI!

—

Simon wanted nothing to do with you at first. He was at a pub on university night and you’d been dared to go up to the man sulking at the edge of the bar by your friends. You accepted with a nervous giggle, going through the methodical motions of fixing your hair and adjusting your top and making sure you had nothing stuck in your teeth before you approached.

You didn’t even get to open your mouth before he grumbled at you. “Not interested.” He didn’t even bother to look your direction, gulping down his Guinness like it was water and flagging down the bartender for another. It was hard to hold your scoff, your brows furrowing in indignation.

“Arrogant of you to assume I was coming over here to talk to you,” you snapped, arms crossing over your chest and your posture straightening. The force of your glare could’ve seared a hole in the side of his head as you focused on the ridge of his nose. It looked like it had been broken in the past. His fair skin was littered with scars that varied from shiny white tissue to an irritated red hue.

That made one side of his mouth lift into a smirk, dark brown eyes glancing at you out of the corners. It was a look you promptly ignored. You moved to the stool on his other side, sliding onto it and ordering another drink. The man next to you slid the bartender a bill before you had the chance to grab your wallet out of your purse. A form of olive branch, you assumed.

Somehow the night devolved into more drinks and a clumsy, vague introduction before you were following Simon back to his home. He lived walking distance away, his thick fingers circled around your wrist like a bracelet—or a shackle. He didn’t slow his stride for you, making you nearly jog along with him until he got you to his doorstep.

It was a whirlwind. He caged you against the front door, forearms against the painted wood above your head as his face dropped into your shoulder. His lips sucked and nipped at your neck like a madman, scraping his teeth over your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

“M’not a good guy, don’t want nothin’ more than a shag,” he mumbled into your throat. You found yourself nodding despite the fact that you firmly didn’t believe in one night stands. And you didn’t believe in going home with random men you met at bars. Simon had a way to convince you into things without even trying.

Your mouth sought his, desperate for a touch of his lips when his calloused fingers gripped your chin, turning your face away from him as he continued to pin you to his front door. “No kissin’,” he muttered against the curve of your shoulder in a way that didn’t leave any room for negotiation. You felt dizzy as you looked at the lights in the building across the street, your eyelids fluttering as his teeth dug into a sensitive spot on your neck.

“You gonna let me inside or try and screw me out here on your front step?” you asked, your voice sounding more strained than you would’ve liked. You could already feel how soaked your panties were getting, Simon’s thick thigh was shoved between yours—you wouldn’t be surprised if there was already a spot forming on his dark jeans.

He barked a harsh laugh against your ear, one large hand cupping the curve of your waist while the other produced a sparse key ring from his back pocket. It only took a bit of fumbling to thread it into the door. Opening it was a precise and smooth motion, keys getting dropped in a dish near the door and his hand swooping up to flick on the light in practiced moves.

The neatness of the space added a check mark to the box you’d already suspected he fit into: military—or serial killer. Only necessities were present, empty walls aside from the coat hooks near the door and the pot rack in the kitchen. It should’ve made you nervous, should’ve set off some sort of alarm bells. But Simon’s hands were all over you the instant the door clicked shut and he didn’t give you a second to breathe. He yanked the pretty denim jacket off your shoulders smoothly, hanging it up before crowding you further inside like a cattle dog nipping at your ankles.

Before you knew it, you were perched on his lap on the black leather couch and your purse was discarded on the coffee table. Simon’s hands found their way to your hips, rocking you against him as you planted sloppy, wet kisses on the wide column of his throat. He was so solid and warm beneath you, the skirt you were wearing pooling on his couch as the thin fabric of your panties continued to catch against the zipper of his jeans.

Your hips rolled against his as you desperately sought the friction. Pretty, soft moans fanned against the scarred, tattooed skin of Simon’s neck as your hands pressed against his broad, barrel chest for some stability. A heartbeat was already pounding between your legs, your clit nudging against the hard ridge of his cock with each glide of your pelvis against his. His fingers dug into the fat of your hips so hard that you were sure there would be bruises in the morning.

It wouldn’t take you much more to come, as pathetically fast as that was. The hazy smell of him had your chest bound in knots, dirt and cigarette smoke and the sharpness of his citrus-scented soap. You sucked a mark behind his ear, laving your tongue over it to soothe the reddened skin.

You were on the edge of it, mewling and twisting his shirt in your fingers as electricity raced up and down your spine. The alcohol made you feel so warm, your cheeks heated and eyes partially lidded. You didn’t know if it was the booze or the company or both, but everything was buzzing and it made you almost too sensitive.

Simon ripped you from the precipice before you could enjoy the sweet release. His hand closed around your throat and the other locked on your waist, stilling you on his lap. “No!” you yelped, your palm hitting his chest as your brows pinched together. The sound was strangled, his calloused fingers squeezing just enough to tighten your windpipe without truly choking you.

His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide as he looked up at you on your perch. “You’re not comin’ ‘til you use that pretty mouth of yours,” Simon grunted, manhandling you until you were on your knees between his legs. Again, there was no space for negotiation or protest.

You swallowed thickly, still reeling from your orgasm being ripped away so suddenly. The blistering euphoria fell away from you, wax melting from its feathers as it plummeted back to the earth and left you cold.

You watched Simon’s hands begin to undo his belt, your mouth going dry. His hands were divine, huge and veined along the backs of them. Nails were bitten to the quick and clean, thick and calloused fingers moving deftly to open his belt and unbutton his jeans. There were lines of tattoos on his wrists, faded and feathered from age.

You could’ve been a deer caught in the headlights with how you were staring, eyes wide and your weight back on your heels. If another man acted like Simon was, you would’ve scoffed before picking yourself up off the floor and storming out of the apartment. But there was something about him that made you stay, kneeling obediently as he reached into his blue and gray checkered boxers and pulled himself out.

Simon had a pretty cock, to say the least. It was thick and curved a little to the right. Your gaze traced a thick vein up the length of it, making you swallow. His tip was a flushed red, almost purple. It made you wonder when the last time he came was. You were willing to throw away years of promising yourself that you would never let a guy use you again just to get your mouth on a cock like that, saliva pooling on your tongue.

You didn’t make him wait long, your hands settling on his thighs as you moved forward to take the hot tip of it into your mouth. It tasted like salt and clean skin, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock. You were rewarded with a groan, his hands tightening into fists on either side of your head.

Letting out a breath through your nose, you sucked as much of his cock into your mouth as you could. Lips tucked over teeth and cheeks hollowed out, you always felt like you were in your element when you were giving head. There was something about the ability to bring a man to his knees with just your mouth and hands that delighted you, it made you feel like you had the power.

Simon was the same as the rest. He grunted pretty for you when you wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, moving it in tandem with your mouth. You couldn’t fit him all without choking, drool and spittle already leaking from the edges of your mouth and making the entirety of his shaft a slick mess. It was all over your lips and jaw, your foundation starting to rub away in places and your lip gloss smeared across his shaft and on your palm.

You had to take breaks to breathe, jerking him off as you sucked in desperate breaths. It was the only time you looked up at him, his dark brown eyes looking through you. He made all the right sounds, the grunts and the whimpers that he didn’t mean to let out. But he looked at you like you weren’t quite there, weren’t quite real.

It was the last time you looked up at him, your gut twisting in a way that you didn’t like but could blame on the alcohol.

Simon’s hand fitted to the curve of your jaw, three fingers stretching to the nape of your neck as he guided your mouth back to his cock. He bucked his hips up to cram more of himself down your throat, the hand on the nape of your neck keeping you in place.

His cock cut your airways off with every thrust, making your lungs burn. You focused on sucking in short breaths through your nose in between, your hands clenching against the hard muscle of Simon’s thighs. It was then your suspicions were confirmed, definitely military. There was no room for mercy in the palm of his hand as it molded to the top of your spine.

You choked and spluttered, your saliva turning viscous as his dick churned your throat. Tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes. The soft sound of him sighing met your ears, a hushed “fuck” muttered under his breath.

His eyes were shut tight, his head resting on the back of the couch as he fucked up into your throat. It almost hurt to turn your gaze that far up, but you felt too unmoored—you needed to see him. His free hand was wrapped around what looked to be two sets of dog tags around his neck, holding them so tight his knuckles turned white. You didn’t even see them earlier, they must have been tucked into his shirt.

Simon’s curses became louder, his hand squeezing around the back of your neck and giving you no escape. The laminate wood floor was imprinting its pattern into your knees, the caps of them aching. You still didn’t even try to get him to let you up, working on relaxing your jaw and throat and wanting to take it all. Something about him made you all too complacent, leaving you slack-jawed for him to fuck into like a fleshlight.

His nails dug into the skin behind your ear as he pushed you down all the way, your nose pressed firmly into the soft, curly blonde hairs across his pubic bone. He was so hot and heavy in your throat that it made you want to beg him to ruin you. Your jaw and throat burned, but you melted into the pain as it licked at you.

“Gonna fuckin’ come.” The words were rushed and low as they spilled from Simon’s mouth. You felt battered and bruised, your throat raw and aching. He took from you, and continued to, grinding his hips against your face to move his cock millimeters deeper into your throat. You swallowed obediently to milk his shaft, hearing him moan out a disgruntled name. Johnny? Maybe? You’d have to ask to know, your own heart pounding in your ears muffling the rest.

The pleasure of satisfaction still bloomed in you at a job well done, but it mixed with something nauseating when you realized he was thinking of someone else the whole time.

Simon’s cock pulsed like a wound against your tongue when he came, liquid pleasure like molten lava spilling down your throat with each breathless groan. “That’s it, take it all.” It didn't feel like praise anymore, his blunt nails scratching at the back of your neck combined with his grunts making you feel like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over you.

You didn’t swallow a drop, eyes screwed shut as he dumped rope after rope of come into your throat. Swallowing would’ve been the good thing to do, the obedient thing. But there was so much, some of it spilling out the seam your lips made and disappearing into the scratch of his blonde curls. It was insane, you wondered for the second time how long it had been since he even jerked off.

His hand dropped off you, letting you pull away in an instant. You thought to run to the bathroom or kitchen and spit into the sink, the salty white liquid dripping from the corner of your mouth starting to taste vile on your tongue. You just wanted to get rid of it like the memory of this night.

Simon was already tucking himself away, leaving you sitting like an idiot between his legs. You knew a half-assed apology was next, a pathetic fake compliment about how your mouth felt too good and made him blow his load early. It wasn’t his fault, it was yours. But sorry, no shag tonight.

Rose colored glasses were exchanged for red ones as his dark brown eyes met yours. They were blank, dark rings beneath them almost making him look like a corpse. He didn’t even have the good manners to pretend to be sheepish, his gaze settling on you like he’s seeing you for the first time.

You couldn’t even process what you were doing before you spat the mouthfuls of his come onto his black long-sleeve shirt. The white liquid was frothy from being mixed with your saliva, viscous as it landed on the center of his sternum and splattered. You spat again for good measure, making sure it landed on the silver dog tags before you wiped your mouth on your sleeve.

“Asshole,” you seethed, rolling yourself to your feet before you could even take in his surprised expression. Or the way the corner of his scarred, chewed up mouth twitched like he was going to smile. There was a flicker of recognition in his eye, like you reminded him of someone.

“Next time you just need to come, how about you call that Johnny fella or get a goddamn toy or something,” you hissed, not bothering to look at Simon as you stormed toward the door. You had the good sense to grab your purse, rummaging through it to find some gum as you saw yourself out. The slam of his front door was deafening, leaving the two of you in silence on either side of it.

You didn't realize you forgot your jacket hanging neatly on the hook next to his door until you woke up in the morning.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Wrong One 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Raymond Smith

Summary: You get caught up in the double lives of your employers.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You hitch up the cloth bag on your shoulder, another in your hand, flat soles scuffing over the geometric stonework of the walkway. You take the single step up and pass between the perfectly trimmed hedges. You press your phone between cheek and shoulder as you key in the code to the punch pad with definitive beeps.

"Yes, Mrs. Malfort would like the delivery tomorrow morning," you confirm, "yes, please... mhmm."

You push inside and set the bag in your hand on the side table. You slip the other down your arm and put it with the other. You rest your phone between them, gripping the edge as you lift a foot to unlace your shoe.

You look up as you sense movement in the mirror mounted above the table and gasp. Suddenly, you're taken off your feet as a man in a mask clamps his gloved hand over your mouth. You squeak into the leather paw and kick you as you grasp his wrist. What the hell is going on?

The man grunts as you wriggle against him, his other arm hooking around your middle. Another man appears from the next doorway and grabs your legs. Your panic surges as you claw and writhe. You don't understand what's going on.

"Christ," the one at your back growls through his throat, "this one's fiesty."

"Stop fucking around," the other deliberately lowers his voice an octave.

"Tell me to stop, eh?" The first man brings his thick arm around your neck, flexing against your throat until you're breathless.

"Now, sweetheart, you just be still and close your eyes," the other purrs, "I'm sure ya do it all the time for yer old man."

Your eyes round and you whimper, tugging at the forearm beneath your chin. Your eyes fill with tears as adrenaline floods your veins. You don't understand. You just went to get groceries.

You squeak as a prick jabs through your jeans. You spasm, frantically trying to free yourself as an acidic heat seeps into you. No, no, what did he just do. There's a tink against the floor as the man nearly loses hold of your ankles.

"Fuck!" The one by your head grits out.

"Won't take the long," the other assures, "give her a minute."

You shudder as you feel the heaviness spread through you. Your muscles ache and your vision blurs. This can't be happening. It's not happening!

You blink, black spots speckling before you as you go limp between the man. You hang between them, twitching as you fight the rising tide of darkness. Your eyes roll back and your head pulses violently. You succumb to the void, terrified you might never see light again.

➰️

There's a thick sheet between you and the world. Lights are fuzzy, colours are dull, and all you can hear is your own heartbeat. The steady tempo breaks only as your breaths rise and fall shallowly. Your muscles tingle, toes numb, fingers throbbing.

You groan and try to move, your head lolling as you lack the strength to lift it. You cough through your dry throat, lashes fluttering, blinking through the fog. You manage to open them fully, staring at your own lap.

A tight restraint bites into your wrists and each ankle. You slump in the chair, arms drawn behind you. Your chest racks as you suck down air and try to find some semblance of strength.

You wince as something clicks. You shiver as the cool air seeps through your cotton polo, raising bumps on your exposed arms. A door swings open with the soft whisper of hinges and measured footsteps approach.

A hand reaches to lift your chin and your head wobbles as you look up at a masked figure. The scene crashes into you like a wave. If you weren't tied to a chair, it would knock you on your ass.

Through the slits of the dark mask, blue eyes gleam and the man leans in. He has broad shoulders and smells of lavender and sandalwood. He searches your face as you try to do the same to him, finding only the ribbed black fabric over obscured features.

"Shit," he whispers as he lets you go. Your head droops back down and he backs up hurriedly, "oi, morons."

The door slams blocking out his holler and you moan. Everything hurts. The world is like an echo of itself. Distant and bleary.

Silence. It's only you and the dark room, lit by a single lamp that casts shadows over covered furniture. White sheets over lumpy shapes that could be sofas, chairs, and tables. The walls are laid with antiquated wallpaper and dark walnut siding. In another lifetime, this room was cozy and welcoming.

The door opens again, jarring you from your dazed wanderings. You look up, getting your head a little higher than before. Three men in masks near and stop before you.

"Are you sure it's the wrong one, boss?" The man, the tallest of the bunch, on the right asks.

"I'm fucking sure," the center one retorts, "Did you even look at her?"

"Well, she walked in the front door so--"

"So you assumed?" The middle one snarls, "what the fuck am I supposed to do with..." he waves his hands towards you. He huffs and steps closer, bending to look you in the eye, "who the fuck are ya?"

You lift your head a little higher and quiver, reciting your name clumsily.

"And why the fuck are you strolling around the Malforts'?" He sneers.

"I..." you murmur and flick your lashes up, "I'm the maid."

He stands straight and spins, throwing up his hands, "the fucking maid!" He smacks the men as he passes between them and storms out.

The men look over at each other through the slits of their masks.

"So what d'ya think we do with her?" The left one asks.

"Good question..." the other sucks his teeth, "s'pose we let him cool down and ask.”

[thiefscant]

anais's scales are a pale shade of gold with a slight bronze undertone that's more pronounced when they are tanned (and the bronze sheen to their skin is therefore also more pronounced). at the beginning of act 1, their scales are actually rather dull in appearance, though still a bit iridescent in a certain light. this is because they have been rarely, if ever, cared for properly and have certainly never seen the sun.

as anais's body adjusts to a healthier diet and they discover how nice it is to bask their scales in the sun, they become more vibrant and seem to shimmer on their own regardless of how much or how little light there is upon them. when they finally get their hands on a hydrating lotion or oil to rub on them, they only get brighter.

while anais doesn't have any scales on their face, their body has several patches in a few key areas:

a diamond-shaped patch between their shoulder blades (about 4in wide and 6in tall); the bottom point extends in a line down the length of anais's spine (abt 1.5in wide)

two short lines down her neck, starting behind either ear (abt .5in wide each, typically hidden by their hairstyle); a sensitive spot for kissing tbh

two lines down the back of their upper arms (abt 1in wide at each end, 2in at the middle) and along the outside of their forearms from elbow to wrist (abt 1in wide); all four of these patches of scales have been ravaged by their abuser, who enjoyed plucking them for his own studies, so they are mottled with scar tissue in some areas and, in other areas, the scales have grown back wrong or jagged (with some care, these patches could find better healing, though certain bits of scar tissue will always remain)

a line along the ridge of each collarbone (abt .25-.5in wide); also a great place for kisses, iajs

down their hips and the sides of either thigh (abt 1in at the top, 4in at the middle, 2in by the knee); these patches were also somewhat picked over by anais's abuser, though not as much as the scales on their arms were

two fine lines of scales from their hip bones down into a partial v shape, yes that kind of partial v shape (abt .25in wide)

a line down the outside of each ankle that extends along the side of each foot (abt 1in wide)

the entire time anais spent living in baldur's gate, she was careful to keep her scales hidden behind long sleeves and gloves. their time on the sword coast, post-nautiloid crash, is probably the first time their scales ever see the sun.

[seresinhangmanjake]

More Than What We Are

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: You and Jake are friends with benefits, and you have one rule: No feelings! Jake decides that rule doesn’t work for him anymore.

Warnings/notes: 18+ angsty, sort of fluffy, happier ending, sexual references, almost smut, cursing, love confessions, emotional denial before acceptance. You know when you read something so much you start to hate it? Well folks, here it is. I reread this so much and I can still guarantee there will be mistakes. I tried not to make it too long.

Words: 2890

His arms were tight, wrapping you up like a cocoon, your back against the chest that caged his thumping heart. You could feel it beat strongly, lively through the layers of clothing.

Breath was hot on your neck, teeth making little nibbles, tongue giving slow, short, licks that turned into thin, wet trails.

Surely if you could feel the pace of his heart, he could sense the aftershock of the tingles he forced up your spine from his continuous tasting of your skin.

You giggled when he finally met that sensitive spot below your ear. More tingles followed that affected each nerve ending and extended through to your fingers until the tips felt numb. Your elbow instinctively bent, hand reaching to the back of his head to hold him and keep his mouth from releasing you. Vibrations from his moan danced from his throat to yours where he sucked hard.

“I’m not going to be able to find my key,” you choked out between his bites and kisses, “if you’re distracting me.”

“That’s a shame,” he whispered against your skin, hands moving down, fingers slipping into the front of your jeans. “Guess we’ll have to fuck out here.”

That sobered you.

Your eyes snapped open.

“On my front porch? I don’t think so,” you said firmly. You lowered your hand to smack at the wrist that was starting to fiddle with the button securing the denim around your hips.

He snickered. “No hitting.”

And though you didn’t turn your head to catch a glimpse, you knew that signature smirk—the one that was so sinfully arousing it practically made your jaw fall open when you first met—was plastered on his handsome face.

“Be a good girl or you won’t get what you want,” he nipped at your earlobe, “and then you’ll have to beg for it.”

By his forearm you pulled his hand from your pants and twisted to face him. His arms circled your waist again, encasing you within the heat of his body. He squeezed your ass, holding you still as you had done so he could create the friction that hardened him within his own pair of jeans.

Impressively, your eyebrow managed to raise in question, despite your thoughts being ripped away from caring for anything other than how thick he was against you.

You’d slept together before, so many times you lost count, and you already knew how perfect he was under his clothes; how frustratingly flawless. Knowing that was the only thing keeping you from staring at the outline of his cock. If you looked now, you’d fall on your knees before you had the proper brain functioning to stop yourself, to drag his zipper down and take as much of his length into your mouth as you could.

But that would mean he’d win for the night, and you couldn’t have that. You loved seeing who would be the first to lower themselves before the other. Not that you kept count, but there was a competitive edge between you. A competitiveness that had tripped you both into bed after three drinks at the Hard Deck surrounded by your friends and some thrown comments about who could get who to cum harder. The unprompted hypothetical argument very quickly bled into reality, and you’d found yourself drunk more from the feel of him inside you than from the alcohol.

Neither of you knew for sure who won that first night, so you decided the only fair way was to call it a tie.

You held your risen eyebrow in challenge. “Oh, I won’t get what I want?”

You let your purse fall to the wooden flooring of the porch. Your palms forged a path upwards from his stomach to his shoulders, feeling every valley and hill that defined the muscles that stiffened and clenched under your touch.

“Jake,” you tsked, “I think we both know that of the two of us, you are more likely to do the begging.”

“Is that so?”

You loved that look on his face; the playful one that he never seemed to show anyone else. It held a million promises of your pleasure. Promises that he always fulfilled as if his life depended on doing so.

“It is,” you said, walking your fingers up the length of his neck, along that throbbing vein. “See, I may like your cock, Jake, but you are in love with my pussy—”

His grin widened as you spoke, green eyes flaming with adoration.

“—I don’t think you could deny me what I wanted if you tried.”

He continued to stare, the curve of his lips never faltering, arms not even slightly loosening, even as you struggled to reach down for your purse to attempt the hunt for your house key once again.

“Am I wrong?” you asked when you realized he still hadn’t spoken.

He shook his head slowly. “You’re never wrong, Y/N.”

You would have reveled in his admittance had you not clasped your fingers around your keys in the same moment. Relief flooded you. Not finding them would have likely had its repercussions come morning, since Jake would undoubtedly wear you down until he was rutting into you at a torturous pace against your front door for all the world to see. Darkness in the sky or not, you had some nosy neighbors that had no issue peering out windows and holding grudges.

A satisfying click sounded after you slipped the key into the lock, and the door was open in record time, your bodies fumbling to get on the inner side of it. Jake slammed it closed with the arm not around your waist as you tossed your purse somewhere to your right. It thudded against…something, but you didn’t care what. His lips were on yours; that was all that mattered.

He was so fucking delicious. Tongue like silk as it played with yours. So good. He tastes so, so good. Unlike anyone else you’d been with, Jake had his own taste, his own scent, his own way of touching you, that worked so perfectly well together to drown out everything else around you. He had the power to encase you in a bubble along with him. A bubble that kicked away the care of time and space and the existence of others.

He licked along your bottom lip; tangled his hands through the mess of your hair. You whimpered. So good.

You only broke your kiss to rid one another of your shirts, then your mouths were glued again, your fingers unbuckling his belt as you stepped backwards and pulled him along until your bottom hit the edge of your kitchen table.

“You weren’t wrong,” he got out when you took a second to breathe, though those breaths where heavy. His chest was heaving, and his hands cupped your face. “You did miss one detail though.”

“Oh, yea?” You snorted, doing your best to shimmy out of your jeans.

“I’m in love with more than just your pussy.”

You froze just as you kicked your pants to the side. The blood began rushing so fast the clarity of your hearing was starting to fail you. Repetitive pumps filled your ears; the only indication of promises that you were still alive.

“I’m in love with all of you,” he said, foggy words fighting their way through a layer of fuzziness. “So no, Y/N, I would never deny you anything.”

You swallowed. You could hear that swallow. You could feel it strain your throat, almost painfully so. What was he doing? Why was he doing it?

“But…” But, what? you thought. “But we agreed,” you said, finally meeting his eyes, “No feelings.”

“Yea,” he drew out the syllable, “sorry, honey, but that agreement didn’t end up working out for me.”

“Jake that’s…” You tried to step out of that bubble. Tried and failed. He wouldn’t budge. “You’re not supposed to be in love with me. That’s not how this works.”

He chuckled.

God, how many times had you heard that chuckle? How many times had it brought you peace, or a smile to your face on a day when you needed it. And now it was so wrong. So wrong…and he didn’t even know it. He wasn’t getting it. He didn’t understand.

“Believe me—” he chuckled again.

Stop it!

“—I’m well aware of the shit situation I got myself into,” he said. “It wasn’t exactly the plan, but it’s ok because I—"

“I don’t feel the same.”

Those words did more than interrupt whatever he was planning to say; They seemed to cut off his oxygen supply entirely. His mouth closed, but then it opened again, he paused, and it closed again as his brows pinched.

“Y/N—”

“I don’t!”

An invisible force shoved him away from you with the ferocity of your tone. His lower back met the kitchen counter. “Um,” he ran his hand through his hair as he shook his head. He crossed his arms over his bare chest; looked at the tiled floor. “O-Ok.”

His belt buckle hung down. It clanked against the undone button and zipper, further weighing the flap open to better reveal the band of his underwear and the trail of hair that disappeared into it. Your fingers itched to touch, but you knew you couldn’t now. The bubble was gone. It was gone because you stabbed a needle into it, and now the world was around you again.

“Well, this is obviously over,” you said.

His head snapped up. “What?”

“We have to stop seeing each other.”

“Why?”

Your hands covered your face, slowly rubbing up and down as if to wash away your expression. You didn’t have to see your reflection in the mirror to know that you looked pained, but you couldn’t stop yourself from what you were doing.

Palms falling to your sides, you said, “Because we have to if you’re going to have these feelings. It shouldn’t be much of a problem. It’s not like we crossed paths before we started doing this, and had it not been for Bradley and Nat we wouldn’t have met at all, so…”

A part of him must have thought you were joking because it wasn’t until your last words that he stood straight as a rod, arms dropping to his sides. “What, are you just going to disappear from my life? Cut off all communication?”

His eyes as they searched yours begged you to be playing a game. A stupid game. One he would mischievously scold you for in the form of a few hard slaps to your ass once you surrendered to understanding just how little humor he found in it. But you weren’t playing, and each second of silence was solidifying that.

“You can’t be serious,” he said. A demand or a plea, you couldn’t tell. He made quick steps your way and took your hands in his. “Y/N, you can’t do this to me.”

“Jake, I—”

“Baby, please.”

“I…” You sucked in a sharp breath. You didn’t know what you were doing, why you were fighting, but you’d done it now and you couldn’t take it back. “I need you to leave.”

-----

For the first time in your life, you hated sleep. Being awake meant being at work, getting things done. There were responsibilities, routines, practices that you could throw yourself into to distract your brain from the memory of that night. You had to get up, brush your teeth, shower, dress, eat, focus. But when asleep, you had no control over your body or mind, and apparently your mind decided to lash out.

It was the tone of his voice that infiltrated your dreams, twisting them into nightmares, night after night that made up a full week.

Baby, please.

Those two words each sunk their teeth into the halves of your heart and ripped it straight down the middle.

Baby, please. Baby, please. Baby, please.

Over and over and over in your unconscious until a night came when you woke and screamed for him to shut up. But he wasn’t there to hear you. He wasn’t there because you turned him away.

He would be in your bed now if he could be. You knew he’d stay in it forever if you let him. And something in you, somewhere deep, could have guessed this long before he spoke the three words that confirmed it.

Unrightfully so, it swelled an anger in your gut. A knot grew tight in your chest as you sat up in your bed. You didn’t even notice yourself grinding your front teeth with your lip between them.

You couldn’t take it.

-----

“Why did you have to say you love me, huh?”

Jake heard the furious question before he was able to register that it was you standing in front of him, shivering in your sleep clothes at two in the morning as tears crafted rivers down your reddened cheeks.

“Why?” You took a step forward and shoved at his chest. “Why now?”

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside the darkened apartment, shutting the door behind you, then he quickly yanked his Navy hoodie over his head and tugged it down your body. “What are you doing here?”

“Answer my question first,” you snapped as you slipped your arms through the sleeves. “Why. Now?”

“Technically, I’ve said it before,” he replied. “You’ve just been asleep.”

He couldn’t tell you how many times he’d spoken it aloud, but he’d never felt ashamed in doing so, despite being well aware of the possibility of you not handling it well if he told you. You proven him right on that front. But of every scenario he came up with, you kicking him out of your life hadn’t entered his mind once.

“You can’t just go around dropping bombs whenever you want, Jake,” you yelled, the intensity of the sound drowning out the noise of the television in the next room. “We drew that line when we started sleeping together and I had to figure out how to stay on my side of it, but now for some reason you can’t do the same? That’s not fair!”

“I’m not going to keep something like that to myself forever for the sake of an imaginary line we drew months ago!”

“Why the hell not? I’ve had to!”

Your mouth snapped shut.

A beat passed. And every miserable thought Jake had halted in that moment. The horrible feelings that had been eating him alive for a week dissipated, replaced by the blooming of hope in his chest.

“You’ve had to?” he asked. His eyes narrowed as he carefully observed your face, searching for the slightest tick or twitch of dishonesty.

You groaned and mumbled, “Forget it,” as you turned away with a shake of your head. But he grabbed onto your hand and twisted your body back to his before you could stray too far.

“Absolutely not. What do you mean, you’ve had to?”

“Nothing.” Your eyes avoided the laser-focus of his stare.

“You love me?”

You looked down to your hands as you fiddled with your fingernail. “I didn’t say that.”

“That’s what it sounded like.”

Crooking a finger under your chin, he lifted your face until you had no choice but to meet his eyes. And he saw it all. All the vulnerability was right there, stripped bare and real before him; so close to the surface he thought maybe he could reach out and touch it as if it was of solid form.

It was shock as it dawned on him, pure shock mixed with the realization that he had missed it when it was right in front of him. He’d have stumbled back a step had his legs the ability to move properly, but he stayed rooted in place. “You love me,” he said.

“I know, alright,” you hissed a tad too harshly. A long second weighed heavily between you. You sighed, rubbed at your brow, then muttered, “I know I do.”

He wanted to know how long. The thought immediately rushed to his mind, a slight twinge of anger behind it. How long had you been stubborn in admitting it to yourself? How long had you been keeping it a secret from him? You’d had him hooked for what felt like a lifetime, but then again, maybe it didn’t matter how long you had felt the same so long as you did.

Large hands cupped your cheeks and he pulled you into a kiss. His mouth was pressed hard against yours, branding you with the imprint of his lips. “Don’t lie to me about how you feel ever again,” he growled when you separated, but he knew he failed to disguise the desperation behind his tone, “Ever. I mean it.”

Your lips curved upwards, and an exhausted laugh left your mouth in the form of a thick puff of air. “You just going to yell at me all night now?”

“No, I’m not going to yell at you. I’m going to fuck you,” he said, thumbs stroking back and forth along your cheekbones. He kissed you again, soft, sweetly this time. “And then you’re going to explain to me what the hell you were thinking when you decided to leave me with a broken heart for an entire week.”

Tags: @marvel-ousnesss @thespeeder @nobody7102 @marrianena @fangirlingoverfangirls @blue-aconite @my-soulmate-is-mycroft​ @dempy @chaoticassidy @alana4610​ @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @dracosluvbot​

[junghelioseok]

clandestine. | 06

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 7.4k [6/6]

notes: we’ve reached the end at last!!! thanks for sticking around through all the sporadic updates, and i hope you enjoy this final chapter!

warnings: some soft, soft smut.

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 

The day before your scheduled return to Seoul, your parents decide to throw a joint party with the Jeons. From your bedroom window, you can see the plastic tables and chairs scattered across your adjoining lawns, the tarps and poles that will soon become makeshift pavilions lying in the grass. Though a row of low bushes divides your property, a small stone footpath weaves between the green leaves. You watch Mr. Jeon make his way into your yard, joining your father to unfurl a sign that’s emblazoned with Bon Voyage, {Name}! in bright blue print.

“Noona!” Jimin bursts into your bedroom with zero preamble, the door slamming into the wall behind it. You jump at the sudden intrusion, and flinch when he bounds across the room in two steps and grabs you by the shoulders.

“Ow, Chim,” you grumble, trying and failing to push him away. “Knock much?”

“Help,” he whines, trying to pull you to your feet. “I put too much salt in the marinade, and I just spilled Coke all over the counter. Please come help me.”

You sigh as he casts you the most pathetic look he’s capable of mustering, complete with a quivering bottom lip. Wiggling out of his iron grip at last, you grab him by the wrist and drag him out of your room. “Fine,” you tell him as you pull him downstairs. “You’re lucky I like you sometimes.”

“Love you too!” Jimin singsongs. He swoops in to plant a too-wet kiss on your cheek, and when you squirm in disgust he just giggles and blows you another.

The kitchen, upon your arrival, is empty. “Where’s Mom?” you ask as you grab a rag, tossing it over to your brother so he can clean up the spilled soda.

“She left a few minutes ago,” he replies, sopping up the mess and flinching when some splashes down from the counter onto the linoleum floor. “I think she went to the store to pick up a few things.”

“Food things?” you ask dubiously, eyeing the sizable pile of vegetables and meat on the counter. “Is this not enough? Is the entire neighborhood invited to this thing?”

“You know Mom,” he replies, shrugging. “Just let her have this. She misses having another girl in the house when you’re away. Says Dad and I gang up on her.”

You chuckle. “That sounds about right. On the bright side, though, she only has to deal with you for a few more months.”

“Jeez, that’s weird to think about.” Jimin sidles up behind you and settles his chin on your shoulder. “We’re going to be at the same university soon.”

“Yeah, because you’re a little copycat,” you tease, reaching back to flick him on the forehead. “What’s next? Are you going to start following me around the sandbox again? Come crying to me when someone’s mean to you?”

“Yeah, right.” Jimin steps back and puffs his chest out dramatically. “I’m going to protect you from all those weird college guys, remember? Who else is gonna do it if not me?”

In an instant, your mind goes to Jungkook. Your throat goes dry, and thankfully the jingle of keys in the front door saves you from needing to respond. Jimin’s attention is diverted when your mother steps through with an armful of shopping bags, and you take a moment to shove away all thoughts of your neighbor before following after your brother to help her unpack.

You haven’t seen much of Jungkook since your impromptu sleepover in his room. As your time at home winds to a close, your parents have been increasingly adamant to spend as much time together as possible. Family game nights became routine, and although Jungkook has joined you on a couple occasions, Jimin has seemingly made it his personal goal to ensure that you don’t spend a single second alone with your dark-haired neighbor. Certainly, you’ve texted a bit, but Jungkook’s been picking up more shifts at the restaurant lately and you often see him through your bedroom window returning home after a long dinner shift.

Jimin’s voice draws you out of your thoughts. “Huh?” you ask, blinking, and your brother shoots you an unimpressed look.

“I said, I’m going out back to help Dad with the grill,” he repeats. “Can you bring the cooler out?”

“Oh!” You glance over at the cooler on the ground, filled to the brim with beer and soda. Jimin has a bag of ice in his arms, and you quickly follow him out into the backyard, wheeling the cooler behind you. Together, the two of you push it into an unobtrusive corner of the back porch, and Jimin curses when he upends the bag of ice into it and spills nearly a third in the process.

“Smooth,” you remark.

“Like you could do any better,” is his reply.

It’s just after one o’clock, the sun beaming bright in the cloudless blue sky, when people begin trickling into the backyard where your father and Mr. Jeon have started grilling. You spot Taemin and Minho from where you’re perched on the porch steps, and grin when they wave and begin heading in your direction.

“Heading back to the big city so soon?” Minho asks as he comes to a stop, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “We’re gonna miss you around here.”

“You know you’re always welcome to visit,” you tell him with a smile. “Besides, I’ll be back. I do like to see my family every now and then, you know.”

“When exactly are you leaving tomorrow? Taemin asks curiously.

“Bright and early in the morning,” you reply. “I want to have plenty of time to get settled before I start interning on Monday.”

Minho gives you a squeeze. “You’ll kill it. I know you will.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. You’re about to say more—ask about the rest of their summer plans, maybe—when you spot a familiar dark head of hair exiting the back door of the Jeons’ house. Jungkook is wearing a collared shirt the color of sunshine, the sleeves rolled to his elbows to expose vascular forearms and the silver watch on his wrist. His faded jeans have a rip in the left knee, and you swallow when your gaze automatically trails down to the defined muscle of his thigh, a peek of skin visible through the denim.

Across the yard, your eyes meet. He raises a hand in greeting, his watch glinting in the sun, and you wave back. Everything else seems to fade into the background—Taemin and Minho, the hubbub of the partygoers, even the sizzle of the grill. Jungkook is walking in your direction now, and your throat goes oddly dry at the thought of talking to him face-to-face after nearly a week of intermittent texts and occasional glimpses. Your fingers itch to run through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and your body craves the feeling of his skin against your own. You’d even settle for a simple kiss—the press of his mouth and the slick of his tongue, his palms settling on your hips or looping around to the small of your back to pull you in close.

Needless to say, it’s been far too long since you and Jungkook last slept together. You wonder, vaguely, if there’s any way the two of you might be able to sneak away from the party and head somewhere a little quieter. One last handsy makeout session in his backseat, and one last chance for him to breach your walls with his cock. One last fix of the drug called Jungkook, before you return to your life in Seoul and try to forget the boundaries you’ve crossed in the last few weeks.

Because at the end of the day, Jungkook is your brother’s best friend, and therefore is off-limits. And as if Jimin himself is listening in on your thoughts, your little brother comes bounding out of nowhere, intercepting Jungkook on his path to you and dragging him away to help make more meat skewers for the grill.

The party continues. More people arrive, and you do your best to converse with everyone between bites of food. Many family friends have come out to wish you well, most of whom you haven’t seen in several years, so you put on your best smile and weather the innumerable comments about how much you’ve grown up since you last met. Off in the distance, you spot Jungkook chatting with Junghyun, who has driven in from downtown Busan. The elder Jeon brother has already wished you good luck with your internship, pulling you into a friendly hug when he first arrived, and you would’ve had to be blind to miss Jungkook’s penetrating stare as you hugged him back.

You’re returning from a bathroom break, easing the back door shut, when you are assailed by a tangle of limbs and excited cries. You end up with a faceful of strawberry blonde hair, and laughingly groan as you extricate yourself from the hug, offering a beaming Chaeyoung, Jisoo, and Lisa a grin. “Hey, guys. What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Lisa grabs you by the shoulders and gives you a little shake. “You’re leaving tomorrow! When will you be back again?”

“Winter, definitely,” you promise. “Maybe the summer too, if I don’t have anything else going on.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Jungkook again. He’s looking in your direction, his gaze flitting between the half-eaten burger in his hand and where you’re standing on the back porch with the girls, as if he doesn’t want to get caught staring. The party has been underway for nearly two hours now, and you haven’t even come close to having a conversation with your dark-haired neighbor. It seems as though anytime Jungkook comes within speaking distance, he’s interrupted by friends, family, and at one point, even his family’s dog. Gureum has been a part of Jungkook’s family for as long as you can remember, and though he’s getting rather old, he’s still happily meandering around the yard today. You’ve already given in to his pleading face twice and offered him a bit of food from your plate, and you’ve watched plenty of others do the same. A quick scan of the yard reveals that the little white dog is now fast asleep in a sunny patch of grass, and you chuckle to yourself before your gaze finds Jungkook again. Your eyes meet, just for a second.

“{Name}, honey, can you come here for a second?”

You turn at the sound of your mother’s voice. “Sure,” you tell her, excusing yourself from the group of girls to follow her inside to the kitchen. “What is it?”

Your mom hands you a pile of small paper plates and plastic cutlery. “I’m bringing out the cake,” she says. “Can you put those out for me?”

You nod, watching as she picks up the cake. It’s an impressive two-tiered confection, frosted pale purple and decorated with pink cherry blossoms and the words Bon Voyage! in flowing white script. You make sure to hold the door open for your mother as she exits the house on your heels, and duck your head in embarrassment when a few of your neighbors start clapping at your arrival.

The cake is cut and distributed, and you take your piece over to a shady spot beneath the awning of one of the pavilions your father has assembled. Jimin joins you, wiping a frosting-covered finger on your nose, and you squeal and wipe at it furiously with a napkin before taking revenge. Slowly, the afternoon progresses into early evening, and the party begins to wind to a close. Friends and neighbors begin to trickle out, wishing you well before taking their leave. At the far end of the yard, you see Jungkook talking to Chaeyoung, and wonder what the two could possibly have to say to each other before Taemin and Minho draw your attention away.

“We gotta head out,” Minho says, coming to a stop before you and pulling you into a hug.

Taemin nods, tugging you into an embrace as well. “We’ll see you again soon though, yeah? We’re definitely going to come up to visit you guys at some point.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you tell him. “You’re crashing at Jimin and Jungkook’s though. I’m not taking you in.”

“Cruel, but fair,” Minho says with a laugh. “See ya then, Noona.”

“See you.”

The two depart, and you begin gathering up your used utensils and plates, seeking about for a trash can. You smile at your dad as he walks by, and scratch a sleepy Gureum behind the ears as you pass him. Just as you’ve finally found a trash can and dropped your garbage inside, however, a voice stops you in your tracks.

“Hey, Noona.”

Your heartbeat quickens. Slowly, you turn around, coming face to face with none other than Jungkook himself. His dark hair is ruffled by the breeze, and his silver hoop earrings glint in the late afternoon sun. Tentatively, you offer him a small smile, and he hesitates for a moment before smiling back.

“Hey.”

“You said that already,” you point out, trying to quell the sudden nervousness in your belly and swallowing down whatever moisture is left in your mouth. “Fun party, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook nods. “Really fun. And the food was great.”

You chuckle. “Yeah. We have our dads to thank for that.”

“Definitely.”

A beat of silence passes, and then two. Jungkook is scuffing his heel against the grass, one hand darting up to scratch his ear, and you are just beginning to wonder at his uncharacteristic awkwardness when he suddenly pulls a bag from behind his back.

“Here,” he says, practically shoving it into your hands. “I—I mean, we—got you a gift. From my family. And me.”

Blinking, you peer down at the green tissue paper peeking out of the top of the bag. “Oh, wow. You… you guys really shouldn’t have.”

“It was my mom’s idea,” Jungkook mumbles, looking anywhere but at you. “You can open it now if you want, though.”

You do. Peeling back the tissue paper reveals two items inside—one of which is a lovely leather-bound planner, complete with a calendar and to-do lists and pages for notes. The other is a small canvas, and your mouth falls open when you see what’s painted across the surface.

It’s the lake house. Behind it, you can see lush green hills and trees, all bordering the rippling expanse of blue water. Jungkook has captured the scene at high noon when the sun is at its peak in the sky, glinting off the lake like diamonds. Off to one side, you spot the canoe roped to the dock.

“Wow,” you breathe, awestruck. “Jungkook, this is beautiful. I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s no big deal,” he says, shrugging and scratching the back of his neck. “I had to rush it a little, between work and all. It could’ve been better.”

“It’s perfect,” you tell him, running a fingertip across the canvas. You’ve always known that Jungkook has a talent for drawing, but you’ve never seen him use paint as his medium of choice until now. “Really. I love it, Jungkook. I’m going to hang it up in my dorm as soon as I get back.”

“Back,” Jungkook echoes. “Right.”

And before you can reply—before you can even inhale to speak—he’s pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms looping around your waist and settling there.

“Good luck with everything,” he says once he’s pulled back. And then he’s turning on his heel and walking away, and you’re left to wonder whether these past few weeks were simply a passing tryst after all.

///

As it turns out, your internship is more than enough to keep your mind from straying toward a certain dark-haired young man. Two months after Jungkook left you high and dry, you’re working harder than you ever have in your life. Your mornings are early and your afternoons run into evenings more often than not. “At least you’re getting paid, though,” Namjoon points out, glancing up from where he’s sitting on the couch when you stumble into your shared dorm one particularly late night. “You could’ve been one of the unlucky bastards who got stuck doing unpaid labor at their internships.”

“Oh, good. At least they’re working me to the bone ethically,” you snort, accepting the wine he hands over. Trust Namjoon to have an extra glass at the ready. Your suitemate, despite his flaws, always seems to know when you need a pick-me-up, and you suppose you can forgive his clumsiness and messiness for that. If he keeps it up, you may even start looking past the heart attacks he causes you every time he enters the kitchen and so much as looks at a knife.

Namjoon chuckles and tops off his own wineglass. “So now what? You hungry?”

“Starving,” you admit. “What are you thinking tonight? Pizza? Chinese?”

“Thai? I’ve been craving it lately.”

“I can do Thai.” You lean in closer as he pulls up the delivery menu on his laptop, pointing to what you want before sitting back and letting him place the order. “Can you get me an iced tea, too?

“Two iced teas, coming right up,” he replies. “You wanna start thinking about tonight’s feature presentation?”

Flopping onto your side, you reach into the bag you dropped on the floor and fish out your own laptop. You select a film from Netflix as Namjoon fetches his wallet to pay for your food, and the two of you settle in to wait as the opening credits of Disney’s Hercules roll.

“I’m not a good singer,” Namjoon cautions as the Muses begin their introductory monologue. “I just want you to know that beforehand. But out of all the Disney films? This soundtrack is unmatched.”

“Damn right,” you reply, clinking your glass against his. “Best soundtrack ever. We’ll both sound like dying cats, and I for one can’t wait.”

Namjoon laughs and leans over to flick off the lights. The room goes dark and the music begins, and you’re both singing along before you even hit the chorus. Spending time with Namjoon is comfortable, and though you’ve already lived together through the entirety of your first year of school, these past two summer months have strengthened your friendship tenfold. He’s almost like a brother by this point, and you wonder, vaguely, whether Jimin would get along with him anywhere near as well as you do.

As if summoned, your phone goes off. Jimin’s name lights up your screen, and you frown curiously at it before unlocking the device and swiping open the message.

[7:56pm] Chimchim: miss me yet? 😚

[7:56pm] You: no way, weirdo

[7:57pm] You: what do you even want anyway? sure you’re not the one missing me?

Immediately, your phone buzzes with a response.

[7:57pm] Chimchim: seriously? offensive

[7:57pm} Chimchim: orientation’s in less than a week or have u forgotten already?? good thing i’m reminding u

Your heart skips a beat in your chest when you realize that you had, in fact, forgotten. You remember your own college orientation vividly—a jam-packed weekend filled with building tours and ample opportunities to talk to current students. Several of your friends, you’d first met that weekend as you all tried to navigate a new chapter of your lives—Namjoon included. It’s how the two of you ended up living together—jammed into a suite with two others who thankfully meshed perfectly with the both of you. Neither Hoseok nor Jennie are here for the summer, but you’ve kept in touch while apart. Both of them poke relentless fun at Namjoon for opting to take summer classes, and you never hesitate to join in on the lighthearted teasing.

[7:58pm] You: oh yeah lol

Your response is casual and calm, but your heart rate is anything but. Jimin coming to orientation means Jungkook is coming too, and the thought of seeing him sends an anxious flurry of butterflies aflight in your stomach. You remember texting him the day after you came back—just a simple photo of his painting, hung proudly on the wall above your desk. He responded with a string of thumbs-up emojis, and that had been that. You’ve barely heard a word from him since, and Jimin’s occasional texts and social media posts are the only reason you know he’s still alive. Hesitantly, you type out another message, thumb hovering briefly over the send button before hitting it.

[7:58pm] You: you and jungkook are driving up, right?

[7:59pm] Chimchim: yep! road trip

[7:59pm] Chimchim: still not convinced jk’s car will make it all the way tho lmao

You think back to Jungkook’s beat-up sedan with its sputtering engine and scratchy seats, and the ominous way the passenger side window sometimes rattled if you slammed the door too hard. Can’t blame you for having doubts, you write back, earning yourself a hearty LMAOOO in response. And then:

[8:01pm] Chimchim: i’ll probably have to do most of the driving anyway

You frown, brows furrowing. Why’s that?

[8:02pm] Chimchim: just a hunch. jk’s been weird lately

[8:02pm] You: …weird how?

[8:02pm] Chimchim: just weird. a little distracted, maybe? he doesn’t answer me when i ask him whats wrong

[8:03pm] You: how long has he been weird?

[8:03pm} Chimchim: idk 🤷‍♂️

[8:03pm] Chimchim: 2 days, maybe 3? i think he might be worried about orientation or college or something. either way i don’t trust him to operate a motor vehicle rn

Your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth as you consider your brother’s revelation. It’s perfectly natural to be nervous about something new, but you still can’t help but wonder if Jungkook’s strange behavior might have anything to do with seeing you again. But before you can dwell on it more, your phone buzzes again in your palm.

[8:04pm] Chimchim: i mean srsly he didn’t even hit on mina when we ran into her at jin’s the other day. do u remember her? the girl from the bbq place we went to for grad dinner??

[8:04pm] Chimchim: but on the bright side, it looks like he and chae made up. about time, tbh. things were really awkward for a while

[8:05pm] Chimchim: wait u knew about them, right? they dated for a while?

You take a deep breath before responding, the gears of your brain whirring as you fight to process all of the information he’s dumped on you. Yeah, you write back. Chae told me. They’re okay now?

[8:06pm] Chimchim: yeah. i think they talked at your going away thing

The memory of them chatting in your parents’ backyard resurfaces, and a rush of relief follows it. Even though your conversation with Chaeyoung at the mall confirmed that she was no longer angry with Jungkook, the guilt of sneaking around with him continued to linger in the back of your mind. You’re definitely going to buy her a box of cookies from Kim’s Kitchen as an apology the next time you see her. Maybe even two.

After a few more texts, your conversation with Jimin peters out. He signs off, citing a house party he has to start getting ready for, and you settle back in to watch the rest of the movie with Namjoon, smiling reassuringly when he shoots you a curious look and mouths, everything okay?

Everything is okay, you decide. Jungkook’s weird behavior isn’t your problem, and there’s not a whole lot you could do even if you wanted to, considering how little you’ve spoken in the last eight weeks. That doesn’t stop you from opening up your messages and scrolling down to Jungkook’s name, though. It doesn’t stop you from opening up the last conversation you had—something about a particularly annoying customer at Jin’s restaurant—and scrutinizing every word.

Later that night, just as you’re brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed, your phone buzzes again. The name attached to the text immediately sends your heart into your throat, and you shakily towel off your hands before swiping it open.

[12:25am] Jungkook: i mis s yuo.

Drunk, the little voice in your brain whispers. He’s drunk. Belatedly, you remember the party Jimin had mentioned, and realize that Jungkook must be there as well. Alcohol has clearly loosened him up, enough to instigate this unexpected sentiment, but you are painfully sober. At a loss, you stare at his message until your screen goes dark. Irritably, you wake it up again, unlocking the phone so you can stare some more, and after what feels like an eternity, you type out a response.

[12: 28am] You: drink some water, jungkook

He doesn’t respond. You wait for five minutes, and then ten, but your phone screen remains obstinately dark and devoid of new notifications. Climbing into bed, you check one last time, but there’s still no response from him.

A resigned sigh leaves your lips as you turn off your bedside lamp and plug in your phone to charge. Sinking down into the mattress, you push away all thoughts of Jeon Jungkook as you close your eyes and wait for sleep to come.

///

On Friday night, you once again find yourself working late. Thankfully, Jimin and Jungkook aren’t due to arrive until later in the evening, so you still have plenty of time to change into comfier clothes and eat something before you have to play host.

Or at least, that’s what you thought. When you swing open the front door of your home, however, you’re greeted by two extra pairs of shoes—one of which is a certain individual’s signature black Timberlands, scuffed and worn from years of use. “Joonie?” you call cautiously, toeing off your loafers and skirting around the corner to poke your head into the kitchen. “Are you home?”

No reply. You wander a little further, entering the living room, and that’s where you’re greeted by the sight of your suitemate, his sheepish grin flanked on either side by two very familiar faces.

“Noona!” Jimin is grinning from ear to ear, and immediately skips forward to smoosh your cheeks between his palms. “We got here early!”

You slap his hands away and poke your fingertips into his ribs. “I can see that,” you retort. “What I don’t get is why you didn't bother to tell me.”

Jimin shrugs. “Surprise?”

You sigh and turn instead to Namjoon, who’s watching your exchange with an amused smile. “Thanks for getting them settled in,” you tell him gratefully. “You should’ve called me, though. I would’ve tried to get off work early if I’d known.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Namjoon waves you off. “They got here about half an hour ago, so it wouldn’t have made much difference, anyway.”

“Still, let me thank you,” you insist. “Dinner’s on me tonight, since I have to feed these heathens anyway. Do you want to order something in? Go out?”

“I’m okay either way,” Namjoon says, shrugging, and you turn to Jimin and Jungkook questioningly.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Jimin says. “I think we’re both pretty tired from the drive, so staying in might be nice.”

“Anything’s fine.” Jungkook is staring down at his right hand as if he’s trying to crack a secret code etched in his fingerprints, and when he speaks, his voice is soft. “Whatever you want, Noona.”

You haven’t forgotten about his text from a few days ago, and judging by the way he can’t even look you in the eye, neither has he. It’s strange seeing him here now—wearing ripped jeans and a black t-shirt like he so often does, his feet encapsulated in plain white socks. His hair has grown out since you last saw him, leaving only the barest glimpse of his silver earrings visible beneath the dark, shaggy locks. You can’t help but wonder what it would be like to run your fingers through it, but quickly quash that train of thought before it can progress any further.

The group eventually settles on ordering pizza, which you order and pay for on your phone. Conversation flows easily as Jimin, Jungkook, and Namjoon get to know each other, and when the food arrives, Namjoon pulls out his collection of board games. The remainder of the evening passes in a haze of pizza and game tournaments, and it’s only when midnight has come and gone that you decide to call it a night. Jungkook and Jimin settle into the two empty bedrooms—Jungkook in Hoseok’s and Jimin in Jennie’s—and you bid everyone goodnight before retiring to your own bed.

You don’t miss the way Jungkook’s gaze lingers on your retreating figure, but he doesn’t say anything and neither do you. He’ll be busy with all the orientation events scheduled tomorrow, and you’re planning to spend a good chunk of the day running errands that you don’t have time for on weekdays. The question of why he’d texted you that night remains on your mind, but you don’t want to ask. And you especially don’t want to ask why he’d never responded after that first message. Confrontation has never been your style, and with any luck, you’ll be able to avoid spending extended periods of time with him altogether.

With any luck, this weekend will pass with no further incident, and you’ll be able to spend the remaining few weeks of your summer in peace.

///

It’s just after two o’clock in the afternoon when you return to your dormitory, a grocery bag clutched in each hand and a tote bag draped over one shoulder. You’ve finished up with all your errands for the day, and even managed to get some reading done for one of your upcoming fall classes. Dropping your bags in the kitchen, you stretch your arms overhead lazily before starting to unpack your groceries. Namjoon is holed up in the library working on an essay, and Jimin and Jungkook don’t appear to be around either. A moment of rare quiet is welcome in your normally hectic life, and you take the opportunity to put some music on and change into your comfiest shorts and a tank top.

You’ve just finished popping some popcorn and are settling onto your bed to watch some Netflix when someone clears their throat from your doorway. Startled, you look up, your eyes locking on Jungkook standing there. He’s wearing a loose gray sweatshirt and matching sweatpants, and you swallow when you see the way he’s rolled up the sleeves to expose vascular forearms and the silver watch on his wrist. Jungkook blinks at you silently from behind his dark fringe of hair, and a beat passes before he clears his throat and speaks.

“Hey.”

You straighten up into a seated position, crossing your legs and plopping the bowl of popcorn in your lap. “Hi.”

Jungkook hesitates, then shoves both hands into his pockets. “Can… can we talk?”

“Sure.” You incline your head. “Talk.”

Your curt tone doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Awkwardly, he shuffles his feet for a moment before scratching behind his neck and ruffling his already tousled hair further. “My phone died,” he says, and you blink confusedly at him, twice, before responding.

“What?”

Jungkook winces but presses on nonetheless. “My phone,” he explains. “It died the other night. I was going to charge it before the party, but I forgot to plug it in and then it was too late. I didn’t—” He sighs. “I would’ve texted you back, otherwise.”

Belatedly, you realize he’s talking about his text from a few nights ago and why he never responded. His reasoning is relatively sound, at least, but you still have an unanswered question. “Why?” you ask, your voice soft. “Why did you text me that night? I don’t hear from you for weeks, and then you message me that out of the blue? Why?”

“Fuck, I know.” Jungkook takes two steps into your bedroom, before he seemingly thinks better of it and takes a step back. “I shouldn’t have done it. I should’ve texted you more, or earlier, but—” Another sigh, and this time he rakes his hands through his hair and sends his dangling earrings tinkling. “I’m sorry. I really am. I was being a coward, and…”

Jungkook trails off, and you see that his attention has flitted elsewhere. He’s staring at the painting of the lake house, still displayed prominently above your desk, and you see the gears in his head whirring before he speaks again.

“You… you still have that hanging up there?”

You glance at the painting before looking back at him. “Well, yeah. Of course I do. It reminds me of home.”

It reminds you of him, too, but you don’t voice that particular thought aloud. Instead you turn your attention back to your increasingly fidgety companion, leaning back on your hands and regarding him with your head tilted curiously.

“What were you saying about being a coward? What are you afraid of, Jungkook?”

Jungkook rubs his jaw and sucks in a deep breath. “You,” he finally answers, after several beats that feel like several lifetimes. “I’m afraid of losing you. And I feel like I already might have, especially since we left things so weird at the party. I should’ve…” He shakes his head. ”I should’ve said something sooner. I should’ve told you how I really feel, but I was stupid and scared and I just couldn’t find the right time to do it.”

Your breath catches. Your mouth goes dry and your chest feels tight, and when you try to speak, your tongue feels like sandpaper. “I—” you begin, and it’s all you manage to get out. Jungkook is murmuring your name in a voice so gentle that your heart skips two whole beats, and when you look at him again he is much, much closer than before.

“But I guess late is better than never, right?” Jungkook breathes. Stopping at the edge of your bed, he drops to his knees, and you don’t protest when he takes your hands and cups them protectively between his own. “It’s you, {Name}. It’s always been you. I tried to forget about my feelings when you left for Seoul—tried to convince myself that it was just a stupid crush—but nothing I did worked. I couldn’t forget about you. And then you came back, and I just knew.” Gently, he traces a fingertip across your knuckles before looking up and meeting your gaze in earnest. “I’m in love with you, {Name}. I’ve been in love with you for years, and I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. And… and I really hope that I haven’t fucked everything up by telling you this now.”

“You—” Your voice sticks in your throat, and you swallow thickly before trying again. “You haven’t. I… I like you, Jungkook. I like you so, so much, and I think I owe you an apology for trying to push you away so much. It’s just that these feelings… they’re so new. And I—well, I don’t know if I love you yet, but I think that I definitely could.”

“Then that’s good enough for me,” he replies, his face stretching into a wide, crinkly eyed grin. “As long as you agree to be my girlfriend, and let me have the chance to make you fall for me.” And when you nod, giggling, Jungkook leans in and presses his mouth to yours.

The kiss is soft and sweet, and lasts several moments before a sobering thought enters your head. You break away, frowning, and Jungkook’s brow furrows as he takes in your expression.

“What’s wrong?”

You bite your lip, worrying at the delicate skin. “This… thing. This relationship—what if it doesn’t work? I mean, god, you’re Jimin’s best friend in the entire world. What if we have an argument? What if—what if we break up?”

“We won’t,” Jungkook replies confidently, lacing his fingers with yours before leaning forward to nuzzle his nose against yours affectionately. Instinct has you leaning into him, seeking out proper contact, and you feel his lips curl into a smile as he indulges you with yet another kiss.

“You can’t know that for sure,” you murmur when you break apart, but your voice is readily lost in the huff of laughter that escapes your companion.

“Maybe not for sure,” he says. “But I’ve loved you since I was about eight, and I don’t think that’s going to change anytime soon.”

This time, when your lips meet, there’s a bit more heat behind it. Jungkook curls a hand around your nape to draw you in close, and licks sweetly into your mouth when you part for him. He’s quick to press you down onto your mattress, and you sigh as he trails down your body and takes the straps of your tank top with him. The material falls off your shoulders, leaving just enough room to tug the rest of the shirt down to your waist, and he groans when your bare breasts are freed.

“No bra? Fuck, you’re killing me.”

You arch beneath him, huffing out a breathless little laugh when he seizes the opportunity to envelop a nipple into his mouth. His fingers find the other—squeezing and rubbing and tweaking until you’re quivering in his grasp. “Jungkook,” you breathe, waiting until he lets out a soft hum of acknowledgment. “Jimin—he could come back any minute. Maybe we shouldn’t do this right now.”

Jungkook glances up from where he’s exploring the underside of your breasts, tracing the soft swell of delicate skin with his lips and tongue. “Jimin,” he says, “is at a special session for his major. He won’t be back for hours, so why don’t you relax and let me make you feel good, hmm?”

And, without even waiting for an answer, he drops down to his knees and digs his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts. Your legs are dangling off the edge of the bed, and Jungkook easily tugs the material off them, taking your panties right along with it. Tossing them aside, he doesn’t hesitate to spread your legs and slot himself into the newly created space. His tongue darts out to moisten his lips, and your breath hitches when you glance down the length of your body and see the ravenous glint in his eyes.

There’s no doubt in your mind that you’re wet enough to take his cock right now. You can feel the slick gathering between your legs, and the smirk on Jungkook’s face tells you that he’s noticed it too. Teasingly, he presses an experimental fingertip to your clit, watching in satisfaction as your hips buck off the mattress at the flare of pleasure. Then he’s sliding down, sinking a lone finger into your entrance and curling upward to find the soft spot that he knows will unravel you in a matter of minutes. A gasp escapes you when he finds it, your hips rising again, and he soothes you with a warm palm on your thigh and a sweet kiss to your hipbone.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly Jungkook is able to build up your orgasm, but then again, you suppose you shouldn’t be surprised. He’s always been a quick study, and you’ve never been sure whether it’s stubbornness or determination that drives him to excel at his passions. Here and now, with two of his fingers buried inside your cunt and a third teasing its way in, you don’t even care which it is. All that matters is the pressure building in the pit of your belly, and the way Jungkook keeps murmuring your name and encouraging you to cum for me, princess. It’s enough to push you over the edge, your back arching off the bed and your lips parting in a moan as you ride out your high.

“So pretty.” Jungkook circles your clit with his thumb, his fingers still sheathed within your walls. “You always take my fingers so well.”

“Think I’d rather take your cock instead,” you reply breathlessly, sagging back against the mattress and reaching for him. Jungkook takes the hint, gritting out a hoarse curse before crawling up your mostly bare body and crushing his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. You grab the hem of his gray sweatshirt, pulling it up and over his head, and are more than pleased to discover he’s not wearing anything underneath. His sweatpants soon follow, Jungkook impatiently kicking the material off his ankles, and you sigh out his name when he wraps you in his arms, skin against skin.

“I’m not going to last very long,” he warns you, his breath a puff of hot air against the shell of your ear. “Promise I’ll make it up to you later. Just wanna feel you right now.”

“Go on, then,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “How do you want me?”

Jungkook groans, no doubt having a furious internal debate with himself, before reaching down and taking his cock in one hand. “Just like this,” he decides, gazing down at the way you’re spread out on your back for him. Deliberately, he settles between your thighs, giving himself a few pumps before positioning himself at your entrance. “Wanna kiss you while I fuck you. Wanna kiss you for the rest of my life.”

He’s pushing forward then, stealing the breath from your lungs along with any thoughts that may have crossed your mind at his last sentiment. Jungkook sinks into you until you’re gasping at the fullness, his hands grabbing at the meat of your hips and pulling you against him with every thrust. He fucks into you with reckless abandon, hoarse praise and gritted curses falling freely from his lips as he uses your body to seek out his own high. Every now and then, his mouth seeks out yours in a sloppy kiss, which you happily indulge as his rhythm falters and becomes increasingly erratic.

Jungkook floods you with his warmth, his arms gathering you up tightly as his cock slowly softens within you. His lips find yours, and this kiss is a simple, tender one—an affectionate press and a crinkly eyed smile that has you automatically smiling back.

“I don’t know why you’re so happy,” you tease, poking him in his slightly sweaty chest. “Jimin’s going to throttle you for this, you know.”

“Worth it,” he replies cheekily. “Anything’s worth it as long as you kiss me better afterward.”

“Gross,” you tell him, laughing. “You’re so lame.”

“But you still like me,” he says with a shrug. Then he grins. “The real question, though, is whether you like me enough to help me move in the fall.”

You hum, hiding your smile. “Depends. What’s in it for me?”

A positively wicked grin spreads across his face and settles there. “Why don’t I give you a preview?”

///

A few weeks later -

Jimin hums softly under his breath as he strolls into his new dorm, a cardboard box cradled in his arms. There’s a growing pile of boxes in the middle of the living area already, and he’s only just found an empty spot to drop the latest when he hears an odd noise coming from the bathroom. A wet, smacking sound, kind of like—

“Jungkook, you dog,” he snorts, throwing the cracked door open. “Get your ass out here and help me unpa—“ He stops in his tracks.

The scene before him doesn’t make sense. Jungkook is standing in front of him with wide eyes and fear in his expression, but that doesn’t make sense. At least it doesn’t until he sees you in the reflection of the mirror over the sink, your clothes disheveled and your lips swollen.

“Wait, we can explain,” Jungkook begins, following the trajectory of Jimin’s gaze and waving his hands in a fluttery panic. “I swear, Jimin, it’s not what you think—“

“That’s my sister,” Jimin says, his voice dangerously calm.

“Yeah, but—”

“You put your hands on my sister,” Jimin continues matter-of-factly, as if Jungkook hadn’t spoken at all. “I’m going to fillet your dick with a dull knife and serve it over rice.”

And before you can catch your breath and open your mouth to stop him, Jimin leaps forward, his fingers aimed directly for Jungkook’s throat.

[silksaddle]

The Traveler 3

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x f!reader Western AU

Chapter summary: A busy night at the saloon later pushes Jack to reflect on his past.

Word count: 12.3k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY! drinking and mentions of alcohol, weapons (guns, lasso), lap sitting, Competent Jack Daniels, SMUT, unprotected piv sex, oral f!receiving, cumplay, tenderness, one last hint of plot before it gets crazy up in here

A/N: Thank you to @skyshipper​ for the amazing gif! And to my lovely friends who kept encouraging me to write this chapter! The song mentioned is an Appalachian folk song. You’ll find references to that, and it’s also important to recall the difference in dollar value back in the day. Get into the saloon mood with this! Wink wink...

Read Chapter Two  ~ Series Masterlist

Chapter Three: The Outlaw

“Ever been in here, little lady?”

Noise, noise, noise— it’s like the parlour room hopped up on a hundred more liters of whiskey, with more men, more laughing, and a drunken pianist poking away at the keys in a corner. Its walls are wider and taller than the floors back home— the floor you’re familiar with can’t hold a candle to the song and vibrancy and life before you.

It’s midnight, six long and loving days since you’d shot your first target tin, and Jack had swindled you away under his sturdy arm— only after confirming that your feet didn’t hurt too much, asking two times to make sure, three to get a rise out of you. He’d since had you try shooting at a pear, but you’d only managed to skim the side of it at best. Still, his hands were ready at your hips, his pride in you glowing.

Jack squeezes your shoulders firmly from behind you, his eyes fixed on the growing delight visible in your steadying limbs. As you take in the bunches of occupied chairs spread by roundtables, and the few but heavily buzzed dancers— swaying and stepping at random in the spaces between card games— the shaking of your head is delayed.

Just outside the batwing doors, on the threshold of entering the fast-paced world you still don’t know, you turn to him, gasping through your smile. All the aimless wonder you’d indulged in today from deciphering his comically sultry-toned question— “How much do your feet hurt?”— floods back into your system as you take another peek inside. 

Blundering gamblers speed through the movement of coupled dancing— quick flourishes of colour springing to your eyes as the ladies spin on their tiptoes, the multi-coloured layers of their petticoats flying up then down. Among them are the focused card games, mental and speedy over brown tones. You don’t know how they focus with all the chatter and music, but they hold their cards to their noses and try to slip secret peeks at their left-hand opponent. This is the real bar, unlike the makeshift hot spot where only guests are allowed in your home. This is where people gather and where the trouble begins. 

“Is this what all that fuss was about?” you grin, sneaking your fingers underneath a suspender, poking at his soft belly. He flinches and huffs, although any touch from you is pleasant in his rosy mind, taking hold of the back of your neck to silence you with a deep, soothing kiss. His eyes are shut as he makes his determined move, your head going fuzzy and your nerves settling down in your stomach. 

He tips his hat back on his head to kiss you closer, your fingers finding the little curls at the nape of his neck.

“Had to be sure…” he murmurs hot against your mouth, and the grip on the back of your neck tightens as a breath of his heady scent blankets your face, “don’t need you hurtin’ more than necessary.”

“Oh, stop—” you jab his side again, easing back off to twirl a finger around his tie. “I never even mentioned it,” you whisper, voice shaking as it softens in consideration, “I’ve always wanted to come here.”

“I can tell those things about you, baby doll.” His hand slips down your front, riding the curve of your bust down your belly, along your forearm to your wrist. “Ready?”

Almost every piece of you is prepared, excited, anticipating, but that nagging uneasiness slowly creeps its way back around your shoulders. He notices in the way you hesitate, blinking up at the overhead beams, a furrow to your brow.

“What is it?” he asks softly, even sternly as he lines his feet back up with yours and holds the sides of your arms. The touch pulls the dreadful sensation from your limbs as his thumbs stroke your sleeves, your lip catching in concentration as you shift your eyes, looking at the girls spinning under their partner’s hand.

“What if we see someone we know?” you mumble, unsure if it’s valid enough to speak it clearly. There could be as many as forty people in there, and as far as you can tell, you can’t recognize a single person— your own patrons must be asleep back at the house, and there’s not a single chance Mrs. Adler would come spying, and the thought makes you giggle despite your concern. It doesn’t account for acquaintances who know the lady, who tell her things, who bring her news. Like the sheriff.

“Oh, darlin’,” he croons, leaning forward to place his lips at the middle of your forehead, soothingly pressing then retracting to give a reassuring smile, “I doubt anyone will be trottin’ around there lookin’ for you.” A single hand drops to his hip, where he lifts up the coil of his lasso, “And I know how to make a deal.”

The rich timbre and rumble of his voice sparks a dose of courage to rush in your veins, and the last dregs of apprehension still looming somewhere in your head slowly drown out in its wake. 

“Can’t forget…” He reaches into his shoulder holster, where one side is equipped with a gun, and from the other side he pulls a detailed silver flask, twisting open the lid. You must pull a face with the gruff raise of his brow you spot, before he takes a swig and clears his throat. It bobs, rising and falling and mesmerizing you while you study him, glowing in the reaches of the interior’s orange light.

“Drink up,” he orders, breaking your focus and extending his hand forward. “It’s whiskey.”

“Why?” you chuckle incredulously, eyeing the engraved ‘S’ over the front. Silently you wonder what it means to him, evaluating its curvy detail before dismissing it as a company emblem of some sort. Tentatively, you take it from him and sniff the spout.

A crashing, creaking noise rattles from inside the saloon— bottles knocked from a table and rolling over the floor in a puddle, grumbling fading out into disinterested humming. It’s left like that, and the occupiers of that table simply stumble over in search of more drinks instead of tidying their mess.

“It’s a wild mess in there.” Jack nudges your hand closer to your mouth, and the flask catches on your lip.

“Where did you get this?” you query, inhaling the scent, guiding the silver back to your mouth. It pours down your throat, burning bright courage in your chest, and you can feel the shot moving thickly down your middle. You tilt your head back up with tight-shut eyes, wiping your mouth as he tells you he’d snatched it from the kitchen cupboard before knocking at your door. 

“Jack. You’re lucky I like you too much to say anything…” you groan, acting ten times more exasperated than you feel, thrusting the flask back into his holster. 

The face he wears is kind, a crescent in his lips forming a sweet smirk reserved just for you, and he catches your wrist in his snug fingers. 

“Come on,” he grins, and your laughing protest doesn’t make it out of your mouth amongst the ruckus, your feet hardly able to keep up with him as he breaks you through the swinging doors and weaves you through a sea of jovial people in the gathering heat. It’s the most crowded room you’ve ever witnessed, where open spaces on the floor are scarce and shoulders brush against shoulders beneath the high-ceilinged, two story building. No one offers so much as a glance at you barging inside— razor-sharp focus in their own world prevents it, and a chorus of “sorry!” stumbles from your mouth nearly five times at all the bumps into random shoulders and hips. 

“Slow down!” you cry, but he continues to tug you along, your free hand clutching at the length of your skirt to keep from stumbling on it. Another giggle bubbles out of your throat when you stumble anyway in your preoccupation, squishing your cheek right into the wool blazer on his back, bracing your hands over his shoulders for balance. 

“Whoa,” he chuckles, turning on his heel to grasp at your elbows and set you upright. His dark eyes sparkle when you meet them, your fingers instinctively reaching to fiddle again with either his suspenders or his tie. “What first, darlin’? You’re the boss…”

Desperately, you seek out the new surroundings, distracted by the fancy shelves behind the bartender displayed like an alcoholic apothecary, the cozy alcoves off to the sides lit by small fires. A staircase towards the back of the room leads up to a second level with a wrapping balcony, making more room for the smoke to dissipate upward. Behind a couple of men, there’s a dartboard, not in use.

"I..." you don't know how to choose, and before any further words make it from your mouth, Jack pulls you face to face, lacing your fingers together.

“Well,” he breathes, guiding your free hand to rest at his shoulder, "I've been wantin' to do this for ages.” 

"Do... what?" you suck in a breath as he swiftly turns the both of you, tugging you even closer to his chest and bringing his cheek to yours.

"Hold you in front of other people." Jack's smirk turns into a proper smile, glinting and sparkling. He sways you the other way, prompting an exhilarating thrill to chase up your back as a pound hits a table nearby, and someone has just lost another arm wrestle. He slides his nose down the side of your face as he indulges in you, and everything inside the room that had caught your eye in its newness slips from memory, his scent taking over.

His words sink lower and lower inside you, and his grip is harder now, his fingers wrapping and squeezing around yours. 

“Closer, baby. Just you n’ me.”

Nothing more than a rasp; his lips catch the shell of your ear.

Closing your eyes, an anxious sigh expelled, you let him guide you forward, backward, clinging your cheek to his shoulder as he dominates your rhythm. He’s firm and steady as you know him to be, yet your eyes shut harder with the onset of self-awareness in the presence of so many.

Your lids flutter back open to find him watching you intently, a smile making those endearing crinkles appear on his face. And he’s right— just you and him, nothing else of importance but his face blushed with the twinge of pink and his broad shoulders, one covered by your hand. The knowledge of routine and coordination between anyone else means nothing now; they’re either weaving their way through the crowd with glasses of beer or clapping or jumping around in tipsy circles. 

He keeps his gaze anchored to your eyes, even as he nudges your nose with encouragement.

“I never did learn any dances,” you admit quietly when your mouth is just a breath away, your voice rising just above the sound of strangers mingling drunkenly. He keeps you slow, his brow raising in question, but never moving his face from you.

“Can’t know everythin’,” he grins. As someone well-versed in life outside of work, he knows the steps that the others are taking. "Have a dance, then we’ll try those darts out, hm? See if you can beat me.”

Pressing his hips forward, a nearly silent sigh of relief blows from his mouth.

Uncertain steps transform into confident swivels on the toe of your boot, although you allow Jack to keep his guiding hand across the small spot he’d allotted for you, his ease in dancing sparking your curiosity. As he rotates your bodies, swaying you delicately, you burrow your nose deeper into his shoulder, the smell of leather and his warmth— the forming perspiration— clouding your senses, heady and calming.

In the midst of the comfortable silence between you, he pipes up again above the noise. 

“I almost took you here first, did I tell’ya that?”

“First?” you echo. Your fingers travel up to play with the hair at the nape of his neck, and he smiles bashfully, covers your hand with his own. From beyond his shoulder, you catch the angry exit of two men deep in a heated conversation, though their pistols are not drawn, and the surrounding people swinging by you in the dance hall area; a tipsy man bumping into a table off to the side and looking thoroughly displeased it wronged him by being in his way.

“First time I took you out. Figured I should get to know you a little better by myself...” he leans in, tickling up your side with his other hand, and it makes you splutter against his cheek, his satisfied hum felt on your chest.

“You did just that,” you chortle, stepping left, right, up, down the floor. “I’m almost certain you’re proud of it…”

“Mm,” his smile borders closer to a smirk with the sudden dash of smugness in his face, “would it be indecent to take pride in lovin’ on my lady?”

Throwing him a sharp look, the rapidity in which you smile again is quicker than gun-fire when he elects to step with you in a swaying-round fashion, revolving around the other pieces to this clockwork of a free-range dance, his lips dangerously close to your neck as he presses his face down into your shoulder.

“I suppose you do get special treatment,” you admit, your gaze softening as you glance at his plump, parted lips, his own expression mirroring yours as he enters his frequent mode of dazedness. His grin goes dopey, his eyes half-lidded, bright affection seeping into every crease on his handsome face.

“Ain’t that somethin’, comin’ from you.”

Jack’s chest grows warmer, as do his hands— hot and worked up, giggling when you step over his toes yet he doesn’t complain, only squeezes your waist with more pressure. The random flow of movement he creates across the floor with you becomes comfortable in the safety of his grip, although daunting once he begins to suggest motions beyond what you’d prepared yourself for, namely in the presence of other people— a strange thing for you, being cooped up every other moment.

“Show me a twirl.”

He guides you out and under his arm, fondly watching you spin for him— hesitant at first, then freely, a proper and carefree grin crossing your face as your skirt flits out against his leg— and you twirl again.

He coos proud and softly as he can when you return to him, but loud enough for you to make out, your grin widening for him when you bump your face into his shoulder once more. “That’s my girl.”

You realize what you like so much about it, the longer you caper with the others, just how lost in it everyone seems to be— they don’t fuss over what they look like prancing around, they don’t care whether they know what they’re doing, but not one face is downcast as you peek over his shoulder again. The ones who sit hunched over candle-lit tables are cheerfully clapping their friends over the shoulder or holding their stomachs in laughter, doubled over, shut eyes and open mouths.

“You’re a sweet little dancer,” he whispers, the ragtag band relenting into an easy melody with the slow hitting of piano keys, and his hands slide upward in a smooth motion over your sides to cup your chest.

“Jack,” you guffaw, haphazardly pushing his hands away from their proximity to your breasts, and he instead pulls you back into your original position of your hand on his shoulder, the other in his. “Later.”

“What? Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little flirtin’...”

“If you call that flirting.”

But soon he’s cradling you, dipping you backward, clutching at you gently as possible to keep you safe from falling, and when you meet his eyes, they’re looking at you fondly. Your own drift closed just as you feel him coming closer, and it hits you.

His lips brush yours. Soft, familiar. The world moves on around you, but it’s the first time he’s kissed you for others to see— not that many would take much notice now, at the way his mouth is readily slanted over yours.

But it’s new, butterflies sending your stomach in flips and his gentle nip bringing you back to where you are, held comfortably in his arms.

“If that ain’t better, I’ll be beggin’ you to tell me how you want it.”

Still dipped in his arms, someone yells after Jack.

“Daniels!”

A deep and husky voice comes from some indeterminate spot, and your arm falls in the onset of horror. Jack’s first response is to wink for your comfort, and his hand briefly hovers at the holster before he turns to find the man in question. His other is protectively extended across your waist until he recognizes him in the dirtied blue button-up, his smile peppered by a light brown beard. It's too quiet for you to hear, but there's a rumble of a groan in Jack's chest, eager to spend his time here without interruptions.

“Arthur,” he greets, partly saying his name for you to measure the stranger, and he claps him on the shoulder with a big, albeit reluctant grin.

“I ain’t seen you around here yet,” Arthur remarks, and his eyes flash across to you.

Jack hums low, sliding his hand up to the back of your neck, urging you to step forward. 

He’s a tall man, strong, a scar here and there on the exposed patches of his skin. You offer a smile to him, brightly looking into his face as he grins back, settling his hands in his pockets. Jack’s hand tells you he’s not entirely pleased with this interruption with its tensing hold, but he’s polite when he speaks to Arthur, who’s clearly already gotten himself tipsy.

“This is my girl,” Jack says proudly, and the title makes your knees weaken, thankful for the support of Jack’s body as you introduce yourself. You extend your hand out for a shake, the act seemingly normal as Arthur accepts it, until he raises it to his lips and kisses the back of it with a knowing smirk on his face.

“Charmin’— charmed,” Arthur murmurs, and you feel the grip on your neck tighten, turning your head to find Jack shaking his.

“Hey now,” he warns in a raspy voice, but in good nature as he hugs you harder against his side and you put your hand back on his chest to soothe the obvious flare of jealousy. He covers your hand with his own, rubbing out the spot where Arthur’s mouth had been. “Yeah, this here is Arthur. Partner of mine from the post office.”

“Heard a lot about you, miss,” Arthur adds, but Jack doesn’t seem to respond to that remark, instead puffing his chest out in pride. Happy that you know how solid his affection for you is.

“You sure got yourself a ramblin’ man. Chewin’ my ear off about you.”

You’re still trying to catch your breath as the conversation goes on, and Jack’s presence behind you now seems stiffer than before.

“Nothing too personal I hope,” you jab at Jack’s waist and he splutters, and Arthur immediately shakes his head. You notice he’s also bearing a gun, his holster a different kind than Jack’s— slung around his hips. His face seems kind, wrinkled around the eyes and mouth as evidence of frequent laughter, his eyes sharp in observance but soft in nature.

“I don’t think Jack would share that kinda stuff with a gun to his head,” he chuckles, his voice and accent thick and rumbling. He shoots back to Jack as he moves his weight into his hip, “Look, some of us are about to start a game; you joinin’? You can bring your lady.”

Jack shifts uncomfortably beside you, his mouth dropping open before he speaks. “Well, me and my lady, we came to—”

“Don’t be rude, Jack,” you smile, blissfully aware of what you’re playing at when you close your hand around his bicep. He looks down at you with half a frown on his face, breathing through his nostrils as you pinch him, “We would love to join you.”

It takes a prolonged moment before Jack finally agrees, “I won’t turn down a good bet,” in a gruff voice, leading you behind Arthur, across the floor, over to one of the tables by the wall where other men are sitting and drinking from half-empty bottles. They greet you with lop-sided smiles, and Jack offers a “gentlemen,” their way as he slides the open seat at the end of the table from its edge. There’s five of them in total; three strangers, Jack, and Arthur.

Jack carefully shrugs off his holster, “Would you take care of that for me for a second, darlin’?” 

Two weeks ago you’d have jumped in fear at the idea, but since your run-ins with his own gun, merely holding it doesn’t seem half as bad. You accept the leather, running your thumbs over its length to occupy yourself as a dash of shyness around the group floods your limbs. He sheds his blazer, draping it over the back of the chair, and takes back the holster with another wink to be appreciative. 

The last adjustment before he sits is the loosening of his tie. He slips the knot and leaves the long ends hanging over his chest, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt as you squeeze your thighs together. When he sits at the end of the table with spread legs, you cramp your hands over the back of the chair, trying to quell the pitiful rush of slick that joins your tensed muscles.

Arthur sits to the side of Jack, scooting his chair up with a bump and another swat at Jack’s arm. A few of them are watching you, but only Jack has your eyes when he peeks around at you, too, with a forming frown, quickly changing into a smirk when he realizes how to get back at you.

“You ain’t gonna stand while we do this,” he says, beckoning. “Come here.”

He grips your hand before you can make a peep, pulling you to the front of the chair. A gasp from your throat causes a chuckle to erupt from his, your waist then caught in his hand as he sets you down to sit on his lap, over his wide spread thighs in the chair. 

“What’s the game?” he grumbles to his opponents, nonchalantly raising his heel and dropping it to make you bounce on his lap.

“Hey—” you whine, bravely circling an arm around his shoulders. It feels odd to do such a thing, but no one seems to mind your presence on his lap. It’s normal behaviour for a place like this. He pushes his nose into your hair without a word, and as you feel the fire return to your cheeks, his promise of winning for you is low and warm.

“Blackjack. Place ‘em,” one of them announces from the left side— the dealer— as he awaits the players’ bets. They slide forth five cents, ten cents, another five cents. Jack gives fifty cents after reaching into his pockets and bouncing you on his leg again, your huff gone undetected by everyone else. 

Arthur leans into your shared space at the edge of the dark table, “You better hope for some fuckin’ luck,” he teases, his eyes sparkling before he tells you, “your man’s gonna go bust.”

You feel the exasperated grumble against your side as Jack rolls his eyes, his hand closing firmly around you as he brings his face closer to Arthur’s.

“I like high stakes.”

That short, gritty sentence has your thighs tensing over his until they burn, the arm slung around his shoulder digging into his neck. Jack seemingly likes that reaction from you, holding you down tighter on his thigh, making your core slide over his trousers. It’s firm and just enough friction that you fight with a swallow to keep your whine inside, but the extra raise of his leg forces you to cover your mouth. He doesn’t look at you, but you’re certain you’re the only thing of concern to him at this moment, his smirk growing when you finally lower your hand back to your own lap.

The dealer places the first cards around the table, face up. Jack eyes the two of clubs handed off to Arthur, whose brow creases under the low light.

“Good start?” he chimes in, his fingers playing leisurely with the back of your bodice.

His first card is a ten.

“Fuck you, Daniels,” the other man chuckles, “we’ve got a whole game to play still.”

“Yeah,” Jack hums, smiling up at you. “I ain’t worried.”

With the second round of cards dealt, Jack’s total is only twelve. A two-card joins his pile before the hand truly begins— Arthur sits at a seven, the other two players at a sixteen and fourteen.

The first man to make a move is the one to the dealer’s left, deciding to take a hit. He taps his fingers over his cards, receiving an extra in return, his face turning into a wide grin when he reveals a three that lands him at a count of nineteen. Jack perches himself forward in focus, all the while the busy folk melody rages in its happy tune, and he presses his cheek to your breast as he slips his hot hand up your skirt.

“Jack,” you laugh, “be sensible.”

“I am,” he throws back, “you know I’d do anything to be that petticoat.” 

Lightly, he traces out your calf, tickling the spot underneath your knee and making you scoff pointedly. Although you try to appear as sensible as you want him to be, you have no true intention of making him stop or swatting him away. But the next time he speaks is so low and quiet, you think you’re imagining it. “You got somethin’ under that skirt for me?”

The next player goes overboard— the man, in a beat up suit and vest with the previous total of fourteen, decides to hit and gets dealt an eight, eliminating his hand. 

He slumps into his chair as the dealer takes his money and slides it towards the middle of the table, his companion clapping him sympathetically over the back.

As Arthur studies his count of seven, he’s quick to tap his fingers for another card, and quick again to grin when his hand then adds up to seventeen.

“Alright darlin’. Hit for me. Be my hands.” 

There’s something hard underneath you as you tap your fingers over Jack’s cards, grazing the side of your body. The dealer places a five down, and Arthur groans comically loud as Jack throws his head back in a hearty chuckle at his count of seventeen to match Arthur’s.

“Fuck me,” Arthur rolls his eyes as the dealer faces the three of you at the corner of the table, giggling.

“Any more?” he questions with a toothy grin, his red tie donning a spot of beer on its tail. Arthur begrudgingly gives a tap and waits with bated breath, praying for a three, a four, but the card he receives busts his hand.

“Jesus Christ,” he pounds his fist on the table and makes the bets jump and skitter, even you, as you scoot up on Jack’s thigh. “Thought I had it.”

Arthur rubs his face as Jack hands you another fifty cents, his other still fiddling with the stocking around your thigh, though Arthur doesn’t seem to take notice. “Double it.”

“Are you sure?” you poke, holding the money in your palm as your heart skips at the amount. “It’s a slim chance…”

He closes his eyes, leaning in, nodding. “There’s a good luck charm on my lap.”

You grin, although his sentiment is doing more to make you melt into a puddle on his clothes, and you place the money next to the first bet as Jack calls his doubling. “Prove me wrong, or you’re still a fool.”

“Your lady is right,” the dealer remarks, slowly bringing his hand to the deck. It hovers there, unwavering as he stares into Jack’s eyes with a challenge looming between them. “Slim chance.”

Unhurriedly, he picks up the card, extends his arm, turns it over.

Four.

A frustrated groan from across the surface mixes with your excited gasp of bewilderment, your lower belly warming at Jack’s confidence in his hand and the cocksure grin on his face.

“Would you look at that,” Jack remarks, the tension in his chest flushing out in a heavy breath, the hardness remaining at your thigh as he pokes your tummy. “I knew you were good luck.”

He places his palm over the space where your thigh is bare, sneakily shimmying you closer to his front, and in that moment before the dealer flips his own face-down card, you hear the other two strangers whispering amongst themselves.

“Heard they’re headed this way. Looking for a fugitive. Guess he left ‘em in a tight spot, huh?”

His partner chuckles in agreement and crosses his arms over his slim chest. “This town ain’t all riddled with outlaws though. Doubt they’re gonna find him here.”

“Don’t imagine they’d issue wanted posters when they’re bandits themselves…”

The strain in Jack’s chest returns, and his back straightens to a firm line as he tries to rub it out through his hand on your skin— you chalk it up to just the nerves of the game.

Music continues, voices chant, the bartender busies himself with impatient guests. All you can put your mind to is the threads of conversation floating form the other side of the table as a puff of smoke crawls up to the ceiling behind them.

“Figure it’s just a hoax. Them Statesmen ain’t ever come out to play before.”

Jack’s breath goes sharp through his nose in time with the last remark, his entire body stiffening beneath you and going hot under his button up. Still, you tell yourself it’s the game, convincing yourself with how long the dealer is taking to flip his card. In a subtle attempt to ease him, you slip your fingers underneath his suspender, letting the heat of your palm draw him out.

The dealer goes dark. Annoyed. All he needs is an ace to get a natural and sweep Jack’s money, but the odds are against him more than they were against Jack.

He finally flips his face-down, revealing merely a seven of spades. Arthur perks up in the corner of your vision with a supportive grin crossing his face for his friend’s victory, but your squeal is the sweetest reaction among them, your excited call of his name filling the table with a little more light among the brooding men.

The dealer clenches his fists over the table at his own loss, at his own dumb strategy to mirror Jack’s certainty. But the man beneath you is laughing deeply, reclining further into his chair and spreading his thighs open. 

“Pay up,” Jack smirks, “one-to-one. Means I get your dollar.”

The dealer hesitantly reaches his hand over to determine what the next card would have been, sliding it from the deck and flipping it. 

Ace.

“Damn it,” he groans again, gathering the lost bets from the other three, yet the sum still forces him to fish around in his pocket to make up the rest of Jack’s extra dollar. “Why you gotta be so fuckin’ expensive?”

As a decent player, he shoves the pile of money forward to Jack, albeit with a frown, as Jack rubs your arms and coos in his own delight.

“You fuckin’ weasel,” Arthur jabs, “shoulda left you two.”

“I always win a bet,” Jack smiles, shining in the warm tones of the room, relaxing. 

“And on your first damn round.” Arthur loosens the kerchief around his neck, scratching at the greyish-brown stubble covering his tan face. “You sure you had nothin’ to do with it?”

He’s looking at you now, and you’re uncertain of the severity in his words with the small squint in his eyes.

You reach for Jack’s small flask from the holster and take another swig of the sweet, burning liquid before matching Arthur’s gaze with narrowed eyes, too, setting it on the table between the both of you.

“Clearly I’ve tampered with this deck of cards from my spot right here, no?” you speak softly, leaning your shoulders back into Jack’s chest, the drip of whiskey settling the lingering nerves in your limbs. “I don’t recommend gambling to men who can’t take it.” 

You begin to smile at him, and the faces of the other men go grumpy and displeased, all the while Jack makes a quiet choking noise beneath you at your words, his hand clamping around your thigh.

Arthur chuckles and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand when no answer comes to him, instead dropping his other fist to the table. “One day I’ll win you on somethin’,” he says to Jack, and uses his feet to push himself from the table.

“Don’t die tryin’.”

The rest of the men who had joined you chatter about Faro, eyeing the table at the other end of the heated room, though one keeps his gaze on the pile of glinting coins set before Jack.

“We’d better get some more time to ourselves.”

His gaze licks fire at you when he catches your eye, and Arthur is already up and standing before Jack’s sentence is finished.

“‘Course,” he mumbles, shifting oddly. “Keep out of trouble.”

“Do my best,” Jack says, watching you rise from his lap, his fingers lightly tracing out the length of your skirt as you move. “Be seein’ you at the— shit—”

The man from across the table who had narrowly lost to Jack’s count leans over to swipe the winnings into his palms and makes a rapid turn, starting to weave through the crowd. He moves so fast and heavy, his footsteps are audible among the noise. Jack goes after him in a heartbeat after your sudden yelp, launching himself forward into a run as the thief clumsily bumps into the surrounding people, creating a clearing in the low-lit floor for Jack to chase through as his hand pulls the lasso loose.

You watch in a strange kind of excitement beside Arthur, as Jack begins to circle the rope at his side, his knees bent and his eagle eyes pinning down his target bordering the swinging doors. The entire room hushes in attention, a quiet whipping sound of rope through the air before the opening binds tight around the waist of the man with Jack’s money in his pockets.

He works the rope back in with a wink, one hand swapping in front of the other in swift motions, pulling the man back like a precious bounty. When the man arrives before him, stumbling on his feet, Jack extends his palm, and motions his fingers back. “Pockets. No trouble if you hand me the money back.”

A profound look of annoyance, or even embarrassment, covers the man’s dirtied face, and with difficulty of the rope around his elbows, he feigns fishing in his pockets and brings his hand back out with a once-concealed six-shooter. “Think you’re a cheater.”

A sharp gasp fills your lungs as the others surrounding you lean closer in focus, watching the gun poke at Jack’s stomach. But he’s not the slightest bit afraid.

His brows raise with a deep chuckle, unperturbed, as he briskly closes his hand over the barrel and points it down, tightening the rope. “Oh, none o’ that. Can’t cheat with chance,” he smirks, “I’m bein’ generous with you.”

The man winces at the dig of the lasso, and eventually drops his gun with the sweaty slip of his palm when Jack appears to whisper something to him. He digs for the coins with a shameful look, and drops them into Jack’s hand with a begrudging sigh, thrashing to be set free.

Pocketing his rightful winnings, Jack lets the man go with a forceful tug, his demeanor momentarily falling dark, and he kicks the gun toward the exit. “Outta my sight.”

You study the man’s hasty departure as Arthur makes a huffing noise, Jack stalking back to your side with the rope wrapped around his fingers. He takes note of your bewildered face, of your hands fisting your skirt, as the music returns full force, as the area fills with people again.

You study the man’s hasty departure as Arthur makes a huffing noise, Jack stalking back to your side with the rope wrapped around his fingers. He takes note of your bewildered face, of your hands fisting your skirt, as the music returns full force, as the area fills with people again.

“There’s a real idiot for you.” 

“Now, you enjoyed that,” Arthur remarks, knocking a fist into his shoulder. “I ain’t ever seen you use that skippin’ rope.”

“Ain’t you lucky.” Jack adjusts his hat, looping his rope properly at his hip. “I’d rather keep my money.”

“Sure you would.”

Before you can check on him, his hands close on your waist with a smirk, pushing you away from the table, your protests unconvincing with the stutter of your laughter.

“We’ll be gettin’ goin’ now,” he nods to his friend, who gives a tip of his hat in return, an exasperated smile crossing his face. “Don’t want more trouble than that.”

“It was nice to meet you!” you yell after Arthur over the quick tempo music, and Jack ushers you toward the back of the room where an exit door hides beneath the drape of a curtain.

“You’re impatient,” you remark with a laugh, his eyes still bearing a hungry look as he takes a large gulp of whiskey. Emptying the flask, he then draws you closer to himself by the hand at the small of your back.

And just behind you, missed by a second, Sheriff Branch enters at the front.

-

Jack holds his hat, his jacket, your boots, as you walk through the grass behind the buildings of the row, alleviating your heels from the added height of your shoes. The air is a cool and pleasant contrast to the body-heated saloon, your cheeks still set alight from his lasso tricks, and you near the edge of the street with his hand finding yours. He laces his fingers through like he had done at the dance, offering a sideways glance, dark underneath the stars and navy blue night.

“Look here,” he points, your eyes following along to the construction site of the post office, where the framing stands tall and sturdy at the end of the street. 

The space for front steps is marked out at the center front, and he guides you toward it, walking behind you and relaying which exact parts are his work— the standing beams, first three from the left, last two on the right of the front side, cut and nailed and perfectly angled.

“You’re a handyman, Jack,” you pinch his shoulder, admiring the neat work, peeking through the open spaces where the rooms are mapped out by more beams for the office, the sorting room. And without a look back at him, you mount the raised floor, spinning back toward him on your toes and hanging onto the beams like pillars. “Very handy…” 

You weave your way through, pretending not to notice that he’s joined you on the platform. The raw wood scrapes lightly on the ball of your foot, and just before you can reach what will soon be the sorting room, Jack wheels around with his arm extended by another beam, bringing his lips ever-near to yours in a hushed breath.

“You like these hands?” He reaches forward and pokes at your sternum, a single brow raised as his eyes are fixed on your mouth, your arm rising to push him out of that spot. He chuckles at your flustered face, his open tie swaying over his chest.

“I’d like to put them back to work,” you state simply, lifting your chin to match his imposing stature.

“Me too, darlin’.” He smiles, stealing a quick kiss before swiftly hopping off of the platform and offering his hand to help you after him. Your feet land back on the grass, not yet dewy with the night, but still cool and soothing. Before he turns, he makes a sound of consideration, urging you to halt your steps as he touches your back, reaching into his pocket.

“Hold it,” he starts, revealing that ever-so-small streak of bashfulness in his nature, and he produces his winnings from the night, extending them in his large palm towards you. “This is for you.”

They glint in the far-off light of the street, clinking on his hand, and you make a soft gasping noise at his thoughtfulness. 

“I can’t take that,” you insist, your body adopting a melty sensation as you readily attempt to close his fingers back into a fist. “You won it. And you caught a man for it.”

“Yes,” he chuckles, withdrawing his hand from yours and bringing himself closer to you by a single step through the long blades. “Won it for you.”

At your next incoming protest, he gingerly brings your mouth to his, taking advantage of your distraction to fiddle with your skirt and slip the money into your own pocket, and although you feel the weight of it there, you bring your hands to his cheeks instead to kiss him back harder.

“I’ll find a way to repay you,” you tell him, “I swear I will. You give me too much.”

“You’re keepin’ it,” he chuckles against your mouth, just as a breeze whistles through the platform of the post office and the nearby tree, “bet you can get yourself somethin’ real pretty.”

The moment you re-enter your bedroom, Jack places your boots by your door and ushers you quickly towards your vanity, requesting to help you undress, starting with the bow at the back of your skirt. He pulls it loose, easing his fingers under its waistband.

“Did you hear ‘em singin’ in there?” he asks, scooping his hand into the pocket and letting the coins scatter across the tabletop, and hurriedly returning his hands to ease the fabric from your hips. You watch them shine on the surface, pondering how to make it up to him somehow, willing yourself to accept his kind gesture.

You’d been too preoccupied with Jack’s lap, with the game, to have heard what exactly had been sung in that room before you escaped by the back door. “I don’t recall?”

“There was a group,” he starts, bringing the skirt down to your ankles and standing tall again to nose his way into your neck, his hands squeezing at your waist. “Singin’ some Shady Grove.”

You smile, kicking your skirt away. “I don’t know that song.”

“‘She’s the darlin’ of my heart’,'' Jack hums, not in song, but with a deep, floating quality in his voice that nearly makes you whine, your back falling harder to his chest, “‘sweetest little girl in town’.” His lips drag openly up the length of your neck, gently sparking your insides. “Makes me think of a certain woman.”

“Oh,” you sigh, his hands pressing upward to your chest until he palms your breasts through your clothes. “What else did they sing?”

“Hmm?” he makes a noise to postpone his answer, adjusting the grip of his hands on your chest, squeezing his fingers into the flesh. He slips the buttons of your shirt, opening your torso still covered in undergarments to the clear mirror in front. You can see the devilish smirk forming on his face in the reflection when he eyes the lace trims underneath, letting the previous garment drop to the floor.

Deftly, his fingers pry you free of each last piece, his hard length pinned eagerly at your hip, and his hot mouth never leaves your neck, your shoulder, your ear.

“‘There ain’t no girl in this old world that’s prettier than mine’…”

The rest of the words are a rasping whisper that set your heartbeat running fast, your thighs squeezing together as his gaze remains riveted to yours in the mirror. His hair is still mussed, his shirt disheveled, and the smile stays plastered on his handsome face.

Taking a full breath to fill your lungs, you turn, and he watches your behind ahead of him through the reflection, taking you into the close wrapping of his arms.

“Tell me how to repay you,” you murmur into his chest, which stutters in a chuckle at your mild but sweetly threatening tone. He shifts, ensuring you can still feel his hard cock against your body and he draws a line up your spine with his finger, relishing in the way it makes you shiver. “I want to give you something you want.”

“You don’t gotta get even with me,” he insists, mouthing at your ear.

“Tell me,” you laugh as you push on his chest, and he finally relents, accepting your stubborn quest to return his favours, speaking in a dark voice to match his now blown-black eyes.

“Got only one thing on my mind, baby girl.”

He guides you backward to your bed, sitting against the headboard on the delicately patterned sheets, his eyes glowing darkly in the lamplight. He unbuttons and shoves away his trousers, freeing his thick length with a soft groan. 

His eyes lock onto you as you crawl up to him, clasping your hands and leading your thighs to straddle his hips. “Ride me.”

Both bare, he inhales sharply at the brief slide of your nipples against his chest as you shift to get closer, taking a greedy grip at the tops of your legs. “Show me how you do it,” he presses on, and his cock rests heavy on his stomach as he sits up straight, taking you with him by the harsh grasp he takes on your ass. 

His words make you bold, though you have to fight against the urge to lay and let him fuck you— you take hold of his cheeks and jaw, beginning with open kisses to his sharp structure, his subsequent groan of appreciation urging you to move faster for him.

“You’re so good to me, Jack,” you whisper, grinding and spreading your slick over the length of his cock, rolling your hips gentle as possible until he tugs your body down harder, forcing you to give him the pressure he wants. “Get me ready, dirty boy.”

Without talking back, his hand slips swiftly down to find your clit in a slow circle, his eyes flashing wide for a split second at the name. You think you hear a choked, hungry sound fall from his hanging lip, but you’re uncertain under the rushing in your ears and the haze taking over you as his fingers spread your wetness.

“Fuck, you’re soaked. Just like I knew you’d be.”

“Yes,” you breathe, whimpering as he finds a different angle on your clit than before. Your body jolts in response, making Jack’s smirk reappear. His fingers gain momentum, circling and stroking and rubbing you just right until another rush of your arousal covers the tips of them. He hums darkly, taking his cock into his hand, sliding it through the wetness.

“You drip like a peach for me,” Jack murmurs in satisfaction, though his words are softened by a moan at the single stroke of his own hand. “Let me feel it.”

You swat his hand away, swiping your thumb over the new bead of precum at the tip of his cock. The lines in his throat are striking and shadowed by the lamplight, burning him into a delicate orange hue— a sweet glow as you line him up at your soaking entrance and a shallow whine ghosts out of him.

Silently, you push your hands into his chest for leverage as you lower yourself, and though his cock is always a stretch, he’s sliding so easily into you that your hips fall down to his in one swift motion, making his eyes roll back.

It’s the sweetest welcome he thinks you’ve ever given him, and he hardly breathes for some moments as you perch yourself forward against his body. It makes the stretch of him wider, deeper, soothing sore muscles as you wait for it to settle.

With a gentle sigh, you start to roll your hips. Delicate at first, with the way he’s panting already, but it’s a difficult task to stop yourself from moving faster— raising your body and letting it fall, or moving slightly back and forth over him. His cock throbs needily, and he whips his head back up and groans with his brow set in a deep furrow.

“Jesus,” he moans, scraping his palms up your waist to cup your chest, openly staring before he meets your eyes again. The look he gives begs permission.

“Perfect, perfect angel.” Leaning up, he takes a nipple into his mouth, causing your movement to still. He gives a rut from beneath you while still occupied with your breast in his mouth, and you catch large tufts of his hair in your fingers as your spine curls over him. The sensation forces you to speed up, seeking the kind of high only he is capable of granting you, his tongue swiping across your nipple, then his lips closing around it entirely.

“Jack,” you sigh, letting everything overtake your body in hazy ripples of pleasure, losing mindfulness to the feeling of is cock filling you in deep hits to just the right spot.

He splutters on a breath when you give him a harder thrust, leaving a barely visible string of saliva from your chest to his mouth as he groans and digs his hands into your hips.

“Easy, girl,” he warns, and the silver thread breaks. “You’re gonna make me come too fast with that sweet cunt.”

His eyes, molten and blazing, flicker as you nod, expelling a thorough breath into the crook of his shoulder.

“Anything,” you murmur. Your voice is laced with sultriness and warmth as you return to rolling your hips, but this time slower, fuller. He keeps his hands placed firmly on your sides to guide you forward, a touch backward, and forward again with growing colour in his neck. 

“Make yourself come,” he shoots back, obviously pleased with the new rhythm you’ve found as his shoulders strain and his torso lifts, “get my lap all wet with it. That’s what I want, I wanna watch you come all over me.”

You’re burning up under his heated touch, and there’s nothing you can say or do except give him what he wants; fucking him on his lap, grabbing at his hair. It’s messy when you kiss him, trampled by your desperate rolls, your lips latching between his. You take the opportunity to nip him like that, pulling his lip between your teeth and applying light pressure while you slide up over his cock and he follows your pull with his head.

“Thank you,” you whine, beginning to bounce rather than thrust or drag, “Can’t ever— fuck— make it up to you, everything you’ve— oh, everything you’ve given to me…”

His expression brightens barely from the liquified black. He sits upright, wrapping his arms as tight as he can around your back, tilting his head up to watch you from beneath.

“I like to give,” he growls, pushing his hips against your body and reaching something new inside, making you whimper too loud. His hand quickly clasps over the back of your neck to push your mouth to his shoulder, your tongue tasting the smooth skin there. “Like to give you my cock as much as I like to give you anythin’ else.”

The little moan you give vibrates in his neck. “I know, I make you feel so good, don’t I? I make that pussy feel good.”

Your hands find the sides of his face, and confident in yourself, you lift your head back up from his cozy shoulder, raising yourself up and coming back down as you meet his gaze. His curls are falling loose again, bouncing lightly every time you come down on his cock that glistens in your slick and his.

“Takin’ me so well in that tight cunt.” 

You’re certain he’s trying to make you crack with his talk, the timbre of his low voice igniting further warmth at your core. You think you’re going to last until his thumb returns to your clit. He presses on it, the flat of his hand resting on your stomach as his thumb juts downward to stroke you, and he draws tight circles with the pad of it, making the bliss in your lower belly blossom. But to his own rapture, the touch makes you shudder, and you can hear it— the desperate hits of your skin to his when you come down and he fills you completely.

“Just like that. That’s a real good girl. Real good.”

Once more, his words make you bolder. You angle your nails to make them dig into his skin, and he moans brokenly at it, the sharpness in his shoulders earning you his eager rutting, and his thumb starts to slip over your clit with how wet he’s gotten you. It forms the softest, featherlight touch you’ve ever felt. It’s still enough when it’s him.

“Look so fuckin’ pretty ridin’ me,” he groans, his lips grazing your collarbone with the same degree of gentleness his thumb offers to your clit, “gonna think about it every single damn day. You and your wet— fuck— your wet little pussy. Your perfect tits.”

He ducks his head and takes your other nipple into his mouth, and you feel the determined lapping of his tongue over the peak. Jack shifts under you, until you’re dipped slightly backwards and his arms support you, his mouth tugging your breast up. Then he lets it go carefully, peeking up at you through his eyelashes. He breathes over the wetness his mouth left, cooling the area covered by his spit.

You unravel your arms from around his neck and place them firm on his chest, sending him backward into the pillows, desperate to come. He makes a huffing sound and wraps his hands around your wrists to keep you planted. “Go on. Make that pussy come. Show me how good it feels.”

“Yes, Jack,” you whine, impossibly light headed and woozy, the slick from your core spreading over the base of his cock. “Then I want you to come inside me.”

Those words force his hips to shudder, and grinding down on him, you feel yourself tightening, tightening, your eyes closing hard, your lower belly burning…

And then it all comes loose as your jaw drops and Jack’s hand quickly claps over your mouth as you cry, riding your orgasm out on his thick, wet cock.

“Oh, fuck, oh fuck, come on Jack, can you feel me? Can you feel me squeezing you? Come inside me, come on handsome.”

Suddenly, he’s pulling your calves from under you and wrapping your legs around his waist, rising to his knees as you’re sent into the incoherent mist of coming for him, and he starts to fuck you from beneath.

“That’s fuckin’ right, angel, I can feel you— just gorgeous, my perfect girl— fuck, fuck—”

One, two… three more thrusts inside your dripping cunt before he fills it with a raspy moan, dropping his forehead against your chest. You can feel the crease in his brow from effort, and he gasps after a moment, regaining his composure before he tells you, “All full of me. Like you should be.”

It’s spoken in the most breathless, incapacitated voice. Then he lays you down, taking you sideways with him and easing you into the pillow, his chest puffing against yours, his stomach rising and falling rapidly.

“There ain’t nothin’ you could offer me better than this,” he breathes, your heart strings pulling— you cling to him in silence as you try to come to, and suddenly you’re aware of the sheer heat between your bodies. He’s still inside you, throbbing.

“Don’t be so sure… There must be something…” you manage to pant out against his cheek and he grumbles, adjusting so that your head rests on his shoulder, your legs wrapped around him.

“I’m already sure,” he answers, and then he seems to ponder for a minute. 

“I want to sleep inside you.”

Before you’ve fully registered what he said, you’re nodding and moaning, and when it does hit you, a little spark of excitement shimmers in your belly. He hasn’t started to spill from you yet, and he shifts, seeking your lips. He finds them in a thoughtful kiss, nothing more than that single press before he withdraws.

“Enjoy yourself tonight?” His fingers draw across the thigh spread over his hip, and he whines quietly as you slide, the movement pleasant on his cock.

“Each time is better with you, Jack.” You stroke his hair, mindful of the soft blanket beneath your bodies that you don’t need in the cool night; his warmth and yours is enough. “Thank you.”

“It ain’t nothin’ but my pleasure…” His nose nuzzles against yours, sliding the tip of his over the length of your face before he settles his head right atop yours, tucking your face into his chest. “Sleep, darlin’. I got you.”

Your breathing slows against his skin after he reaches over to diminish the light, and the darkness holds the both of you together on your bed, his heavy sighs dwindling away before resting at a steady in and out. His arms are heavy over your back, like a weight to ease you gently into slumber, and in the blur, you press your lips to the dip in his collarbone. Sated, his skin has finally cooled to a heat lower than the fiery temperature as he’d fucked up into you, and now steadies at a warmth agreeable to match your own.

The soft puffs from his nose tickle your hairline as you smile sleepily into his skin, on the brink of drifting off as you recall the night— the way he’d touched you under that table, the sparkle in his eye, watching you twirl. And by the time you’re barely conscious, you feel him move.

“Jack?”

Your mind foggy, you open your eyes to find his are still closed, but he ruts again. Hard and thick, his cock pushes into you, his cum spilling onto your inner leg as you gasp at the realization that he’s fucking you again in his tiredness. A rumble from his throat, and then he’s talking, rolling you onto your back.

“Need more,” he mutters, finally locking onto your eyes in the dark, grunting when he feels the tight way you’re hugging him and absent-mindedly locking your ankles over the small of his back. “Good girl.”

He’s quiet but grating, his voice rugged with use and wear. Faintly you feel his kiss, or the brush of his lips over your shoulder, before he puts more weight behind his movement and thrusts his heavy cock back inside you. “Made me all hard again.”

A soft smile forms in your mouth as you wrap your arms over his broad shoulders— he’s all you can see, covering the rest of your room from view. 

You giggle at his words, “I didn’t do anything,” before he grinds himself up against your clit and your jaw goes slack.

Jack hangs his head low into the crook of your neck. “Oh, but you did,” he smiles, “bein’ so soft on me, how am I gonna stop myself?”

Tipping your head back, a shaking, low sound from your mouth surprises the both of you, and Jack perks up, propped on his elbows at either side of your arms.

“Right there?” he preens, and performs the same motion, grinding his cock deep and causing that pleasing friction on your clit. “That feel good, doll face?”

With a nod and a laugh, you draw him in closer with your thighs, your head falling into the pillow as your chuckles turn into gasps, “God you’re big.”

Jack makes a purring noise, rolling his hips back and forth as your words overtake him in a heady rush of odd pride. A puff of his breath ghosts over your neck, and he takes hold of the thigh wrapped around his left side as he seeks to fill you more, your eyes widening at the stretch, even though you’re wet and ready for him.

“I make you so full, hm?” he hums in question, and you raise your hips in response, causing him to rock harder into your body. “Can never get enough of you.”

“I don’t want you to,” you try to smile again, but the way he’s moving has your mouth opening in a choked moan, and he slides his forearms under you, rippling on the fresh sheets of the bed. His fingers press over your shoulders from behind as he leans his head, slanting his mouth over yours in a messy kiss that makes his pace pick up and your legs hug him closer.

“You’re just—” he pants, “fuckin’... somethin’ else—”

You thread your fingers deftly through his hair, gathering it between the digits and then tugging up, his next sound a fleeting sigh with his eyes fluttering closed and his cock twitching.

“Baby doll... lettin’ me fuck you, lettin’ me stretch your perfect little pussy… do it again.”

At his order, you tug his hair sharply and his face twists into a smirk, “Thought I’d be able to sleep inside you. Never been so wrong.”

Your soft moan shakes with giggles, having half-expected this to happen— but it was still surprising, to be nearly asleep and then rocked into with his thick length.

“Jack…” You clench over him, soon flattened into the mattress by the full weight of him, his thrusts, his pushes, his pulls, guiding you back to the precipice of overwhelming release. You struggle to speak and breathe as his chest covers your breasts. But you need to talk, need to make him fuck you just a little harder. “When you used your rope I got all wet, and you were so quick and— fuck— I wanna come again, please—”

“You will, sugar, I’m gonna make you.”

Letting yourself settle down beneath his thrusts, you vaguely catch one of his arms bracing up on the headboard behind you for leverage, and then his cock spreads you open by another inch as he thrusts harder.

“You were so damn enchantin’ on that floor, dancin’ for me,” he says, the tone of his voice shockingly sweet before it returns to its dark rumble. “You’ll feel me tomorrow. All day, the way I fucked you so good.”

“Do it,” you urge, “make me feel it.”

Wrapping his fingers over the edge of the headboard, he grips it hard and slides up, all the way to the base of his cock. “Yes ma’am.”

A breathless sound fills his ears— to all his pleasure— as you start to come. It bursts inside you before you’d even felt it coming, and it washes through from your head, all the way down, pulsing and making you whine into his mouth. He swallows each quickened breath, and you can faintly see his bicep tensing above you, caged in, as your vision comes around from being blurred. He’s so close, pumping himself toward it, panting out a small praise even though he needs the breath.

“So good,” he manages to whisper, “gonna— gonna fill you again…”

With a last restrained groan, his whole body stills and he comes fast, clutching desperately at your hip, moving to your shoulder, your breast. He squeezes it, and hoping to ease your obvious trembles, strokes your skin firmly under his thumb, keeping a mild but steadying pressure in your shoulder.

“Thank you,” you murmur again, and he breaks into a huge smile, breathing warm on your face as he tries to pucker his lips enough to kiss you. He’s still smiling when you feel his mouth, but so are you, taking his face in your hands to steady him. Your legs are shaking slightly, and there’s the hum of a tremble in your arms, but his mouth tastes like whiskey and his lips are soft; you can’t let him go.

At the first sign of it leaking, Jack leans back to try and feel for the cum slowly dripping from you as his cock slides out, and he traces a finger through the first part of it, trying to see in the dark.

You whimper at the loss, then soothed and quieted by his fingers pushing past your lips. You take them openly, clean them of his and your mess, licking the cum off him in such a way to make him sigh, silently releasing them from your mouth.

“Baby,” he says, “let me.”

Too tired to ask what he means and too content to deny him anything, you watch in interest as he moves down your body, placing a chaste kiss to your belly.

“Only gonna clean you up.”

And though he’s not meaning to make you come, you still let a brief and shallow moan carry through your throat when he tongues at your clit, scooping both your releases onto the tip of it.

“Oh, Jack, oh—” Subconsciously you’re reaching for him, but he catches your hands and lifts his head with a swallow.

“Oh, Jack,” he mimics in a deep, floating voice, hungry and needful, before letting your hands free, slipping his tongue shallowly inside you. “Too much?”

“Please—”

Another broad lick, and your thighs squeeze him, lungs shuddering under the pressure.

“Shh, darlin’. I’m almost finished.” He pats at your hips, then places a wide hand over your lower belly as he swallows again, circling your clit in search of anything he’d missed. It slides onto his tongue, and his breath is hoarse as he catches your scent and your taste, his eyes closing in concentrated pleasure.

“Taste heavenly,” he soothes, and closes his lips around your clit for a brief suck, stroking it barely inside his mouth with his tongue. Once pleased with himself, he peeks up at you through the lamp-less black, returning to lay at your side with an arm sneaking under your neck, and he carefully rolls you to keep your back against his chest. It happens slow, your thighs squeezing together, your core licked clean. 

-

The night’s activities allow you to sleep heavily against Jack’s front, waking well-rested despite the lack of adequate time to sleep. Bleary-eyed, you shield the peak of sun coming through the curtain, rolling over with difficulty not to wake him. His lips puff at each breath, his hair mussed and his arm heavy around your back. You shift onto one elbow, carefully letting it dip into the mattress slow enough, then rest your chin on your hand as you let the other begin to card through his hair. It parts easily, smoothly under your fingers. Something twitches in his face, and then his hand is pulling you closer to him, still in slumber.

You lean forward, placing a neat kiss to the top of his hair, settling back down into the comfort of his shoulder and the warmth of his neck, and he remains asleep, in the same position he’d held you overnight.

Jack doesn’t wake for some time, but the soft breaths over your skin keep you settled in calmly, peeking up ahead to find the patterned wallpaper peeled slightly at the corner. Below it, the rocking chair is covered in his poncho, thrown over haphazardly without much care from another time when he’d been more concerned about getting bare than keeping warm in it.

He shifts when you become restless, lightly tapping your fingers over his chest. His breaths change pace, and a large sigh fills his lungs before his eyes flutter open, scrunching immediately into a small smile when he recognizes the weight of your head in the crook of his neck.

“Mmph,” he grumbles, turning over your body to ease himself onto your chest, his hair tickling the skin over your collarbone. His lips slide over it after a moment, opening just enough to tug at it and suckle, gentle enough not to leave a mark.

“Hey,” you murmur, leaving him more space to explore as your head falls to the side and your view becomes the sun streaked window, his lips finding that spot that makes your knees weak, even as you lay. 

“Mornin’.” Jack opens his mouth wider on your neck, letting his soft, plushy lips slide up the length of it until he arrives promptly at your jaw. He nips the corner, tugs your earlobe into his mouth. His weight presses harder into you as your chest opens in a light flutter, and your fingers tangle themselves into his mussed mess of hair. “Sleep well?”

He brings himself lower, painting a wet path of kisses to the swell of your breast, letting his tongue poke out to slide and swirl over the peak of your nipple. It makes your back arch into him, allowing him enough space to wrap an arm underneath you, and he hugs you closer to himself as he pulls your nipple between his teeth, massaging its stiffness with his warm tongue.

“You gave me no choice but to sleep,” you smile, “you’re so hard on me.”

Your teasing tone makes him grumble again as he moves his mouth to your other side, licking a wide circular motion around it.

“‘M I cruel to you, baby doll?”

“No,” you start, “you’re— oh—”

He sucks carefully as he brings your nipple into his mouth, lapping at it, his hand closing around your waist and forcing his fingertips into your flesh. His mouth is hungry at your skin but softer than he had been as he kissed you last night. His lips are full of colour in their use, and he lets go with another broad lick, looking up at you with wide eyes.

His body settles back down, still sleepily blissful to wake to the feeling of you close to him.

“I’m what?”

“You’re eager.”

A chipper attitude keeps you through from the morning to the afternoon, after Jack had promised a mellow evening as he left for the post office. He’d been truthful with what he said before— he left an ache between your legs, a soreness— but you find yourself enjoying it wholly as the afternoon passes in the kitchen, kneading bread, baking it, leaving it.

And your memories of the night keep you better company than Mrs. Adler, even as she sits not far away in a chair by the staircase, attempting to stitch an edge of lace to a skirt hem. You think of your new friend, of the strapping way Jack had moved and held you, of the two dollars sitting on your vanity. It occurs quietly in the back of your mind by the time you’re finished at the counter, that Jack may have meant to take you to the saloon not only to participate in the trivial games, but for you to see the other people of the small town. He meant for you to make a friend, someone else to know outside of the walls of the house. It makes your stomach flip, makes your heart flutter, your hands going weak as you wipe the wood. Waiting for him to return in the evening feels longer than it ever has.

You try to ignore the floating gossip about the outlaw band between Mrs. Crockett and Adler as you move on to the cooking, but their grumbling voices keep you attuned, an unfortunate reminder of what you’d heard last night. A rogue. A fault. The way Jack’s hand had squeezed your leg at the mere mention of them. Does he know something more? Something important?

When all goes blue and deep, and as you’re folding the layers of your clothing, you take a seat before the mirror, stripped down to your chemise. Jack makes his habitual entrance to your bedroom looking worse for wear, a resigned look in his eyes mixed with the relief of seeing you.

“Jack?” you call, a concerned lilt in your voice.

He shuts the door behind himself, locking onto your eyes in the candlelight, and takes a knee before you at the vanity stool. His hands are cold when you feel them circle around yours. He swallows harshly as a perturbing dread seeps into your shoulders, and finally, he speaks.

“Darlin’... There’s somethin’ I need to tell you.”

It had weighed on him, keeping you in the dark, but some small part of you waited for him to give this to you. You don’t know what’s coming next, but what you do know is the way he’d stiffened underneath you the night before, the way his muscles had gone rigid. That he’d once told you he’s running. It comes back to you like a forceful wind, and with a nod, you encourage him on, breaking one of your hands away to smooth his hair back.

He swallows every bit of pride, and offers what’s left of him to you. His honesty.

“You know I’m just a traveler—” he closes a fist around the thin fabric of your chemise “—but it’s for a reason. And I think I was always lookin’ for a place I could really settle— so I could stop movin’ for one damn second. And I knew I wanted it to be this place the first time you said my name.”

The heat of tears rises in your eyes, and you take hold of his cheek, stroking his skin. He never lets your gaze break.

“It’s me who the Statesmen are after. Because I was one of ‘em.”

-

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[vinyleee]

Kisaki (25) x Reader (18+)

tw: death, guns, blood

☆*:.｡. o

you held your breath as you stood between the two burly men that escorted you in the cramped elevator. the light was dim, even so it produced a glare against the scuffed metal. flashes of vibrant lights shown in the windows from the city, green and purple scattered against the thin surface of your red dress. he had requested you wear it tonight, for it was ‘a special occasion’

“damn how much longer is this lift going to take,” one of the guards grunted out looking at the key panel as he fiddled with his gun. he traced the tip of his index finger over the sights, as if preparing himself to aim at someone.

“heh, might take a half hour more for all we know… boss ordered us to take her all the way to the penthouse so it’s not like we can just get off on the next floor.” The other guard replied rolling his shoulders back, fixing his posture.

you released your breath and looked at the guard to your right, still fixed on his gun. you studied the features of his face as he lifted the gun up to look through the sights.

“hmm what’s wrong miss.. heh.. do you want to play?” he chortled when he noticed you staring. ‘here, don’t be shy.’

he placed one large hand on the small of your back, causing you to shiver. “don’t worry im friendly…”he grinned when you put a hand out to stop him from getting to close. he saw it as an opening, he placed the pistol he had been studying in your hand.

the weight of the gun shocked you, but it felt… almost comfortable. as you wrapped your fingers around the handle the gripping rubbed against your skin. it felt natural to you.

you twisted your wrist left and right to see the different angles of the pistol. nothing was rather interesting about the pistol except for a few tally marks, you guess to mark how many victims it had killed.

“hey now what are you doing giving that to her?”the other man bit out as you raised the gun up to see yourself just what the other guard found so enticing about the gun.

“oh come on were just having fun! right little lady?”,the one who handed you the gun chuckled.

you ignored him and looked up to the ceiling, your eyes moving across the space between the dying fluorescent lights. trying to spot a camera or a microphone somewhere you stood up on the tips of your toes and traced your fingers directly above you were standing. there was a slight convex in the metal that you skimmed the tips of your fingers over.

he was watching.

you felt reassured as you brought your hand back down to your side. “here, Ive had enough fun.” you sigh handing the man his gun back.

“oh silly you.. I’m not,” he put the gun back in its holster and placed his hands on your waist. he brought you into his chest and put his nose to the top of your head, breathing in your scent.

“ugh as soon as I take over this place and kill boss, you’re gonna be mine baby…”he said tracing one hand up your exposed back, from the opening of the dress.

“what are you saying?” the other guard said as he pried his partners hands off you. “you’ve lost it haven’t you? do you know who he is? he isn’t just some wanna be gangster… he’s kisaki.”

‘kisaki.’ the word rang through your ears, and left a warmth in your cheeks as if he had just caressed your face. kisaki, your kisaki.

you relaxed instantly at the sound of his name. ‘ah let him do as he pleases.’ you raise a hand up stopping the guards from a fight that neither of them would come back from.

just then the elevator chimes. “for fucks sake about time.”

you let out an exasperated sigh as you stepped out of the elevator. behind you the two men silently cursed at each other as the followed after you.

“stay by my side”, the guard set on stealing your heart said lightly wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling out his gun once more, except this time ready to pull the trigger on anyone who threatened your safety.

the other, more collected, guard walked a few steps in front of you with his gun trained in front of him. he looked down the turns and twists of the hallways that lead to different rooms of kisakis building. he kept his back close to the wall and stuck out his gun first then his head peaked out ever so slightly around the corner.

at the end of the hall you could make out shadows of men pacing back in forth through a crack in the door. suddenly the air around you felt static, why would kisaki call you to his penthouse and have two… very unqualified guards escort you.

your head started to throb as you searched for an answer. each scenario you played out in your head led to someone dying. that was the best case. you didn’t want to think of worse ones, so you stopped to take a deep breath.

‘nothing is going to happen’ you reassured yourself. kisaki would protect you. there was nothing to fear.

as you neared the door to kisakis pent house you heard someone murmur a few distasteful things about you.

“why do you keep that bitch around, she does nothing but distract you boss. your priorities aren’t straight anymore…”

“hmm so that’s how you truly feel,” you heard kisaki laugh.

as you approached the door you pictured the expression kisaki was making as kisaki laughed. his face was probably flushed with excitement, and his eyes were probably just as piercing as ever.

you felt your breath hitch as you thought of his eyes. the way they could make you fear for your life in an instant, turned you on.

closing your eyes yet again, you imagined kisaki restraining your hands above your head and staring you down with those eyes. you imagined him pressing his knee into your dripping pussy and forcing you against the wall.

“ehem”, the guard who had been swatting through turns of each hallway cleared his throat, trying to get your attention.

“hm what is it”, you turned around to face him after he whisked you away from your fantasy.

“we should go inside now before kisaki gets upset that we took so long…” the corners of his eyes squinted as he winced, imagining what would happen to him if he didn’t follow kisakis orders.

“ok then, shall we?” you straighten your shoulders and fix your hair before gently pushing the thick double doors open.

“boss I just think you should…never mind, if you’ll excuse me.” the man who spoke ill of you muttered stepping to the right to avoid coming into contact with the opening doors.

as the doors swung open and the two guards walked into the penthouse you took in as much of the room as possible.

the entire penthouse was made up of windows. lights from the city flooded in making the use of no lights seem rather understandable. kisaki leaned against a mahogany desk directly across from you. his arms folded over his pinstripe vest, his sleeves rolled up exposing the veins from his hands to his forearms. the purple and green lights that had danced across your dress in the elevator now illuminated kisakis figure.

“no,” kisaki gritted through his teeth at the man who wanted so desperately to leave after bad mouthing you. “you stay, and you my darling come here” he raised one finger up and curled it back, beckoning you.

you let out a shaky breath as you stepped forward, your hands bunching up pieces of the red dress he had requested.

“ah why so nervous sweetheart?” kisaki mocked taking long steps toward you, “you look perfect in that dress I ordered for you. as I knew you would.”

“thank you…” you said in a hushed voice, avoiding his eyes.

in a half of a second his hand was on your jaw, pulling your face towards his, “look at me when you speak to me, bitch”

you let out a surprised whimper at his sudden aggressiveness, your face flushed with heat. your head started to spin with anticipation. kisakis lips were inching closer to yours. his breath warm against your mouth.

he licked his lips and smiled as he pulled away, “ah ah ah, not just yet sweetheart we have some business to take care of.”

you shook your head and turned around to see the expressions of the ‘business’. you had known what was going to happen. you turned back around to face kisaki yet again.

he was now sitting on the desk with his legs spread and a mocking smile plastered on his face, “won’t you come sit” he patted his leg.

as you approached him you heart raced, his touch would turn you into a thoughtless animal searching for the pleasure that only he could deliver.

“good girl”, he murmured into your ear, nibbling on it a bit, when you placed yourself into his lap.

you wrapped an arm over his shoulders and placed your other hand on his chest. you ran your hands over the cloth of his vest, eventually you tugged on his tie a bit, begging him silently.

he slid his perfect hands around your waist and pulled you in closer to him. the scent of sage and liquor wafted into your nose as you put your face in the crook of his neck. he was so intoxicating.

“mmm you’re just so impatient tonight hmm” he said tracing a hand up your thigh and under you dress slipping two fingers into your panties.

“boss.” one of the guards whispered, “can we leave?”he rocked back and forth on his heels uncomfortably waiting for a response.

kisaki brought his eyes up to the men and sighed, “cant you see im busy, now be patient and wait for your orders until then.. keep your mouths shut.”

you let out a breath as he turned his attention back to you, biting your collarbone. “ah fuck,” he breathed into your neck. “i just can’t wait to be inside you.” he lifted his head and grinned at you.

you bit your lip as he placed two fingers against your dripping cunt. he rubbed soft, gentle circles into your pussy. your body twitched under his touch, your head felt light and you could feel the heat starting to rise up.

he slid his other hand from your waist directly up to the small of your back while pushing two fingers inside you. he chuckled as he felt you wrap around him in excitement. “oh you want me so bad don’t you slut?” he pushed his fingers deeper inside you. “say it and maybe I’ll give you what you want so bad”

“kisaki I want you… I want you so bad, please.” you whined out gripping his tie tightly.

“aren’t you ashamed, begging for me to fuck you in front of three strangers? mm not so lady like of you.” he said, abruptly pulling his fingers out of you and licking them.

“my apologies gentleman we should get back to business.” he lifted you off of him and placed you on the desk as he stood up. he took his time walking around to reach into a drawer, in which he pulled out a glock.

“kisaki…what’re you doing?” you asked trying to collect yourself after kisaki toyed with you.

“ah don’t worry princess just look at me, ok?” he stepped beside you grabbing your hand and training the gun to the man who had come onto you in the elevator.

“you shouldn’t have underestimated me, I have eyes and ears everywhere. I know what you did to her. offering a women a gun, have you no sense?” kisaki smiled pulling the trigger before the guard could answer in his defense.

you kept your eyes on kisaki even when you heard the guards body thump as he hit the floor. even when you knew the pool of blood that seeped from his corpse would spread out to the furniture. even still, you’re eyes never looked away from kisaki.

you squeezed your legs together when you saw kisakis smile grow and his eyes squint. the light shining in through the windows made him stand out against the darkness of the room. on your own face the light scattered onto you as well.

“now who’s next? hmm?” he chuckled moving his gun back and forth between the last two men. “you, the one bad mouthing my property, and questioning my priorities. you really are so stupid.” again he pulled the trigger. and still you kept your eyes on him. you felt heat rising up in your chest as you watched his smile grow with every person he killed.

“ah, the last man standing.” kisaki released your hand and stood up. he walked over to the last person he was yet to kill in the room. “you did well today, you followed my orders thoroughly. you can leave now. oh but one more thing, call someone to clean this mess up.” he used his gun to point at the bodies sprawled on the floor.

“y-yes sir” the last man stammered out before speeding out the door.

“finally” kisaki raised his arms up as he turns around to face you. “youve been such a good girl you deserve a reward.”

he came back to the desk where you sat cross legged waiting for him to give you the pleasure he denied you before. putting a finger out he removed a strand of hair from your eyes and put it behind your ear.

“do you know how many people I’ve ordered to kill for me? hmm you don’t think I wouldn’t kill for you? after all the things they did to you? stripping you of your clothes with their eyes. you’re mine, and I’ll kill anyone who doesn’t fucking agree. all mine princess, now I think it’s time for you to show me your appreciation. on your knees slut.”

your mouth watered as you slid down to the floor. kisaki rubbed his cock through his pants waiting for you to do as he ordered. unbuttoning his pants you moved one hand up under his shirt to feel more of him. “im getting impatient,” he whispered gripping some of your hair and pushing your face down onto his cock.

you licked circles around his tip and up his shaft, causing him to grunt and pull your hair roughly. you brought your hands up to stroke him as you sucked.

the air was filled with the sound of slurping and choking. you felt him deep in your throat, making you want more.

you’re head bobbed up and down as you picked up speed sucking and licking all around his cock. “ah fuck, just like that” he groaned out throwing his head back with pleasure. your hands came down to your pussy to touch yourself as you pleasured him. the more of a reaction you got from him the worse you needed him.

he pulled you by your hair taking your mouth of off his cock. “did I give you permission to touch yourself?” he leaned down grinning in your face.

“n-no but…” you stammered trying to find the words to say in your fuzzy head.

“then take your hands away from yourself and keep sucking you slut.” he thrusted his cock into your mouth as you brought your hands back up.

you moaned as his dick slid deeper down your throat, you did your best to lick and suck but your movements were getting sluggish from the pleasure.

“cmon,” he whined out thrusting into your mouth, “you can go a little longer. isn’t this what you wanted bitch? or would you rather be riding me right now?”

you looked up at him through watery eyes trying to beg him to give you the pleasure you needed so badly.

he pulled out of your mouth and picked you up laying you down on the table.

“youve done enough, good job princess.” he sighed kissing you lips gently before climbing on top of you. his face hung inches away from yours as he smiled, “since you were so impatient earlier I’ll give you what you want, but I cant promise I’ll be nice.”

he slid the dress of off you from your shoulders, following that he ripped off your panties and bra. he spread open your legs and licked circles around your nipples as he thrust into you.

you moaned out his name in surprise, he wasn’t going to go easy on you. you gripped the sides of the desk as he continuously thrust into your dripping pussy.

suddenly he stopped, taking off his glasses and shoving his tongue down your throat. “you’re insides feel so fucking good” he breathed as your tongues met. he sucked and bit your lip when you released the kiss for a breath, a string of saliva attached your mouths.

“ah ah ah, you don’t get any breaks.” he laughed breathlessly while groping your titties. you let out small whimpers as he slowly started to thrust into you again.

his breathing became erratic and his hands came up to your thighs as he came to his climax. “so fucking close, princess” your insides twitched around him as you neared yours as well.

you felt him twitch inside you as he came, “ah fuck” he whined out, moaning your name.

your hands came up to his face as he thrusted into you slowly, his movements becoming more sluggish. his face was flushed and wet with sweat. the slowness and sweetness of his movements felt even better then when he was going fast.

“ah kisaki…” you released onto his cock as you gripped his tie. he shoved his tongue down your throat yet again not allowing you a break from the pleasure.

“you can hold on a little longer cant you doll.” his warm breath breezed over your face as your eyes teared up once more.

“y-yeah” you gasped trying to catch your breath.

he shoved himself deeper inside you causing your back to arch and you to moan out his name. “god that’s what I wanted to hear, your pretty little voice… now I won’t stop till I have you screaming out my name.”

he placed a hand on your cheek and smiled devilishly, hearing you moan out so desperately gave him his motivation to go rough back.

your mind was flooded with pleasure as kisaki railed into you on the desk. by the end of the night all you knew was the sound of skin clapping against skin and the squelching noises of your fluids mixing with his. all you felt was kisaki inside you, so deep you could feel him in your guts.

you watched his desperate expression as he made you cum over and over again, the smile that stretched across his face every time you moaned out his name and begged him to make you cum. all you wanted was the taste of his mouth in yours. you wanted to feel his tongue in your mouth like two dancers performing a waltz.

you came over and over again to kisaki until you had nothing left. “kisaki… ah… please stop.. I cant cum anymore.”

“oh baby i know you have more in you.” he grinned as he slammed into you faster and whined as the pleasure was getting to be too much for him too.

“ah.. kisaki.. I’m gonna…” before you could get it out kisaki started sucking on your titties as he slowed down the pace.

“i thought you had nothing left.” he laughed when he felt you twitching around him again.

“i didn’t ” you whimpered, hands coming up to his back tugging on the fabric of his vest he didn’t have time to take off.

your body twitched under him as you held onto him, the pleasure wouldnt stop. slowly he pulled his sopping cock out of your twitching pussy and started leaving love bites all over you.

“ahh it still feels…” Kisaki shushed you before you could continue

“just relax,” he said combing his fingers through your hair and sitting you up. “I went to far im sorry. I… I just wanted you to know I’d do anything, for you.”

you relaxed into his arms and closed your eyes. you knew, even if he didn’t kill those men for you, and even if he didn’t pleasure you past your limit. you knew.

“thank you kisaki…”

authors note: this was my first serious ff so im sorry if it ended weird.. I honestly didn’t know what to do. I hoped you enjoyed it either way (^_−)−☆

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Day 18: Alt 7: Edges

Undeserved

Warnings: Captivity, torture, restrained, gagged, blood, knives, wishing for death (to escape torture), language

This is part of a series. If you haven't, I suggest starting at Day 1.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Damien was awake when the door to his cell opened. He was still sitting against the wall, because it made breathing slightly less unbearable. His head snapped up and he stared at the corner, shielding the door from his view. Perhaps it was someone else. The keys on a ring jingled. Another guard, to bring him some water. Footsteps sounded on the hard floor. Perhaps the queen had returned earlier, and they came to get him. Something heavy was put down. Perhaps… perhaps… please, anyone, anything other than this Gaston coming back.

Of course he wasn’t this lucky.

The moment Damien recognized Gaston, the breath he had held escaped him with a quiet whimper. Ignoring the pain stabbing in his side, he pulled his legs closer, trying to shrink into his corner. There was no strength left in him to pretend he wasn’t absolutely terrified.

“Did you miss me?” Gaston asked. He walked into the middle of the cell, then paused to look at Damien. “I personally lay awake half of the night, thinking of all the possibilities.” He continued his way to the wall, brushing his hand over the chains hanging there. “Unfortunately the fact that they want you alive,” he said, unlocking one of the chains and pulling it down, “severely limits my options. Get over here.”

Damien didn’t move. He couldn’t move. All he could do was stare at the chain in Gaston’s hand, eyes wide in horror.

“Get over here, or I swear by the Seven, I will break every bone in your body and then drag you here myself.”

Fuck, there was no doubt he’d do just that. Perhaps not all of them. That surely wasn’t compatible with ‘want you alive’. But there were enough bones that could be broken without killing him. Damien shivered as he reached out, trying to find some spot on the rough stone floor to hold onto. There was no way he’d manage to stand up and walk. When he pulled himself forward, weakly pushing his legs against the wall, the pain in his side flared up. It almost made him sink to the ground, but he clenched his teeth, forced himself to continue. The wall at his back kept him from falling over as he made his way across the cell. It was harder to push himself forward, now that he was away from the corner. It was just as hard to drag himself forward, when every bit of weight put on his trembling arm seemed to tear his side apart.

He had barely made it when Gaston bent down and grabbed his forearm. Damien yelped at the pain in his side as his arm was yanked above his head. Gaston linked the chain to the magic suppressing shackle around his wrist, then looped the other end though one of the rings embedded in the wall. As he pulled on it, Damien’s arm was lifted. He shuffled closer to the wall, trying desperately to keep up. Way too soon he couldn’t possibly get any closer, but the chain kept lifting his arm higher and higher. 

“Almost,” Gaston said, sounding way, way too keen. 

A sharp tug on the chain lifted Damien’s left hip off the floor. He screamed, scrambling to try and keep the weight off his strained shoulder. He moved one leg beneath the other in the hopeless attempt to lift himself up a bit. It was barely enough. The shackle still cut into his skin, his side still pulsed with pain, but at least he wasn’t solely hanging on his wrist anymore. He craned his neck, trying to see if he could grab the chain, to hold himself up. His fingers twitched uselessly, barely scraping the metal. Fuck, fuck, he couldn’t reach it. Tears of frustration and pain welled in his eyes as he tried again. He pressed himself against the wall, trying to get a bit higher, in the desperate hope he’d manage to reach something. He didn’t. After a few seconds his strength left him and he dropped down with a pained groan. The edge of the shackle was already sinking deep into his wrist. He couldn’t take the pressure off it, couldn’t possibly stretch himself any further.

“Beautiful. And we haven’t even started.”

Gaston’s voice made Damien’s head snap back. His eyes widened as he saw the knife in the man’s hand. It was placed on his chest, above the collar of his shirt, the tip barely touching his skin.

“No, no, please… 

“Shut the fuck up.”

Damien managed to stay quiet as Gaston grabbed his shirt, lifting it. He managed to only whimper quietly as the knife cut through the fabric, splitting it in half. He even managed to do nothing but take sharp, gasping breaths as Gaston tapped the knife on his chest. Left, right, left, right, just pressing the edge of the blade against bruised skin. But when he paused, when the pressure increased, when blood welled up in the cut, Damien couldn’t stay quiet anymore.

“Please.” His chest heaved in a desperate sob. “Please, don’t.”

Gaston lifted the knife. There was nothing reassuring about this gesture. Damien didn’t believe for even one moment he’d suddenly listen to his pleas. He tried to blink against the tears in his eyes, so he could watch Gaston grab the left half of his shirt, stretching it. With a quick motion, Gaston cut through it, hacking away at the resistance at the hem. Then he placed the knife on the ground, holding the fabric with both hands.

“Open your mouth.” 

No. Fuck no. Damien pressed his lips shut, knowing that the defiant glare he hoped for would look more terrified than anything else. Like fuck he would.

“I said…” Damien saw the punch coming. There was nothing he could do about it. Gaston’s fist sank into his stomach, cutting off his scream and leaving him gasping for air for one second. Then his fingers were on his mouth, forcing it open, pushing the fabric in. “Open your fucking mouth. Was that so hard?”

Damien started to choke as the rough material touched the back of his throat. He tried to turn his head away, but Gaston pressed him against the wall, pushing the gag further in, forcing his jaws apart. For a short, terrifying moment, he thought it might even block his airways. Damien’s heart was beating up to his throat, eyes wide in panic. Fuck, he couldn’t even swallow past that thing. He tried to calm down, to relax his tongue, to fucking breathe. 

His efforts were in vain when the knife returned, pressing into the soft skin on the underside of his jaw.

“If you spit it out, I’ll cut your tongue out instead. Understood?”

Damien couldn’t reply; he couldn’t even nod. All he could do was whimper as the knife nicked his skin, hoping desperately that it would sound like agreement. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t!

It seemed to be enough for Gaston, who lowered the knife, continuing to cut where he had left off. This time Damien couldn’t even scream. The pain left him shaking, breaking out in sweat at the absolute wrongness of cold metal splitting his skin. Gaston cut from his chest down to his stomach, twisting the knife quickly before lifting it. The cut wasn’t deep, but it burned in the cold dungeon air. 

Then the knife was back, resting on the left side of his chest. The pressure increased. Skin broke. Gaston drew three short lines, deeper this time, cutting into muscle. They bled more. The drops ran down Damien’s bare chest, making him shiver. He leaned his head against his strained arm, staring straight ahead. Trying not to see Gaston’s gleeful expression as he soaked up every pained gasp, every choked sob Damien couldn’t suppress. There was no point in fighting it. No point in trying to fight the tears blurring his vision, either.

Through the thin fabric of his shirt Damien could feel the edge of every single stone at his back. He shivered, pressing against it, as if he could somehow manage to get away from the blade, leaving another burning trail on his chest. 

Please.

The word died in his throat, muffled by the gag choking him. The knife slid over one of his ribs, splitting skin, drawing blood. Damien screamed.

Please stop. Please, please, stop this.

There were no words, leaving his lips, and no mercy to be found. For what felt like hours, Gaston carved one line after the other into Damien. Burying the tip of the knife into the muscles of his shoulders and stomach. Splitting skin in long, paper thin cuts. Scraping metal over bone. Making him scream and cry and fight to breathe through the pain. In between Gaston paused, watching Damien twist in agony, only teasing the skin with the tip of the knife, not breaking it.

It was worse on the left side of his body, where most of his bruises were. Purple skin split to reveal crimson blood as Gaston dragged the knife all the way from Damien’s shoulder to his navel. Damien made the mistake of looking down, squeezing his eyes shut in the desperate attempt to fight back the bile rising in his throat. He leaned his head against the wall, trying to breathe, to breathe, to breathe. It had become difficult as his tears clogged his nose and soaked the gag. Blood was running down his arm as well. The useless struggle had left his wrist rubbed raw and his fingers numb.

Please… Please just kill me. The knife dug between two ribs, slicing across Damien’s side. The metal tip grating along the bone made Damien shiver. Please, press it in a bit deeper and end this.

Of course he didn’t. Not with this cut, and neither with any of the ones that followed.

“Time flies when you’re having fun, doesn’t it?” The knife twisted in the shallow cut it had caused, scratching against Damien’s left collarbone. “I have other things to do now.” Damien didn’t have any breath left to scream. He barely managed to keep breathing as the knife was dragged along towards the middle of his chest. “Fortunately we’ll have all week to continue this.” 

A week. He wouldn’t survive another hour of this. Despair gave Damien enough strength to struggle against the chain. It didn’t give in. Of course it didn’t. All his efforts were good for was letting new blood run down his arm. Damien’s shoulder burned in agony as he had to give up, his head dropping to the side with a desperate, defeated sob.

Gaston paused, studying Damien’s face. His nose was stuffed, his eyes swollen from all the crying, even though his tears had dried up a while ago. He could only breathe through his mouth, taking small, panicked gasps past the tear-soaked gag. Whatever Gaston saw, it made him smile and he lifted the knife; lifted it to Damien’s face, pressing the flat side of it against his cheek. He wiped off the blood that had not yet dried, smearing it across Damien’s cheek and into his beard. Then he got up, to reach for something at the wall. 

Damien screamed as the chain holding him was unhooked. His arm slumped down, setting his shoulder on fire. Gaston pulled the chain back through the metal ring, then tugged on it, making Damien fall forward. He tried to somehow keep the balance, to not use the stump of his right arm to catch himself. His left arm was pulled toward another metal ring, this one embedded in the floor. Gaston locked the chain to it, with barely any room for Damien to move. Damien stared at his hand, trying to ball his fingers into a fist. He couldn’t even feel them.

“And here.” Gaston shoved something into the cell from behind the corner to the entrance. A bucket, filled probably, with how heavy it sounded as it was pushed over the floor. A small thing followed, becoming clearer as Damien blinked the tears in his eyes away. A piece of bread. His stomach twisted painfully at the thought of finally getting something to eat. Gaston pushed both in the middle of the room, staring straight at Damien as he did so. “Enjoy.” Then he turned around and left. 

The sound of the cell door closing, of it being locked again, made Damien sob with relief.

Tagging: @villainsvictim​ @whump-in-the-moonlight​ @dont-touch-my-soup​ @teamwhump​

[ilcaeryx]

Cultist [Sukuna/Reader] - NSFW

Summary: You have one god on this earth.

Tags: Sukuna/Reader, NSFW, Smut, Humor, Size kink, Cock Warming, Body Worship,

Words: Cirka 2k

Author’s Note: What’s up, sluts? I’m back. This is NSFW, so beware.

---

Sukuna did regularly mention that domination and conquest were his pastime hobbies and you would tentatively add that he adhered to them with slave-like zealotry. Whenever he insulted Itadori Yuji by calling him simple-minded, your heart ached with the desire to tell him that he was not any greater regarding his obsessions with strength. However, your self-preservation kept you alive, since a bitch that talks back to Sukuna is a bitch that gets their head separated from their body, after all.

Having sex with Sukuna is somehow leagues safer than speaking to him, you thought, gaze surveying how the apex of his back muscles cast shades upon the trenches of his spine. Inhalation, the shadows grew and deepened. Exhalation, the light re-conquered its territory. You suspected he never slept, even though he physically seemed in deep slumber. His arms were splayed on his pillow, face turned away from you.

You had self-preservation to save your ass 99 percent of the time – this time was probably that one percent where he would snap.

“Sukuna,” you called out, very lightly stroking his biceps with your nails. No answer, but his arm muscles flexed subtly as he moved his arm.  “I want my side of the bed back. I can’t sleep on this side.”

You let out a shriek when his hand shot out at you, palm plastered over your lips. The sharp edge of his index nail hovered uncomfortably close to your eye, the thumb nail piercing your cheek. Out of reflex, your dug your fingertips into his upper arm and attempted to pull away from his show of force.

Sukuna turned his head to face you. His eyes glared with disinterest, though his grasp weakened slightly.

“You’ve been plenty loud during the night; why must you continue now?” he asked, squeezing your cheeks together to allow you to speak.

“I’ve slept like three hours max,” you said, ignoring his question.

“That is not my problem.” He let go of your face to return to his original position. “Go find somewhere else to sleep and I shall wake you whenever I have need of you.”

What an absolute dickhead. This was your bed, not his domination playground.

You released him and patted your face with your fingers carefully. There were no stinging scratches left behind, which was good considering his reasoning that if ‘you weren’t bleeding out, you didn’t need help’ would leave you with annoying scabs everywhere. Why you were even fucking this guy was beyond you, honestly. This was one of the top 3 worst life choices you had ever made.

You slid towards him beneath the covers and supported your upper body with your ribcage on his lower back and elbows on his upper back. His body heat intermingling with yours gave you a dull ache, from behind your breastbone flowing into a tidepool in the pit of your stomach. After pushing your hair to one side of your neck, you lowered yourself onto him. Your lips wet and breath hot across his skin, you blew softly before planting a kiss below his shoulder blade. Had it been another person under you, you would have had the gratification of seeing goosebumps forming across the area.

“Sukuna…” you said, barely audible between his skin and your lips.

The King of Curses arose from his relaxed position. “Did you not listen or are you an idiot?”

“Bit of both, to be perfectly honest.” You pinched a tuft of his hair strands between two fingers, pulling gently. “You don’t need to do anything – I just want your attention.”

He issued you a warning glare, daring you to pull some weird shit on him.

You shrugged one of your shoulders and gave him a lopsided smile. “It’s not like I can hurt you, right? I don’t have sharp claws.” To testify, you released his hair, buried your nails below his neck and dragged them down his back in one stroke. Four faint lines were left behind, a stylistic contrast to his dark markings. “I don’t have superhuman strength or speed.” You felt the muscular ridges above his ribs, your fingers travelling up and down each rib. “At my worst, I’m just very obnoxious.”

“How self-aware,” he mocked and laughed half-heartedly. He seemed to enjoy your tiny monologue, judging by the slight raise of his eyebrows. “Continue.”

His approval increased your confidence. While you scoured your brain for whatever concept that might amuse or interest him, you broke eye contact and directed your thumb to pad the black line running along his back. You followed it up to the crest of his shoulders and pulled yourself up over his torso. A low growl hummed beneath you, indicating that perhaps you were pushing your luck. When you brought your left hand down his chest the sound reverberated through your being, reminding you that you were not the apex predator in here. His eagerness showed as he willingly moved his hand into your range when you struggled to reach it.

“Look,” you said, just as eager to sate his curiosity, “at the difference.”

With his attention on your hand enveloping his, you settled your head on his shoulder, finally eye to eye with the King of Curses. You shifted so that your palms met. Even when ignoring his nails, his long fingers and thick wrist eclipsed yours. Finger pads with rough callouses created in combat, the evidence of a reign of lasting a millennium. You could feel the wisdom beneath your soft pads; you could’ve devoted your entire life to warfare and your hands would still not understand it the way his do.

“You know, I never used to consider myself a small person,” you lied, your voice perfectly stable, “but now I am not so sure anymore. It is quite overwhelming.”

Sukuna’s head tilted towards yours, almost tenderly grazing his cheek against your jawline. The movement gave you shivers, causing your toes to curl. You had no option but trusting his self-control when he dove below your jaw and put his lips to your neck. He sucked the flesh between his lips, occasionally tasting with his tongue.

You sighed, content for the brief attention you had earned. Sukuna’s heartbeat rate did not increase nor decrease beneath your hand, his chest just as firm. He detached from your neck, his saliva cooling down that particular spot. You were on the brink of complaining when the world swirled around and your back hit the mattress, your chest and stomach feeling the room’s chill without Sukuna’s body heat.

Sukuna was not playing around anymore; he aligned his forearms beside your face and blocked off whatever else existed outside with his mere presence, lips taut and eyes alert. He situated his torso on top of yours and separated your thighs with his knee. Not close enough to grind on.

“Tell me more,” he stared you down. “What does being completely outmatched feel like?”

You wondered if he meant how it physically felt or how the emotional part of being outmanned and outgunned felt like. Considering how his empathic ability was low-functioning to non-existing, you wanted to bet your money on a physical description… Yet, your tongue prepared to tell him about the terror and the uncertainty. It was not wise to divulge such details to Sukuna.

Scheherazade’s silver tongue might have saved her life a thousand and one times but not everyone’s talent was located in their mouth cavity. Like always, your hands bought you more time to think, to evaluate your words. You tentatively reached for his collarbones before changing your mind and guiding one hand to his lips. Perhaps he had meant to kiss your fingertips, perhaps he had yet another inquiry but his lower lip separated from his upper one and you cautiously pulled it downwards. A predator’s teeth greeted you.

“I can’t say it without sounding lame,” you said and crossed your arms across your chest. “Don’t laugh.”

Almost immediately, Sukuna leaned his weight on one forearm, allowing him to use the other to restrain your hand against the mattress. “I assure you,” he said, his eyes staring lazily at you, lids half-down, “you are not that funny.”

Suddenly, you wished Itadori Yuji would regain his consciousness to not have to deal with this asshole. Kind, encouraging Yuji would worship your existence. Perhaps you would eventually have learned to worship him in turn. ‘Learning’ being the key word, of course. You would fumble in the dark while attempting to appreciate him. This seemed like a good idea for about three seconds and then you returned to your occult god.

“I want to be inside you.” Sukuna, no longer interested in your thoughts, showed more interest in your body. He seldomly spoke of his wants, rousing your curiosity and – honestly – your arousal. The thigh between your leg shifted closer to your mound, touching your nether lips softly.

“You’re so demanding,” you complained, ending your sentence with a deep sigh. “You want me to be quiet, you want me to talk, you want to be inside me – will you ever be satisfied?”

You rolled your hips upwards in a slow movement, enjoying yourself as your lips parted against his flesh. It did not please you enough, so you continued to alleviate yourself.

“No.” His voice  was unusually quiet. His lower lip brushed yours as he spoke. “Do you think you deserve it?”

You moved your chin downwards, the movement nearly imperceptible for someone who was not expecting it.

“I agree… if it’ll keep you quiet,” he said, releasing your arm to steady himself above you.

And you did keep quiet. Although he remained stone-faced, Sukuna seemed attentive to the way you opened your mouth and frowned in frustration, his crimson gaze traversing across your face.

He angled his hips downwards, pressuring your clit as you ground against him. You had never been more thankful for the things he did than when he let you use his body as a tool to get off. Each upwards motion elected a pang of pleasure, a beach in ebb and flow.

You don’t know for how long he tolerated your grinding but your lower body ached and his thigh was slick with your fluid when he removed his leg from you, its absence pulsating throughout your stomach. Despite your fear that he would push you away, you grabbed onto his neck to heave yourself against him, anything to regain that comfort. The relief that accompanied the heartbeat after he brought you up with him to sit upright lightened your entire being. His hands felt excruciatingly hot, almost unbearably so, on your ribcage.

Although you felt ready for him, your grip on his neck remained hard as he lifted you up above his cock. Sukuna descended you slightly, his tip bulging at your entrance. You knew your limit and didn’t hesitate to sink onto him, a movement less gentle than you wished due to your legs being wrapped around his waist. Your breath was uneven, hitching up whenever you strained against him. Avoiding getting your insides impaled by a guy’s dick was surprisingly hard labour. Eventually you settled at his base, a sense of completion glowing off you.

There were no comforting touches or encouraging words from Sukuna, whose tranquil expression made him seem more like Yuji than himself. His eyes almost shut, jaw relaxed... This was the alternate universe version of Sukuna, a man who did not lust for domination and who would settle down with his loved ones for an eventless life. 

Hearing your dumb fantasies echo in your head, you rubbed your eyes with your knuckles until you saw stars. What idiocy. You had to cease these daydream scenarios or you’d be in deep shit in the future. You were an atrocious cultist.

---

I hope everyone enjoyed this. If you liked this, please give a comment/like/reblog. I listened to the Professor Tox remix of LOONA’s Girl Front and Ariana Grande’s Love Me Harder while writing this.

[minshookie]

LATE NIGHT HOOKUP

| JIN |

College AU, upperclassman!jin x underclassman!reader, fuckboy!jin, Smut!!, descriptive smut. 18+ minors pls DNI, “cheating”, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), squirting, dubcon, forced orgasm. [[unedited]]

[Jin • Yoongi • Hoseok • Joon • Jimin • Taehyung • Jungkook ]

Peaceful was an understatement, almost alone in the campus library late in the hours of the night. You head rests against the wooden table as you closely read the Intriguing tale.

“Is the bookworm ready to go home?” His large hand rested on your shoulder giving you a startle. “Oh Jin!” You closed your novel placing it in your tote before rising from your seat.

He captured you in a protective hug, warmly pecking your neck causing you to blush at his subtle PDA.

“Thank you so much for coming, I’m sorry to bother you but I really needed to study.” He released looking into your gaze, “you could never bother me, a novel for studying...what are you reading now?”

You reached into your bag, pulling the timeless tale, “Ah the Catcher In The Rye, you understand this Doll?” Jin was a bit older than you, he acted superior treated you inferior but you know he means well. “Yeah, Jinnie, I’ve read it before.”

Tucking the book away in your tote, Jin seizes the opportunity to grasp your free hand, “hungry?” He began to lead you out of the silent reading space, in all honesty you were tired. “Depends on what you’re offering.” You squeezed his hand flirtatiously.

He held open the door leading you to his usual parking spot. “I was cooking when you texted, it should still be warm if you’d like to come over.” He opened the car door granting you access. His car smelt familiar, strongly of his cologne.

Settling in your seat he buckled you in, “oh?...to your place?” The dorms weren’t too welcoming of guest, and since it was your first year, you had to live on campus. So whenever you and Jin found solitude it was either in his car, or at a hotel where he’d pull some strings.

And where there was solitude, there was intimacy and though you were tired...you could go for a little fun.

So it’s not that you didn’t want to go to Jin’s supposedly large apartment, it’s just that you’ve never been Is all. The new territory made you nervous.

“Yeah, if you’d like.” He pulled from the lonely parking lot, “you cold cutie?” His eyes never let the road as he closed your vent, you tossed the idea of the late night dinner date in your head.

“I’m gonna need to know your answer before I get out of here.” He looked over to you briefly. Sighing you answered “Yeah Jin, I’ll go I am pretty hungry.” He smiled reaching to grip your knee. “That’s my girl, you’ll love it.” He gave you a squeeze.

You reclined your seat, the smooth ride almost lulling to sleep. “So...boyfriend? Girlfriend?” He awkwardly asked tapping his fingers on the wheel waiting at the light. “Hm no...you?”

He laughed rubbing his bottom lip. Jin in total has at least four ‘relationships’ including you, he was the campus player but he was wise enough to charm all of his rendezvous into silence and compliance.

“Mm a few, but you’re the best.....I mean that y/n.” He leaned over the counter pecking your warm cheek, “I really do baby.”

The car ride was short, full of sensual touches at red lights, dirty talk and flirtatious comments that made your stomach flutter. His hand momentarily rested between your legs, teasing your under your skirt. Only a preview of what was to come.

Pulling into the parking area, he looked over at your figure, “I have a secret.” You pulled your tote over your shoulder, “yeah Jinnie?” You yawned. “I didn’t cook...but I do want you to see my apartment.” He smiled warmly pulling his key and leaving it in his pocket.

You had no clue where you were, Jin was your only ride so of course you had no choice but to comply. “Well...you didn’t have to lie.” You yawned stepping from the low car, “mm I got nervous, not too appealing if I say ‘I don’t wanna pay for Hilton, let’s fuck at my place.’ ”

He followed behind locking the doors, catching up he pushed his palm along the small of your back. “Ah so that’s why I’m here.” He snickers, nudging your hair with his nose as he walked beside you. “Don’t act oblivious...it’s not your thing.” Oh how romantic he could be.

He walked you proudly through the glittering building, giving a rushed tour that you didn’t care much for. He pulled you into the spacious elevator, the way he cradled you against frame you knew what was next. He gripped your chin pulling you to one of his signature rough lip locks.

Not even making it to his apartment you lips became bruised and slightly swollen, lost in the moment your eyes remained closed as he pulled back. “To my apartment first, alright?” He chuckled in your flustered face. Nodding you let him grip you hand as he pulled you through the hall.

Unlocking his door he pulled you inside, stripping you of your tote hanging it on the wall rack. “Alright here it is, like it? Love it?” He locked the door, awkwardly you stood horny with one thing on your mind. “Dumby, go sit on the couch.” His every order you followed plopping down on the firm couch.

“Those videos you sent me...you show those to other men?” He questioned unbuttoning his tailored shirt, cockily coming close to you. “Be honest.” He let the expensive material fall to the polished floor.

“No...did you?” You were now anxious, your mind was clouded when you sent those drunken videos to Jin. “Never would I share something so beautiful.” He avoided eye contact falling to his knees.

He found himself at your knees, in nothing but socks and dress pants. His large hands caress you chilly knees, granting himself access to what he’d been waiting for.

“Remind me what happened in those videos.” Your breath got lost in your throat, he hid himself under your skirt lapping at you through your fabric panties. “Go on don’t get stage fright.”

You closed your eyes in attempts to recollect the night. “I was out with my f-friends I got really drunk Jinnie!” He’d slipped the thin fabric to the side focusing the tip of his tongue on your hardening nerve. “I-I missed you, I called you and you didn’t pick up.”

He hummed against your moistening core. “Hm you needed me?”

“I needed you, and I wanted to show you- you how much I did.”

You sounded pathetic in those graphic videos, the sound of your pussy, the whimpers and moans you let free. You just didn’t know when to stop you kept pushing orgasm after orgasm, in your drunken state the euphoria felt so good. Too good.

“You showed me alright, you came almost 8 times pet.” He spoke against you licking like a starved dog, you whimpered rubbing his head there wasn’t much to grab as his head was shielded by your skirt.

“I came, a-a-and came-” he inserted his middle finger “until you squirted all over that little phone of yours.” Oh it felt amazing, you’d do almost anything to feel a release like that again.

“Fuck, that video made me so hard, I saw it right when I woke up...made me cum 3 times kitten.” He growled fingering you with skill. “Your voice calling out to me as you spazzed, shaking like a leaf...your eyes rolled, you were crying babe, felt too good?” The combination Jin was gifting to you proved too pleasurable, you were lost in his motions.

He’d stoped talking, opening his jaw giving long licks along your opening. Sucking you with every motion. His thumb applying pressure to your clit rubbing you from side to side.

“Yes it felt amazing.” You gasped revealing him from under the skirt, burring your hands in his locks. Collecting saliva he made a mess of your dribbling cunt. “Cum for me, scream for me again.”

His demands were final, he devoured you slopping over your core his tongue laid out wide.

Mixing his hot saliva with your natural slick, he groaned deeply slurping at your middle the sounds he made only made you closer.

Collecting the mess he’d made with his finger, he fucked you with his curling middle and index. “Fuck Jin-fu-ahh!”

Using his free hand he held the fabric of your panties to the side. His head still bobbed as he ravished your cunt like it was his last meal before death. You fingers pulled his dark hair painfully, a moaning mess your stop muscles tightened and released telling you of your creeping orgasm.

Jin always put passion into gaining your orgasm, he grunted with his lustful actions. Focusing his slick plump lips on your clit sucking and lapping at the sensitive area.

The tightening in your stomach caused you Yelp out in pleasure, gushing into his awaiting mouth. “Fuck, you’re gonna give me a headache all that mmm tugging.” He complained cleaning you with his tongue.

He held your shivering wrist, coaxing you to let go of him. “You’ve made a mess of my couch.” He sat back giving you a view of his glistening chin, red cheeks, arousal covered nose.

No shame, he pulled your ruined panties down your legs, removing your shoes undoing your skirt and completely stripping your bottom half. Focusing on your breathing you closed your eyes getting comfortable, your pussy quivering involuntarily.

“But I don’t mind...I’d rather you made more of a mess like your little videos perhaps?”

You sigh feeling his fingers glide over your core.

“Give me your hand Bunny.”

Obliging, your head clouded even more tired than before. He gripped your wrist making you rub yourself, “do it again, make a big mess for me.” He let you go, spreading your legs you toyed with you sore clit delving lower collecting the mess he’d left. To assist the process.

The lazy ovals gave faint pleasure you let your head fall back.

Jin was impatient and you knew it, so you played the lazy game...he caught on. Unbuckling his pants he let them droop

He pulled free his rock hard member, throwing your hand from your area. “You better fucking- fuck.” He plunged himself deeply, his girth familiar yet so foreign. You freed a whimper in response your lower stomach already clinching as he fucked into you.

He pulled you, letting your legs rest on his forearms, your back on the seat of the couch. “Moan for me, tell me how I’m treating your tight little cunt.” He grunts through his teeth, “good so good please!”

He chuckled darkly, “who are you gonna to cum for? Who made you so horny bitch?”

He watched your face contort, pushing his large palm over your lower tummy. “Oh-oh! You Jinnie please not too hard I’ll- mm!” “You’ll what?” He fucked you with no mercy.

“Keep your legs up and open...slut.” “Uh-huh ok.” The results of the last orgasm already found you vulnerable. You had to go, bad.

He railed you, rubbing your clit and applying pressure to your lower abdomen.

You whined and begged, feeling your release closer than you’d like. “Jin, fuck Jinnie wait-” “I said up and fucking open!” He held his head down in search for his high. You could see his muscles tense.

Your eyes rolled shut, no way could you stop the release, he thrusted deeply hitting every spot you needed, the flicking of his thumb along your clit drew it near you back arched from the cushions. “Do it! Let go!”

You screamed, gushing against his lower half, in quick streams of pleasure, whimpering as the flow finished and you clenched around him. Crying out as he continues to fuck into you, only to make you release more liquid arousal mixed with others.

He pulled from you, using what you’d produced to finish on your cardigan. Your eyes half lidded as you struggled to gain stable breathing. “ugh, my cardigan-” “I’ll buy you six cardigans.” He mumbled wiping his member clean on the plush fabric.

His cold demeanor ruined the mood. Why must he act this way after every loving session.

You stretched, giving a comically loud yawn, “my underwear please.” You reached out grabbing for them. “You soaked them.” He disappeared down the hall, “the skirt too!” He informed as you sat up your head pounding slightly.

“Lucky for you...” he came back with a pair of sweats and a pair of panties that definitely weren’t yours.

“I’ll pass, the sweats please.” He tossed them, you pulled them on your knees wobble weakly you swim in the fabric of the sweatpants, they were his. “Your loss, they’re clean I promise!”

You struggle to bend and collect your damp clothes, “c-can I spend the night?”

He sighed dressing himself in a change of clothes. “I’m afraid not...I have a Uhm meeting tomorrow morning.”

It didn’t upset you in a jealous way, it upset you in a betrayal way, it upset you that he’d use you and kick you out.

“With who?” “Do you want me to take you home or are you calling a ride...I’ll pay.”

The headache depended as you leaned against the wall.

“Whatever, just-let’s go.”

What kind of hold did Kim Seokjin have over you, to treat you so shitty and still have you wrapped around his finger and cock at that.

“Don’t pout.” He thumbed your lower lip.

Pulling your chin he pecked your lips, “I’ll treat you to lunch tomorrow hm?”

“And after we can come back here....that make you feel better my best girl?”

He chuckled pulling you out of his apartment by the hand.

“No matter what you think, you’re perfect, I just love the way you make me feel I could love you.”

He loves you, that’s the hold he has on you, and he’ll do anything to make you believe It.

[avintagekiss24]

GOOD STUFF || ANDY BARBER

pairing: Andy Barber x black!reader || word count: 3,798 || warnings: smut, sex, slight degradation, cum play, public sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, crying kink, praise kink || request: #39 - “they have good stuff down at the farmers market” w/ lawyer daddy Andy

authors note: back on my bullshit with this man. this is the first 4k celebration fic! i actually got this request some time last week when I first reblogged one of the prompt lists. inspiration for the sexy time came from @honeychicanawrites​ headcanon (🥴🤤 so fucking good), line divider by @firefly-graphics​!

You tap your fingernails against the open refrigerator door as you bite the inside of your cheek, your eyes bouncing around. You push a few items around, open the drawers, then move more items around, failing to find anything particularly appetizing. You could order a pizza; or chinese - Andy loves Chinese… but you know he’s been in court all week, his long days turning even longer; he can’t even relax when he’s home. The jury has been out for two days, and he’s worried. A home cooked meal is exactly what he needs.

You close the refrigerator and spin on your heel, grabbing your keys from the table and sling your purse over your shoulder and chest. You smile gently to yourself as you move out into the garage, hearing Andy’s voice in your head. Again? What is it with you and that farmers market?

It’s a short drive to your favorite little market, and within twenty minutes your nose is full of the fresh smell of fruits and vegetables, your fingers wrapped around a small basket. The air is crisp as autumn starts to blow through, the leaves on the trees all burnt oranges and browns, but the breeze is unseasonably warm. You browse slowly, stopping more frequently than not to pick up a ripe tomato, or an ear of corn just to smell them.

You scan through recipes mentally as you move through the large, crowded market picking up a little of everything on your way. Your phone buzzes in your hand, Andy’s name flashing across the front as you turn it over.

“Babe?” You say gently as you lift the sleek phone to your ear. Your stomach drops a little - it’s hours before he’s supposed to be home. The decision is in.

“We won.” Is all he says and you can hear the relief in his voice.

You close your eyes and tilt your head upwards, a smile on your face, “I knew you would baby. I’m so happy for you.”

“Well, you were the only one that knew,” his low chuckle rumbles in your ear, “I need to get the fuck out of here before I pull my hair out.”

“I’m at the store, so I’ll meet you at the house.”

He pauses, “Again?”

“What do you mean again?” you laugh, “I haven’t been to the store this week.”

“I know you better than that, you’re at the damn market again.”

You laugh, “They have good stuff down at the farmers market.”

You can practically hear his eyes roll, “I’ll meet you there in twenty.”

“No, babe, just go home and take a nice long shower.” You start, smiling as you pass a twenty to the young girl at the stand, “Get in your sweats - just relax. You can turn on some stupid Eddie Murphy movie and fall asleep with your hand down your pants and I won’t even complain.” His laugh travels through your ears and you can’t help but smile, “You deserve it.”

You can hear the soft click of his briefcase in the background, his steps against the marble floors of the courthouse, “I’ll meet you in twenty. Love you.”

The phone clicks before you can get out another word. You shake your head but smile as you slide the phone into your purse and start to move towards the front, to wait for him.

Andy Barber is nothing but punctual. Twenty minutes on the dot you spot his black Audi pulling into the parking lot and another smile spreads on your face. You continue to watch as he emerges from the front seat, pulling off his suit jacket and throwing it in the back seat before he slides his sunglasses over his eyes. He moves around the back of the car, undoing his cufflinks and rolling his sleeves up his forearms as he walks.

Your core tightens as you look him up and down, having to take a deep breath and expel it out of your nostrils to combat the sudden heat that flushes through your body. Your smile widens when he lifts his head and smirks at you, wiggling his eyebrows as he approaches.

He reaches for you, holding out his large hand and without thinking, you slide your smaller palm into his, letting him pull you into his hard body, “Hey baby.” His voice is deep, slow - tired.

You squeeze him, letting out another deep breath, “Hey, you.” You lean back after a few seconds, cupping his face in your palm as your eyes move around his face, “You look tired.”

He nods slowly, running his hand through his hair before he smiles softly at you again, “Nothing I can’t handle. Come on.”

“Lynn is going to give you a break, right? Is she gonna give some stuff to Neal for a change?”

He cuts his eyes at you at the sound of his name, “Not if anything big comes along, but yeah, she will.”

He links his fingers with yours, holding your hand tight as the two of you start to move down the aisle of the market. The breeze whips around you as the two of you make small talk, you careful not to bring up the case unless he does. You know it’s the last thing he wants to talk about. Taking your cues from him, you watch him out of the corner of your eye as he pokes and prods at random pieces of fruit. You run your hand up and down his long arm, up over his shoulder and massage the back of his neck as he pays for some blueberries, popping a few into his mouth as you laugh.

“I told you not to do that,” you giggle, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his back, “You need to wash them first.”

He shrugs and thanks the older woman before he pulls you around his body, tucking you into his side as he throws his arm over your shoulder. He kisses your forehead, “You look cute today.”

You laugh again, “Don’t ignore me, you can get sick from doing that, Andy!” He tickles the back of your exposed thigh, making you jump and squeal, giggles falling from your lips, “Andrew Barber!”

“That’s my name, you can totally wear it out.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh again, rolling your eyes, “What a fuckin’ nerd.”

“I’m a nerd because I like hearing you scream my name?” He asks seriously, stopping in front of you.

Your mouth drops open as your eyes widen, “Shhh!” you hiss, looking around, “Keep your voice down!”

He wraps you back up in his arms, pushing his chest and crotch into you, “Okay,” he whispers, “I’m gonna fuck you into the mattress when we get home.”

His words suck the air right out of your lungs. Your lips part as you blink back at him, your face hot, your legs turning to jelly at just the thought. You inhale sharply, a dumbstruck look on your face as your mind goes blank. He laughs at you, “Cat got your tongue, baby?”

“Andy,” Is all you can mutter.

He sucks his teeth, glancing over the top of your head as he sneaks his hand up into your skirt, palming your ass, making you gasp, “I haven’t fucked you all week. I’m horny, my cock misses you.” He purrs into your ear, gently swaying the two of you back and forth.

You exhale hard. Your eyes skirt around the market as your heart starts to beat faster, the blood rushing in your ears. He pinches your ass, then slides his hand slowly around your hip before he cups your sex, his fingers rubbing your slit through your panties.

The air chokes in your throat. You hear him grunt softly as your panties start to stick to your skin. He chuckles before he leans down to kiss your lips, “Such a responsive girl. Come, let’s get you home, hm?”

He grabs your hand, linking your fingers with his as he takes a few steps, “Better yet,” he says, bopping your nose with his index finger before he grabs your wrist and starts to pull you through the aisles in the opposite direction.

You follow behind him, almost having to jog to keep up with his long gait. He pulls you out of the small market and crosses the street, looking both ways as you run behind a few moving cars. He pulls you between two office buildings, stopping and turning suddenly to grab your face and crash his lips to yours. You drop the bags carrying your food around your feet, moaning into his mouth as you squeeze his sides.

He backs you into the brick building behind you, lifting your leg by your thigh and throwing it over his hip. You can’t object - you can’t find the words. You just wrap your arms around his neck, squeezing him to you as he nips at your neck, right underneath your jaw - just how you like it. You tilt your head towards the sky, grunting softly as you arch your back from the wall, pushing your hips into his.

He grips your thigh tight, his wedding ring pressing into your skin - searing your flesh. He bites down into the crook of your neck and you jump from the sudden pain, your mouth falling open, a sharp moan slipping from your lips. He chuckles, deeply, slowly, into your ear as he runs his fingers over your pussy, palming your hot sex through your underwear, “You like that, baby?”

He leans back, his blue eyes bouncing back and forth between your dark eyes as he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. He circles your clit, pressing the pads of his fingers against your heat. You roll your hips into his hand as you pant heavily, trying to keep your eyes linked with his. You have to sink your teeth into your own lip to stop yourself from getting loud - and he loves it. He loves doing this to you in the worst places.

He grabs your lips with his again, kissing you hard - his velvet tongue sweeping over your lip and the roof of your mouth as he finally pushes your panties to the side, “Andy-” you hiss, sucking in air as he pushes his fingers through your sticky folds, “Fuck, Andy.”

“Can you be a quiet girl? Hmm?” He asks softly, turning his head slightly to glance towards the sidewalk, “Can you be good for me?”

You nod quickly, completely out of breath and nearly vibrating from the lust pooling in your stomach, “Yes.” You whisper hard.

You drop your eyes to his crotch, watching as his hands start to undo his belt and pop the button of his expensive slacks. You whine audibly - digging your fingers into his shoulders in anticipation of that pretty cock. He pulls himself free and you could melt into a puddle. He’s hard, and long - thick - his tip shiny and wet from the droplets of precum that have dribbled out. He wraps his hand around his girth, stroking himself slowly - from his base to the tip, sweeping his fingers over his slit.

“Andy,” you beg, pushing your hips into him, wanting to feel him spread you open, “Please, baby.”

He smiles.

He slips his cock through your folds, rubbing your clit with his tip before he pushes at your opening. He flicks his eyes up to you and rests his forehead against yours - his lips brushing over your swollen lips, “You gonna be a quiet girl?”

“Yes!”

He licks your lips with his hot tongue, “Good girl.”

He pushes slowly and you help - sinking down onto his thick cock - letting him spread your tight, wet muscles. Your eyes flutter - your mouth drops open as he occupies your depth, filling you right up. You wrap your arms around his neck again as he nuzzles into the side of your face, his soft beard rubbing against your cheek, adding to your desire. You dig your fingers into his hair, grabbing a handful to gip as he starts to move, pulling completely out of your cunt before he delves back in.

You can’t help the moans that fall from your lips and fill the air as his hips push you slightly up the wall. You keep your leg thrown over his hip as he fucks into you, one of his hands around your throat, the other flattened on the bricks to hold his weight. He pushes the tip of his thumb into your mouth, and you bite down before you push your tongue along it, inviting him to shove the rest of it in so you can suck on it.

“You are such a good girl,” he grunts into your ear, nibbling and pulling on your earlobe.

Your heart jumps into your throat at the praise, your chest swelling with pride. You are such a good girl. He continues to pound his hips into yours, bouncing you up and down on his dick as he lifts your hand, his fingers playing with the big, shiny rock on your finger. He kisses it before shoving your fingers into his mouth, a thick, heavy moan scratching at the back of his throat.

A shiver runs the length of your spine as his tongue swirls around your thin digits, his hips still digging into yours. Your slick muscles start to squeak from the wetness; from his warmth pushing and pulling from you, filling every inch of space your sweet pussy has to offer. You can feel your arousal slipping down the inside of your thigh, thick and warm, a mixture of your slick and his seed.

Andy pushes deep inside of you, halting his hard rhythm to wiggle his hips slowly, wanting to go deeper - to feel every part of you. He leans back again, his eyelids low as he watches you squirm. A slow smirk covers his mouth as he pumps his hips just once, pushing deep again, “Do I feel good?”

His voice is husky - full and silky as he teases you. You nod as your head swims, your stomach and chest tight, your clit swollen and achy, begging to be touched. You writhe, pushing your tits and hard nipples into his chest and roll your hips, catching the faintest touch of his pants against your bundle of nerves, making you shiver again. He slams into you unexpectedly and you squeal, digging your nails into his bare forearm.

“I asked you a question,” he murmurs, his words slightly slurred as his own arousal gets the best of him, “Do I feel good to you, baby?”

“You know you do, Andy, baby,” you groan, rolling your hips again, “S’good.”

He slips his hand down your body and between your legs, pushing his fingers against your clit and begins to rub you slowly, his eyes staying on yours, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “You like being my little whore, don’t you baby girl? Hmm?”

You grunt at the words. Your body tenses as your lust and need of him unfurls in your stomach. This man - this reticent, straight-laced, uptight man turns into the absolute devil at the sight of you - and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Gone are the eloquent speeches he laces together on almost a whim to charm and convince his jury. All that’s left are the dirty, lush, hot words that strike you to your core. It must be the Gemini in him.

You pull your hips back, his cock sliding out of you before you roll back onto him, pushing that fat cock back in, “I love being your whore.” You whisper, biting your lip just as the last word slips between your teeth.

He shutters. You feel it roll through him and you can’t help but smile. You love this little game.

Andy hisses as he pulls out of you slowly and jams himself back in, nipping at your mouth with his as he starts his pace again. His fingers continue to push against your clit, rough and quick as your octave starts to rise. He stops suddenly, shaking his head as he places his index finger to his lips, “Be a quiet girl.” He reminds you, his voice hushed, “Or you won’t get anymore.”

You sink your teeth into your lip again and nod frantically, urging him to move. You wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders, pulling his chest into yours and slam your eyes closed as he sends you on a journey. He fucks into you hard and fast, grunting and growling in your ear as your cunt tightens around him.

“Fuckin’ hell, girl,” he mutters, his chest tight, his large palm gripping and pinching your thigh.

You slam your hand over your mouth to muffle your cries as shockwaves start to roll through you. Each pulse of your orgasm gets harder and more intense, your legs shaking, your hips jerking into his as it washes over you. Your choked mewls fill the small area between the two buildings that shield you from view as you arch your back away from the wall, pushing your thick nipples into his hard chest.

“You want my cum, baby? Hmm?” He asks, his voice strained, “You crave my cum, don’t you girl? That’s right,” he breathes, “You love my cum.”

It isn’t long after that - the convulsions of your heat, the slick of your femininity - coax his untethering. His strokes punctuate each spit of his cock, his thick, silky cum filling you up to the very brim. He grunts, low and deep - scratchy - as his dick jumps inside of you, giving you every ounce of him. He slips out of you seconds later and falls to his knees, pulling your short, flowy skirt up to your waist.

He pulls your panties down, leaving them in the middle of your thighs before he pushes your legs open as wide as they can go. He grabs your arms and wraps them over your stomach, holding your wrists in one of his hands, pushing them into you to keep you still as the other hand slips through your folds. You squeeze your muscles tight, wanting to keep every drip of him inside but it trickles out, running down your thigh.

“Aww baby,” he coos, flicking his eyes up to yours, “That pretty little pussy is so full! You need me to help you keep it all in, don’t you? You always need daddy’s help.”

You whimper, pushing your hips into his face as he drags his fingers up your thigh, collecting his cum, pushing it back up to your messy pussy. He shoves his thick fingers into you, groaning loudly as you tense and jump - still sensitive, still reeling from your shattering orgasm. He pumps his fingers inside of you, staring at your wet, sticky, puffy cunt, sucking his teeth and moaning all the while.

“You’re such a sweetheart,” he praises, still holding your arms tight so you can’t move, “You are such a good girl, taking my cum like that. I love how well you take my cum.”

You pant hard, your face breaking as emotion starts to roll down your cheeks. You cry softly as he fingers your delicate, sore cunt, pushing his cum back inside of you. You start to shiver, whimpering and crying as you rest your head against the wall, tilting your head towards the sky. It feels so good to be so full of him - his fingers, his cum - it just feels so damn good.

His tongue skirts across your clit and you sob, your body jerking at the sudden spark of electricity that flashes through you, “Oh my god,” you cry, “Andy.”

He sucks your clit into his mouth, sucking hard before he pulls away with a loud smack - moaning as he watches his fingers plunge in and out of you, “You’ve earned this baby girl,” he says softly, “For being such a good girl while I was working. I hate neglecting you.” He moans again as he pushes his face into your sex, sucking your flesh back into his mouth before he pulls away again, “You are my favorite girl in the whole world.”

You cum again within minutes, all over his fingers and face, his soft hums vibrating through you as he laps it up. Your legs are jelly as he kisses the insides of your thighs and down to your knee as he continues pushing his fingers in and out of you, curling them gently, massaging your taut muscles.

He thumbs your clit as he peppers kisses up and down your leg. Your clit stings from the stimulation, your heart pounds in your chest - the sound of your heartbeat filling your ears. When he knows you’ve had enough, when you can barely stand any longer, he pulls his fingers from you. He kisses your swollen cunt sweetly before he stands and pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around your body.

He hugs you tightly, his large hands sweeping up and down your back, “I love you so much,” he whispers softly, dropping kisses along your forehead and cheeks, over your nose, in the corners of your mouth, “I love you so, so much. You know that, right? I can’t ever get enough of you, baby.”

You ball his shirt in your hand as he lifts you from your feet, wrapping your legs around his waist. You’re a crying mess - unable to verbalize your love for him, but you know that he just knows. He holds you tight, rubbing your back slowly as you nuzzle into his neck. He only sits you back on your feet once you’ve calmed down, hovering over you, his thumbs wiping at your cheeks to remove the wetness of your tears. He cups your face in his hands and kisses you gently, purring as a smile tugs at his lips.

“Your lips are always so soft after you cry.”

You smile soft, your eyes still closed as you run your hands up and down his veiny, hairy forearms - still grounding yourself, “Yours are always soft.”

He smiles, warm and gentle, making you swoon like you were back in college, laying eyes on him for the very first time. He pushes his hands along the sides of your face again, both of his thumbs brushing over your plump lips, “Let me drive you home.”

“I’m fine,” you giggle, “Just grab the bags for me, please.”

“I don’t want you driving.” He brings your hand to his lips, kissing the backs of your fingers, “I’ll come get your car later. Come.”

His tone is stern. You know better than to argue with the best district attorney in all of Massachusetts.

[a-writes3]

Sex On Fire

Krashlyn x Reader

Warning: SMUT. 

This is my first time writing smut so it’s not gonna be the greatest but here we go. This is way longer than expected. And kinda kinky. But please feel free to tell me your thoughts and don’t hesitate to give me requests. There will be more parts to this. It will be a series.

Readers POV

We had a day off from camp which led to others, mostly sonnett and Kelley, forcing everyone into a group trip to a bar across the street from our hotel. All night I could feel Ali and Ashlyn’s eyes on me. Sure, I was super attracted to the couple but I never made a move due to the fear of rejection. But when the night was over and the duo was walking up to me to steal me from the group that’s when everything changed.

“So, you want to come to our room when we get back?” Ashlyn, The more dominant one of the pair, asked me. The tone of her voice low.

“I-Uh. I-.” I couldn’t help but stutter out.

“Come on. We all know that you like us and we like you so.” Ali said with a flirtatious voice.

The alcohol must’ve taken over because all of my inhibitions were gone and I could only say one word.

“Okay.”

And with that I was being dragged along the sidewalk by the two women into the hotel. Ashlyn’s strong arm wrapped around my waist while we were walking up the stairs.

When we got to the room Ali eagerly retrieved the key card from her pocket before opening the door and locking it behind her. I suddenly froze in the middle of the room when realizing what was about to take place.

Ali took my hands into hers while looking into my eyes. “Come on.” She led me to the bed, sitting me down near the edge. “Can I kiss you?” She gently asked. A sweet but slightly seductive tone in her voice. I shyly nodded and she closed the space between us.

When we pulled away Ashlyn guided me to the middle of the bed, laying me down before kissing me as well with a dark look in her eyes. Before continuing she stared into my eyes, “Are you sure you want to do this?” I nodded but she just shook her head slightly. “I need you to say it.”

“Yes,I want this.” I replied.

With that Ali and Ashlyn gave each other a look. Ashlyn was obviously the more dominant energy in the room and started to slowly and teasingly take off all my clothes except for my underwear which her fingers were ghosting over barely touching me and I couldn’t help but whimper at the contact or lack there of.

A smirk was obvious on both the women’s faces. Ashlyn kisses from my lips, down my jaw before stopping at my ear. “I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already a mess.” She said before slightly biting my ear causing me to moan once again.

Ashlyn sat up removing herself from me, I sighed harshly at this gesture. “You’re a needy one, huh?” Ashlyns tone was teasing with her smug grin that was set on her face. She and Ali shared a look, automatically knowing Ashlyns plans Ali lifted me up before sitting with my back to her chest.

After a moment Ashlyn peppered kisses all the way down my body stopping right about the line of my underwear and looking up into my eyes. She slowly removed the cloth that was covering myself. The cold air hitting my sensitive clit made me moan. Ashlyn chuckled slightly at the desperate sound as did Ali.

Ashlyn began kissing my stomach again but when she reached the spot where I needed contact the most she moved on to the middle of thigh, leaving dark marks as she went on. “Ashhh..” I whine.

“Tell me what you want baby.” She replied before blowing on my clit which ignited a loud moan from me followed by whines.

“I don’t think you answered her question, babygirl.” Ali spoke up with a surprisingly dominant tone and reaching to play with my nipples.

“I- I” I stuttered but couldn’t quite get out any words as both of the women were slightly touching me in different ways. My sense were on fire.

“Hm?” Ashlyn asked.

“I want you to fuck me. Please. Please god. Please just touch me.” I finally managed to get out in a quick manner.

This ignited something in Ashlyn who immediately began an assault on my pussy with her mouth. Her strong hands found themselves holding onto my thighs as if they were going to run away from her, definitely leaving bruises. I let out loud moans which could probably be heard from across the hotel but in my current state it didn’t matter.

Ali was behind me running her hands everywhere she could touch while whispering dirty things into my ears. “You’re so sensitive aren’t you? You know, you’re being such a good girl for us.” She could see that I was closing in on my release. “Are you gonna come for us baby?” I slightly nod. Right after I did this Ashlyn removed her mouth from my center. I groan at the lack of contact before throwing my head onto Ali’s shoulder.

“You don’t get to come yet.” Ashlyn rasped out. I roll my eyes slightly before bucking my hips up to try and get some sort of relief. Ashlyn pushed my hips down onto the bed roughly. I roll my eyes again but this time both of the women noticed. “Oh, so you’re a brat too? You know, Brats don’t get to come.” I groan loudly.

Ashlyn then leaned up to kiss her fiancée who was still positioned behind me. The kiss was long and heated which didn’t help my current state.

Before I could register anything else Ashlyn had thrusted two fingers into me without warning causing me to erupt to loud moans of her name and curses. My back started arching off the bed and both Ali and Ashlyn place their hand on my stomach so I was flat against the hotel mattress.

Suddenly Ali’s free hand found its way to my clit and started circling it at a quick speed. I grab onto her forearm to help center myself but my mind was foggy from the pleasure coursing through my body. Soon enough my body was shaking from an orgasm but that didn’t stop either woman from stopping their motions. I tried to squeeze my thighs together to stop them but Ali’s hands pulled them apart and held them in place while Ashlyn’s tongue replaced Ali’s fingers. Within minutes I was again reaching my peak, this time Ashlyn pulled away but somehow I knew the night wasn’t over yet.

Ashlyn and Ali swapped places, Ali seemed to enjoy using her fingers more than anything mostly to be able to see the looks on my face. Her fingers traced my clit barely touching it purposefully teasing me. Soon enough she started circling it at an agonizingly slow pace. Her lips found their way to my neck but making sure not to leave marks in places the whole world could see. Ali’s fingers finally entered me, fucking me roughly and quickly. Her mouth was making hickeys all over my collarbone and chest. Her fingers slowed.

“Ugh.” I exclaimed with a whine. Ashlyn’s hand found its way around my throat, barely squeezing it but enough to where my breath staggered.

“What’d I say about being a brat, princess?” Ashlyn said lowly. At this point Ali’s hand had stopped entirely as she gave me a look that I could only read as “you’re not getting what you want just yet.” Ashlyn put her fingers into my mouth, taking them out and placing them onto my clit. I gasped in surprise but she stopped as quickly as soon as she started. A few moments passed with no contact so I resorted to begging which seemed to work earlier.

“I’m sorry. Please.”

“Please what?” Ali said with a quirked eyebrow. When I didn’t answer Ashlyn’s hand squeezed my throat a little bit harder.

“You answer when asked a question” Ashlyn growled.

“Touch me please.” I squeaked out.

“As you wish.” Ali replied.

Ali put her fingers inside me once again quicker than before if possible. I put my hands on her back which resulted in my nails raking down her back. The moan that came from her mouth only heightened my pleasure. I felt my self getting closer to my release and Ali could sense that and her pace quickened and her fingers were practically pounding into me. As i was about to scream out in pleasure from my orgasm Ashlyn slammed her lips onto mine forming a passionate kiss and once she pulled away her mouth was replaced by Ali’s whose tongue explored my mouth. 

When Ali’s mouth moved from mine and her fingers left my body, She brought her fingers up to her mouth and cleaned them off before kissing me again so i could taste myself and then kissing Ashlyn who moaned at the taste. After what i could sense was hours the two women finally stopped their movements which was followed by the whispers of praises from both of them.

“You were so good for us Babygirl.” Ashlyn said before kissing my forehead which was layered with sweat. 

“You did so good Princess.” Ali said into my ear. I cuddled into her side with Ashlyn rubbing my back but this only lasted for a few moments. 

“As much as i love this, Good sex is always followed up with good aftercare which means a nice warm bath.” Ashlyn said, her voice sweeter and gentler than ever before. 

“Ugh. But i’m so tired.” I said as i could barely keep my eyes open. 

“I know Baby but it’ll help you not hate your life in the morning.”

I groan loudly before putting my face into the nook of Ali’s neck who just smiled sweetly. 

“How about this, Ashlyn gets the bath ready and i’ll stay here with you for a few more minutes.” Ali said.

“Fine.” I replied with a frown.

A few minutes later Ashlyn carried me into the bath. Both of the women taking care of me and washing me up. The bath ended with Ashlyn carrying me back to the bed. It wasn’t long before i fell asleep in between the both of them. When i woke up a few hours later i started to panic at the unfamiliar surroundings but soon remembered the events of the night before. Now my head was filled with questions. Was it just sex? Was it a one time thing? Do they actually like me? 

Although i was tangled with other arms i found my way out of the bed and found my clothes before putting them on. As i was about to walk away I felt a hand on my wrist to stop me. 

“Where are you going?” The sleepy voice belonged to Ali. Her bare body was on partial display and i found myself staring for a few seconds which Ali smirked at.

“Oh uh just back to my room.”

“Why? Just stay here with us.”

“I wanted to get going before the other woke up and figured out what happened, you know?” Before she could respond i spoke again, “I’ll uh see you later.” I pulled out of her grasped and hurried out of the room leaving a confused Ali behind.

[10millionyearsdungeon]

Reminiscence - Second Tempo

A/N: So! Second Tempo is a continuation of the First Tempo posted here. Just like the last, it’s part of the Haikyuu! HQ Server Collab; check out the rest of the work on the flaming smut pile.  ===================================================

“Oi, it’s Ukai. Leave a message.” “Oh, Keishin…” Your body writhed against your fingers, phone pressed against your ear as another gasping moan ripped through you. The pads of your fingertips glided over your sensitive nub effortlessly as you grinned into the phone balanced between your shoulder and your ear. The game of cat and mouse had been going on for well over six months between yourself and Keishin; the ceaseless war of attrition had the teams and your students wondering who would break first. An international volleyball conference had you and the Karasuno girls’ team pulled away from Miyagi, from the handsome coach with those sharp, leering eyes.

“I know you’re away for training camp with the team…But I need you, Keishin.” Lust coated every syllable, each word dripping with desire as your fingers teased over your nipples and dripping folds. Another lascivious moan echoed into the receiver as you slipped a single dainty finger into your twitching hole. “I can’t seem to keep my hands off of myself…god, I wish it was your fingers slipping inside this tight, needy hole…” Sprawled out on your hotel room bed fresh from a shower, your wet hair plastered itself against your neck as you continued to rock into your own hand. 

He invaded your thoughts; like intrusive kudzu he wrapped himself around your senses even halfway across the world. Did he know how you had ruined two pairs of panties at the last voicemail he sent you before the girls’ last match that day? Did he realize how desperate you were to be home? Could he hear it in your voice? 

“Keishin,” you whined out, fingertip just brushing your g-spot. With a soft growl, you snatched your phone from your ear and put the device on speaker so you could angle yourself to reach deeper. With your body able to contort a little easier, the phone rested next to your flushing face against the pillowcase. Your body jolted into waves of pleasure as your legs tensed into your stroking. “Fuck, I can’t wait to come home, oh fuck, oh fuck, Keishin…”

The familiar stars dotted your vision as you bucked into your hand, clit rubbing fitfully into the meat of your delicate palm. You could almost see the flash of bleached-blond hair, the tanned skin stretched across those long, toned forearms. Painfully arching your wrist to drive your curling fingers into that familiar, soft spot you clenched tightly around your thin digits. You couldn’t fight the orgasm that threatened to overtake you quicker than anticipated. “Oh, fuck, Kei…Keishin!” Your words were gasping, breathless sounds, the same sounds he took pride in drawing out of you. 

“It should be your cock I’m cumming on. Why isn’t it your cock, Keishin? Fuck, I…” Another cry left you trembling as you came around your fingers. The ecstacy you felt solo was a pale shade of what you had grown used to with the snarky coach. You whimpered into the phone and shifted the sheets around you, arms hopelessly searching for him in the stark white abyss of your hollow afterglow. 

“I can’t wait to see you, Keishin…Until then,” you closed and hung up the phone. A small grin bloomed over your features as you came down from your brief high. The back and forth of phone tag and stolen video chats for the past week made you long for the thug-faced twenty-something coach fiercer than you could imagine. For the moment, the extra pillows in your bed would have to suffice as a sub-par substitute before you could nuzzle into the warmth and inhale the smoke and sweat from his skin again.

~

It was a long day of drills and penalties for the Karasuno Boys’ Volleyball Club at the joint training camp with Fukurodani and Nekoma. The boys continued to run themselves full tort against the other two teams, trying to refine and rebuild their skills on the court. Keishin found himself getting frustrated with the lack of progress the team was making, even considering the upperclassmen were bordering on complacency. Daichi assured him they were trying their best and maybe it was time for their coach to take a break. 

He ambled from the gym with a lazy kind of grace and fumbled for his cigarettes and phone from his pockets. His eyebrows shot up in surprise at the voicemail notification he saw across the screen. The tiniest of cocky grins stretched his mouth into a crooked curve as his thumb hovered over the play button. “Damn, must’ve just missed her,” he sighed, pressing play and holding the phone to his ear. The second your moan, your deliciously sinful voice graced his ears his face heated up and his ears flushed a deep red. Your voice went straight to the growing tent in his sweats, an ache he would be sure you repay you for in kind when you returned. The wailing fit on the other end was audible to passers by as the flustered coach turned the volume down with thick, numb thumbs. A dark-haired Fukurodani student passed by, green eyes narrowed at the coach’s flustered appearance and wordlessly made his way into the gym, no doubt to start another four-on-four match with the boys of Karasuno. At the end of your message, Keishin leaned into the brick of the gym and finally lit his cigarette. He took a long drag, longer than he would have normally if it wasn’t for your scintillating voicemail. Once his heart slowed, his thumbs furiously typed out a reply. K- You could have warned me, little girl. Y- And ruin the surprise? You liked it. :)

K- Time and place. Y- Is that all you have to say? :( This different timezone stuff is the worst, Keishin.

K- That’s something we can agree on. It’s just another day, right? Y- I’ll be home the day after tomorrow. Closing ceremonies run until tomorrow afternoon, but flight leaves a day after. K- Text me next time, little girl. And tell the girls to kick ass during their last exhibition match. Y- Does it make you mad that my team’s doing better than yours, Mr. Big Bad Daddy Crow? >:D

K- Just wait, little girl. You haven’t earned your wings yet. We’ll see how much fight you have in you with my hand around that pretty neck of yours and your lips wrapped around my cock. 

He chuckled darkly at the thought of your ruined face, chest heaving, gasping for oxygen as he held your lips against the hilt of his cock. He knew you well enough to know that your face would be about thirty shades redder than his was listening to your siren song after reading his message. God, you were never more beautiful to him than when you were sobbing out for release, begging for him to make you his. Fewer things kept him warmer at night when his wide palm wrapped around his cock than thoughts of you with that lewd, haunting passion playing in your eyes. When you didn’t reply, he shook his blond head and snuffed out his smoldering cigarette filter against the wall. Of course you’d have your fingers stuffing your cunt; it couldn’t compare to his touch. He adjusted his headband deftly and pocketed his phone again, only glancing down at his cock, half-mast for a moment before another distraction pulled him away from his thoughts. Two days were going to feel like an eternity. At least he had your voice in his pocket. 

~

You yawned as your girls took the court in their last match against the American team. The manager eyed you suspiciously as you blearily watched the game unfold. “Long night, Coach?” You nodded and hummed, rubbing your eyes. The boy stood a whole head taller than you, appraising your drowsy visage. “Must be hard being away from home.” “Mmmhm. It’s easy to miss home from so far away.” “I’m sure Coach Ukai feels the same way, Y/n.” “Toshi!” Your tone was scandalized in your chiding as the younger boy stifled a chuckle. “We should be focusing on the girls. How do you think they’ll do today?” He smiled, pride swelling as he watched his team warm up. “It’s been a long week.” “They’re tired, but they’ll push through. We’ve taken the W with less in the tank before.” It was your turn to feel proud of your girls. It was true– their rise to the top, for the acknowledgement that came with the invite to a tourney on the international stage was huge, even if it was just an exhibition tourney. There was something about the game that kept you grounded despite the tumultuous turns of your life. It brought you back to those long-thought forgotten memories, brought you closer to your high-school crush. Part of you was glad you took on coaching the counterpoint to the boys’ club; it brought meaning to your career to that point. “Michimiya! Remember, it’s supposed to be fun!” you called out to your team captain, Toshi nodding in agreement solemnly from the sidelines. Aihara, your ace nodded and gave a quick thumbs up before the ball went into play. Before the other team had a chance to receive the serve, your attention was pulled from the court to the vibrating phone in your tracksuit pocket. You had half a mind to silence it, leave it ignored and let it go to voicemail. Your attention should have been on your team, your girls, but… You pulled the phone from your pocket and bit your lip at the sight of his name reading across the screen. You excused yourself from the sidelines and made your way to the hallway leading to the locker room, bringing the device to your ear. “You were gonna keep me waiting, little girl? That’s no way to earn your wings,” his voice rasped out between hurried pants. “Oh, fuck…” Heat crept up your neck from your neat, white tracksuit jacket. Suddenly, everything was too hot. You worried your lip between your teeth and fought back a whimper as Keishin growled in your ear. You did some quick maths in your dazed state and gasped into your phone. “You should be asleep, Keishin! It’s nearly two in the morning…” “Couldn’t sleep, not when I had to get you back, naughty little girl. Did it feel good cumming on those fingers without me? Did it satisfy you knowing you were cumming without my permission? Was it worth it?” “I…” “Answer me, little girl,” he continued to groan, the sound of skin gliding across skin caressing your eardrums between his moans. You could practically feel his smug expression over the phone. The sinful breath on your ear had you wishing you could be there to watch, to touch him and run your fingers through his hair as he worked his cock in that large hand he loved to wrap around your blushing throat. “I’m waiting,” he teased. “It can’t compare,” you whispered, striding with hurried steps into the locker room. His voice frayed at the edges and had you practically dripping down your thighs under your track pants. The power his voice had over your body was undeniable. “I couldn’t help myself. I…” “Aw, poor little bird. At least you’re honest.” You tried to swallow around the lump in your throat at the nickname, but struggled. Mouth dry and thighs coated in your slick, you struggled to find your way back to reason, to the here and now. Half a world away, you sunk to the locker room bench and let out a shuddering sigh at the sound of the other coach’s debauched moans. He was close, that much you could tell. How long had he been stroking that thick cock? Was he imagining your lips cradling his glans, your saliva dripping down his balls? Could he see you dragging his head along your lips and your eyes peering up at him through a fringe of dark lashes? How many times did he listen to your voicemail before he thought to call you and dish out a dose of your own medicine? “Tell me you want me. Tell me you need me like I need you, little girl.” “I…I want you,” you whimpered, balancing your phone between your shoulder and your ear. You fumbled with your track pants and slid them hastily to your knees, your practiced fingers rubbing yourself through your soaked cotton panties. “Oh, Keishin, I need you.” You bit back a soft moan, still tender from your activities from the night prior. “That’s it, little bird. Don’t stifle yourself. Let me hear you. Where did that gorgeous voice go?” “I…Keishin, I’m at the tournament,” you gasped, that sensitive nub twitching with arousal under your busy fingertips. He let out a surprised grunt and you swore you could feel him double over on himself. “Fuck…fuck, Y/n, I never took you to be such an exhibitionist. My little bird’s getting brave on me, huh?” The sound of the door to the locker room opening made you freeze for a second before shuffling your pants back up your thighs. “Coach? Coach, are you okay? The other team’s called a time-out. Did you want to do a swap?” Toshi’s earnest voice echoed in the otherwise empty room as you struggled to get the words out without sounding like you were another second away from moaning like a porn star for the man on the other side of your call. “Answer him, little bird. Don’t stop touching that clit for me. Let’s see you earn those wings…” “Ah…yeah, have Watabe swap in. I…I need a minute. Must have been something I ate this morning.” Keishin grinned on the other end, still stroking himself languidly as he listened to you lie through your teeth to your team manager. When you heard him retreat back into the gym, you let out a shuddering sigh, your legs trembling around your hand. “Such a good little bird. I’m close. You gonna come with me?” You nodded as if he could see you, still focused on the sounds coming from your phone. His breath hitched as he choked on his moans, movement stilling on his end of the phone call. You gasped in tandem, fingertips slipping inside your waiting heat. He must have known you were close based on your breathing alone. He let you continue until he howled out his release, leaving you breathless at how completely beautiful he could sound coming undone at the thought of you. “Please, please, Keishin,” you huffed out, sweat trickled down your neck as you ground yourself into your fingers, stretching against your slick, velveteen walls. “Stop.” “But-” “I said stop, Y/n.” “But…but Keishin…” “Naughty little girls don’t get to cum when they’re bad. Mm, I’ll see you tomorrow. Good luck, Y/n,” he teased again before hanging up. You sat in silence, frustrated and slick with your own fluids. Aggravated, you pulled your pants up the rest of the way and stripped off your jacket. Approaching the sink, you patted cool water against your burning skin and stared yourself down in the mirror. So it was another challenge he wanted? You had him eating crow out of your beautifully manicured hands before and you could do it again. Your team wouldn’t be the only ones getting a win. A plan came together, neatly, quickly despite the lingering haze of lust. Spite and frustration cut through your need like a white hot razor, and all you could fixate on was the thrill of victory both on and off the court. “Setters aren’t the only big brains on the court,” you mused to yourself as you reappeared on the court, hands buried deeply into your pockets. Toshi cast a sidelong glance in your direction, subtly taking in the hard set of your jaw and the color rising in your cheeks as you stared down the opposing team’s coach from across the gym. You grit your teeth, eyes dark with determination. If he wasn’t mistaken, he almost thought you were taking this game more seriously than just a simple exhibition match. Regardless of the reason, the team manager found himself grateful he wasn’t the object of your ire. “Hit it ‘til it breaks, Sasaki!!” Your yell rattled the team manager as it echoed through the gym over the roar of the crowd. The puddle in your panties only fueled your frustration the longer you dwelled on Keishin’s denial. You wanted to breathe smoke, to destroy something beautiful just to prove you could. “Stupid, big-brain setter,” you growled under your breath as your team took another point from the Americans. “Coach, why do I get the feeling you aren’t talking about the other team?” “C’mon, girls, you’re better conditioned than that!! Go for the kill!!” “Yeah, you’re definitely not talking about the other team.” The conference couldn’t be done soon enough, and the next two days were going to feel like the longest of their lives. ~ Few things in life brought Keishin Ukai more solace than quiet mornings over a cup of coffee. The only thing that could have made it better was your groggy face smiling sleepily across the table at him. Sunlight bled through the kitchen blinds, staining everything in garish gold and yellow in the pale light. Hair loose, he carded his long fingers through his bedhead with casual grace and absently scrolled through his phone as the coffee continued to brew. It would be just a few hours before you would be home; he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t excited for your return. In the safety of his home, he could let some of that boyish glee bleed out as he searched through your old photos. As if he could forget your face, the sway of those devastating hips, or the way you’d catch your lower lip between your teeth when you were flustered. As much as he owned you, the power you held over him and his emotions was undeniable. From the moment you stepped foot on his court he was your willing captive. He set his phone aside to pour himself his first of what would be many cups of coffee. He allowed himself a moment to bask in the heady aroma, dark and bitter before it hit his tongue. Relaxing in his seat a little more, he sighed through his nose. The chiming of a text alert pulled him from his brief reprieve. Y- Good morning, Daddy Crow :D! We’ll be home in a few hours. I can’t wait to see you. Keishin chuckled into his steaming mug and took a long sip. Wryly amused and even a little annoyed by your pet name for him, he typed out his reply unhurried. K- We’ll see how tired you are when you get back. Ten hours and change is a long time to spend in the air.

Y- Don’t remind me. No idea what I’m going to do to stay occupied. 

K- I can think of a few distractions. 

He waited, watching the ellipsis flicker over the text banner for your reply, his heart rate picking up in anticipation. What fresh hell awaited him when you finally hit send? Vaguely he had an idea of how badly you wanted to get back at him for leaving you hanging during his last call, but you were too sweet, far too forgiving to want revenge. Y- I’m sure you can. What do you have lined up for today?

K- Not a thing. Just waiting on you. It wasn’t like you to not take his bait; he could practically feel the ice from your reply. Was it the distance? You were only gone for a week, but was it enough time for your relationship to cool? “Shit,” he muttered, rolling a cigarette between his fingers as he reread your reply another six times. “Guess she is mad…” He mused and fussed over your text before lighting the paper tip and taking a careless drag. The blue-gray haze hung around his kitchen like a comforting veil. He waited another moment before he saw you typing another response. He tore his gaze away from the device to ash his cigarette in an empty beer bottle he had sitting on the kitchen table; when he returned to it, the sight that met him had him melting in his chair. Your delicate frame was seated on a sea of white, the barest hint of emerald lace curling in elegant patterns along the swell of your ass. Hair pulled to one side in effortless waves of jet, your bare back was on full display, tantalizing him with the gentle curve of your spine and adorable dimples framing your tailbone. Your face in profile, he could see the faint rose dusting your cheeks and nose, the dreamy sparkle playing in your eyes as you held your breasts away from view. He knew that far-away gaze all too well– it played behind your eyes when you would look at him, when you would think about his strong hands exploring your body. His eyes lingered on the definition of your thighs, all the while longing he could feel them squeezing his head as you trembled into his waiting mouth. It wasn’t the lewdest photo he’d ever seen, but it hit differently when it was you. His mouth went dry and he felt himself get lost in every detail, as if he could memorize every scar, every freckle if he stared long enough. Y- Enjoy your distraction, Keishin.

When did you find the time to take photos? Was that the only one? Questions raced through his mind as he lingered on the picture, fingertip tracing along the swell of your hips. God, he was such a sucker for those wide hips and built thighs. He might have admired your drive and ability to keep up and run drills with your team, but he really wanted to see just how far he could push you until you broke.

“It’s just ten more hours. I can hold out for ten hours.” ~ Six months together and it took a week apart for him to salivate over the smell of your perfume. All the distance, despite the frequent calls and text messages, only intensified his undeniable thirst. You were his meet-cute, the high school crush who got away. There would always be that part of him that wondered how he got so lucky crossing your path not once but twice in his lifetime. If he were a betting man, he’d probably put more stock in fate or soulmates after meeting you, but it wasn’t his style to be so sentimental. Travel always took a lot out of you. Keishin caught you yawning on your way from the baggage claim, only aware enough to know where to step without tripping. Grinning like a fiend, he took his moment and pulled you into an empty lounge. Startled, you swung your first and jerked out of his hold, only stopping your thrashing when you caught the bemused twenty-something rubbing his stubbled jaw. “Fucking hell, is that anyway to say hello, little girl?” “Oh my god, Keishin!” Your hands flew to his face and he could have died a happy man on the spot. “I’m so sorry! You can’t just do that!” Your chest tightened at the rumbling chuckle that reverberated under your fingertips. “Keishin,” you sighed, holding his stubbled face in your thin hands. Studying the sharp planes of his face, your eyes practically sparkled with delight. He was here, real under your palms flashing that same cocksure grin that had you flustered since you first stepped up to challenge him on the court. “You gonna keep staring at me or what, little bird? C’mon, let’s ge-!” Rising to your toes, you pulled him to your lips and left him struggling to catch his breath, your perfume lingering after you withdrew and bounced away, tugging him along from the airport lobby. Head swimming, he followed, allowing you to lead him around until you remembered who drove and the simple fact that you had no idea where the car was. It was easy to forget you were an accomplished adult when you let your excitement take the wheel, but it brought Keishin closer to what might have been before you disappeared when you were still children. He never got the chance to watch you play back then, a regret he tucked away with the first night you murmured his name in your sleep. His single-minded ambition kept him from really seizing the chance to get to know you as a person instead of an idea back then. Packed away in his well-loved sedan, you couldn’t help but fidget in the passenger seat, anxiously bouncing your foot below the dash. Unfazed, he reached over and placed a hand on your knee, halting the bouncing movement with a stern glance. Color bloomed in your cheeks at the gesture, body relaxing just enough under the warmth of his palm. Braver still, he slowly ran his fingertips along the line of your thigh, stopping just below the clothed apex of your leg. Keishin never took his eyes off the road, but he knew just where to brush to make your blood sing. He followed your movements, subtly tracking your reactions to his innocent caressing. 

“Don’t get shy on me now, little bird.” 

The bait was set, almost painfully obvious as you continued to squirm into his waiting palm. “I’m not shy. I’m..”

“You’re what? Use your words,” he smirked, dragging his knuckles against your sex. The motion was so casual you might have applauded him for his audacity if it hadn’t been a week since you felt him touch you. Muddled between your jet lag and the growing haze of lust ensnaring your senses, you fumbled over your words and whimpered something about thinking about how much you missed him. “That’s what I thought.” Whether it was the nonchalance or the gentle pressure he exerted on your core, you felt yourself slip closer into that familiar euphoric headspace. It was almost embarrassing how wrapped around his finger he had you; it wouldn’t be long before he’d have you wrapped around him literally as well. 

~

You wanted to scream, to gnash your teeth and beat something to a bloody pulp. At least you could take out your frustrations on the court. The girls took the day to strength train in the school’s weight room, leaving you to your own devices in the second gym. You could see his almost-apologetic face, the slight upturn of his lips when he sent you to work with a chaste peck on your hair. 

“I just couldn’t bear to wake you…”

“Tch, likely story. Stupid, big-brain setter!” You hissed through your teeth and imagined it was his disembodied head you were spiking over the net with a satisfying crack. Your attentive team manager threw another ball and watched as you continued to fume. 

“Are you trying to pop a ball, sensei?" 

"Less talk, more throw, Toshi.” He shook his head and tossed another ball, only for you to bounce it off the floor twice to center yourself before your inevitable spike. Unsatisfied, you shook your ponytail and jogged to the opposite end of the gym to practice your jump serve. Toshi watched on, hanging his head as you sent another ball flying in his direction. “Jesus Christ, Himewari!” he screeched, ducking out of the way. You huffed in irritation, barely registering the clattering of gym doors opening. The ball rested daintily in your hand, your eyes narrowed with the smooth rubber leaving your palm before the inevitable punch. Keishin knew better than to leave the safety of the annex when you were serving, but he could watch you soar forever. Leaned against the cool wall, his headband gently digging into his scalp with his blond head resting into the drywall, he couldn’t help the crinkle of his eyes when your hand finally connected with the abused ball. Sweat glistened like diamond dust on your skin, the crop top you wore doing nothing to temper his wandering gaze. As you hung in the air, he hummed to himself, remembering Shimizu’s words when he first saw you serve. “You really do have wings, little bird…” When you landed and reached for another ball he made his presence known, his footsteps falling faintly over your light panting. This was how he liked you best, dark hair mussed and sweat dripping down the valley of your breasts. It was almost a shame, he thought to himself, that he wasn’t the one making you such a mess. He stopped just a few feet behind you only to catch the tail end of your cursing his name for leaving you high and dry on your return. As if sensing the change in the atmosphere, like catching the faint scent of ozone on the wind before a squall, Toshi took his leave and escaped into the weight room, leaving you alone with the other coach. Caught mid-approach, Keishin wrapped his arms around your smaller frame and buried his nose into your ponytail. You froze at the sudden intrusion of your personal space and the ball fell from your waiting palm, its fall echoing through the empty gym. “Thought I’d find you here,” he purred. Hackles raised, you pushed away from him and made a dash for your club jacket. Keishin used his height and longer legs to his advantage and followed close behind. If it was a chase you wanted, he’d give it to you. He let you sprint to the locker room, hand resting on the handle before he turned you by the shoulders and caged you against the wall between his arms. Looming over you, he smirked and licked his lips at the deepening flush creeping down your neck and across your collarbones. He smelled like tobacco and neroli, his cologne making your head spin. The smoke lingering on his breath had your thoughts racing– you were in high school again, fantasizing about being trapped in those arms with those sharp eyes drinking your timid expression so patiently. “What’s the matter, little girl?” he started smugly. His pupils dilated, leaning his head in to bear down on you further. “Can’t rise to the challenge? Where’d all that fight go?” Keishin licked his teeth and breathed into your ear. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you,” he teased, running his nose along your hairline. Your breath hitched; how did he always know how to make you feel so small? The thought incited more anger, more fuel to the fire burning in your belly as you jerked your ear away from his hot breath. “No, you don’t get to do that. I’m not going to let you win that easily, Keishin.” Your voice was low, almost dangerous. The animosity was one-sided, and the other coach snickered at your new-found boldness. “I don’t think you get it, little bird,” he growled, wrapping a firm hand around your thin neck. “I’ve already won.” Swallowing hard, you worried your lower lip between your teeth, his favorite tell, and stared him in the eye. The predatory gleam made you weak in the knees– he knew it. He could feel you falter under his capable palm as he gave your neck a gentle squeeze. Keishin loved seeing you like this– wrestling between reason and your desires, pinned beneath him with that fire burning behind your eyes as if to remind him that you only permitted his control because you knew how completely yours he really was. The nip of his teeth on your earlobe sent you reeling, swooning into his stubbled cheek. “Please,” you whispered. “Not here.” “No? You sure?” As if to capitalize on your wavering resolve, he raised a knee to rest just between your thighs, a silent dare to test him and see just how far he’d make you go. Instinctively, you ground your pelvis against his knee and shuddered at the delicious pressure on your core. He grinned against your cheek. “Because I think this is exactly where you want it.” Hips rocking, your anger slowly melted away as he continued to tease you, still pinning you to the door by the throat. “I think you like the idea of almost getting caught, little bird.” Your whimpers doused kerosine on the slow burning embers he stoked with his teasing. “Keishin,” you gasped, his free hand trailing down your sticky body to pull your hip hard into his waiting erection, grip hard enough you were sure you’d have bruises by the time he was done. “We don’t-” “Guess I’ll just have to cum inside you then.” Your thighs squeezed around his knee, cunt fluttering at the thought of your combined spend trickling down your thighs on the walk home. His grin was sinful, eyes sharp and hungry as you melted into his knee. He could feel your slick soaking through your shorts, the sensation earning a groan you just barely made out. “Mark you as my little crow inside and out,” he purred, long fingers feathering along the waistband of your shorts. “Yeah, I think you like that idea.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” You caught his gaze through your dark lashes, leaning into his hand and waiting hips as if to lay your own bait. Your own hands caught in his hair and pulled his headband down. How you loved running your fingers through those blond waves; you rolled your hips and gave his hair an experimental tug, earning a low groan in return. He surged forward and captured your lips, a fight for dominance to the end. Tongue tracing hungrily along the curl of your lips, he softened his hold on your neck and pulled you closer. Hand on your nape, he let out a hiss when you bit him, a flash of blood lingering on your lip in return with a satisfied grin. “Oh, cocky now?” Keishin gave your shorts a shove over your generous hips. Anxiety and excitement bubbled in your chest as you squirmed against him. He was still hard muscle and sinew despite years away from the court, more than enough to handle you at your worst. “Let’s see you be cocky now, little bird.” His fingers glided along your sopping cunt, earning a sharp moan at the sudden brush along your neglected clit. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Fuck,” he breathed, too enraptured by your responsive body. “Keishin, please,” you whimpered, clutching his shoulders as his deft fingers continued to tap and rub slow, agonizing circles around your glistening clit. “Please, please fill me…” “How quickly your resolve falls apart, my little crow,” he purred into your hair, fingers now sliding into your drooling pussy. You bit back another moan, head arching back into the door as Keishin scissored his fingers against your already fluttering walls. “You’re fucking drenched.” “Please, please…I need you. I need to feel you, Keishin.” Legs trembling, you rocked into his hand, keening at the pressure his hardened fingertips exerted on your g-spot. Even accidentally, he had a way of luring out the most beautifully debauched moans from you. He continued to work you open, trying to make up for a week without laying claim to you in the span of minutes. Keishin growled low, feeling himself get lost in your whining, in the warm squeeze of your welcoming cunt around his fingers, in how completely devoted he was to hearing you moan his name like that one more time. You heard the zip after you felt the lonesome ache of loss, only to be filled again to the hilt with a gasping cry. Keishin grit his teeth and leaned into your writhing frame, bracing himself against the door as you squeezed his cock from head to hilt like a velvet vice. “W-wrap your leg around my hip,” he ordered shakily, peering at you through a curtain of soft gold. You did as instructed and felt him wrap his arm around your back, pulling you closer as he rocked into your heat with a moan of his own. “So fucking tight, Y/n…” Stars faded throughout your vision and left you feeling dazed. “So good,” he moaned, resting his forehead against yours to glance down where your bodies connected. You balanced on your toes, meeting his thrusts with your own. “Keishin,” you cried in return, arching your back off the locker room door as your first climax claimed you. Keishin grit his teeth and fucked you through the first of many, angling his hips to drive his cock deeper still, earning a harsh shriek. “Keishin, don’t stop!” “Wasn’t planning on it,” he groaned, bottoming out with a stutter. “It’s like you were made for me.” You let out another cry, clinging to the coach as tears pricked your eyes. He rutted against your cervix with a pained grin, knowing the longer he pressured against that button the sooner you’d be begging to be filled and defiled. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he sighed, slowing as your walls clenched around his cock with the advent of another orgasm. You trembled helplessly against him, body practically weightless in his arms as he continued to prolong your pleasure if only to draw out his own. When you came down, you brushed your nose along his and gazed at him through half-lidded eyes. Toes curling in your trainers at the devastating sight in front of you, you gave another keening cry and buried your face into his shoulder. “Y’know, for someone so worried about being caught you sure are loud.” He grinned into your hair and hammered his hips into yours, earning another loud wail in protest and in pleasure. Your nails caught the tanned skin of his back, a vicious trail of red left in their wake as he brought you to another peak. “That’s three…” You bucked against him, fitfully chasing again after that same high only his cock could bring you. His name a prayer on your lips, he allowed you to take because you gave him so much in return. Every moan, every gush of your juices around his cock he took and devoured, knowing you wouldn’t be afraid to earn his end in return. “I can feel you twitching, Keishin. You’re close, Daddy Crow.” His hips stuttered as you whispered the pet name into his ear, holding you tightly as he bottomed out in your spasming cunt. “Hard not to when you’re fucking milking me.” He’d never admit it, but he would stay buried inside you forever if you’d let him. Only the unsynchronized whisper of your breathing and the slick slap of skin on skin surrounded the two of you in the empty gym. Entangled with the other coach in the darkened hallway, you found his lips to muffle another moan when your attention was pulled away from your bliss by the slamming of the gym doors. 

"Coach Himewari! We’re getting ready to go!” It was Michimiya your team captain. Her footfalls echoed softly, rubber tapping against the laminated wood. She paused for a moment when you didn’t answer. Keishin grinning sadistically against your lips, he held your hips flush against his, grinding his cock into that spot that frayed the edges of your vision and made your quiver around his girth. “Hm, I guess she already left…” the team captain mused before shuffling closer to the locker room door, only to quickly turn away at the opening of the door. 

“Come on, Yui! Let’s just go! Toshi can catch us up later.” Grateful for Aihara pulling her friend’s focus, you bit down on your lip to keep quiet. Keishin redoubled his efforts, dragging his teeth along the hollow of your neck. Even muffled your moans were music to his degenerate ears. You stiffened against him with the sinking of his teeth into your neck, a stifled cry and final squeeze signaling your end. Keishin wasn’t too far behind, growling into your salt-slicked skin. The heavy doors clattered shut as he moaned out his release, the heat building in your core as he spasmed into your waiting womb. 

“Fuck me, Keishin…” you breathed, half chuckling half panting. He held against you, comfortable in your combined heat as he peppered soothing kisses along your neck and into your hairline. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you like almost getting caught.”

He hissed, slowly withdrawing from your core and watched as his cum slowly started trickling from your pulsating hole down your sturdy thighs. He tucked himself back into his jeans and watched you languish against the wall for a moment, playful grin lighting his face. Deftly he collected the escaping seed and shoved it back into your abused cunt, earning a pained whimper before he pulled your panties and shorts back up to keep the rest from spilling. “Don’t waste it, little crow.” He wiggled his fingers along your lips and you greedily sucked them clean with wide, innocent eyes. Your combined taste coated your tongue, sweet and bitter all at once. “That’s my good girl,” he crooned, planting a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. 

Your anger evaporated, you slumped against him, head resting comfortably into his chest. “I’m ready for a nap, daddy crow…” you whined. Blond hair slicked with swear, he carded those long fingers through and hoisted you up onto his shoulder, carrying you out of the gym with your mess ruining your panties and shorts. 

“Oh no you don’t. As soon as we get home you’re making up for every voicemail and tantrum, Y/n.” It was going to be a long night. 

[sweet-dreamins]

i’m sorry, i missed you (s+f)

○ pairing: kei tsukishima x fem! reader, soft brat tamer kei x bratty reader (who regrets being bratty)

○ word count: 2.8k

○ summary: after a day of being bratty, tsukki finally puts you in your place

○ content: 18+, d/s dynamics, spanking, use of “Sir” as title, brat taming, light angst, crying but no dacryphilia, traffic light safe word system, fingering, unprotected sex (pls wear a condom lskdjk), a bit size kink, creampie, aftercare, happy end :)

○ a/n: this turned out way softer than i originally planned lol but soft tsukki is good tsukki 😌 hope you like it, feedback is greatly appreciated!!

Huffing, you cross your arms and pout, not meeting his gaze. Tsukki looks down at you with a light smirk, amused by your antics. You had been snippy with him since this morning, and at first, he brushed it off, mistakenly assuming you woke up on the wrong side of the bed. However, as the day went on, your remarks only grew more pointed and intentionally provocative.

“I can do this by myself, leave me alone!”

“Ugh, whatever, I don’t have to listen to you.”

“Be quiet, Tsukki, you’re so annoying!”

He was letting you get in as many jabs as possible, waiting to see if you would show any sign of remorse and apologize.

You did not.

He knew that you were just acting out because you wanted attention. Plain and simple. He had been pretty busy this week with volleyball practice and his job at the museum. But this was getting ridiculous. You needed to be put in your place. You also needed a little help in getting the truth out.

“It’s not like you’re going to do anything about it anyway, so it doesn’t matter.” You taunt him, mirroring his smirk. He hadn’t said or done anything to correct your behavior all day, so you figured you were going to get away with being bad. You thought if he was going to punish you it would’ve been hours ago after the tenth or fifteenth rude comment came out of your mouth. Before disappointment could settle in, he grabs your face, thumb and index finger digging into your cheeks, tilting your face up to meet his stare.

“You want to repeat that, little girl?”

Your eyes widened, heat rushing underneath your skin and in between your thighs. You bit the inside of your cheek, considering you had already dug yourself six feet deep. His smirk grows at your quiet submission before throwing you over his shoulder. You let out a yelp of surprise and he slaps your ass in response. You pout at the floor as he carries you to the bedroom, butterflies fluttering about in your stomach.

The world flips as he throws you onto the bed as if you weigh nothing. You bounce on the softness, your skirt flipping up. He can perfectly see the little wet spot on the center of your pink panties. His smile oozes self-satisfaction as he coos,

“Aww, how cute you’re already wet?”

You look down at your skirt and move to fix it, but he grabs both of your wrists with one hand. He flips your skirt all the way up and cups your clothed pussy. You try not to wiggle against his fingers, knowing that would land you in even more trouble.

“Don’t hide what is mine, understand?”

You swallow thickly and nod, your mouth going dry at the fierceness in his honey brown eyes. He slaps your inner thigh, eliciting a gasp from you. You fight the urge to glare at him, just pouting instead.

“No, you don’t get to be quiet now while you were running your mouth all day.” He looks at you expectantly for your proper reply.

“I understand, sir.” He gives you a small smile of praise, internally surprised at your wise choice.

He leans in closer and gives your cheek a few patronizing pats, “That’s more like it. Besides, I still haven’t decided if I’ll let you cum tonight.”

He lets go of your wrists and sits down next to you. You already know what you have to do. You quietly crawl over to him and lay yourself on his lap. You grab fistfuls of the sheets beneath you in anticipation. He interlocks his fingers and stretches them before rolling up his sleeves.

“You’re going to count every single spank and say thank you.”

“Yes, sir.”

One. Five. Nine. With every spank, you can feel yourself getting wetter. You want nothing more than for his hands to wander lower and sink into your pussy. As you count out loud, you run through everything you said to him today. Technically, you got his attention...but you could’ve gone about it in a much nicer way.

You know that you can be a lot to handle sometimes. On the one day this week you spent together, you were nasty to him. He was probably looking forward to spending the day with you, and all you gave him was attitude. You could’ve just told him you had missed him instead of being mean. What if you had said something that actually hurt him? Who’s saying that you hadn’t already gone too far? Maybe you should’ve just been good for him today.

“Twenty! Th-hank you si-ir.” You choke out the final number, trying to catch your breath. He gently massages reassuring circles on your stinging skin. He opens his mouth to ask you what your color is but you interrupt him with a sniffling,

“Ts-suki?”

He knows not to reprimand you for using the wrong name, the weepy tone in your voice giving away your headspace. He softly asks,

“What’s your color, baby?”

“Yellow,” your voice warbly and pitiful.

Kei easily scoops you up into a sitting position so you’re straddling his lap. Now he can see your glassy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You hadn’t even realized you were crying until you went to wipe your face. Your bottom lip wobbles slightly as you try to hold back even more tears. Regret is swirling in your head, while your butt is burning, and your pussy is dripping. Your brain is struggling to comprehend this combination of sensations, turning your thoughts into a tangled mess.

“I’m so-orry I was so me-ean to you today,” you hiccup, rubbing at your tears with balled-up fists but they just don’t seem to stop coming.

“I’ve just been mi-issing you a lot, fuck, I missed y-you so much and I should’ve just to-old you that.” You choke these words out through gasping breaths. You want to let him know everything inside your head, but your body is not cooperating. He pulls down his sleeve, raising it to wipe away your tears.

“Take a deep breath, baby.” You stop trying to force words out of your mouth and slowly inhale, hoping it’ll calm your body. In and out, in and out, slow and soothing breaths, tears falling less and less frequently. Kei reaches for his water bottle and brings it to your mouth, controlling the pace of your drinking, knowing you might end up chugging it. He sets it down once you’ve had enough water and rubs your back. By now your breathing has evened out and new tears have finally stopped falling.

Kei presses a kiss to your forehead and mumbles against it,

“You learned your lesson, huh?”

You nod and hum a wobbly affirmation.

You feel him smile against your skin before he pulls away, looking into your eyes while holding your face with his hands.

“Okay. You gonna be good for me now?”

A beat of silence passes.

“I’m gonna try.”

He throws his head back in laughter and you giggle with him. Hooking his arms under you, he turns around and lays you down on the bed. He hovers above you and brushes the hair out of your face.

“What’s your color?”

After your punishment and crying session, you feel so much lighter, no longer weighed down by your rambling brain.

“Green.” You sniffle and give him a soft smile. He looks over your facial expression, making sure that you’re not lying to him. Once he’s satisfied, he drops to his forearms, caging you in, and kisses you.

Your heart soars as he kisses you desperately. It’s clear to you now that he missed you just as much, if not more. You happily let him take control of the kiss, relaxing into his hold. While he distracts you with his lips, he reaches down between the two of you and starts rubbing at your clit. You break the kiss with a small gasp, arching your back into him, wanting more. Kei grins at your reaction and reaches farther, spreading your lips and gathering slick with his fingers.

“Fuck, baby, you’re soaking, is this all because of me?”

You look up at him, and he swears he can see tiny hearts in your eyes where pupils should be.

“Yes, sir, all for you, only for you.” He kisses the tip of your nose as he slips two fingers into your pussy. Slowly thrusting in and out while rubbing your clit with his thumb. As the pleasure builds, you beg him not to stop, worried that your orgasm will be ripped away from you tonight.

But Kei isn’t a monster.

“Shh don’t worry, baby, I’m not going anywhere.” He continues thrusting and scissoring his fingers, stretching you out on his lithe fingers, preparing you for his cock. Pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck, he sucks at the skin. He pulls away to admire you underneath him, marked up and already getting dumber by the second.

His original plan was to edge you for most of the night and ruin your orgasm anyway, but that depended on your post-spanking state. You were obviously regretful of your behavior and already slipping into that cloudy headspace. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you tonight, especially after you had cried your eyes out, so he’s determined to give you at least one good orgasm.

Instead of focusing on reaching your climax, you let yourself focus on how good he’s making you feel. Goosebumps rise all over your body and your head feels even dizzier than before. You let yourself melt into him.

Kei notices just how much you’ve relaxed and feels a pull at his heart. You trust him so much, trusting him to take care of you, your body, and your pleasure. He especially knows how hard vulnerability can be, and yet here you are. Happily giving yourself to him as if it’s second nature to you.

He kisses you again, this time more desperately, trying to get as much of you as possible. He licks your bottom lip and you open your mouth to let him in. His tongue traces over yours gently before sucking on your bottom lip as you whine in response. When he breaks away, a thin string of spit connects the two of you briefly. He reaches behind his neck, swiftly pulling his shirt off and then tugging off his pants.

You keep your eyes glued to his body as you frantically pull off your shirt and bra. How was he so pretty? All you want to feel is his skin against yours. As your gaze travels up his body, the two of you lock eyes to laugh at your frenzied pace.

He settles above you again, kissing you, placing his hands at your sides while gently tracing your skin with his thumbs. He reaches over to grab a condom, but you stop him. With wide eyes you say,

“I want to feel you cum inside, please?”

He lets out a groan and kisses you as an answer. He strokes his cock, smearing pre-cum down the length. Grinding against your pussy, he coats himself in your slick, the head of his cock bumping against your clit. He smirks down at you as little moans spill from your mouth.

All for him.

He lines himself up and looks at you, making sure that you’re ready to take him. You nod desperately, wanting to be completely stuffed. He slowly pushes into you as your mouth drops open. He stills once he’s fully inside, letting both of you get used to the feeling, already panting. Your warm walls hugging him so, so tight, and his cock making you feel so, so full. You stutter out,

“So full! Ah, ‘m so full. Your cock is so big, ‘su-sir!”

He grins at your praise and near slip up.

“Mhm? But you always take me so well, pretty baby.” He lightly presses down below your belly button, feeling and faintly seeing the outline of his cock inside of you. You cry out in pleasure, feeling every inch of him rubbing against your walls. He isn’t even moving and your pussy won’t stop clenching around him. He gives a shallow thrust, pulling a whine from you.

He keeps his pace slow, building in speed and force. Until he is repeatedly slamming into you, nearly pulling all the way out and then pushing deep inside of you, your cries getting louder and louder. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. The coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter, your vision blurring a bit. Kei wraps his arm around your middle as you arch off the bed, deepening the kiss.

You whine against his lips,

“I-I’m getting close, so close, so close! I’m so close!”

“I know baby, let go for me.”

He reaches down with his other hand, still holding you close, to rub frenzied circles into your clit. You shut your eyes tight and your mouth drops open, only whines coming from the back of your throat. Soothing tingles of pleasure shoot throughout your body, your orgasm finally washing over you. You feel as if you’re floating, warmth taking over your body, inside and out. You can barely string together a coherent thought, but then you remember he hasn’t cum yet.

Your pussy still riding out your orgasm, clenches over and over around his cock. Kei nearly growls out,

“Fuck, baby, I’m close.”

All that’s bouncing around in your fuzzy mind is how badly you want Kei’s cum inside of you. You want it so, so bad, to be filled up with it, for him to paint your insides white, to feel his liquid heat. Your jumbled thoughts fall out of your mouth as you babble,

“Sir, please! Please, please, please, cum inside of me! I want y-you to fill me up, please fill me up with your cum!”

Your broken pleading pushes him over the edge as he shoots his cum inside you, giving one last thrust to nestle himself as deep as possible. You can hear him breathing hard next to your ear, shaky with scattered moans. You can feel his cum filling your pussy, leaking out onto your thighs, nearly throwing you into a second orgasm.

Kei has a brief internal debate if he should pull out or not. If he does, clean up might take a little longer….but then he’ll get to see his cum ooze out of you. He gently pulls out of you, spreading your thighs apart so he can get a proper look. Creamy white oozing out of silky pink walls, your chest heaving and eyes glassy.

Absolutely perfect.

Bonus:

After grabbing a warm towel and boxers, Kei lays down next to you, pulling you to his chest and wrapping his arms around you. You tangle your legs together and nuzzle into him, pressing a kiss over his heart. He’s glad that you can’t see the ridiculous blush on his face from your simple gesture.

You let out a sigh of contentment, knowing you’re safe in his strong arms.

“I love you, Kei.”

He kisses your temple and rests his chin on top of your head.

“I love you, too. You did wonderfully tonight. ”

A comfortable silence drapes itself around the two of you, like a warm blanket. But of course, Kei being Kei says a little too smugly for your liking,

“I missed you too, you know….I just didn’t need to act out and be a total brat over it.”

“Shut up,” you while with a bashful smile on your face, “I already said I was sorry.” You mumble into his chest with a pout, to which he proudly chuckles.

“I know, I know.”

“Hey, Tsukki?” He hums in response.

“Can we go take a shower now? I’m still kinda...sticky.”

“Fine, but you were the one who was practically begging me to cum inside you, to fill that little pussy up.”

Heat rushes to your face, the post-orgasm clarity arriving in full form, the obscenity of your pleading hitting you like a ton of bricks. You squeal in embarrassment, scolding him, and lightly slap his chest. He laughs and says,

“Yes, we can go take a shower now.”

You let out a rather pathetic cheer, but make no effort to get up.

“....Kei...can you carry me?”

He sighs with such weight, you’d think Zeus had just condemned him.

“If I must.”

He scoops his arms underneath you, picking you up bridal style. You call his name again and he looks at you with raised eyebrows.

“Can we take a bath instead?”

“Fine, I guess.” Rolling his eyes, once again acting exasperated.

He sets you down on the counter as he grabs towels and turns on the water.

“Oh, and can we do a bath bomb?”

He leans down to look at you, eyebrows quirked up as if to say ‘Really?’. You give him a big smile and the best puppy dog eyes you can muster.

“Pleeease?”

He gets even closer until your noses are touching, still giving you that smirk and golden eyes of mirth. You feel your cheeks heat at his closeness. He gives you a quick kiss, whispering against your lips,

“You’re lucky you’re cute, brat.”

[inagetawaycarxo]

Dangerous Waters

❛❛Okay, I don’t know if you’re into writing “cheating” but what if Jay’s girlfriend is a doctor at Med with Will? They have a really bad shift, and head to Molly’s. Only, the reader and Will get drunk and have sex. They wake up and discover the regret they’ve done. So the reader has to face telling Jay what she’s done. (I’m sorry if that’s too specific) (Also, sorry if you have writing rules, I can’t find them if you do.)❜❜-Anon

Pairings: Jay Halstead x Reader, Will Halstead x Reader

Featuring: Jay Halstead, Y/N (Reader), Will Halstead, Sharon Goodwin, Connor Rhodes.

Summary: Y/n cheats on Jay with his brother Will and has to face the consequences.

WARNINGS: CHEATING, kissing, angst, crying, betrayal, sex, alcohol, lying, drunk sex, regrets, heartbroken, a whole lot of drama, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), errors I missed.

Word Count:4291

A/N: Got a Jay Halstead or Will Halstead or One Chicago request? Send it in!

Your hands shook in front of you. Tears blurring your eyes, body shaking. As your mind replayed what happened an hour ago. You still couldn’t get the image of that women dying out of your head. Her blood on your hands.

Will let out a heavy sigh, as he sat down next to you, signaling for drinks.

“It wasn’t your fault y/n,” Will spoke. Making you crane your neck to look at him. Lips trembling. Will gave you a sympathetic look.

“I killed her Will,” You gasped out. Will gave you a pain expression. His heart hurting at your pain.

“You couldn’t have known,” Will reassured you.

“I misdiagnosed her, Will, she’s dead because of me,” You sobbed. Trembling.

Will quickly grabbed your hands. Squeezing them gently.

“Y/n, hey, look at me it’s a common mistake, her symptoms mimicked other symptoms, I thought it was the same too,” Will reassured you.

You shook your head in denial.

“At the end of the day, her blood is still on my hands,” You gasped out. Looking away from Will.

“Hey,” Will sighed, letting go of your hands and grabbing underneath your chin. Put you pulled away from him.

“I have to get out of here, I need fresh air,” You gasped out. Standing up. Slightly wobbling on your feet. You quickly rushed out of the Molly’s. Will pulled out money from his pocket, putting it down on the counter. He quickly followed after you.

“Y/n, you really should go home, go see Jay,” Will suggested, catching up with you. Grabbing your forearm and spinning your around to face him.

“I can’t face Jay, I murdered someone,” You panicked, making some people look at Will and you with weird expressions on their faces. You were trembling. Lips quivering. Tears falling from your eyes.

“Hey, sh, you didn’t murder anyone, if you aren’t going home to Jay, at least stay at my place,” Will spoke.

You nodded your head. Making Will smile. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to his side.

Will hailed a taxi. Opening the door for you. He helped you into the back of the taxi. Getting in after you.

Will told the taxi driver his address.

“Everything is going to be okay,” Will reassured you. Pulling closer to him. While you cried silently. Will rubbed his hand up and down your arm trying to comfort you.

“You need to breathe y/n, in and out,” Will instructed, breathing in and out, as he noticed your heavy breathing.

“She is okay?” The taxi driver asked, looking in the rear-view mirror.

“Just a panic attack,” Will told him. The taxi driver nodded his head. Looking back at the road.

“Hey, I’m here, I’ve got you,” Will reassured you.

The taxi stopped at Wills apartment. Will grabbed loose change from his pocket, handing it over to the driver.

Will opened the door, getting out first, then helped you out. Pulling you closer to his side. Rubbing your shoulder. Trying to keep you warm. While you rub your arms up and down your arms.

“Come on,” Will spoke, helping you walk up the steps. Will fished out his keys.

Opening the front door to the apartment, Will quickly rushed you inside.

Holding you tighter to his body as he walked up the steps. Guiding you up the steps.

“We’re nearly there,” Will told you. But your mind was on the women who died in your care.

“I’ve got you,” Will spoke, as he noticed your legs wobbling.

Will felt relieved as he finally got to his door. Taking out his apartment keys in his jumper pocket. Putting the keys in the keyhole. He unlocked his door. Opening the door, and assisting you in. Taking the keys out as he walked in.

Will closed the door behind him. While locking the door as well.

Walking you to his couch. He gently sat you down on the couch. Crouching in front of you.

“I’m going to get you a bottle of water,” Will spoke. Cupping the side of your face.

Heart breaking at the broken expression on your face. Will gave you another sad smile. Getting up and walking over to the kitchen. Opening the fridge. Grabbing a bottle of water. Will shut the fridge door. Twisting the cap off of the water bottle. Walking towards you.

Will sat down beside you.

“Here drink this,” Will spoke, handing you the bottle of water.

You took it with trembling hands. Bringing it up to your mouth. Parting your lips. You took a small sip. Then put the water bottle on the coffee table.

Your eyes hurt from crying. Body shaking.

“Y/n,” Will spoke, as he noticed you were still shaking.

Will grabbed underneath your chin, turning your head to look at him.

Both of you looking into each other’s eyes.

“You didn’t kill her, it was an accident,” Will reassured you.

“She’s still dead because of me,” You sniffled out.

Will looked at you with a sad expression.

Your eyes looking intently into his. Will instantly tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Making your breath hitch.

Both of you leaning closer to each other.

You knew you shouldn’t have done what you did next, but your mind wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe it was the alcohol or how close he was, but all you could think about has his lips on yours, his body pressed against yours.

Without thinking you pressed your lips against his softly. Will and you let out a tiny gasp. What are you doing your subconscious screamed at you. You quickly pulled away. Eyes wide with shock. This was your boyfriend's brother. You kissed your boyfriend's brother.

“I’m sorry, I should go,” You gasped out, you went to get up but Will stopped you, grabbing your forearm. Making you sit back down.

“Wait,” Will spoke. You looked at him with wide eyes.

Both of you stared at each other. Will let go of your forearm, grabbing the side of your face. His lips pressing against yours passionately. Eyes fluttering closed.

You should have pulled away, but you didn’t. Instead, your fingers raked through his hair. Gripping his hair and pulling him even closer to you.

Will’s hands trailed down to your waist. Gripping it tightly. He pulled you onto his lap. Your legs wrapped around his waist. Bodies pressed together. Kissing each other feverishly. Will stood up. Lips still attached to yours. Holding your waist, as he navigated his way to his bedroom.

Will delicately laid you on his bed. Hovering over you. Pressing his body against yours.

Hands ripping each other’s jackets off. The kiss turned heated, taking each other’s shoes off. Stripping each other’s clothes off. Naked bodies pressed together.

Your hands wandered down his body. One of your hands grabbing his shaft, making Will let out a moan. Aligning his tip with your entrance.

“You are an impatient one,” Will hummed, against your lips. Making you moan.

His right hand grabbed the side of your face, while the other one gripped your wrist, guiding your hand that was holding his shaft to enter you.

You pulled your lips away from Wills. A loud moan escaping your mouth.

Will trailed kisses down to your neck. Smirking against your skin, as he pulled out of you then thrusted back in. His hands pinning your hands above your head, as he thrusted into you at a fast pace.

One of his hands grabbed underneath your chin. While the other one grabbed your waist. Your hands immediately grabbed his back. Digging your nails into his skin, then dragging them down, scratching his back.

“Fuck,” Will moaned, against your neck. Fastening his pace. You wrapped your legs around his waist. Your heels digging into his ass. Tilting your head back. Eyes squeezed shut, digging your nails into his back even more. Moans bouncing off of the walls. Your toes curled as you felt waves of pleasure course through your body.

“You feels so good,” Will moaned against your neck. Your walls tightening around his shaft, with every thrust. His hips slamming against yours with every thrust. Will knew he wouldn’t last long, especially when your walls kept clenching around him with every thrust.

Will’s hand on your waist trailed down to were he and you were connected. Pressing his thumb against your clit. Rubbing circles on your clit. Fastening pace. Which made you see stars.

“Fuck,” You moaned, as you felt a familiar sensation form in the pit of your stomach. Digging your nails into Will’s back, even more, drawing blood. Will’s hand slipped away from underneath your chin, grabbing your boob instead.

Making you see black spots. Loud moans escaping your mouth. Hair splayed out on the pillow. Back arching as your orgasm.

“Come, baby,” Will moaned out. As he felt his climax arise.

Will buried his face into the crook of your neck, as you released on his cock, walls tightening. This was Will’s undoing. His cock convulsing. Toes digging into the sheets.

He let out a groan, with one last thrust he released his seed inside of you.

Will softened inside of you. Collapsing on top of you. He carefully rolled off of you, pulling out. Pressing a soft kiss on your shoulder as he rolled off of you. You let out a small whimper. The two of you breathing heavily.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Will spoke, breaking the silence between the two of you. Drawing lazy circles on your arm.

“It feels like it,” You mumbled, looking up at his ceiling.

“Get some rest,” Will ordered you. Wrapping his arm around you. Pulling you closer to his body. Your eyes felt heavy as you snuggled into his chest. The sound of his heart beating luring you to sleep.

Will pressed a soft kiss against the top of your head. Laying his head back down on the pillow. His eyes fluttering closed…

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

A groan escaped your mouth, as you opened your eyes. You snuggled into the warm chest, thinking it was Jay but you were so wrong, your eyes slowly started to flutter closed again, when you registered that this wasn’t Jay’s bedroom.

Eyes widening in horror and shock. Pushing yourself away from the body you thought was Jay’s but it turned out to be Will’s.

Your heart leapt to your throat. You felt like you were going to be sick. Feeling lightheaded. You grabbed the sheet. Wrapping it around your naked body.

“Shit,” You cursed. Rushing to get out of his bed, Taking the sheet with you.

Fuck,” You cursed out, as you searched for your clothes. Memories flashing back of last night, how Will comforted you, how wasted you were, how he took you back to his place, the kiss you two shared, then the making out that lead to sex. His body pressed against yours.

You were a horrible person. A horrible girlfriend.

You should have gone home to Jay, and none of this would have happened.

Will’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of the commotion.

Will looked at you in shock. Gulping as it dawned on him what happened last night. Memories of last night rushing back to him.

Both of you looking at each other in shock.

“You can’t tell Jay,” He panicked, getting up and putting his boxers on. As you rushed out of his room.

“I can’t lie to him,” You gasped out. Putting your shoes on.

“If he finds out he will hurt me then you,” Will spoke, grabbing your forearm and spinning you around to face him.

“I’m not going to lie to him.” You sobbed. Tears gathering in your eyes.

“You have to, this will kill him, it will break his heart,” Will pleaded. Heart racing.

“I can’t lie to him, Will,” You whimpered. Pulling out of his grasp.

“Please, y/n,” Will begged, as you walked away from him. Opening his door and exiting. Rushing doing his steps and out of his apartment. The cold air of Chicago nipping at your skin. At this point, it didn’t bother you. You deserved to be cold for what you did.

Will felt like the walls were closing in on him after you left. He rubbed his hand down his face…

You quickly took out your phone as you saw messages from Jay, and 30 missed phone calls. Feeling your heart sink. Tears blurring your eyes.

Where are you?

Are you okay? did something happen?

Your car is all done at the shop, I brought it back to my place.

Babe?

Just call me when you can.

Don’t let me send a search party out for you.

I hope nothing bad has happened to you, I love you,

You sniffled as you looked at the messages, unlocking your phone, going into the curb app, and ordering a taxi, putting in the address you were currently at and the one you wanted to go to. Paying for it.

Exiting the app you went into your messages. Heart-wrenching at all the messages Jay left you. The guilt of last nights events eating away at you. You were a horrible girlfriend. You didn’t deserve him.

The sound of the taxi pulling up beside you made you look up. You quickly got in the back seat. Huddling close to the door, the car took off.

Throughout the taxi ride, you looked out the window. Drowning in guilt at what you did. How could you do this to Jay your subconscious screamed at you. Putting yourself down. You didn’t notice the taxi driver arrived at Jay’s place.

“Miss, you’re here,” The taxi drivers spoke. Bringing you out of your self-loathing.

“Oh, right,” You gasped out. Opening the door and getting out. Closing the door as you got out.

Taking small steps towards Jay’s place. Putting your phone back in your jacket pocket.

Heart beating in your ears, as you slowly entered his apartment. You felt your whole-body trembling. Throat feeling dry. You took out the keys he gave you. Putting them in the keyhole and unlocking the door.

You felt like you were going to faint as you entered his place. Or your heart was going to explode.

“Hey, I was worried about you,” Jay sighed heavily, hearing the door open, he looked relieved to see you. His happy expression turned into a look of worry as he saw how disheveled you looked.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Jay asked. His heart rate fastening. You didn’t deserve his worry or him. you thought to yourself.

“I did something horrible,” You sobbed out. Tears falling from your eyes. Making Jay’s heart ache.

Jay’s brows furrowed. Forehead crinkling.  Cupping the side of your face.

“What happened? Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?” Jay asked.

You shook your head. Taking a step back from him. Making Jay look at you with a hurt expression.

“Y/n, your starting to worry me, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me, ” Jay sighed. Trying to come closer but you took a step back.

“I don’t deserve your love Jay, not after what I’ve done, there’s no fixing it, there is no coming back from it,” You sobbed out. Lips quivering.

“Baby, What happened? Did that prick ex of yours get to you, did he say something? Because if he did,  I am going to find his deadbeat ass and beat him up,” Jay threatened. Voice wavering with anger.

You shook your head no. Making Jay even more worried.

“I cheated on you,” You confessed. The colour in Jay’s face drained. His eyes looked so hurt it broke your heart. You looked away from him. Letting out a sob.

Jay felt like the whole world was crashing around him. His heartbreaking in two. Tears gathered in his eyes.

“Who?” Jay growled, making you gulp, he couldn’t even look at you. You didn’t blame him though.

“Some stranger,” You lied. You didn’t want to tell him it was Will because you didn’t want to cause a rift in their relationship.

Jay clenched his jaw. Clenching his fist.

“I can’t even look at you,” He growled, but the hurt was evident in his voice.

“I have to go to work,” He spoke. Still not looking at you.

“Jay,” You mumbled.

“It’s over y/n, don’t be here when I come back,” Jay snapped, walking past you, and out of the door.

You let out a sob, falling against the door. Sliding down it. Putting your head in your hands as you let out a loud sob.

Jay heard you crying from the other side of the door. But he was in too much pain, you broke his heart by being unfaithful.

Jay quickly wiped his fallen tears away. Sniffling.  Putting on a brave face, even though he was falling apart on the inside. He then dashed over to his truck. Getting in the truck.  Putting the keys into the ignition and starting the truck. Taking the handbrake off and driving away…

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

You numbly sat near the door. Head resting against the door. Heart hurting. Your eyes were red and hurting from crying. You would have cried some more, but you had no tears left to cry. You felt numb.

Taking your phone out of your jacket pocket. Your breath hitched as you saw your screensaver. It was a selfie of Jay and you.

“I’m so sorry Jay,” You sobbed out. Unlocking your phone.

You quickly went into the contact app. Scrolling through your contacts till you found Connors. Tapping the contact. You quickly pressed the call option. Holding the phone up to your ear. The sound of the phone ringing made you even more anxious.

“Hey, y/n/n,” Connor spoke cheerfully. Making you smile slightly.

“Hey, Connor is that job position still available that you sent me?” You asked voice hoarse.

“Yeah, are you alright?” Connor responded. Noticing how your voice sounded.

“I just think it’s time for a change,” You spoke. Ignoring his question.

“I can put it a good, when were you thinking of coming?” Connor spoke.

“Soon, like today if that’s cool with you,” You replied.

“Yeah, I’m surprised Jay is letting you go to another city, is he coming with?” Connor spoke. Making you squeeze your eyes shut. Heart pounding against your rib cage.

“I have to go, see you soon,” You spoke, ignoring his reply. Hanging up on him.

You let out a sniffle. Getting up and walking over to the bedroom you shared with Jay, well his bedroom.

Grabbing your two suitcases, you put all your clothes and shoes in the suitcases, as well as your toiletry products. Zipping the bags up. Grabbing the handles of the suitcases and putting them on the ground. Putting the handles up. You looked around his bedroom one last time. Slightly smiling. Heart still hurting.

You slowly turned around, walking out of the room. Stopping in the middle of the room. Your eyes caught sight of a blank piece of paper.

Rushing over to it. You quickly grabbed the pen, writing on the piece of paper.

please know that it wasn’t your fault I cheated, I love you so much Jay, don’t ever forget that.- y/n

Placing his keys next to the note.  Grabbing your car keys that were next to the note. You looked around his apartment one last time with a pained expression, your heart feeling heavy. You just wish you could redo that night, and not go home with Will.

You walked back to your two suitcases. Gripping the handles walking slowly to the door. You opened his door. Making sure you locked it, as you walked out of his apartment and his life.

Unlocking your car. You opened the boot. Putting your suitcases in the boot. You closed the boot. Letting out a sigh, as you looked at Jay’s apartment complex one last time, before getting into the driver’s side.

You put the keys in the ignition. Turning your car on. Putting the transmission into drive. Putting the handbrake down. Speeding off, driving straight to the hospital.

You parked your car near the hospital. Putting the handbrake up. Getting out and locking your car.

Taking deep breaths as you walk into the hospital, going to Sharon’s office.

You knocked gently on her door. Then opened it.

Sharon smiled as she saw you enter her room.

“Y/n, if this is about the death of your patient yesterday you are off the hook,” Sharon spoke.

“It’s not about that,” You replied.

Sharon looked at you. Her expression turning into a look of worry, as she saw you fiddling with your thumbs.

“Connor sent me this job offer at where he works, and I am going to take it,” You told her.

“Oh, okay, does Jay, know you took the job?” She spoke. Making your heart race at the mention of Jay’s name.

“Y/n, if this is about the patient you lost yesterday,” Sharon spoke, but you cut her off.

“I need a fresh start,” You spoke quickly. Sharon nodded her head.

“Okay, well we are going to miss you around here at med,” Sharon spoke. Standing up and coming over to you.

“I’ll miss all of you too,” You spoke. Smiling at her as she took your hands in hers.

Sharon wrapped her arms around you. Hugging you tightly.

You held it together. You didn’t want her to know the real reason you were leaving.

“Your position is always open if you ever come back to Chicago,” Sharon told you, as she pulled away from you. You smiled at her, as tears pricked your eyes.

“I will let you get back to work,” You spoke. Making Sharon smile. She placed her hand on the side of your face. Gently patting the side of your face.

“Take care, y/n,” She spoke. Making you smile.

“You too,” You responded. Turning around and walking out of her office. You smiled at the other Doctors, patients and nurses as you walked out of the hospital. Taking out your car keys. Pressing the unlock button on the keys. You opened the driver's side door. Looking back at the hospital. Smiling slightly at it before getting into the car.

Putting the car keys in the ignition. Starting the car up.

You let out a sigh, as you put the car into drive, putting the handbrake down. You pressed your foot down on the accelerator, speeding off…

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

You let out a small chuckle, as you drove into Connor’s driveway. Putting your car in park, then putting the handbrake up as you gawked at his house. Turning the car off. You pulled the keys out of the ignition. Getting out of the car as you continued to look at his house.

Connor quickly rushed out of his house. Coming over to you.

“If it isn’t y/n/n,” Connor greeted you. Wrapping his arms around you. Picking you up and spinning you around. You let out a giggle. Making Connor's heart swell. He missed you so much.

“Hey, if I knew you had a house like this, I would have come sooner,” You spoke. Making Connor let out a chuckle.

“And not for me,” Connor pouted, as you slightly pulled away to look at him. Putting you back on your feet. But his arms were still around you.

“And for you,” You chuckled. Tapping the tip of his nose with your index finger.

“God, I missed you,” He sighed. Hugging you again.

“I missed you too,” You sighed.

“Is it cool, if I crash with you for a little while?” You asked.

“Of course you can crash with me, what kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t let my best girl crash with me, try not to cramp my bachelor lifestyle,” Connor teased. Making you roll your eyes at the last part.

“I’ll try,” You spoke, voice cracking. Connor noticed. You pulled away from him. Opening the boot.

“Hey, are you okay?” Connor asked as he noticed your sad expression. Your eyes slightly widening.

“I’m fine, just a little tired,” You responded, as Connor helped take your bags out.

“Is Jay hiding somewhere in your car, I’m surprised Jay isn’t with you attached to you,” Connor spoke, peaking into your car.

The mention of Jay’s name made your heartache. Tears pricking your eyes.

“Y/n,” Connor spoke. Noticing you were crying. As well as your whole demeanor changing.

“We broke up,” You gasped out. Closing the boot. You quickly pressed the lock button on the keys.

“Oh, I didn’t see that coming, look, y/n, I’m sure everything will work out, he will come rushing over here, and try to win you back. You are his whole world,” Connor reassured you. Making your heart hurt even more.

“I cheated on him with his brother,” You confessed to Connor. Making Connor look at you surprised.

“Well…um...” Connor spoke lost for words. Trying to rack his brain for the right words.

“Except I didn’t tell him it was his brother,” You spoke.

“It’s better this way, that I moved away from Chicago,” You spoke again, voice wavering with so much pain.

“For you or him?” Connor asked.

“ Everyone,” You responded. Looking down at the ground. Ashamed of yourself.

“Come here,” Connor softly spoke. Wrapping his arms around you again. Pulling you in for a tight hug.

“I’m always here for you, no matter what wrongs you do,” Connor spoke softly. Pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“You are always a good friend to me, Come on I’m cooking dinner,” You spoke. Pulling away from him. You pressed a soft kiss on Connor’s cheek making his heart beat faster.

“I’ll take your bags in,” Connor spoke. Winking at you as you smiled at him. Walking past him and up to his stairs. Missing the longing glance that Connor sent you…