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mypoisonedvine · 4 months

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𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 | angus tully x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | visiting home for the holidays, Angus runs into his old babysitter... or perhaps more importantly, his first real crush. the older, unattainable girl next door; the one that made him realize maybe cooties aren't all that bad. now he's older, too, and maybe you aren't quite as unattainable-- so long as he can play it cool and not make a complete idiot out of himself...

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ only!!), age gap (not huge but angus is 18 and the reader is just out of college), semi-public/car sex, drug use (watch out for the devil's lettuce y'all!!) as well as brief cigarette use, inexperienced/virgin angus, no spoilers for the holdovers (2023) nor any significant relationship to the plot of it lol

technically this is a christmas fic so if you noticed that I'm posting it in january, no you didn't and mind your business <3

The sky was pitch black, and the world was dark— even with all those Christmas lights, their colorful glow seemed to be absorbed so quickly in the gloom of the evening.

The white snow served as a nice contrast, but it did look sort of grey in all the shadows, even as it was freshly falling to cover the ground. The snowflakes fell fast, they looked almost heavy: not that cute, fluffy snow that looks all whimsical and floats on the wind.

It was the sort of weather that should’ve made him appreciate being safe and warm inside, but as he pressed his nose to the cold glass, he wished rather ungratefully for escape.

The doorbell stirred him out of the moment, and Angus looked back over his shoulder towards the foyer. “Honey! Can you get that?” his mother called out to him from the kitchen. She made herself seem so busy when he knew she hadn’t really cooked at all— she was just arranging everything she’d bought on fancy plates to look homemade. The crinkle of tinfoil gave away that she was too busy disposing of the evidence to greet her guests herself. She was lucky all the ones who had already arrived were too busy drinking in the living room to notice.

Rolling his eyes a bit, he propelled himself off of his lean on the wall, stuffing one hand in his khaki pocket and the other opening the front door.

Your parents were always really… energetic. They greeted Angus with massive smiles and ecstatic faces, as if they could hardly believe he was letting them in to his own house. To be fair, he wasn’t here most of the year, but it wasn’t like he was a celebrity or anything…

“Angus!” your mom squealed joyfully.

“Hey, buddy!” your dad greeted, forcing Angus to fight back a cringe.

“Nice to see you,” he offered them, “come on in, the food’s almost ready.”

Your mom was preoccupied with the casserole dish she was holding, but your dad’s hands were free so he of course had to give Angus a playful punch to the shoulder as he stepped inside. “Wo-hoah! You been workin’ out?” your dad joked— as if Angus’ noodly arm in a red cashmere sweater was ever going to fool anyone into thinking he lifted weights…

As he turned to shut the door, he realized you were standing there, taking one last puff of a cigarette before dropping it on the ground and snuffing it out with your shoe.

He hadn’t known you were coming over— if he had, he would’ve… done something. Fixed his hair or not worn something so dorky, maybe?

“H-hey,” he greeted you, feeling pierced by even just your passing glance up at him.

“Hey, kid,” you nodded, making him frown as you walked in past him.

Your parents and his mom were already chatting up a storm, that sort of high-pitched suburban babble he’d learned to tune out easily. In fact, it really just muffled into a distant whirr as he watched you slip off your coat, revealing your outfit beneath. He always remembered you wearing jeans when you came over to babysit— and dresses at church. So the skirt and blazer sort of caught him off-guard. It made you seem even older— in a good way, like you were a businesswoman or something— and the seam of your stockings running down the back of your legs… his head tilted as his eyes followed it

“Well shut the door, Angus, you’re letting the cold air in!” his mother scolded gently, knocking him out of the thought.

“O-oh, sorry,” he mumbled, shutting it as you looked back at him over your shoulder and smiled a bit. He felt like such a loser when you looked at him like that…

“Let me make you two some drinks! What are you having?”

He wasn’t listening again, of course; he was staring at you again, wondering if you hadn’t changed at all— you were exactly how he remembered you, even though it was probably impossible that you looked the same as his 17-year-old babysitter as you did now. He hoped that he looked totally different to you, that you were thinking to yourself right now how much more mature he looked. He hoped that you could barely believe he was the same boy you watched when he was younger— or, better yet, that you’d just totally forgotten about all that.

“Would you help set the table, please, honey?” his mother requested as she zipped back into the kitchen. He nodded and hesitated before quickly brushing past you to get the silverware out of the cabinet by the table, placing a setting in front of each chair. She reappeared behind him, but he didn’t look up— not at her or you, even though you were the one she was talking to. “I’m sorry, sweetie, I forgot to ask— did you want a glass of wine or something?”

“No, I’m alright— thanks, ma’am,” you replied. “I’ll help with the silverware.”

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” she cooed at you before departing again, and Angus felt his hands get a little clammier around the handful of utensils as you reached out for them.

“Give me some,” you instructed him, and he only briefly glanced at your face; he tried to hand you the forks without touching your fingers, but all that accomplished was dropping some of them loudly onto the table while still brushing up against your soft hand. You snorted, picking them up and starting to set them around the placemats as well.

He tried to ignore you, both of you working around the table, but he sighed as he took a closer look at your work. “No the— that’s a salad fork,” he corrected, “that should go inside.”

“What?”

“The smaller fork goes on the other side, closest to the plate,” he explained, switching the utensils you’d just placed. “Dessert spoon goes at the top, butter knife on the left—”

You scoffed a bit. “And where should I put the opium spoon?”

“Listen, I know it’s stupid,” he assured as he looked at your face again— you were so close, standing right beside him, and his heart was racing. “But my stepdad will blow a gasket if it’s wrong,” he added in a lower voice.

“He sounds like a tool,” you mumbled back, and the two of you smiled a bit, in that way people smile when they share a secret. Not that his stepdad being a tool was all that exclusive of a secret…

“Alright!” his mom emerged again, carrying some ceramic dish with oven mitts, and you both straightened up. “Food’s coming out! Oh, are the Shaws not here yet?”

Your dad was carrying the platter of ham, and your mom behind him with another side. “I, uh, guess not,” Angus answered her question.

“Well, we’ll have to start eating without them,” she sighed, wiping her forehead with the back of her head as the dishes were set down— like she was so exhausted. She probably was, but not from cooking or physical labor: just from the constant anxiety she’d been exuding for the last three days because of this stupid dinner party. She acted like the President or the Pope were coming, and not just a bunch of boring old people.

And you. She’d never mentioned you.

As she gathered the guests for dinner, Angus looked at you, and realized he should say something— be polite, at least. He was terrified to open his mouth and embarrass himself, but if he didn’t try, he’d seem like even more of a loser.

Quickly rubbing his palms against his trousers, he broke the silence. “So, um, how’ve you been?” he asked, and you looked back at him, seeming a little surprised that he talked to you at all.

“Oh,” you responded, “good, I’ve been good— just kinda busy. What have you been doing?”

“You know, just… whatever,” he shrugged, not wanting to admit he was still in high school.

“Aren’t you still in high school?” you questioned with a furrowed brow.

Shit. That illusion didn’t last long. “Yeah,” he admitted sheepishly, “but I’m eighteen!”

You gave him a little pitying smile that made him realize too late how pathetic his statement was. Bragging about being eighteen wasn’t doing him any favors in terms of coming off as mature to you— why did he think that would work?

“U-uh, you… you’re in college, right?”

“Well— I was, until about a week ago,” you answered. “I graduated a semester early.”

“Oh, congrats,” he offered with a nod, “that’s great. You’ve always been really smart…”

“Well, it didn’t take a genius to help you with your seventh grade math homework,” you deflected his compliment with a tilted smirk, and he laughed nervously.

“I, um, can’t believe you remember that,” he mumbled.

“Of course,” you said, and just as he started to wonder what that meant, his stepdad spoke up over the dull roar of conversation.

“Alright, everyone, take your seats around the table,” he encouraged, “and we’ll all pray before we enjoy this lovely meal.”

Aside from the late arrival of the Shaws, dinner went off without a hitch— Angus fielded the same four questions on repeat, glanced at you every thirty seconds, and only got caught about a dozen times.

The only thing more boring than the dinner was the time afterwards, the indefinite mingling phase. He usually just counted the minutes until he could get excused to his room, where he could read or sketch or really do anything quiet. But now that you were here, he wasn’t as sure what to do: he wanted to talk to you, but he didn’t want to seem too excited to talk to you, but he didn’t want to seem like an asshole or anything…

So he pretty much just sat on a couch, as far away from the bustle of the party as he could reasonably get away with, trying to look busy while not actually doing anything. Occasionally looking at you, but usually trying not to— until he realized you were coming towards him. Now was it okay to look at you?

He tried to act like he didn’t even notice you coming closer until you sat next to him on the couch; you were a little close, sitting on your side and putting one of your arms up on the back of the sofa cushions like you were trapping him in. He put his legs together so they wouldn’t bump into your knees which were dangerously close to him now.

“You look bored,” you noticed.

“Yeah? I wonder why,” he replied with a small smirk.

“You didn’t really tell me how you’ve been,” you remembered. “What’s boarding school like?”

“Uh, you know, pretty much your average hellhole,” he joked— not that it wasn’t at least mostly true. “Not that living at home would be all that much better.”

“You Barton boys get into any trouble up there?” you asked, and he shrugged a bit.

“Some,” he said. “If you’re not an idiot, you can mostly avoid getting caught for anything.”

“Like what?” you pressed. “Do kids ever get busted with pot?”

“Oh, all the time,” he laughed. “It’s really not hard to get away with it, honestly. I mean, I never got caught, so…”

You raised an eyebrow. “You smoke?”

He loved the way you said it, not quite under your breath but a secretive mumble. He just shrugged again, and you laughed a little. “What?” he wondered.

“You just don’t seem the type,” you explained.

“You don’t know me that well,” he countered, lowering his voice, hoping you would pick up on the undertone. But if you did, you didn’t quite respond to it.

“Well, are you the type to sneak out of this boring dinner and go smoke?” you wondered. He thought you looked really sexy asking him a question like that, eyes lighting up as you suggested something that risky.

He grinned excitedly. “Right now?”

“You’re not scared to get caught, are you?” you challenged.

“Fuck no,” he laughed, “let’s do it.”

“Where are we gonna go?” he wondered aloud, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.

“My car,” you explained, having to talk a little louder to be heard over the wind. “I’m parked down the street— by the park, so nobody’s gonna notice us.”

You trudged through the snow together, each step a deep crunch into the frozen snow, and you squinted your eyes when a sharp, icy wind struck right in your face.

You picked up the pace a bit when you saw your car, excited to escape the freezing cold; and as you turned the key in the driver’s door, unlocking the rest, Angus came up beside you.

“Get in on the other side,” you told him, and he walked around the back as you got in yourself.

When you first got in the car, you could still see your breath in the air— but it was still a nice reprieve from the wind outside, and you unzipped your coat and tossed it into the passenger seat in front of you. Angus hopped in a moment later, and when he shut his door, you were both submerged suddenly into the quietest place you’d been all night. No wind, no dinner guests, no records playing— just each other’s breathing.

You considered turning the heat on, but you figured the chill would pass soon enough with Angus’ and your own body heat filling the space.

You clicked on the ceiling light, a dim yellow glow illuminating the inside of the car and really bringing out the dinginess of the grey-beige carpet and fabric all over everything. He simply sat on the seat, waiting patiently with his legs spread a bit and his hands on his knees, blowing out a breath through his cheeks which swelled with air; he watched you lean back and open the front console, bending somewhat awkwardly over it to reach in and rifle around.

“There we go,” you mumbled as your hand found the fabric bag underneath loose bills and receipts; you pulled it out and opened the drawstring, revealing with a proud smile the baggy inside. “Ta-da!” you announced softly, brandishing the crushed leaf and rolling papers. “Wanna show me your joint-rolling skills?”

You held the bag towards him in offering, but he shook his head and seemed to shrink away slightly. “N-no, I’ll let you do the honors,” he decided in a soft voice.

You rubbed your hands together to try to warm them up first, because the detailed task was trickier with cold fingers, but you managed alright in the end. His eyes were glued to the way your tongue slid along the paper before sealing it; it did intrigue you just a bit, wondering what he was imagining while you did that.

“Were you always a bad girl, and I just didn’t know it?” he asked. “Or did college make you more rebellious?”

“A bad girl, huh?” you snorted, and his face flushed a bit.

“That didn’t sound weird in my head,” he promised.

“Save it for when you can blame it on the flower, dude,” you laughed as you handed him the blunt and got your lighter ready. “You can have the first hit, I’ll light it up for you.”

He put it between his lips as you struck the BIC, and he leaned forward until the end was in the flames.

You watched him breathe it in, that singe-y, crispy sound of the weed burning with each inhale making you smile a bit in anticipation… though you had to admit, it wasn’t just your excitement to get high that had your heart beating faster.

He only managed to hold it in for a second before coughing roughly, clearly trying to suppress it at first before bringing his fist to his mouth and really hacking a few times. You smacked him on the back with a grin, and he nodded at you; poor thing, his eyes were all red, actually his whole face was red, but he eventually recovered.

“You don’t really smoke, do you?” you noticed with a tilted smile.

He cleared his throat and shook his head. “N-not really, no,” he admitted. “I mean, I’ve tried it before, I swear—”

“It’s fine,” you assured, “I just don’t want you losing a lung.”

“Let me try again,” he pleaded, reaching for the blunt, but you held it away from him and laughed.

“I’ve got a better idea, this might make it easier,” you offered, leaning in closer. He seemed to tense up a bit, like he wasn't sure what you were leaning in for, but he watched you with half-lidded eyes as you took a long drag.

You grabbed his jaw— not hard, but enough to make him open his mouth a bit— and exhaled the smoke into his face. He got the idea and breathed in deeply, staring right into your eyes.

“Better?” you asked.

“U-um, yeah,” he whispered, “I didn't cough that time…”

“Then we’ll just do it this way,” you decided, biting your lip a little when he shifted in the seat. You were having way too much fun with him, and you knew it was unfair, but how often do you get to tease somebody like this?

After a few more hits that way, you saw his eyes get a little glassier. You yourself were starting to feel it, and you smiled at him as you brought your mouth a bit closer to his for the next shared breath.

“How does it feel?” you asked him softly as you leaned back again— he chased you for a minute, like he wanted to stay close, but relaxed quickly.

“U-uh, kinda… floaty…” he mumbled. “Don’t you think my parents are gonna notice the smell when we go back in?”

“I’ve got perfume for that,” you explained.

“So I’m gonna smell, like… fruity?” he frowned, and you giggled.

“That’s what you think my perfume smells like?” you wondered.

“Yeah, not— not that I was, you know… sniffing you…” he trailed off, face getting pink again, and you laughed.

“I think you need another hit,” you decided, and he nodded in agreement. Inhaling deeply, you pulled him closer and breathed into his open mouth, looking back into his eyes through the thin veil of excess smoke.

After that, you leaned back against the door, basking for a moment in your own high. You watched the snow falling outside the window, letting your vision get a little blurry; the quietness of the moment didn’t seem awkward to you at all, it seemed peaceful, but apparently Angus was the more anxious type of smoker and felt the need to break the silence. “I always had the biggest crush on you,” he blurted out, and you sighed a bit, lips pressing into a pitying smile even though you didn’t look back at him. “I was kinda surprised you didn’t notice…”

“I did,” you mumbled.

“R-really?” he choked. “I, uh… I thought you just saw me as some little twerp.”

“I did,” you said again, smiling wider, and he laughed nervously.

“Oh,” he nodded as he looked away, “that’s… fair.”

He only let the silence linger for a second before interrupting it again.

“But I’ve grown up a lot, you know,” he reminded you. “I’m eighteen.”

“You mentioned that.”

“Right. Um,” he stalled, “but it’s not just that. I mean, I like to think I’m pretty… mature. At least, I am compared to the idiots at my school— but I probably still seem like a little kid to you. I can’t really compete with college guys…”

“Compete?” you repeated, tilting your head. “What are you competing for?”

“O-oh, I just meant like, um—” he stammered, and you scooted closer to him on the seat with a devious smile.

“What are you competing with those ‘college guys’ for, Angus?” you pressed again. “My attention?”

“Some… something like that, yeah,” he answered, speaking a little softer.

“Well, there’s not much competition here, is there?” you noticed, looking around the car. “It’s just you and me… we’re alone.”

He started to open his mouth to speak, but you reached up to drag one finger over his chest for a moment, and he only choked out a little gasp. “Yeah, I… guess that’s true,” he mumbled, going back and forth from watching your finger draw circles on his sweater to watching your face.

You wordlessly brought the joint to your lips again, seeing that it was about halfway gone already. You took a long, deep breath in, exhaling towards him without really pursing your lips, letting him come closer for his share this time. Except, finally, this time he didn’t stop. He just kept leaning in towards you until his lips brushed over yours and you shut your eyes.

His kiss was patient, almost too gentle, like he was holding back. You set the joint aside quickly in the ashtray and brought your hands up to his face, so you could kiss him a little harder and maybe encourage him somehow. It seemed to work; he got a little more ambitious, moving his lips against yours, sighing gently as you combed your fingers through his wild curls.

You heard the wind howl outside, whistling around the car, not that you really paid much attention to it. Instead, your attention was drawn to the way his hands were still sat in his lap; you smirked a little. What a polite boy.

“You can touch me, you know,” you whispered to him, never breaking away from his lips. One of your hands wrapped gingerly around one of his wrists, guiding it to your waist.

“Right, sorry,” he mumbled back, grabbing onto you with a touch more confidence. He even pulled you a little closer as you kissed him harder, your hands traveling up to his shoulders in return.

Other than needing some guidance on the auxiliary stuff, Angus was a good kisser. You were actually a little surprised when he slipped his tongue into your mouth, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise: it seemed like a good sign he wasn’t holding back anymore.

One of your legs hiked up over his, just something instinctive to keep him close, and his hand trailed down over your hip to caress that leg; it was a shame you needed tights for the weather, because you would’ve loved to feel his touch right on your skin. “These are cute,” he informed you in a mumble against your lips, quickly pinching and popping the elastic-y fabric back against your leg. You broke away to look down at his hand on your thigh, which he did as well.

“Really?” you asked sweetly, not sure you were pulling off the innocent vibe of the question.

“Yeah,” he nodded, meeting your gaze again, “I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

You hummed and he kissed you again— and this time, as his hand slid back up to your waist, it took a route along the curve of your ass. You wouldn’t have minded at all if he got a nice handful of it, pulled you closer, gotten a little rougher with you… but obviously, he didn’t. It was still Angus, after all.

In fact, it took a few more minutes of kissing for him to even muster the courage to touch your chest through your sweater, but you both sighed a bit when he finally did. He groped at you a bit, but you didn’t care much for all the layers in between, so you sat up and perched yourself in his lap, breaking the kiss to shed your blazer and pull your sweater up over your bra. “O-oh,” he breathed as you did it, and you felt something tighten up inside you when he absent-mindedly bit his lip.

You sighed shakily, even though you didn’t know why you felt just a bit nervous— and you pulled your bra up, too, exposing yourself entirely to him.

He whispered your name; your pussy clenched again instantly.

He put his hands over you carefully, and you jumped slightly when those long fingers of his brushed over your skin— and he pulled back quickly in response. “Fuck, are my hands cold? I’m sorry,” he stammered nervously, but you just smiled back at him.

“It’s fine,” you promised, and he put his hands back on you with a long sigh.

“Wow,” he mumbled under his breath. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the wide-eyed, awe-filled stare that never left your tits as he carefully massaged them; he toyed with your nipples briefly before groping a bit more confidently, your hips shifting in his lap without you really meaning for them to.

Your smile fell, though, when he suddenly leaned forward and latched his mouth onto one of them. “O-oh, fuck,” you mumbled under your breath as he suckled— rather voraciously, really— and fluttered his eyes shut, his tongue running all over the skin in his mouth. You looked down at him for a minute, thinking he looked pretty cute doing that, but had to shut your eyes and lean your head back when he sucked even harder at you. “Fuck, Angus—”

“Does that feel good?” he asked quietly as he broke away; you bit your lip and nodded, and he moved to the other one as you leaned back even further, held up only by the front seats. He, of course, gladly leaned forward with you to stay close, and kept a hand on the breast no longer in his mouth.

You could’ve sworn you felt yourself get especially wet when his tongue swirled around your nipple, and through the high that clouded your brain (equally from the pot and the pleasure) you realized that you were about to fuck Angus Tully. You sort of couldn’t believe it, and yet the thought didn’t disgust or offend you as much as you thought it would. You figured you would at least feel a little more guilty, but… you didn’t. Not very much, at least. Certainly not enough to stop you.

You sat back up and moved your hips back a bit, making him stop what he was doing just to wonder what you were up to; he groaned a bit when you reached down between your own legs to try to open his belt. “O-oh, fuck,” he whispered, lifting his hips a bit as well to make it easier for you to reach. “We're really gonna—?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, finally getting his belt open and working on his button and fly next; you could feel his cock already through the fabric, and it flexed a bit against the back of your hand in anticipation.

He groaned a little when you reached into his boxers and wrapped your hand around his length.

“You're so hard,” you noticed with a little gasp, gripping him tighter as you tried to (carefully) pull his cock out of the khakis and plaid underwear.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “fuck, yeah… you're really, um— you're hot.”

You giggled a bit, glancing up at his nervous expression. “You're sweet,” you offered, but your mouth was agape when you finally got a glimpse of him. “You're… fuck, Angus, you're big…”

“Oh, uh, really?” he perked up, cock flexing against your palm.

Giving him a few lazy strokes as you nodded, you giggled when his hips started to buck up towards your touch. “Fuck, I want you,” you moaned softly, and his cock just flexed in your hand again.

“You— god, you can’t even imagine how long I’ve wanted you,” he assured, making you smile wide.

“I’m sure I can, but I’ll try not to,” you decided as you let go of him. He seemed disappointed until he realized why: reaching up under your skirt, you pulled your tights and panties down your thighs.

“What if somebody sees?” he wondered nervously.

“They’re all busy inside, nobody’s coming out here in this weather,” you assured. “I can turn the light off if you want though—”

“N-no,” he stopped you before you could keep reaching for the ceiling light. “No, I still wanna see.”

You laughed a little and kissed him again, quickly. “Me too,” you agreed as you lifted yourself up over his lap, guiding his cock’s head to your entrance.

He sighed a little as soon as it touched you, but that was nothing compared to the way he reacted when you lowered yourself and he slipped inside.

“Fuck,” you groaned deeply, loving the way he stretched you out— not painful, but just the right amount of challenge. The body high seemed to make everything a little extra tingly and soft, though you didn’t have a sober version of this experience to compare it to.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, “oh my god…”

You finally sank down completely into his lap, and he took hold of your waist with a little moan. “Fuck,” you said again, more of a whisper, your head falling back as you started to rock against him. “Oh, it’s so deep, Angus—”

He interrupted you with a sort of whine, like he couldn’t take hearing you talk like that… but that just made you want to do it more.

“So fucking good,” you praised with a sigh, feeling him press his forehead against your chest as he moaned quietly. “You feel so fucking good…”

He whimpered, grabbing on painfully-tight to your hips, until his head fell back and his Adam's apple bobbed with each noise he made.

A sharp, needy moan jumped out of his throat— and at the same time, you felt him pulse inside you. Your eyes went wide as he relaxed slightly under you. “Did you… just come?” you asked.

He was still panting, his face starting to flush red. “Um… yeah?” he replied breathlessly. “Sorry, I-I tried not to—”

“It’s okay,” you promised with a soft laugh, “are you— or, uh, were you a virgin?”

“Uh…” he stalled anxiously. “Yeah, I am— or was— sorry, I should’ve said something, but I thought you might—”

“It’s fine,” you assured, resting a hand on his chest to try to soothe him. “It’s cute, honestly. I don’t mind being your first.”

“I always wanted you to be,” he admitted. “I imagined it like this.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the car. “Like this?”

“Well, not exactly like this,” he laughed. “There was a lot more time involved, for one, and a bed. And whipped cream—”

“Okay, let’s not unpack all that right now,” you interjected, “we should get cleaned up and go back inside anyway…”

You tried to get off his lap, but he held you down by your hips (with more strength than you expected from him) and pleaded with you: “No, wait, not yet— I want you to come, too.”

“It’s okay, really, we need to go back before your parents notice you’re gone,” you insisted.

“No, they don’t care— please? Please just keep going? I’m still hard, I can—”

“Angus,” you interrupted, and he sighed a little because he knew already you weren’t going to be convinced. “You’ll get another chance to make me come, alright? We just have to get back inside now.”

He lit up instantly. “Really? So we can— we’ll do this again?”

“If you want,” you shrugged.

“Hmm, no thanks— I’ll just go back to being a horny loser,” he joked, making you snort. “Of course I wanna see you again. I can’t believe I have to do… anything else but that until then!”

“You’ll live,” you promised as you got up off of him— you both winced, but you mostly just focused on getting your panties and tights back up before anything, uh, spilled.

You pulled your bra and sweater down again, and figured out where your blazer ended up so you could slip it back on while Angus lifted his hips to be able to get himself back into the khakis.

Opening the console again, you put your paraphernalia back in and dug around for a glass bottle instead. “Hopefully this can cover up weed and sex,” you said as you spritzed yourself a couple times with the perfume, then got him once or twice for good measure.

“How am I supposed to hide this?” he asked with an annoyed groan, struggling to adjust his boner inside his trousers in a way that wasn’t obvious.

“Sorry, all I can help with is the smell,” you laughed, putting the perfume back and slipping your coat on. “You ready?”

“Yeah, guess so,” he sighed, “ready as I’ll ever be. W-wait— can I kiss you one more time first, before we go?”

You thought it was funny, and sweet, that he thought he had to ask. You nodded, and he pulled you into a kiss that was much more passionate than you expected. Not filthy or anything, but not as tired and slow as you expected after just coming. His hands held your head, and you had to really remind yourself not to get lost in it before your better judgment was overruled.

Pulling back slowly, you looked at him for a second and wondered if anyone had ever looked back at you quite like that before.

You leaned for the door handle, but just before you pulled it, a final thought popped into your mind. “Oh, I almost forgot— Merry Christmas, by the way,” you offered him with a smile.

“Yeah, no shit,” he laughed, almost sounding like he was in disbelief, “that’s about the merriest fucking Christmas I’ve ever had.”

[series masterlist here]

#angus tully x reader #angus tully smut #angus tully x you

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thepersonnamedsam · 4 months

Note

helloo, just wondering if I could request an imagine for gen z driver and everything that happened last weekend in Qatar! How the heat affected her, and maybe something dramatic and how the other drivers, fans and teams maybe worried about her, thank u sm<3

a random day in my life in f1

pairing: the genz!driver x 23!grid

summary: a vlog about our beloved genz!drivers day in the paddock

word count: 2k

warnings: none

note: merry christmas and a happy new year!

thanks for staying with me this year and into the new one :)

it’s not exactly like you asked and i’m sorry for that… but this has been sitting in my drafts for sooo long, and i just had to like give it some meaning…

masterlist / taglist

The vlogging camera was always secured somewhere in her bags, but she almost never used it. Being overwhelmed fast by all of the other cameras, she didn’t want to create herself more anxiety. But today was different.

„Hi guys!“ Her face appeared on the screen. Much too close, you could almost see her pimples she got from her sweaty balaclava.

The camera swayed and the paddock was shown. „We‘re here in Qatar, it’s beautiful. It is-“, the video switched to her watch „-2pm on a Thursday, that means Free Practice!“

Light music played in the background of the video, but you could still hear the busy paddock. People talking and walking in the background. Sometimes there would even be shouting, but y/n didn’t care, she just smiled into the camera.

„I’ll take you with me through my day! Are you excited? I bet you are“, she smiled. „Uhm, Qatar is a night race, as many of you probably know… but FP1 is still in daylight, which I’m glad, because I can actually see the track and not just feel it-“, she gestures the curves of the track with her hand „-you know? Yea…“, she mumbles the last part.

The video switches to a different setting. y/n now standing inside of her garage: „I have to be careful what I show here, it’s like Hippa in hospitals“, she laughs, „with privacy and all, we don’t want the other teams to know what strategies we’ve been working on.“

„But that’s my car“, she points to the newly polished F1 car, „she got a new look just for this race, can you believe it?“ The camera sways around the car to show off the new design.

„It’s really hot here, make sure to drink enough guys!“ An animation of a glass being filled with water appeared on the screen. „If it works, you should see some water right now“, the young driver grins.

The view changes again, this time to her watch: „We have 3.30pm, it’s time for me to warm up, but I’m actually already very hot, so maybe my trainer will let me off?“ She looks expectantly at her trainer, who only shakes his head no. „Aww man, worth a shot though.“

She placed the camera on the ground to film her warmup. The timelapse shows how she starts to lightly jog on the place. Her trainer starts to throw tennis balls at her. You couldn’t hear it in the video, but he shouts with which hand she has to catch the ball.

The music was catchy and in best with her rope jumping. y/n face was red and she was sweating extremely. She was puffing and breathing heavily. In this humid weather, even inside the cooling garage, it was hard to train. How would she survive in an already 40° hot car, for over 50 laps?

The music stops, so does the timelapse. You can see y/n breathing loud as she laid on the floor. Her head turned towards the camera and she smiles lightly. „Phew, never doing that again“, she laughs.

The video changes again, as y/n walks down the paddock to visit some of her friends: „I’m on my way to the McLaren hospitality. Lando and I have that tradition for Free Practice. We always get a smoothie before, so we don’t have to drink some weird protein shake.“

The view sways around and you can see the bright orange from McLaren. You could hear Lando before he was even in the video. His laugh loud and prominent. „Hi y/n‘s fans!“, he waves into the camera.

„This is Lando Norris, if you didn’t know. He drives for McLaren!“, she explains to her viewers. „I hope they know who I am…“, Lando pouts. She shushes him and giggles.

„What smoothie are you gonna get?“, she asks Lando. „McLaren hospitality has the best smoothies, I swear. Mine doesn’t even have smoothies, can you believe that?“

„Uhm, I think I’ll get the green one, I don’t want to hear anything from Jon, so that’s the only safe option“, he sighs. y/n grimaces, as the green smoothie tastes the worst.

„I think I want the red one, the one with the dragonfruit in it, so I can fly through this Free Practice like a dragon“, she laughs.

Lando rolls his eyes but still has to laugh at her shitty joke. „That was such a bad joke.“ - „But you love me anyway“, y/n grins.

You see y/n full on sweaty and with a red head. „Free Practice is done, it was hot, like really hot, Imma hop into my ice bath for a second and yea. I’ll probably go to the Hotel after to cool down, so I’m fully prepared for Qualifying.“

A shot of the pink rubber duck floating in the ice bath was shown. The duck was flipped and it showed the temperature of the water. 8°C. Perfect for a hot day like this.

„Ohh, I’m almost vaporising“, y/n laughs as she submerges in the water. „My skin is so hot and the water so cold, it’s like I’m the hot metal they put into water, I love this videos, I binge watch them before I go to sleep“, she confesses.

„Anyway, have you seen my pink ducky? I got it from Carlos! I was jealous of his, so he bought me my own temperature duck, isn’t that sweet?“

The next shot was y/n in her hotel room. She was laying in her bed, scrolling through her phone and occasionally laughing. The view was amazing, the sun was setting and you could see so much of Qatar.

„Good morning! It’s Friday then, it’s Saturday, Sunday, what?“

„Welcome“, she laughs, „I’m eating breakfast together with Max, say hi Max!“, Max waves into the camera. „I’m eating Avocado Toast with some Salmon - good fats for my body and Max is eating, actually, what are you eating Max?“

The view changes to Max‘ plate. There was a mix of different things, like some roaster potatoes and beans and some weird, almost wool like thing on his plate. „It’s potatoes, beans and some sauerkraut“, he explains. „What? Sauerkraut?“ - „Yea, I don’t know, apparently it’s good for your body.“

y/n makes a face of disgust and the screen goes black for a second.

„Okay, Q1 and Q2 are finished, got stuck in Q2, but I’m glad I don’t have to start in Q3 honestly, I can focus on the Sprint Shootout later. It’s hot in the car, hotter than usual.“

The scene changes, again to y/n laying exhausted on the floor. From the side you can see Oscar creeping up with a big glass of water. The moment the water hits y/n‘s skin, she’s up and about chasing the rookie.

„Oscar!“ And she sprints out of the view. The screen goes black and then you can see Oscar’s wet hair and two smiley young drivers. „She dumped me“, he huffs. „Into the water“, she says for clarification.

„It’s race day!“, she screams into the camera. „Well sprint day“, she says less excited. „I hate driving in these conditions. It’s way too hot, I’d rather drive on ice than this.“

The scenery changes again, cars driving around the parking lot. „I came here with Charles and Carlos, we’re staying at the same hotel and to save our carbon footprint, with all the excessive driving we do anyway, we thought we carpooled.“

You can see Charles driving and Carlos sitting in the passenger seat. „They wouldn’t let me drive, even though I’m an F1 driver“, she sighs. You can hear Carlos laugh and say: „Have you seen your driving style on the street? No way I would sit in that car.“

The young woman shakes her head and tuts. „You wouldn’t understand“, she whispered into the camera. Charles laughs.

„You know, for you being Australian, you’re still very sweaty.“ - „What? I’m not sweaty, that’s my natural glow“, Daniel laughs. „Natural for sure“, she mumbles.

„What even are you doing? You’ve been walking around with that thing for the past three days“, Danny asks. „I’m vlogging!“ - „You’re what?“, he asks confused. „You’re old, that’s what you are. It’s like blogging but with a video, so it’s vlogging“, she explains with a sigh. The older out of the two just makes an ‚oh‘ sound and laughs.

„I wanted to make a ‚a random day in my life in f1‘ video but it turned out to be a ‚a random four days in my life in f1‘ video.“

Fernando looks confused at y/n. „What?“, he blinks at her. „You know, it should’ve been a video about one day, now it’s about the whole race week“, she explains. „Ahh, okay“, Fernando answers, still unsure what the younger driver tries to explain him. „You wanna say hi?“, she asks him.

„Hi“, he replies. Fernando was not yet in view, but you could hear him. „Into the camera, Nando. You know how this works, you’ve done press and TikTok!“

„Hi“, he says again, this time Fernandos forehead was in excellent view. You could hear y/n‘s giggles as he took the camera out of her hand. „This is for my wife, Taylor, who’s cheating with another athlete!“

The camera was set down and Fernando stood up. „What are you doing?“, y/n‘s giggles continued. „Play Cardigan by Taylor Swift please“, he whisper shouts. As soon as the music begins, Fernando dances and sings to it.

„This is me before the sprint“, y/n looks into the camera and holds up a piece sign, „And this is me after the sprint.“ Face red and puffy. „Athletes sweat, I‘m a real athlete“, she quotes Daniel.

The camera sways to Oscar, who won his first race/sprint. „How do you feel, Mr. Piastri?“ - „I’m hot and sweaty, I wanna drown myself in an iceberg or something.“

„Yea same“, she huffs. „Listen, this race is exhausting. We drive in an unnormal heat, alone in the car it’s 40°C when the outside temperature is like 20°C. But the outside temperature here is already like 40°C, imagine what it’s like inside our cars.

This is for the FIA: I lost like 7kg this sprint race alone, just from sweating. What about you, Os?“ - „I don’t know if I want to say anything to the FIA“, he says lowly. „Ahh, they won’t see that anyway“, she reassures him. „I lost like eight pounds, maybe?“ - „How much is that in kilograms?“, she asks him slowly. He laughs and says: „Maybe 3.5kg.“

„Mr. Verstappen how many kilograms did you lose today?“, she shouts over the paddock. Max halts and turns around to face the camera that was shoved in his face.

„The scale says five, why? How much did you lose?“ - „Seven! Can you believe that?“

„This race really is torture, and we only raced, what, 16 laps? I don’t know.“ - „Can’t wait for tomorrow“, Lando sighs.

The screen goes black for a second again, before the same music started from her warm up at Free Practice. The timelapse begins again and you can see y/n sweating.

Occasionally she sits down to have a sip of water, but her trainer gets her up again. Her face appears wide in front of the camera and she starts to sing the lyrics as the music fades.

„Race day, baby, hoping for a good result today! I feel it in my sweat that I’ve been losing over the past few days“, she jokes.

She gets filmed as she gets into her car, it’s being rolled out of the garage and she makes the shaka with both her hands.

We get a few scenes as she drives past the start line and as she crosses the finish line, the radio messages was overlaid on the video.

„That is P4, baby!“, her race engineer shouted. „Yes! C‘mon! I almost fainted the last three laps, but totally worth it!“

You can see the podium being filmed from the ground. Max won, of course but; „Oscar and Lando! Woohoo! P2 and P3 for my Papaya Boys“, she screams as the McLaren drivers received their trophy.

The video ends with y/n sneaking into the room where they celebrated their podium in private. They were all exhausted.

„You reek of sweat and champagne“, y/n says from behind the camera. All three laugh and Max throws his towel at her camera. The screen goes black.

Comments 3.2K

user i- what was this?

user2 love, love, LOVE the smoothie tradition

user3 qatar should be banned from the schedule

user4 what do you mean, you almost fainted on the last 3 laps? what is going on?

user5 i heard lance almost fainted too

user6 this is cruel, but also love the content

user7 I WANT TO CRADLE HER AND TELL HER EVERYTHING IS OKAY AND THAT SHE CAN TAKE AN ICY SHOWER

user8 kimi would’ve walked straight to his yacht

user9 nando’s so right playing cardigan

user10 I KNEW YOU, PLAYING HIDE AND SEEK AND GIVING ME YOUR WEEKENDS!

youtube this was… eventful?

user11 ariana, what are you doing here?

user12 that’s so old

user13 shut up, they’re probably from all the tiktok edits here on yt

user11 what’s tiktok?

user14 love the new content

f1 wowza, y/n is just stealing our job! next stop: y/n hosts grill the grid

°°°

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#f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #daniel ricciardo #charles leclerc #fernando alonso #genz driver #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #max verstappen x f!reader #max verstappen x reader #female driver #female f1 driver

1K notes · View notes

pretty-little-mind33 · 21 days

Text

The Alcott

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: You love James but he loves Lily. It's simple… until it isn't so simple anymore.

Genre: Angst (happy ending)

Warnings: James x Lily mentioned, "unrequited" love, idiots in love, swearing, violence, harassment, crying, arguments, protective!james, jealous!james, stupid!james, Lily isn't a villain (pls i love her!)

You know two things for certain—

You're head over heels in love with James.

He's head over heels in love with Lily.

In the beginning, you saw the entire situation as some messy game of cat & mouse, and you'd been determined to win. You had foolishly been convinced Lily didn't like James in any way. It never seemed like she had any interest in him.

And James? Well, James adored your attention. It very clearly sparked his already enormous ego, and you couldn't deny you liked the thrill of him liking your shameless flirting.

It was fun and harmless while it lasted and it seemed like there was a mutual understanding to both pretend you didn't notice the stolen looks, or shy smiles, the feel of his hand brushing yours in the hallway, the small written notes in class, or the letters he'd sent over the summer…and of course the present he'd left you for your 17th birthday; a small, necklace with expensive tiny rubies.

It felt surreal.

It was surreal because the moment you find out James has been dating Lily since Christmas break you feel sick. "Lily? Lily Evans?" You ask your friends, almost choking on your scrambled eggs.

"Yeah. Apparently, Marls said that Lily kissed James in the Common Room after his practice yesterday," Mary says, immersed in the gossip, "Either way, I heard from Sirius Black that they've been inseparable ever since New Year. He says it's rather annoying."

You hear her muffle a yelp as Pandora kicks her shin from underneath the table. "Oh, I forgot you like James, Y/n," Mary says and sends you a sympathetic smile.

You feel crushed inside but you force a smile, "Me? Oh, please. I can find so much better than Potter. He was just a silly crush," you swat your hand in the air, "I'm already over him," you say.

Pandora doesn't look like she believes you but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she and Mary let you sit in silence and pretend not to know you're unintentionally staring at James and his friends from across the dining hall.

James is laughing and your chest tightens. He seems over the moon as he has his arm around Lily's shoulder and she looks at him with a look you've never seen her wear. She actually looks like she's enjoying his jokes now.

You can't help yourself as you start to compare yourself to Lily. You chew on your nails as you start to remember every insecurity you've ever had and you feel miserable.

You aren't really supposed to feel miserable, you reason, deep down you knew James wasn't yours. He was always hers. He was just waiting for her to claim him and you were a silly distraction.

You pry your eyes away from James and Lily when he stands up. You think he sees you for a moment because you can feel his stare. However, when you lift your head and make eye contact for a moment. James's expression is unreadable and he's the first to turn his head. He grins and continues his conversation with Lily as you're frozen in time.

"Y/n?" Mary calls your name and time resumes.

"Yeah?" you whisper, composing yourself and crossing your arms on the table.

"Here," she hands you a crumpled-up note and points behind her, "It's from Danny."

You take the note from Mary and tilt your head to see Danny Dulac staring at you from the Slytherin table. Danny Dulac is the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. He's tall, extremely smart, and has the silkiest blond hair.

Danny sends you a smile and motions toward the paper in your hand which reads:

~I heard Potter is out of the picture now. Does this mean you're free for a Butterbeer on Saturday?~

You think it's a joke but when you look up, Danny looks dead serious. Mary leans over and when she sees the note over your shoulder, she exclaims, "Oh my Merlin, Danny just asked you out!" she pushes on your shoulder excitedly and you shush her.

You stare at the cursive and your mind races. You spent so many years liking James that it had never even crossed your mind that you could like other boys, or that they could like you.

"Well? Answer him," Pandora insists and makes a little circle motion with her hand.

Once you find a quill from inside your book-bag, you reply with a small, enthusiastic,

~Yes!~

* * *

Over the week leading up to Saturday, you try to pretend James and Lily don't exist.

It's much easier than you imagined because you have Danny's to pay attention to now. Turns out Danny Dulac is a gentleman who carries your books in the hallway and compliments you whenever he has the chance.

You don't feel the loss you felt when you found out James and Lily kissed—at least not when James isn't staring at you from afar. You knew James wasn't that fond of Danny—being the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and all—but ever since Danny has been hanging around you it seems like James can't stand the guy.

It's confusing, especially because James hasn't made any attempts to talk to you since his relationship with Lily became public.

You sit in Potions next to Marlene when Remus Lupin comes up to you. "Y/n?" he asks in a quiet voice and you look up at him, "It's from James," he shows you the note in his hand and you stare at it like it's one of James's stupid pranks.

You thank Remus and open it anyway,

~Meet me at Hogsmeade on Saturday?~

Without a word to Remus, you scribble an answer,

~I have a date~

You fold the torn parchment and hand it to Remus. You watch him walk back to James and Sirius. When James sees you've actually written him a response, his eyes sparkle and he hides a smile. However, his smile disappears once he reads the contents and you’ve never seen him so perturbed.

He starts to scribble on the paper and, with his eyes focused on you, hands it to Remus.

Remus shakes his head adamantly so James then tries to hand it to Sirius, who also shakes his head. James's last option is Peter but the poor boy has fallen asleep on his Potions book.

You smile. Your attention is pulled from them when you see Danny next to you.

"Hi," he smiles.

"Hi," you answer and the last thing that could possibly be on your mind is James Potter.

* * *

You pull at the hem of your dress and adjust your jumper nervously. Danny has just made the same joke he made a few hours earlier and you really try and force out another chuckle.

"You ok? You look a little warm," Danny says foam from the beer lays across his upper lip.

You blink. You like him, you try to convince yourself, he's smart and super handsome and he carries your books for Merlin's sake—

"I'm completely fine, continue?" you smile sweetly and lean in towards him from across the table. You want to look interested.

Danny smirks and looks around. "Wanna go somewhere quieter?"

No, you want to say. You won't want to go anywhere with him because that means you have to listen to him some more and he's oh so boring.

Only you don't say no, you say, "Sure," and allow him to take your hand.

Once you've found a small, empty corner of The Three Broomsticks, Danny pushes you to the wall. His hand is resting near your forehead and he leans in as if he wants to kiss you. You panic and push him away, "Oh I'm super warm actually. One second," You turn and your hands tremble as you pull your jumper over your head and let it slide down your arms.

Danny looks a little annoyed when you turn back around. His eyes lower and he frowns, "Pretty' necklace. Who's it from?" he points out and you look down.

James's necklace.

"Oh. A friend," you say dismissively and rush to unclip it as it falls into your hands.

"A friend huh?" Danny crosses his arms, "Is it from Potter?"

You feel your cheeks become warm. Why would he ask that? You aren't sure what expression you're making but it cannot be a normal one.

"No!" you say and Danny yanks the necklace from your hands. Your heart sinks as you try to take it back instantly.

Danny holds it away from you, making you feel small, "You can't keep this."

"Why not? It's mine," your lip wobbles.

"Because it's from him and he has a girl. It's completely inappropriate."

You lower your arm and your heart hurts. Is Danny right? Maybe you have thrown away the necklace as soon as you found out about James and Lily? Why are you still wearing it?

"Plus, if you want to be my girl you'll throw away this dirty necklace," Danny snarls as he runs his fingers along the silver chain. You freeze.

"What?" you can't believe he just said that.

"What?" Danny counters. He seems confused at your sudden shift in tone.

"I am not your girl. I don't want to be your girl."

"Bullshit, Y/n," Danny rolls his eyes and stuffs your necklace into his robe. He walks closer, this time menacingly, and you feel stuck. Your hands press against the wall and you look at him. Your eyes brim with tears, mostly in hopes he'll leave you alone when he sees them. Danny just raises his hand and harshly brushes them away with his thumb, "You should feel lucky someone like me even likes you," he smirks.

You feel like someone just punched you in the gut and you stutter, "Get away from me."

"No," Danny says and leans in. Only, he's suddenly ripped from in front of you and you inhale, surprised. You blink as Danny stumbles when someone seizes his collar. You feel someone else's hand on your shoulder and you turn to look at them.

"Are you okay?" Kind, considerate, Lily Evans whispers, concerned at your tears.

"What the fuck?!" You hear a loud crack as Danny groans in pain. You look towards the sound and see James Potter take Danny's collar again, his knuckles already stained a little crimson. James looks furious.

"Did you hurt her?" he hisses and shakes Danny like it's nothing.

Lily soothes you by rubbing your shoulders and she calls James's name as a warning.

"Hurt her? We're on a date, Potter. She wanted it," Danny snarls and you wince. You didn't want it. James looks at you and Lily from the corner of his eye and his heart breaks when he sees your expression.

"Fucking nutter!" James exclaims and punches Danny in the stomach. This time, Danny doesn't just take the hit. Instead, he tackles James and they trip onto the ground. Lily screams at her boyfriend and you scream Danny's name.

You try to pull Danny away from James but it's only when you hear a loud crack as Danny lands on his left thigh that he pauses. You gasp, covering your mouth with your hands, which makes James pause and he looks confused as Danny pulls out your necklace from inside his robe. The small rubies have shattered and when Danny opens his hand, the chain and the shards drop onto the ground.

He stands and taunts, "Some gift, huh Potter?" James's expression falls.

You crouch down, scooping the, now completely ruined, necklace into your palms. You try to hold in your tears and the world around you turns silent as you look at your present. "Shut it," You hear Lily snap at Danny and she doesn't hesitate to help you stand. Her arm holds yours and she looks almost as furious as James.

"She's crying because of you, you prat! Does that make you feel good about yourself, huh?" James points out with frustration.

You know he means well, but it doesn't help that he basically announced to the entirety of The Three Broomsticks that you're in tears. You sniffle and look at Danny. His blue eyes shine with a mixture of embarrassment, pity, shame, and resentment.

"Whatever," he just snarls, "She's not worth it. She never was," he says as if you aren't standing directly in front of him.

"You piece of shit," James hisses but Lily interrupts him.

"James. No," she scolds like a mother and James whips his head around to glare at her.

Instead, he makes eye contact with you and his face falls once more. His posture softens and, to your surprise, he doesn't move when Danny bumps his shoulder to leave.

"I'm sorry, James," you say sadly, still holding his present.

He looks confused and tilts his head as walks closer to you. Murmurs drift around the room as students continue to watch the scene. Lily looks around, seemingly just as uncomfortable as you, and James does the same.

He gestures to the door and raises one of his eyebrows in a question. Lily nods. Quietly, you follow them outside and as you walk.

James and Lily somehow find their way next to each other. It's almost automatic for them and your heart breaks. Lily whispers into James's ear and his eyes glance at you. You look away, insecurities burning your chest.

"You okay?" Lily asks, turning around when you start to fall back behind them.

You hum and pick at your nails, "I- I'm gonna go," you mutter. Lily wants to protest but, without a word, you stand before James and let the broken necklace fall into his open hands.

He looks at you with wide eyes and then clutches his hand around the necklace so fiercely. He shakes his head and your name leaves his lip but you don't wait for him to continue. You turn to leave—what can he possibly say now that will make you feel better?

"I like you!" His voice resonates in your ears as your breath leaves you. You turn around, almost hurting your neck. You couldn't have heard him correctly. Your eyes bounce to Lily but she doesn't look hurt. She doesn't even look surprised. Instead, she sends you a small smile.

You blink, "Pardon me?" You walk a little closer to James, "You like me? As in romantically or as a person?"

James starts to stutter, "R-romantically."

You look towards Lily, bewildered. "But, you're dating her!"

James turns to look at Lily just as she speaks up, "No, we broke up. We didn't even last more than maybe two weeks, Y/n." She laughs, "You two should really talk—"

James nods at her and then turns to you once more. His arms stretch out as if he wants to make sure you won't run away from him. "Please, Y/n. Hear me out." He sounds so small and for someone with such a big personality, you're suddenly afraid.

You find yourself nodding slowly and let him lead you behind The Three Broomsticks. James lets you lean against the wall and then he nervously runs a hand in his hair.

"James, I don't understand," you say quietly, "You like Lily. You have always liked Lily—I was always just some girl you entertained because you liked the attention. I've always known that."

James's face falls as he listens to you and you see his hands hesitate towards you. "You were never just some girl," he says adamantly.

You frown, "Yes, I was."

"No, you weren't," His voice rises and you press your back against the wall, staring at him as he explains, "Listen, I ended things with Lily. It was my decision. I realized I couldn't stay with her and do you want to know why?"

You shake your head instantly but he tells you anyway.

"Because she wasn't you. She didn't make me feel as full as you always do. When she laughed, I never had the same butterflies in my stomach," James pressed his hand to his chest, "My heart didn't feel compressed in my chest whenever I looked at her. I didn't blush at her compliments like I would yours, or want her to smile only because of me. Just like you used to. Bloody hell, I thought of you when I kissed her."

Your entire body feels warm as embarrassment washes over you. "Why did you then?" your voice breaks, "Why did you put me through that? You knew what I felt for you and you chose Lily anyway. How can I trust you now, James?"

You watch his lip tremble as he looks at you with his doleful brown eyes and your heart shatters for the fourth time this hour alone.

"I don't know," he buries his face in his hands, making an exasperated sound, " I know that answer isn't good enough for you, and I know I can't take back the pain you felt when you saw me with her. I do know that."

You don't know what to answer.

James runs a hand over his jaw and looks at you, "I suppose I couldn't let the fantasy go," he admits in a whisper.

You turn your head away, "Y-yeah—Lily Evans, the fantasy. I understand."

"W-what? No, that isn't what I meant!" James assures you, "I've been stuck on Lily for years. I know I didn't see you, but—but I see you now."

You stare at him. He looks so upset that your anger turns into pity, "James—"

"Y/n, please don't reject me. I can't bear it," his voice breaks as his eyes water. He walks closer and drops the broken necklace he'd given you in your palm. Your hand closes around it without thinking. "I've been such an idiot but I can't imagine losing you like this."

"You lost me the moment I saw you with Lily. You don't deserve to have me—not like this, and definitely not anymore," you say sternly and watch as you break the heart of the boy you're madly in love with.

"James, you strung me along for months and months, and then threw me away without hesitation for her. If you liked me, you would have never let me cry over you for weeks," your voice becomes louder.

James's hurt expression twists and his eyes darken, "You spent your days with Danny Dulac for fucks sake! What the hell was I supposed to do?" he also raises his voice.

"You aren't allowed to be jealous!" you say and push your index into his chest, tears streaming down your cheeks, "You ruined this," your voice dies as your hand flattens on his chest and he grasps it in his. James pulls you closer and leans his head onto yours.

For a moment, you let it rest there, but then you pull away. "I can't do this," you mutter, "you only want what you can't have, James," you whisper and you know your words would hurt him but you don't care. You hear him call your name as you walk away from him.

* * *

Over the next few months, it's as if you and James never existed.

You don't speak in class and when James wants to talk outside of classes, you ignore him. Eventually, he stops trying. He doesn't go back to Lily like you'd expected him to. Instead, time goes by, you both graduate, and it isn't until Marlene's 21st birthday that you see James Potter again.

He's in the middle of a small crowd: his smile as bright and wide as you remember. He's laughing like he would in school and you stand to the side of the room, suddenly unsure what to do with yourself.

When James sees you, his smile falters for a moment. He looks you up and down and when his eyes land on the necklace you're wearing, his heart thumps in his chest and he can't help but wander over to you. You almost run from him, but enough time has passed for you to stay still.

"Hi," James says, looking into your eyes.

You look up, your voice merely a whisper, "Hi."

Weirdly, conversation flows easily. You talk about work, hobbies, and eventually you land on relationships. Somehow you've found each other in a secluded side of the room, you're leaning against the wall as James's arm rests near your head. It isn't confrontational—no, instead you feel safe caged in his strong arms. Your eyes train on the muscles of his arm—of course he plays Professional Quidditch now. You need to remind yourself to pay more attention to Quidditch from now on.

"You seeing anyone?" James hums, his eyes flickering to your necklace again. You fiddle with it subconsciously and shake your head.

"You?"

James shakes his head too and he finally asks the question that's been burning his lips, "You fixed it," he raises his arm and his thumb skims the rubies.

You hum and nod. "I did."

"Why?"

You laugh and look at James. "Because I love this necklace," you pause a moment and you whisper, "And it reminds me of someone."

James seems surprised and he runs a hand in his curls. He looks at you and leans in a little. "C-can I?" he asks and a part of you wants to shake your head…tell him to fuck off. But, this is James Potter. He's the only boy you've ever loved—no matter who came after him. You nod and James's hand cups your cheeks as his lips press against yours.

"I've been thinking of doing this for years," he says breathlessly through his kisses.

I have too, you want to say but instead you just pull him closer.

"I love you," James says suddenly and pulls away. He looks flustered as he tries to explain himself. "I- I never stopped."

You look at him and utter three words James didn't think he'd ever hear, "Neither did I."

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lialacleaf · 9 months

Text

Simon Riley X Reader: Domestic Headcanons: Baking

Warnings: Simon misses his Mum :c, fluffy

Pt.2

Simon has very few fond memories of his family but he remembers how his Mum used to cook during the holidays, and would always involve him in the food prep to distract him from his Dad's foul mood.

After losing his family, cooking just isn't the same without his Mum, and even if he isn't on a mission he tries to avoid being in the kitchen because it just aches for him.

But then you come along, working on base under Laswell and Simon constantly hears you fiddling around in the kitchen. He avoids investigating like the plague for the first few weeks but eventually, his curiosity gets the better of him.

He finds you covered in flour in mid-October, making a pumpkin pie crust from scratch, and has to just stand there for a moment and watch in befuddlement as you swear at the bowl you just tipped over.

There's something bubbling on the stove, and you're too distracted to notice that your simmer pot is going to boil over. You've got a mix of orange and lemon slices with diced apple and cinnamon sticks. It's just like how his Mum used to make them.

The click of the stove dial has you jumping, having not noticed the shadowy figure of Ghost slipping into the kitchen.

"Heat's too high," he says, and you blink at him in confusion before understanding settles on your pretty face.

"Shoot! I...forgot to turn that down when I..." you gestured awkwardly to the bowl of flour and he tilts his masked chin downwards at you.

You give him an awkward smile before returning to the task of making your dough.

He doesn't leave immediately, just watches you struggle a bit with kneading the dough before he huffs and yanks his gloves off, pushing you to the side as he surprises you by properly kneading the dough, and laying it in the pie pan perfectly.

You watch him from the corner of your eye as you finish making the filling, and add it to the pie crust.

You can hardly believe that you're baking a pie with Lieutenant Ghost. You shrug it off however and pull two mugs from the cupboard, filling them both with the contents of your pot, however, when you turn around to offer him one, he's already gone.

The second time you're in the kitchen making apple turnovers for your co-worker's birthday, the window is open for you to enjoy an early November rainy day, and you're in your coziest pair of socks.

You almost don't recognize him, jumping at the sight of the tall blonde man who has materialized out of thin air to peel your apples. His eyes peek at you over the top of a black surgical mask, and you feel your heart stop, then start up again with a disjointed stutter as you take in the familiar chocolatey color.

He doesn't say anything, just peels the apples until the bag is empty. You reach for the last one and realize there's no Leuitenant to be seen.

The third time he joins you you're trying to perfect your gravy recipe. Most of the base's inhabitants have gone home for the holidays, but the few that have remained are planning a Thanksgiving potluck.

"You're still here." He actually makes you jump.

"Couldn't afford plane tickets for Christmas and Thanksgiving, and I'm not missing my Dad's pumpkin log and hot cocoa," you explain

He hums softly, leaning against the counter as he examines your cheese biscuits.

Your eyes widen slightly when you see him pull the surgical mask down just enough to take a large bite of the biscuit he nabbed off the tray.

You're greeted with the sight of a sharp jaw and full lips, and you quickly pull your eyes away, focusing on the gravy in your pot.

Something doesn't taste quite right, and you frown softly. Ghost leans over to take a deep whiff, bumping your shoulder in the process.

"You added salt?"

You offer him a deadpan expression.

"Scoot," he orders, pushing you aside and fishing a spoon out of the drawer. He nods to himself after a taste and proceeds to add a hefty helping of rosemary.

You try not to think about the fact that you've never seen his face before now as you try his concoction. It's not bad. "Where'd you learn how to cook, Ghost?"

He stares deeply at you for a few seconds, before he sets the spoon in the sink. "My Mum."

He leaves you after that, and you doubt you're going to see him at the potluck.

You don't see him in the kitchen again until December, and you're baking snickerdoodles to leave the boys with when you return to your family.

He's avoided the kitchen for a few weeks, and you're strangely relieved to see him lurking there.

"Wanted to give you this before you left."

He holds out a carefully wrapped package, and you accept it with a dumbfounded expression. He's out the door again before you've even thanked him.

A few days later you're sitting in the armchair of your parents' house, a pile of unwrapped presents at your feet as you carefully tear away the paper concealing the Leuitenant's gift. You're greeted with the sight of an old leather-bound book, one filled with handwritten recipes you realize upon closer inspection and an elegant Mrs. Riley engraved on the front page.

You have a feeling Ghost will be joining you in the kitchen more often. Maybe even Simon.

AN: Requests are always open!

#simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #tf 141 #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader

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chaepink · 3 months

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My Kind of Present | sub!gojo satoru

wc: 1.6k words | masterlist

dom!gn!reader, praise, use of a vibrator, slight degradation, bondage, ooc gojo kinda, fluffy ending

note: I’m back yall 🫶 also this is Christmas inspired so pretend it’s December again

The noise of your shoes on the stairs throughout the building you're in as you walk upstairs to your and Gojo's shared apartment. After struggling to open the door to the place, you finally enter, a wave of exhaustion hitting you after being out and around the entire day.

However, you notice something odd.

The place is eerily quiet, almost as if no one is home.

You remember the text Gojo sent you an hour or so ago. He had told you to quickly return from your errands for a surprise with a winky face after it and you rolled your eyes when you read it. Though you knew of his rather stupid stunts all the time, you couldn't help but be curious as to what the surprise was this time. Especially if he had only texted you once when he would usually bombard you with multiple text messages, begging you to hurry home.

After hanging up your coat and putting away the groceries, you make your way to the living room where you assume Gojo would be. However, when you get closer and closer to the room, you start to hear a faint whimpering sound coming from within that sounds suspiciously like Gojo. You would know of course.

The bright lights of your Christmas tree slightly blind you as you walk in but that's not what catches your eye. Instead, what catches your eye is what's underneath the tree. Well rather next to it. No, you're not talking about the many presents that you and Gojo bought for each other either, rather it's Gojo himself. There he is on his back, all tied in red ribbon that's wrapped around him in such an intricate way you have no idea how he even managed to do so by himself.

The sight makes the words you were going to say die on your tongue, your mouth agape and dry at the sight. Gojo hears your steps enter the room and his head shoots towards you, excitement in his eyes.

"Surprise [name]!" You rapidly blink to make sure you're seeing it all correctly but it all stays the same. Gojo looks almost like a present with the way he's tied so prettily in the ribbon and you assume that's exactly what he was going for. Except, there was no wrapping paper and Gojo was fully naked except for the ribbon adorning his chest, arms, and legs.

You walk towards him, stopping right in front of him. Confusion is shown on your face while Gojo has a huge dorky grin on his face, clearly pleased with your reaction so far.

"What's.. What's this Gojo?" Your boyfriend rolls his eyes as if the answer isn't obvious. "It's your Christmas present, of course!"

Your eyes roam his body and your eyes widen even more in disbelief at the sight of a fucking gift bow on his dick. This wasn't even close to what you were expecting as a surprise from Gojo when he texted you but the more you take in the unexpected sight, the more you start to like it.

You notice that his hands are behind his back and you assume that it's been tied together somehow.

Gojo's previous confident demeanor fades away and he swallows nervously at your intense stare on his body, feeling your eyes looking at everything. He has to hold back a shiver, not from the cold but rather from how you're looking down at him with hunger in your eyes. Though his ankles aren't tied together, Gojo had squeezed them together to try to hide his hard dick.

"Do you... like it?" You grin at him. "Oh baby I love it, you look so pretty like this." Gojo flushes red which only compliments the red ribbon on him even more. "I can't believe you did this just for me. If I knew, I would've arrived back so much earlier."

Gojo pouts and glances away from you nervously. "Um, c-can you help me?" You furrow your eyebrows at him. "You want to get out of the ribbon already?" Gojo shakes his head rapidly. Before you could ask him what he meant, he slowly spreads his legs together to reveal his now hard dick to you.

"You got hard just from my praise? Or were you already hard when I arrived here?" You chuckle. "I didn't even touch you yet or anything either." Gojo whines at your teasing. You're about to tease him again before your eyes catch onto the vibrator attached to his dick and you choke on your spit.

"Shit gojo. You just love surprising me, don't you?" Gojo flushes and you glance around. "Where's the remote, baby?' You see Gojo turn to his head and motion towards the small remote on top of a nearby table and you're quick to grab it.

"W-Wait don't a-ah shit!" You immediately increase the vibration setting and watch as he squirms on the ground, his head thrashing side to side at the intensity of the pleasure. His knees are up and you place a hand on one to keep him still. You lean over his figure and chuckle.

"I guess Santa got what I wanted for Christmas this year," you tease, a wide grin threatening to spread on your face. Gojo lets out a small cry but being the huge flirt he always is, he simply shoots back with his retort. Well, he tries to at least. "Y-You ngh asked S-Santa for me to ha be n-naked and tied in red ribbon? ah!"

You chuckle. "Well not exactly, but I would like to say it's pretty close." You watch as pre cum leaks from his tip steadily, only adding to the erotic scene in front of you.

Gojo squirms under your hungry and intense gaze. The ribbon tied around his wrists prevents him from touching you and although he's able to break out of them if he wants to, you know he won't. Every time he moves, the ribbon wrapped around his chest rubs against his nipple, causing it to harden and send a bolt of pleasure up his spine.

As Gojo soon realizes that you're not planning to touch him, he only whimpers. "Touch m-me [name]! Please..." You hold down onto his knee more, leaning forward as you look down on him. The sudden adrenaline rush you're getting from the feeling of having Gojo underneath you begging for your touch only adds to your desire to ruin him. From this view, you're able to see the way his muscles flex and tighten against the ribbon, your eyes raking over his sculpted body.

You pretend to think about his plea, tapping on your chin as if you're actually considering it. You see hope flash in Gojo's eyes before you turn back towards him with a wicked grin.

"How about... no?" You giggle when Gojo whines, his eyes never leaving the remote in your hand. You feign a pout at him. "You surprised me with all this, shouldn't I get to enjoy it, baby?"

Gojo swallows and tries to stutter out a response through a moan that escapes his mouth, reminding him that the vibrator is still against his dick and on too. "Y-Yeah but..." You raise an eyebrow at him, urging him to finish his sentence but Gojo only turns his head away from you, face flushed red. Though subtle, you feel his legs spread wider for you as he shuts his eyes. He eagerly nods.

"P-Please use me..." You grin and immediately turn the toy onto high, watching in amusement as Gojo's body jerks and arches beautifully. "Oh glady, baby." His eyes shoot open and you see how they're glazed over. Almost as if he's about to cry.

You coo at him. "Gonna cry already, baby? Just from a mere toy in your ass and some bondage?" Gojo cries weakly at you. Sure it was just a toy but it was a large one at that, one that Gojo has been nervous to try up until now. Though of course he's not regretting it now, fully immersed in the pleasure as sparks shock his body throughout.

You have to swallow down the lump in your throat as you feel your body heat up. Gojo quickly warns you he's close, his loud noises filling the room that would surely cause a noise complaint to arrive at your door tomorrow but you could care less at the moment.

"Go on baby, make a mess of yourself for me." Babbling out thank you's and pleas, you watch as he cums, the white substance covering his stomach, some even on his chest and on the ribbon. You quickly turn off the toy in him and watch as he slumps against the floor, his chest heaving as he tries to recover from the intense orgasm he just had.

Walking to where his face lay, you peck his cheek. "Stay here, alright? I'll go grab a wet cloth and clean you up." But as you stand up, Gojo's hand grabs your wrist and you widen your eyes. You didn't even realize he slipped his hands out of the bondage.

You stare at him as Gojo looks at you, heavy breaths leaving his mouth. "Could we... could we take this to the bedroom?" It takes you a few seconds but it then hits you that he's suggesting a round two and you only giggle.

"Seriously? You want another round?" Gojo nods eagerly and you move to untie the ribbon but he stops you, sitting up. "Could I keep it on? I-I kinda like it and it's only my chest anyways and-" He soon realizes he's rambling and cuts himself off. You giggle and grab his face.

"Of course, baby. You'll always be the best present I could ask for.”

ty for reading to the end! ❤️ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

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mavrintarou · 4 months

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[Daddies in December] Suna Rintarou

Sorry, I slacked off the last couple of days. The holiday got super busy and honestly, I was going to write for Kakashi but it got toooooooo long and I felt like maybe it should be a story of its own lol. With a few days left in December, I'll try my best to share a few of my other favorite characters, of course, I couldn't leave my favorite boy out. Kept this short but sweet. Happy Christmas (wherever you are depending on the time zone)

Warning: fluff & small description of smut (can you believe I was able to keep it short)

Prequel

Every time Rin leaves the house, he has to stop by his Christmas tree and have a moment of silence with the new customized ornament Y/n put up.

They have been married for three years and have spent three years traveling and enjoying their lives as married couples. Both their careers are demanding and it is a cherished moment when they are allowed synchronized time together.

“Can’t wait to meet you,” he murmurs, tapping the ornament frame of an ultrasound picture. “I’ll see you and mommy soon.”

Getting in his sports car, a thought suddenly comes to mind, with a baby on the way, he’ll have to get a car that will be family friendly. He never thought of getting rid of his baby, but with a real baby on the way, he had never felt so excited to go to the car dealership.

But that task would have to wait as he needed to go to the airport to pick Y/n up.

It still makes Rin chuckle about how he had discovered that they were expecting.

Four months ago, they had decided they would try for a baby, to start a family after waiting for a few years. The following month, Y/n went off her birth control and they began trying to conceive.

Rin was a sucker for cumming inside Y/n. He believes he was the most excited when it came to trying to make a baby.

“Rin, enough…” Y/n whispered tiredly. “We don’t have to get pregnant on the first try…”

“I know, but just one more time,” he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, telling her the same thing two times ago. He rolled her onto her back, pushing her thighs wide. He watched his cum ooze out as he slowly stuffs his cock back into her pussy. He was going to fill her up once more.

Sure enough, it must have been that first initial try that made her pregnant right away.

Y/n was a commercial pilot with an odd schedule. Between their careers and schedules, there would be some moments where they wouldn’t see each other for almost five days.

Nonetheless, they made it work and were able to stay in contact with one another through video calls.

Each year at the beginning of December, they would decorate the Christmas trees together. Trees.

When they began dating, Rin had his tree at his place, the same with Y/n. Rin had his tree that stood 7 feet tall while Y/n had her small 5-foot tall tree. They made it their special tradition to exchange ornaments each year.

When they married, neither could agree on which tree they should keep and decided why not keep both?

Rin would decorate his tree while Y/n decorated her tree right beside each other in the designated corner of Rin’s condo. There was one year when Y/n had been upset with Rin and set her tree up on the opposite corner from their usual spot.

And the moment Y/n was off to work, Rin carried and moved her tree next to his, where it belonged.

In their two and half years of dating, he has collected two ornaments from Y/n and added three additional for their three years of marriage. This was going to be their sixth year of the tradition.

But with their conflicting schedule, Y/n was left to decorate her tree first.

Rin had been so exhausted and busy with wrapping up the season of his career that he had not gotten the opportunity to go to the store to pick out his ornament or decorate his tree. By the time he got around to it, it was the middle of December already.

He returned home with a small bag, this year he chose a brown stuffed teddy bear with a red heart on the belly. He was drawn to it and after searching for his options, he settled for that one for no particular reason. It was just calling his name.

Y/n had set up the lights and ribbons on his tree, all he had left to do was to put up the ornaments he received from her throughout the years. He glanced inside the container of each of the ornaments from throughout the years and smiled.

Y/n had told him that she put her new one up on his tree already and had to find it.

He looked all over the tree and couldn’t find the ornament that was labeled 2023 as they always marked the year on it.

Grabbing his phone, he called her.

But his call went to voicemail. He frowned, she should be at the hotel in Austria.

He searched thoroughly until something caught his eye…

Rin’s yellow eyes glowed with the Christmas lights when he found it.

It was sort of hidden further into the tree branches that he got down on one knee, being at eye level with Y/n’s 2023 ornament.

He inhales as he swallows the lump in his throat.

It all clicked in his head that she had placed at the same level as her belly.

His phone rang and he immediately picked it up when he saw Y/n’s picture on his screen.

Neither said a word and he sighed, letting out a chuckle. “Well, that’s one hell of a way of telling me we’re expecting.”

His heart relaxed when he heard her giggle, “finally, took you long enough.”

“I’m sorry, this season was crazy and I just got around to it.” He tapped on the video icon, “let me see you.”

Her face appeared on the screen and Rin felt himself falling in love once again. Had she always had this glow to her? How did he not realize she was pregnant?

“God, you’re so beautiful, I miss you like crazy.”

“Are you only saying that because it took you… sixteen days and eighteen hours and thirty-four minutes to finally discover it?” Her tone was teasing but Rin knew she was half serious. He knew she must have been frustrated that he had not seen it yet. That was his Y/n, she always found a creative way of surprising him and he loved it.

“No. You know that’s not it.” He wiped his face with his hands, still not believing the moment. He reached to touch the ornament, taking it off the branches. “I love it. It is the best one I’ve received from you.”

“Next year, we’ll have to get a baby tree.”

He nodded, with a bright smile. “Yes, we’ll need to get a tree for them.”

. . .

E/n: Some of these daddies' stories, I might branch off and write more... for sure, I think we need to know more about Rin's story hehe

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

#haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu suna #suna smut #suna rintarou smut #suna x you #suna fluff #suna rintarou x y/n #suna rintarou x you #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintaro #suna drabble #suna scenarios #suna fic

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snenbubs · 6 months

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I did it. I did it and nobody stopped me. I'm unstoppable.

I love this horrible big man spider christmas tree ass guy, a bit too much. I've alr done general romantic HCs but IT WASNT ENOUGH.

... so here. Mammon (Helluva Boss) x GN reader NSFW headcannons. I need severe help, but so do you, so....

NSFW Under the cut! 18+ Only!

♡ I've seen a few people claim he'd he a lazy lover, nd whilst i see where they're coming from, i completely disagree. He's the embodiment of Greed, not Sloth! I think, if anything, he's more like an overwhelming, smothering kind of lover ykwm.

- I've said this before, and I will reiterate it, his hands are gonna be on you, all over you. Four hands, might I add. 😋

- I like to think he'd keep one pair on your hips, holding you in place as close to him as he possibly can, because he just NEEDS every inch of you and the other pair would be constantly roaming your body, finding places to squeeze or hold.

- In addition to this i think he'd like any kind of position where he can be as close to you as possible. Your presence overwhelms him and he needs all of it at once so you better be prepared to be pressed flush against his fluffy body.

- His mouth? Always on you. He likes being able to taste you, in more than just one way; biting, kissing... and more...

Also, his tongue is forked. Just thought i'd mention it. Yk. A lil fun fact for your day.

♡ In regards to biting however, i mentioned in my other HCS that he's pretty possesive and that applies here too;

- He gets jealous easy and when he gets jealous he bites harder. Its like a mark, his special mark. He wants people to see you with those bruises, hickeys and bite marks coating your pretty flesh because it means everyone knows you're his.

- If he gets jealous, and bare in mind it does not take a lot to make him jealous, expect not to be able to walk in the morning.

- I feel, due to his needy nature, he's quite a rough lover. I want to believe he tries to be gentle because there will almost definitely be a size difference between you two and you could get hurt, but he can get caught up in the moment and i think he often ends up quite rough.

- Even rougher when jealous.

♡ In general though?

- He deffo drools. You can say "ew gross" all you want but to me? its hot, and he does it, and im the one writing this so theres NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT.

- He definitely has a thing for master/pet relationships BUT i think he also gets a big kick out of hearing you cry out his name.

- I also don't think he's too loud during the act. He makes some noises, probably grunts and maybe a whine if your lucky, but he's mostly silent. If he has his hat on then the sound of jingling bells will probably be extremely overwhelming.

- The thing is, he has to be quiet! Because if he isn't quiet, then he can't hear the sweet sounds you'll be making. And oh, he just LOVES them. He could get drunk off of them. He DOES get drunk off of them.

- By no means though, will he shut his trap. He likes making fun of you, mocking you, making jokes and being generally mean. It's just who he is you gotta accept it.

- His voice is hot though so its a win.

- He probably has a control problem, in that he has to be the one doing everything. If you beg, he might let you take the lead for a bit but ultimately he'll take charge.

- Often though its probably just because you aren't doing things fast enough for him, he has a very high and extremely greedy libido and he knows what he wants.

- Webs. WEBS.

- He is not against tying you up with them, all you have to do is ask. A lot of time, he'll so it so that he can be ever closer to you than he already is.

- But like i said, its your word. If you give the thumbs up then he'll have you bound in no time at all. I'll leave it to your own imagination.

Thats all for now... mayhaps in future i'll do more, make a pt2 or smth but honestly i'm outta ideas.

#helluva boss x reader #Mammon HB x reader #Mammon HB x reader smut #Helluva boss x reader smut #GRRRWOOF WOOF WOOF #I NEED HIM SO BAD #WHY ISNT HE REAL

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thesparklingwriter · 4 months

Text

eternity

tags: smut, afab! reader, fem!reader, vanilla, gentle zhong, i think this is still kind of fluffy tbh

word count: 1.6k

a/n: merry Christmas to you all if you celebrate and an early happy birthday to zhongli. this year, i am celebrating two years of him consuming my every waking thought, dream and state of being

masterlist | taglist

You're always so surprised by how gentle your husband is with you. You're surprised that a being with so much raw power could look at someone like you, someone so fragile in comparison, and make the conscious choice to always be so careful. To always cherish everything you do with so much care.

He has never once raised his voice at you, even in times of stress or panic. His word choices are even gentler than the caring tone of his voice, or the warmth of his hand around yours.

Even after days apart, the way he kisses you is gentle, as if he knows he has all the time in the world to be with you. The way he slides his hands to the front of your silken pyjamas, a gift from him once he noticed you kept stealing his, is laced with tenderness and care. His eyes latch onto yours before he continues, and even though you can see the fire burning behind his pupils, the soft look on his face takes precedence.

You nod, answering his silent question as he pulls your lips to his, his hands lazily busying themselves with your buttons as you feel yourself being led to the bed. You know that if you did not want to follow, there would be no complaint, no pushback, and that knowledge warms you. Any attempts you make to return the favour Zhongli does for you as he frees you of your shirt are quietly ignored as he chooses to wholeheartedly focus on you.

His fingers are cautious as they glide over the bare skin of your chest, and even though he's touched you a thousand times, his eyes still seem as fixated on you as they had been the very first time.

"Is this alright?" he asks, and you reply yes, the same way you do almost every time, and his slight, serene smile finds itself on his face again as he gently pulls you towards his lap. Somewhere along the line--when, you don't remember--Zhongli's own shirt has been discarded, and you rest your hands against his bare chest as you lean in for another kiss. If you pay attention, you can feel the steady beat of his heart and the quickened pace of his breathing under your fingers, and if you hadn't felt it for yourself, you wouldn't have believed it. His fingers calmly massage circles into your back before they sneak down to the waistband of your trousers and pause there.

"Waiting for permission?" you tease quietly, pulling away from zhongli for a single second. His heavy lidded eyes are filled with a slight mirth as he smiles at your words.

"I was simply enjoying the moment," he replies, his voice low and rumbling. "I can continue, unless you have other plans?"

You smile at the way he doesn't take offence to your teasing, the way he languidly pulls the waistband of your trousers further down and helps as you try to navigate getting them off while straddling him. You're grateful that he had the foresight to remove your underwear at the same time as your trousers--you wouldn't have to figure out how to get those off.

Even the way he moves to lay you on your back is graceful. His fingers gently find their way up your thighs, and you're already agreeing to let him touch you before the words 'may I?' leave his mouth. He's careful with his ministrations, slipping one finger into you first, and letting you get used to the feeling--or rather, teasing you with it--before he adds a second, watching your face carefully to gauge his movements. He knows you like the back of his hand, he knows what the quiet whimper that escapes your mouth means, but chooses to pretend he doesn't.

"Tell me what you need, dearest." he whispers. "I'd be happy to oblige."

You fidget under him, another half-formed whimper escaping your lips before you manage to force out a single word.

"More," you whisper. "Please." your hand grips at his arm, but Zhongli doesn't seem to care as he curls his fingers inside you.

"More?" he repeats under his breath. if it weren't for the telltale rasp in his voice, you would have assumed he was unaffected by your desperate whines. "More what? I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific, my dear."

But his words are just for show and he does exactly what you know you want, a smile creeping up on his lips again as he feels your walls tightening around his fingers and your nails dig into his arm.

"Go on," He whispers. "Make a mess for me." Your eyes meet his, and even though his words are a command at face value, you hear the quiet inklings of a request in his voice, as if he needs you to cum on his fingers more than anything else in this world. The look on his face when you oblige him with a quiet whimper is nothing short of fascination and pride--he's infatuated with you, your smile, your eyes, the way you fidget under him desperate for more than one release.

"Good girl," he whispers, gently massaging your hip with his hand, scanning your face for discomfort. He doesn't find any.

He brings his other hand to his mouth, and you cover your face, the sight of him licking you off his fingers too much for you to bear.

"Hmm? What's the problem, beloved?" he asks gently, using the hand that was once massaging your hip to reveal your face to him.

"It's embarrassing," you whine, and Zhongli can't help but chuckle a little at that. He finds it humourous that this is where you draw the line but doesn't question you further, turning his attention to undoing his belt.

You hear him discard his trousers as he leans over you and captures your lips in a gentle kiss.

"Stop teasing me," you complain, and Zhongli once again chuckles, amused by the slight frustration in your face.

"I am in no particular hurry," he smiles. "Is it a crime to want to savour this moment with you?"

"Yes." you reply immediately, and Zhongli realises that perhaps his actions up to this point have been bordering on cruel.

"Very well."

Zhongli gently takes your hand in his as he lines his cock between your folds, and begins to roll his hips at an agonizingly slow pace. You think that once again, he means to tease you, to rile you up, but when you look up at up and see the devotion in his eyes... You're embarrassed for even thinking that way in the first place.

"Are you alright, love?" He whispers, gently burying his face in the crook of your neck after asking, and you nod breathlessly.

"More than alright," you reply between moans, wrapping your legs around his waist, and your arm around his neck. "You're always so good."

Your words have a stronger effect on him than he'd ever thought any person ever could, and his hips stutter and still for a few moments, disrupting the lazy rhythm he'd cultivated. He kisses your neck in response "And you always take me so perfectly."

When Zhongli lifts his head from your neck to focus his attention elsewhere, and the steady pace of his thrusting speeds up, you lace your fingers through his hair. Zhongli notices the signs of the familiar tension building in you, as you squeeze his hand tighter.

"Li, I'm—" you whine, but Zhongli doesn't even need you to finish your sentence to know what you're about to tell him. His intense gaze locks onto yours, telling you everything you could ever want to know, and you pull him back down to your neck as your orgasm consumes you.

You barely even notice when Zhongli's movement still entirely, distracted by the way his teeth catch on the soft part of your neck. You want to laugh. Zhongli has bitten on that same spot on your neck maybe a hundred times, and yet, he's still worried he might hurt or startle you. He attempts to pull away from your neck for a second to look at you, but you drag him to the side instead, wrapping your arms and legs around him tighter.

He begins to ask if you're alright, but the content sigh that slips from your mouth as you attempt to pull him even closer answers his question for him, and he takes a moment to appreciate the movement in its entirety.

He is always surprised by you, by the way you treasure him, by the way you see and appreciate the power he holds, yet treat him the same as you would had he been entirely human. He has lived for thousands of years before you, and will live for thousands of years after, and you know that, but you've never let that knowledge harden your heart or make you believe that he deserves less of you because of it.

Your fingers gently drag against his scalp, the other hand absentmindedly stroking his back, and more than anything, Zhongli is grateful that with you he doesn't have to be an archon or a god or an immortal being with all knowledge of the world and its idiosyncrasies. With you, he is just himself, and he knows you would never begrudge him for that.

"Just a little longer?" You whisper, when you feel Zhongli attempt to move again, no doubt to carry you to a bath that was designated for you, but one he would ultimately find himself in too at your wishes.

"If I were able to," Zhongli whispers back, gently moving your hair out of your face. "I would gift you eternity."

notes: drops this, runs, hides, doesn't open tumblr until the 31st of dec

#zhongli #[🚨]—restricted fiction #genshin x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli fanfic #genshin impact #zhongli fluff #genshin fluff #genshin zhongli #zhongli genshin impact #zhongli smut #genshin smut #minors dni

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quartzalynlove · 5 months

Text

Dating Johnny Cage Would Include

Pairing: Johnny Cage (mk1) x reader

Summary: hcs about dating our favorite movie star

Warnings: none

A/N: I've got so many Johnny ideas running around this head

Alright let's cut to the chase

This man's love language is gift giving

Jewelry, clothing, shoes he's buying it all for you

You know in Iron Man 3 when Tony bought the giant Christmas bunny for Pepper? Yeah expect something like that from time to time

But he's also very sentimental and will buy you things he knows you love/will make you happy

That book you've been talking about reading all year? He'll surprise you with it on a random Tuesday just to see you smile

And don't be a collector or something

You like mugs? Funko pops? Magic the Gathering?? He's the sole sponsor of your collection

His net worth may be in the millions but nothing he owns is worth more than pure joy on your face

Speaking of your face he's constantly trying to get you on the screen

Whether you think you have talent or not Johnny just wants your perfect being captured on film

"C'mon, doll, I found auditions for a lead in a rom-com. You'd steal hearts on the big screen!"

Lord knows you've already stolen his

The man's a huge kid and nerd at heart so if you're also a movie buff he'll be on cloud nine

He hasn't had many people to talk to about the magic of entertainment since his mom when he was younger

The two of you would lose track of time talking about the good, the bad, and the cheesy of movie history

This also means he will talk and flirt with you almost exclusively in movie quotes

And if at any point you start thinking they're cheesy he'll switch it up with an expression bc he knows they always make you laugh

While he is silly, nerdy, and impulsive Johnny also values quality time with you

He wouldn't trade his job for anything in the world but sometimes it's a lot

Sometimes he just needs a movie night you

Nothing but the two of you cuddled on the couch, a bottle of wine, and the entire Star Wars saga

He could never thank you enough for supporting him and in turn he fully supports you in all of your passions

Imposter syndrome and insecurity are not allowed in the house

For every flaw you see in your work he will list 10 things he loves about it

"I know it's hard not to feel like this, but even when you can't believe in yourself, I'll always be your cheerleader."

Where's his favorite place to kiss you? Where isn't

It all depends on which part of you looks most kissable at any given moment

He'll kiss your lips, cheek, forehead. He'll even kiss your stomach totally unprompted.

Got freckles or beauty spots? He's abt to become a problem

In his eyes, you're walking cinema that he can touch, taste, and love. He wouldn't miss a second of you.

Bottom line: Johnny's happiness in life is bringing joy to the world and you're no exception

The smiles of millions of his fans at Cage Con is only equal to one of yours

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wardenparker · 4 months

Text

New Year's Surprise

Jack Daniels x plus size female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 18.7k Warnings: Cursing, alcohol, internalized fatphobia, self esteem issues, pining, meddlesome friends, unwanted attention from a male coworker, light spanking, praise, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, Jack likes being scratched up, reader is described as having fingernails long enough to scratch (no specific length given), the love is requited they're just idiots. Summary: Ginger has a plan to get you and Jack to admit you have feelings for each other. She did not anticipate just how well it would work... Notes: Happy almost New Year everyone! Enjoy a little more winter seasonal smut and fluff from us to you 🥂🍾✨

"You're sure it's not too much, Ging?" Turning in front of the full-length mirror in Ginger's apartment, you inspect the glittering black cocktail dress that your friend helped you pick out at the mall during all those after-Christmas sales she promised you that you would find something at. She was right, like she always is, but now that the dress is on you, you're wondering if you haven't made a mistake. If it's not too revealing, or too short, or too tight.

Whoever in HR came up with this insane Cowboys and Flappers theme for the company New Year's Eve party deserved to have their head examined. You're not the femme fatale agent that gets sent out to seduce men and collect their secrets. Few men out there in the world are ever really seduced by the chubby girl in any given scenario, but it did tend to make you invisible. Invisible women can slip in and out of buildings in literally any kind of uniform and get through security without ever being harassed, and that works to your advantage on almost every case. Unfortunately, it also means that for the five years you've been a Statesman agent, you've also been fairly invisible to the man you've developed feelings for.

It’s perfect.” No matter how many times Ginger Ale tells you that you are sexy just the way you are, that insecurity gets the best of you. “I’m telling you, you will have every eye in the place.”

“I doubt it.” You sigh in the mirror and smooth your hands over the sequined dress one more time. “But that’s okay. I don’t want every set of eyes…”

“I know what set of eyes you want on you.” Your taste in men is your own, and Ginger won’t fault you for it, but she wonders why Jack. “It might do the man good to know that he’s got competition.” You don’t believe her when she says that it’s more telling that Jack doesn’t hit on you, but it’s the truth.

“He doesn’t, though.” Shrugging, you turn away from the mirror and decide to just go on with the night. Wishing won’t make it real and Jack Daniels barely looks at you. Even though you’ve partnered on cases, spend time together in and out of the office, and are arguably friends in every true sense? You’ve always wanted more with him. The only person who knows is Ginger, though, and you prefer to keep it that way since Jack will never return your affection. “And that’s…it is what it is. Even if you’re the only person I dance with tonight, it’ll still be fun.”

“Wearing that dress?” Ginger snorts as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’ll have the faith for both of us, how about that?” She knows that Jack won’t be able to resist you tonight, not when she’s lined up a few of the junior agents to dance with you already. It’s time that Jack settles down and finds some happiness, and what better time than the New Year?

******

While you easily could have had the party at Statesman considering the size of the grounds, Champ wouldn’t hear of it. He’s hosting the damn thing himself come hell or high water, in his favourite suit with his wife dressed to the 9’s in her flapper dress, and more caterers than you’ve ever seen in your life all making his early twentieth century coal baron’s mansion look as resplendent as the day it was built. The place is palatial, with a ballroom so big that the band he’s hired looks tiny in one corner despite being six-men strong. It’s music and liquor and appetizers passing by on trays when you and Ginger walk through the door, and you gasp at how nice it all looks.

“I know he does it every year,” you sigh to your best friend. “But the theme is always different and I swear somehow the house always looks better on new year’s.”

“Champ does know how to throw one hell of a party.” She agrees, snagging two glasses of champagne from a waiter as she walks by. Her own sleek flapper dress is a vivid purple, making her beautiful skin glow and for tonight, she’s wearing contacts. Her short hair is perfectly styled, a cap like illusion, highlighted with the crystal headband she’s picked. “To a New Year we will never forget.” She hands you one glass and adds, “or regret.”

“You’re certainly optimistic.” You flash her and grin and tap the rim of your glass against hers. “Finally going to talk to Alicia or is this just positive vibes?” It’s been two years since Ginger started crushing on the woman who supervises Statesman campus tours and visitor experience, but she hasn’t made a move yet. Being frozen in place with someone you care about is something the two of you have in common.

“Positive vibes.” She huffs, rolling her eyes and trying to change the subject. “Look! There’s Tequila!” She waves the younger agent over to where you are standing. “You made it! Didn’t think you were ever gonna get back from Brazil, or if you wanted to.” She adds with a grin.

“Those are two very different questions.” Tequila agrees with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. Did he have to come back? Sure. But did he want to leave the comfort and luxury of that beautiful woman’s bed? Not at all. “But I would not have missed dancing with you ladies for the world,” he adds with a wink. He’s very much in on Ginger’s plan, after all, and is looking forward to the fireworks it will bring.

You fluster slightly at his words, but Ginger knows that you don’t have your cap set on Tequila. You just don’t handle compliments well. “You’ll have to get in line.” Ginger warns him with a smirk. “As good as Rye looks tonight, every man in here is going to want a dance. After I dance with her first.”

“Well I reckon I’ll have to be second, then.” Tequila puts in a playful pout. “But only because I would never deny Miss Ginger Ale gettin to be first.” He smiles again and tips his hat, having opted to wear his best Stetson with an elegant Kingsman suit. “You don’t have to,” you insist, knowing Tequila always has more choices of dance and bedroom partners than he could ever feasibly make his way through. “I’m sure you have other people you want to dance with tonight.”

“No one important.” Tequila smirks as he drags his eyes up and down your outfit and whistles slowly. “And no one nearly as pretty.” He promises.

“Liar.” Though you roll your eyes at him, you don’t protest anymore than that. He’s your friend, after all. And if he wants to waste his time dancing with you, you’ll just enjoy it. Tequila’s a fantastic dancer, after all.

“Never lie to you, honey.” Tequila croons, taking your hand and lifting it to his lips. “Lie about what?” The voice comes from your left and all eyes swing that way.

“Jack!” Normally you know he’s coming. The smell of earthy, expensive cologne and the tap-click-shuffle of his boots on polished floors. The soft humming he gets up to when he’s pleased with himself, not quite melodic but endearing because it means he’s happy. But you sensed none of that just now, too caught up in the band playing and the fragrant flowers and the tickle of bubbly in your nose and throat. “Nothing. We were just talking about dancing…” He looks like a dream, and it makes you sick to your stomach and elated all at once. Another night of watching him fawn over every woman but you is what you’ve resigned yourself to putting up with, but it’s just rude of him to look so damn handsome in that black velvet double breasted suit and sleek black Stetson while he does it.

“Dancing, hum?” His eyes narrow slightly at the grip Tequila has on your hand and he wants to reach out and slap it away, but he just shoots everyone an easy grin. “Ready to cut a rug tonight, eh?”

"I guess so." The shyness that threatens to shoot straight through you is knocked off kilter by Ginger, who hoots in response. "She's got her dance card all filled up already, Whiskey. Should've gotten here earlier," she tells him with a smirk.

His mustache ticks, it’s the only change to his facial expression. “I’m sure Rye can squeeze me in.” His dark amber eyes slide over to you and swipe up and down your body. “Can’t you, sugar?”

"Of course." You'd throw over the whole goddamn list for him. Besides, you have no idea what Ginger could possibly mean by saying your 'card' is full. One dance with her and one with Tequila isn't a full anything. "Of course I can."

“Good. Then how about I refresh you ladies’ drinks?” Jack asks, slapping Tequila on the back a little rougher than necessary. “Come help me with that.”

"Sure." Tequila grunts, throwing you a confused expression like he can't figure out why the hell Jack needs help getting champagne when waiters with trays are everywhere, but he shoots Ginger a secret smirk before following Jack into the next room where the open bar is set up.

“Tonight will be perfect.” Ginger predicts with a smug grin as she watches the two men walk towards the open bar. .

“What the hell are you doin’, flirtin’ with Rye?” Jack’s easy grin falls away and his brows knit together as soon as his back is turned to you. “You know that girl ain’t your type.”

"I can't be nice to my friend?" Tequila asks, pretending to be positively aghast that Jack would suggest he's up to anything else. One hand ever goes to his chest with a dramatic gasp.

Jack’s eyes cut towards the other agent, a frown on his face. “It’s one goddamn thing to be nice, it’s another to flirt.”

"When did I flirt?" The younger agent counters, knowing full well that's what he was doing but not about to admit it because he wants to make Jack stew.

“You were flirtin’ the second you can outta your momma, but you gotta learn there’s certain girls you don’t do that shit with.” Jack growls, stopping in front of the bar and holding up two fingers. “Double 62 Triple Barreled.” He orders, wanting one of the rare whiskeys that Champ had broken out tonight. “And two champagnes.”

"Now, why is that, Jack?" Tequila hums, looking down at his friend. Jack isn't too much shorter than him, but just enough to annoy the older agent on occasion. "Why is Rye one of those girls?"

“Because…” that’s where his argument ends, because there’s not really a reason beyond his own feelings. “It’s…unprofessional.” He decides. “She’s an agent for Christ’s sake.”

Tequila snorts at this string of logic, accepting his drink from the pretty bartender with a wink and sliding a large bill into the tip glass on the bar top before looking back at Jack. "That's a load of horse shit and you know it, Daniels. You fucking know it."

He does know it, but he snatches his own drink up and rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He hates that his stomach twists and he wonders if you had been flirting back. Looking over his shoulder at where you are standing, he clenches his jaw at the tassels that are swaying every time you move. “Don’t get her damn hopes up.” He takes a sip of his whiskey. “We both know you ain’t gonna fuck her.”

"Nor does she want me to." This is gonna be a hell of a lot easier than he and Ginger thought, if Jack is always so fuckin wound up over you and he only just arrived for the night. "I ain't the one she has her eye on and everybody with eyes knows it."

Jack ignores that, huffing to himself as he tries to hid the fucking jealousy that curls in his gut at whoever you do have your eye on. Lucky son of a bitch. “No fuckin’ talkin’ to you, hardheaded S.O.B.” The champagne glasses are in front of him and he downs the rest of the drink to slap the crystal glass down and snatch up the flutes. Turning around without another word and stalking across the room towards you and Ginger.

It's only one room he has to cross, but by the time he gets there, Agent Brandy has sidled up beside you and Ginger and has his fingers ever so subtly on your elbow while bends his head and puts all his focus directly on you.

Halfway across the room, Jack jerks to a halt and growls, shaking his head as he resumes the walk and forces a moderately friendly smile on his face. “Didn’t think you’d be back from Korea, Don.” He interrupts as he arrives back at your group.

"Two days ago." Brandy flashes a smile in Jack's general direction but keeps his focus on you. "Glad I made it back in time, too. Champ throws a hell of a party."

His eye twitches but Jack nods. “Yeah he does. Shoulda brought that little gal you were seein’. Brandy. Brenda right? Or was it Bambi?” He shrugs. “Maybe all of them at once, knowin’ you.”

"Now don't be unkind, Jack." Brandy's eyes cut over to the older agent and Brandy offers what could be considered a modestly dramatic pout. "Or Rye might think the worst of me and throw me over for that dance I just got promised."

Jack seethes beneath the smile on his face. “Would hate for that to happen.” He lies, handing Ginger one of the glasses and then offers the other to you.

The glass is offered with a smile and you thank Jack, savoring even the tiniest moment of contact between brushing fingers as he hands it over. It's probably bordering on pathetic, how long you've carried this torch for Jack, and it seems like Ginger is really trying to encourage you tonight to come out of your shell tonight but you just don't know. As nice as everyone is being, it doesn't feel right. The only thing that feels right is when you're around Jack. It's just a damn shame that he doesn't feel the same.

It’s almost painful how the simple, innocent touch affects him. Now visceral his reaction is. Only the training that Statesman has given him keeps him from showing anything. “Well,” he hates to tear himself away, but he can’t be around you for too long. “I better go talk to Champ about some cases he wants worked tomorrow.” He offers.

"It's a party," you remind him, smile flickering as he steps back. Obviously the small touch that you'll be savoring for the rest of the night has had the opposite effect on him. But there's no need to show that. Not when it's fully expected that he doesn't want to be around you when there are plenty of other people to talk to and women to dance with. "Don't work too hard, okay?"

“Never do,” he nods at everyone and turns around and skedaddles over to Champ like his pants are on fire.

"Come on," Ginger loops her arm through yours and lends Brandy a smirk that you don't notice — you're too busy trying not to look after Jack. "Let's go dance, honey. The night is young and we are looking far too good not to show off."

Champ eyes Jack as he stops by his side. “Figured you’d have a gal in your arms by now.” He huffs as he reaches out to shake Jack’s hand. “Losing your touch?” Jack snorts. “When have I ever lost my touch?” He asks, pointedly refusing to look back over towards you. “Just surveying my prospects.”

"And how is Agent Rye this evening?" Champ doesn't even have to look to know that that's where Jack has just come from. He blew into the room so quickly that it's the only explanation for the fire in his heels.

“Don’t you start with me.” Jack groans, shaking Champ’s hand and huffing. “Far as I know, she’s dandy.”

"Why should I not start?" Champ knows damn well why not, but he enjoys riling up his friend. "Somebody beat me to the punch?"

“Every-goddamn-body here tonight is actin’ like they’ve never seen the woman in a dress.” He snorts, complaining about it even though he has already memorized the way the damned sequined dress clings to your curves and enhances them in ways that should be criminal. “It’s damned ridiculous and borderline workplace harassment.”

Smirking, Champ pours two glasses of his preferred Statesman 1972 Select, savoring the smoked cherry notes from that particular year. He hands one cut crystal glass over to Jack with his tongue set firmly in his cheek. "You know you'd be a hell of a lot less mad if you just asked the lady to dance your damn self."

The glare Jack cuts Champ is withering and he turns his head as he takes a sip, refusing to rebuff the remark. It seems like everyone is taking the piss with him tonight as Eggsy would say. (edited)

"She's allowed to have fun, ya know." Champ goes on, humming the thought as though the glare Jack just shot him wouldn't have struck a lesser man dead in his tracks. "Damn shame she hasn't set her cap on anyone. Big family dreams, that gal has. Always has. It'll be a damn shame when she finally decides to hang up her pistols and have a family, but I won't let her get farther than the training ring. Too good of an agent to just let her retire."

“Is there a point to your ramblings?” Jack grumbles. “Or are you just spouting shit tonight?”

"Do what I want in my own house." The older man chuckles heartily and claps Jack on one shoulder. "Got a couple of jobs to start the new year with. Come see me tomorrow and we'll figure out which one's yours."

He’s being dismissed and since Champ is also giving him hell, Jack quickly nods and walks off. Trying to walk around the ostentatious ballroom without looking at you. “Hello handsome.” A perfectly manicured hand drapes itself over his shoulder and the scent of gardenias and sandalwood fills his nostrils. “Tiffany.”

Like a bloodhound on a trail, you spot it from across the ballroom without even trying to. Twirling around with Ginger, your eyes catch sight of the gorgeous, skinny, leggy blonde who has let herself drape over Jack's side and you sigh. Deflate is probably the right word, but you remind yourself it was never going to happen anyway and just hold on to Ginger as the song comes to an end.

“What’s a tall, dark, handsome drink of water like you doin’ all by your lonesome?” She purrs, making him hide the wince he had at the put on accent of hers. She’s as southern as tofu and yet she tries to make it sound like she’s grown up around here. Still, she’s a distraction and the best part about it is that there’s no emotional strings. “Looks like I should be buyin’ you a drink, darlin’.”

"I wish you would," she puts on a too-high giggle and bats eyelashes heavy with mascara and augmented with false hairs. Laying it on thick, she pushes in even closer and lets her body fit against his with nothing left to the imagination.

Jack doesn’t feel anything but he paints a cocky smirk on his face as he turns to her. “Then let me go get something for you, what do you want, darlin’?”

“Champagne, of course,” she simpers, never once considering the fact that she’s at a party for a whiskey distillery. Hell, she hadn’t even dressed for the theme.

Tiffany hangs out at the bar Statesman regularly hangs out at. A groupie because she knows everyone there makes good money. He’d bet his bottom dollar she conned Scotch into bringing her.

“Some party.” Is her attempt at conversation, putting more effort into showing off her cleavage than completing sentences. “You distillery boys sure know how to treat your gals.”

“Of course we do.” Jack’s smile is wicked, but it’s a part of the persona he adopts when he is working a target, it’s not real. “Any gal of mine deserves to be treated right.”

“Is that an invitation?” She knows who Jack is. Knows the civilian job title he’s been at Statesman Distillery. Even if she knew what it was all a front for, she likely wouldn’t care. She might just try harder if she knew the real wealth being flung around between a lot of these people.

“Now sweetheart, I’m good for a night or two.” Jack drawls. “But I’ve got a lot of leavin’ left to do.” He hums, quoting the country song.

The pout on Tiffany’s face is both dramatic and pronounced, but seeing that he’s immovable in that point — and knowing his reputation — she makes a small sound of frustrated disgust before flouncing away. Apparently annoyed at having wasted her time on a line cowboy.

The huff that Jack lets out is one of pure relief. Happy that he won’t have to deal with her again for at least half the night. She might make her way back around depending on successful she is. It’s shameful to say, but most of the agents here have dallied with her, including Jack. However, he had only taken her home to satisfy a physical need. He slowly makes his way back to the bar to order another drink, not champagne.

His line of sight is unfortunate as he saunters back toward the open bar. Looking back out to the dance floor, he can see Tequila twirling you around and the two of you laughing as the younger man holds you close and mock-sings along with the band.

Jack’s frown is deep, furrowing his brow as he cuts his eyes away in a jealous huff.

It goes round and round like that for most of the night. One dance partner after the next sweeps you across the dance floor but never the partner you want. One beautiful woman after another sidles up to Jack and bats their eyelashes but none are the woman he actually wants at his side. It’s a three-ring-circus. A whirlwind. But you never seem to get close enough to each other to see that neither of you is actually having any fun.

It’s easy to have an arm around a woman, easy to smile and flirt. His eyes continuously find you on the dance floor. Ginger had been right apparently, you had a damn dance card that was slap full. He hisses under his breath, wondering how many of those men knew you bit your thumb when you were working out a problem or that your eyes changed to a lighter shade when you were feeling slightly bashful.

There isn’t a single night of your life where you’ve gotten this much attention from this many different men — or this many different people period — and while it’s fun in a whirlwind sort of way, you do find yourself clock-watching. Wondering why your fellow agents all seem to be paying you so many compliments tonight and why you sort of feel like Cinderella at the ball without a hint of the real Prince Charming, the closer it gets to midnight the more you’re thinking of just going home. The last thing you want is to glance across the ballroom at midnight and see Jack tangled up in a midnight kiss with some petite redhead or statuesque model with perfect curls. You’ll be happier skipping out early and being in your pjs with a book at midnight than you will be witnessing that.

It’s fucking infuriating to have so many people come between him and you. Every dang time he untangles himself to break in on your dance with some partner, Ginger, Tequila or Champ waylay him. He’s never had such a hard time getting to chat with you and it’s making him slowly unravel his temper. “Ah Jack, there you are.” He sighs and paints on a smile when Champ claps his back and shoves a drink in his hand. “Forgot to mention somethin’….” His eyes slide away from you laughing as you are spun around, bitter to be stonewalled again.

“Well if it ain’t the gol’dern Belle of the Ball.” The voice you hear behind you is the one person you were hoping to avoid tonight, and as you’ve just finished dancing with one of the guys from the technology department who you didn’t even think knew your name, there’s no escaping. Agent Vodka is one of those older men who doesn’t realize that James Bond is just a character and that no one drags that persona into their everyday life. He routinely ‘flirts’ with you like he’s bestowing you a huge goddamn favor for even looking in your direction, and you were genuinely hoping to avoid him tonight.

Vodka is handsome in a classical sense, some would say a silver fox, if he had a better attitude. As it stands, there’s a confused tilt to his Stetson adorned head and he rakes his eyes up and down your body in a very calculated gaze. “You musta cleaned up for hours. Getting ready for a good night.”

“Sure. I guess so.” You nod, tone polite but dismissive. Vodka has a tendency to interpret friendly as begging for hands to be put on you, and the last thing you want to do is encourage him. “Happy new year, Vodka.”

“Seems like Whiskey and I have been the only ones not with you tonight.” He intones, smirking slightly. “Guess you was savin’ the best for last, huh? Since Jack’s hangin’ all over the ladies, I’ll step in and claim this dance.” He doesn’t ask for permission, just stepping up to you and grabbing your waist.

“That’s really okay.” Reeling backward, Vodka is strong but your self-defense training is a hell of a lot better, and you twist in his grip to make sure he can’t get a solid hold on you no matter how hard he tries. “Appreciate the offer,” you huff, trying to push him away. “But I was just heading home.”

“Oh don’t be that way.” Vodka huffs and manages to pull you close. “Believe me, dancin’ ‘s just a prelude to what we can do later.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t want to dance with you.” You push back against him again, leveraging your elbow against his side to loosen his grip with a sharp shot to his liver. This has gone too far and is hovering on ruining the night — which has been fairly fun despite its lack of your favorite cowboy and coworker.

“Jack-“ Ginger doesn’t bother apologizing as she taps his shoulder and points out to the dance floor. “Why don’t you go save Rye?” She huffs.

At this point it’s obvious that it’s a struggle. People are giving you extra space on the dance floor as they realize what’s happening but for whatever godforsaken reason, no one has stepped in yet. Probably because they’re too shocked that Vodka has finally crossed the line into being physically inappropriate instead of just saying uncomfortable things.

“Sugar, I’m sorry I’m late for our dance.” Jack slaps his hand down on Vodka’s shoulder and digs his fingers into the fleshy muscle. Getting satisfaction from the immediate change in the man’s stance. “Don’t mind if I interrupt, do ya?” His tone is friendly, but there’s a warning woven in the words. Dark eyes turn towards you as you quickly step back from the other man’s grasp.

“Wouldn’t have thought you’d keep a dame waitin’.” Vodka mumbles, all sheepishness and apology now that he realizes he’s infringed on another man’s territory.

Jack doesn’t rip into the man like he wants to, everyone else is starting to relax and resume the party. “You probably need to lay off the liquor.” He tells the other agent, not really caring for the man either.

“You forget who we work for, Daniels?” Vodka huffs, giving Jack the stink eye. “Not like you go easy, either.”

“Last time I checked, I took no for an answer, Robbins.” Jack turns his back after letting Vodka go and sweeps you into his arms, effectively dismissing him.

The room damn near erupts into applause, chattering all around you erupting out of uncomfortable silence, but you don’t hear it. You don’t even see Tonic and Champ escorting Vodka out of the ballroom with the utmost immediacy so the dressing-down can be vocal and private. All you see is Jack, and all you hear is Jack. Even as quiet as he is, the huff he gives as he scoops you up and twirls you away speaks volumes. “Jack, you—you didn’t have to—” Of course, if he hadn’t, you’re not sure you could’ve gotten away so cleanly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t think a thing of it, sugar.” Although he has a few harsh words rolling around for everyone who didn’t step in. It’s like they were waiting for something. Alcohol’s done made their brains addled. “Although my own apologies for manhandling you to get you outta that sticky situation.” Even though he’s apologizing, he starts to lead you in a dance.

“I really don’t mind.” And that is the understatement of the goddamn year, as you instinctively melt against Jack the second he starts to move.

“Still…..” There’s finally a bit of happiness to the evening and he smirks down at you. “Now you can say your dance card has been filled.”

“Could’ve left Vodka off it completely,” you grumble lightly, but you still end up smiling. When Jack looks at you in almost any way you just light up from the inside. It’s instinctual.

“Don’t know what got into him.” Jack huffs, even though he’s saved you from encounters like that before.

“His namesake, most likely.” He had smelled like it, at least. A fact which added no charm whatsoever to your encounter. “Really, Jack. Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Jack nods. “Sugar, you know that I know you are a capable agent. You coulda mopped the floor with him, but I’ll always give you whatever help you need.”

“I prefer not to bring hand-to-hand combat to Champ’s front door if I can help it.” If you let yourself really chew on the fancy, you could imagine Jack as rescuing you like a knight in armor. Like you were his to protect. “Not sure how much he’d appreciate that, regardless of how capable I am.”

“I think you’d find Champ more forgivin’ than you think.” He snorts, reminding himself of his own major fuck up just a few years prior. Champ had forgiven him and allowed him to regain the trust and confidence that he had destroyed through his own bling grief and rage.

“Maybe.” Jack certainly knows your boss better than you do even after several years with the agency, so you’ll differ from him. “But I’m glad to not have to find out. And…” The rest of the thought gets swallowed, and you cut your eyes away from him in embarrassment. There are some things better left unsaid and normally you’re so good at keeping your mouth shut.

“And?” Jack frowns slightly, not liking that you are holding back with him. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“It’s nothing,” you promise him, shaking your head and acting like it isn’t the biggest, most honest confession in the world from you that sets your cheeks on fire and makes you even more bashful around him. “I’m just…glad I got to dance with you. That’s all.”

“You didn’t think you were going to dance out the old year without ole Jack now, did ya?” He sounds pouty that you would even think that.

"Honestly?" Shrugging slightly even with one of his hands splayed across your back and the other holding yours tenderly against his chest, you wonder how ever you ever manage to keep a damn thing to yourself with him around when your mind just sort of seems to melt in his presence. "I was going to split and ring in the new year in my bed with the book I've been reading."

Jack frowns and shakes his head, not agreeing with your plans in the slightest. “Now that seems like a waste.” He draws. “Mighty fine night to spend readin’ a book. You should be doin’ other things.”

"Not a lot of other options to pick from," you mumble, trying to force your mind away from immediately conjuring the mental images and repeated daydreams of doing just about everything under the sun with — and to — him.

Jack wants to protest that, but the song starts to close out and you almost stop in your tracks. Obviously believing that he will end the dance now that Vodka is gone and the set is done. Instead of dropping your hands, he pulls you tighter against him. “Is that why you wore a dress like that, sugar? ‘Cause you didn’t have any options?”

"Ginger picked it out." Wrongly assuming it to be an indictment of the choice, you frown reflexively and wonder why he's still holding on to you. The trouble is over and the song is done. Shouldn't he be finding someone better to spend his time with? "I know it's...it's not right. Flapper dresses are designed for women who look the opposite of me. But she insisted on sticking to the theme."

“Opposite of you?” He makes a face of utter confusion. “What are you talkin’ ‘bout? Dress looks good, fits you.” Maybe you have a shit ton of pins in the dress? His sweet wife would always have to pin her dresses to get them to fit right. Nearly every night they went out, he was helping her pin it just so.

Skinny is what you meant, but instead of saying so you just chew your lip and shake your head. Voicing that out loud would really just cement the ruination of the night and you don't want to do that. "Never mind," you insist instead. "I'm glad you like it." Even if he's just saying it to be nice, which you're sure he is, it's still nice to hear.

There’s something bugging him about the way you continuously quit talking and get around what you mean. The next song starts to play and Jack moves to that slightly faster tempo. “No one’s breakin’ in yet, sugar. So I’m keepin’ you unless you need a break?”

"No." Not from him. You would never, ever ask for a break from him. "No, I'm good." In fact, you've been so distracted by the rescue that you haven't noticed midnight creeping ever-closer. "I don't want a break."

Jack smiles, not the cocky smirk he adopts or the charming playboy facade that he uses on women like Tiffany. This is a genuine smile, one that makes his dimple show with a flash of white teeth and the crow’s feet around his eyes appear. “Then let’s dance, sugar.”

Champ chuckles when he sidles up beside Ginger with a fresh glass of champagne for each of them and his wife on his other arm, all ready to lead the midnight countdown after this song is over. "Took all damn night," he laughs to his co-conspirator. "And ya had to pull out the big gun with Vodka. But look at 'em."

“Man huffed and puffed at being used.” Ginger rolls her eyes and curls her lip. “But I promised him the Antarctic assignment. It will seem like punishment to everyone else and apparently he’s romancing one of the scientists down there.” Personally, she doesn’t see why anyone would be romanced by Vodka, but to each their own.

"It's for a damn good cause." Champ stifles a guffaw and even his wife looks amused at the way everything went down. "Everybody deserves to be happy, don't they? Even Vodka." It earns another snort from the older man and he aims a smirk at Ginger. "So what's the plan from here, Ging?"

“If Jack will get off his ass, there should be a kiss at midnight.” Ginger grins. “And maybe, just maybe, the dumbass will realize that it’s okay to want her. She wants him too.”

"Of course she does." Everybody knows that. Everybody with eyes and sense in their head, anyway. "He's just been stuck in the whole of his own grief for far too damn long. It's about time he broke free. Which is exactly why I went along with this plan of yours."

“I’m glad you did. Jack’s felt so guilty about actually developing feelings for Rye that he’s convinced himself that it’s wrong to flirt with her.” She takes a sip of her champagne. “When he breaks, it’ll be entertaining.”

"Entertaining for all of us." Grinning, Champ holds his glass out to his partner in crime in salute. "I sure as hell hope it happens right here for all of us to see."

Unaware that he’s being plotted against, Jack continues to hold you in his arms, taking you around the dance floor and trying to keep from asking too many questions that would potentially ruin his easy relationship with you. “Have you had fun? Other than Vodka? Your feet have to be killin’ you, all the dances you’ve been movin’ to.”

“It’s alright, I’ll have a hot bath and soak them. Aside from the one little interruption, everything’s been so nice.” This is the best part, without a doubt. Attention from other people is a novelty, the compliments and laughter a kind change of pace. But any time spent with Jack will always out do any other experience.

“A nice hot soak and a drink is always good to unwind.” Jack hums. “If other activities aren’t available.” The comment is warm, almost suggestive as he twists you around and then pulls you close again, feeling your softness against him and enjoying it.

It’s the worst kind of gut punch, hearing a comment like that from Jack, and your eyes are downcast when you curl back into his arms. It’s too unkind to be deliberate, but at the same time it’s such a careless comment that you just want to scream. He would never be intentionally cruel to you but the flirtatious tone of the comment is too much. “Maybe I should’ve gone with Vodka, then.”

Jack stiffens, frowning immediately and his blood pressure rises in anger. “What the fuck?” He hisses, the moment making him grip you tighter, almost the point of hurting you. “Why- you?” He’s at a loss for words right now.

“Well it’s the only offer I’ve gotten in…a year? Maybe more?” You shrug dismissively but his grip on you doesn’t allow for it, making your tone turn even more bitter in the process. He doesn’t get to get mad about who offers when he has no interest in himself. “Definitely more than a year, now that I think about it.”

“That wasn’t a goddamn offer.” He snorts. “It was a cowboy playin’ grab ass when his partner wasn’t willing.” He reminds you, dark eyes flashing angrily. “Otherwise known as assault.”

“And yet it’s still the only time any man has looked at me twice in more than a calendar year,” you hit back, practically hissing under your breath as embarrassed tears sting at your eyes. “Nobody’s exactly lining up to spend time with the fat girl except tonight which is Ginger’s doing. I know it is.” (edited)

The two of you are hissing back and forth, so preoccupied with your emotions that neither one of you are aware of the fact that the countdown for midnight has begun. The crowd around you starts to chant down from ten but Jack's too busy growling at you in anger. "Why are you so fuckin' quick to insult every goddamn person who decided to dance with you?"

“Because I know I’m right.” The two of you have never once torn into each other like this and while it breaks you’re heart, you’re so angry that lashing out is happening by instinct. It hurts so much more to be doubted by him and you can’t even express why. It’s devastating. “Do you even know what assignments they give me, Jack?” You hiss back, not hearing the shouts around you. “The ones where they need someone to be invisible! If they need someone plain and ignorable, they come straight to me. Do you know how much that fucking hurts? Because I’m good at it and that’s even worse than them just assuming. I’m excellent at not being noticed. At not being desired. It’s my fucking superpower. So no, I don’t think for a second that any of these dances were genuine moments of interest or offers for literally anything else. Because why would they be?”

His heart breaks and he's simultaneously enraged that you view yourself that way. "Five! Four! Thr—" He reaches up and grabs the back of your neck to yank you forward so your nose is less than an inch from his own. "You want a goddamn offer?" He snarls, losing all sense of reason when it comes to you and ready to prove how wrong you are. "Here's your fuckin' offer." Without another word, he drags you forward to plaster his lips against yours in an angry kiss.

It should feel terrible. It should make you so angry you slap him. It should make you feel a hell of a lot of nasty things, but instead what you feel is the undeniable melting of your own self against him, finally getting the only thing you’ve wanted since the day this infuriating cowboy sauntered into your life. Jack is firm under your hands, burning hot and intoxicatingly inviting in the way he does not pull away. You must have gotten so mad you blacked out, because this is impossible.

When you don’t push him away, when you don’t slap him, Jack growls. Using the soft sigh that you give to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth with another groan as the cheers and sing of Auld Lang Syne happens all around the two of you.

Either you’ve burst a blood vessel from being so angry and ashamed or this is the best dream you’ve ever had. Jack wraps both of his arms tight around you and you cling to him, fists dig into the arm of his suit jacket and the hair on the nape of his neck as you silently beg this hallucination never to end. You can live and die in this moment and tell yourself that it was more than a dream. You can imagine this is exactly how fiercely Jack kisses when he really wants to. When he wants someone.

The kiss has turned from an angry mashing of his lips against yours to a passionate mingling of your breath and tongues. You whimper and his entire body tighten with need. Overriding the portion of his brain that is screaming that this is a bad idea, that he is bad for you and continuing to kiss you as everyone else has moved into dancing now.

Neither one of you has realized that his hat has been knocked off, or that he’s drawn you so close your back has bowed, or even that you’ve entirely given up on needing to breathe in order to never have to stop kissing him. Years of repressed desire and soul-crushingly unrequited love are just being poured into every second you spend drowning in this impossible fantasy.

“Well damn.” Champ chuckles from his position on the dance floor with his lovely wife. “Didn’t expect that long of a show. Boy don’t stop soon, he’s gonna devour her right there in the middle of the floor.”

“That’s what happens when you repress your feelings for six goddamn years,” Ginger snorts in amusement. “Should I go interrupt them?”

“No.” Champ decides with a shake of his silvery head. “Leave ‘em. Don’t want the boy to get spooked before he makes up his mind what’s gonna happen next.”

“And he will.” Ginger agrees with that completely. Jack spooks faster than a newborn foal.

“He would, where she’s concerned. Boy has his heart in it and he’s been fightin’ it.” Champ agrees as his wife chuckles. “He will figure it out.” She promises. “Rye won’t let him walk away from this with a smile and a handshake.”

“I think she’d rather die than let him go, at this rate.” The smile on Ginger’s face is soft. Glad that her friend is finally getting everything she — you — have ever wanted. It really is only oxygen that makes the two of you pull apart, panting for breath with fingers curled into each other’s flesh and clothes like you’re hanging on for dear life.

Jack’s eyes are dark and searching as he looks at you. Looking for the answer to a question and when he finds what he’s looking for, he grabs your hand and starts to drag you off the dance floor.

“Jack?” The realization that that really just happened ignites a small panic in your chest and a riot in your mind, and the fact that Jack hasn’t let go of you or run off in disgust is only confusing you more.

He doesn’t speak, he can’t speak right now. The people on the floor just seem to part, moving out of his way as he guides you off the floor. He does squeeze your hand though.

“Jack?” The longer he goes without saying anything the higher the panic rises, but you cling to his hand all the way to the front door of Champ’s house where the front room has been transformed into a coat closet.

Jack doesn’t answer and spins you around to press you up against the wall, kissing you again. “Get your fuckin’ coat.” He demands roughly.

It’s a much briefer kiss but it leaves you breathless all the same, and the determination in his eyes makes you shiver and rush to obey. If this is what you’re going to get with him — just a few demanding kisses before he decides it was a mistake and turns you away? Then you’ll take it.

His hat is missing, Jack realizes when he goes to readjust it and frowns. Patting his head and looking around to see if it fell off around here, but it’s nowhere in sight. It’s a small price to pay, but he runs his hand through his hair as you rush back to his side. “We’re leaving.”

He doesn’t seem angry, but for the life of you there is no version of tonight that goes any further. Not in your mind. A conversation about how you shouldn’t have kissed him — or at least kissed him back, since you have a dim memory of his hand pulling you to him right before your mind went blank — or at least about how it was a mistake is bound to follow.

The second your hand is in his again, Jack is dragging you through the doors and down the stairs of the house to his Bronco. He’s parked close, thank god and he can barely get the door open before he’s grabbing your waist and practically throwing you up into the seat.

It shouldn't be a thrill to be lifted up and tossed around as though you weigh next to nothing, but there is something in Jack's singular determination and focus that tells you not to question or fight it. If he wants to manhandle you a little before whatever uncomfortable confrontation is bound to happen? Well, it's not as though you haven't literally fantasized about that scenario. At least now you have a frame of reference.

He’s holding onto his control, barely. Racing around the front of the vehicle and jumping in beside you. He can’t even talk to you as he starts the engine. Thankful that his place isn’t too far away as he throws the Bronco into gear and slings gravel as he spins out.

The most surprising part might be that he reaches for your hand as he drives. His fingers curl through yours and hold onto you on top of the gear shift, not letting you do your usual thing of shifting away or curling in on yourself in uncertainty.

There’s only two miles left to go. He grunts as he slows down to make the turn and your hand moves the shifter with him, making sure that he doesn’t squeeze it too hard as he goes through the gears.

He's driving to his own house. You've done this route yourself more times than you can count for a thousand different reasons. The apartment that you rent with your ample Statesman salary is well on the other side of Louisville and Ginger lives closer to you than to Jack, so it's not like you have any doubt where he's headed. When he pulls the Bronco down his long and winding driveway toward the large farmhouse he's called home for a decade already, your hand tightens slightly in his, nervous and wondering what will come next.

When he cuts the engine, there’s a half a second before he opens the door. Almost speaking but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s climbing out to walk around the truck to open the door.

"I wish you would say something." Even if he's helping you out of the car and holding onto your hand, you can't figure out what's going on in his head. Not having any clue is making you a little panicky the longer it goes on.

Jack stops, two steps away from the path to the front door. “Do you want to come inside?” There’s a fear that you don’t want this. That you are not on the same page as he is.

He's not angry. Or upset anymore, that you can tell. But the determination in his gaze is still there for something that you can't quite put your finger on. "Yes," you decide, nodding as you step toward both him and the house. "I do." Whatever happens, you're hopeful it won't be bad.

You said yes. Your words spur him on again and he’s off like a shot, dragging you behind him. The biometric lock is a godsend. There’s no fumbling for a key at the door as he hustles you inside and slams it behind you both, pressing you against it as he attempts to devour your mouth once more.

This was not the reaction you expected. Not in any way. Not even when he had kissed you twice at Champ’s house before hauling you over to his place with the fires of hell scorching his toes. Anybody else might have read the signals, but not you. Not with the surprised squeal you let out or the soft moan that follows it — both completely outside of your control.

You’re alone now and this time, Jack doesn’t keep his hands on your waist. Both hands grab firm handfuls of your delightful round ass and squeezes as he presses into you. His painfully hard cock grinding into the soft pouches of your hips.

Because of the complete blanket of disbelief you're living under, it takes you longer than you're proud of or will ever admit to realize what is pressing against your hip. It's the first throbbing twitch from under his perfectly tailored suit that has your eyes flying open and both of your hands pressing firmly on his shoulders, breaking the kiss as you gasp in surprise.

“What- I thought-“ Jack’s frown is one of utter confusion as he drops his hands and steps back from you. Hating the feeling of rejection and suddenly wondering if he’s made a fucking fool of himself by getting twisted in knots by a woman who doesn’t actually want him. “‘m sorry.”

"Why?" The incredulous question is out of your mouth before you can stop it, and the confusion marring both of your faces makes you suck in a deep breath. "I—I just—I'm surprised," you admit, as damned foolish as that makes you sound. Fucking shocked is what you are, but you don't want to be labor the point and ruin whatever is happening.

He feels foolish and embarrassed, like he’s been caught with his hand in a candy jar. Reaching up and running his hand through his hair, he blows out a breath. “You said you wanted to come in.” He reasons. “I- what did you think would happen?”

"I—I don't know," you admit, feeling even more ridiculous than he does. Your back is still against his front door, crying out loud. "I ruled out you still being mad at me after you kissed me again but I didn't think..." Gesturing at him lamely, you blow out a breath and rub at the back of your neck. "I'm not saying I want to stop, I was just surprised." If this is the only chance you're going to get with him? You're going to take it and run with it as long as it lasts.

He frowns again, wondering how you could want him and yet be surprised when he wants to take you to bed. “So what do you want, sugar? Because I’m feeling like a penny at the bottom of a pan, rattled.”

The expression cracks the tension, at least for you, and an unexpectedly bright and beaming smile graces your lips as you reach for him boldly and find to your own delight and continued surprise that he doesn't draw away. "What I want is...a long shot." It's more than that, but you're downplaying your own fears to a rather extreme degree right now. Trying to be brave. "But...what are the odds you were thinkin' about taking me upstairs?"

“House odds.” Jack rasps out, knowing that the odds are always in the house’s favor when playing at a casino. “Pondered the idea of strippin’ you down right here and making you squeal against the door, but then tossin’ you over my shoulder and haulin’ you to my large, luxurious bed also has its merits.”

You genuinely have to shut your eyes to steady yourself, exhaling long and deep and praying you aren't actually moaning out loud like you are in your head. As it stands, both images he paints have your knees weak and your body shivering. "Eith—um—either one," you manage to stammer out, eyelashes parting so hesitantly that they flutter like wings. "Either one is good."

“Sexy as you look, sugar….” Now that he knows that you are on the same page as him, a little bit of the cocky swagger is back. “Thinkin’ it’d be a goddamn shame not to spread you out.” Despite your stature, Jack tucks his shoulder and scoops you up over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, bolting for the stairs.

"Holy hell, Jack!" A nervous shout and a squeak escape you when he picks you up, and you cling to his jacket as he carries you through the house you've visited innumerable times before.

Chuckling, Jack slaps your ass with his free hand as he ambles up the stairs easily. “Don’t be nervous, sugar, I won’t drop you.”

This time you definitely do moan out loud, too taken by surprise to stop the sound or swallow it before it can come out of your mouth and you know Jack heard.

He grins to himself, slapping your ass again and is rewarded with another moan. “Mmmmhm.” He chuckles. “Rye likes a little bit of light spanking. Noted.”

"Pretty sure I'll like anything you do," you admit ruefully, though you're quickly feeling the constraints of embarrassment fall away as he reaches his bedroom door. This is real. This is really happening.

"I'll keep that in mind when I hogtie you to the bed and lick whipped cream off your body." He teases, kicking open the slightly ajar door and striding into the room to toss you down on the bed like a character in a romance novel. Right now, he doesn't know if he's supposed to be the hero or the villain, feeling a bit like both as his rough handling of you as him immediately reaching for your ankles to pull off your shoes in his eagerness to see you naked in his bed.

“See?” You huff at him, heavy breathing coming from nothing but an undeniable surplus of desire. “That actually sounds sexy coming from you.” Everything does, but his quick fingers are divesting you of your shoes and that reminds you how your Spanx is part of this undressing process — which is the single least sexy thing in the world.

Jack rips off his tuxedo jacket and tosses it down on the floor. Climbing up onto the bed and over you to press against you fully, pinning you down to the bed with a groan. Quickly capturing your lips again in a frenzied kiss.

It makes no damn sense to you, but you’re not going to question it anymore. If Jack could have literally anyone in the world but for tonight he chooses you, then you’re just going to make sure he doesn’t regret it. That decision on your part sort of pulls you out of your nervous shock, and all at once your hands are pulling open his tie and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt with enthusiasm.

“There we go.” Jack groans when you stop acting shocked and start acting. Your hands on his body makes him shake and he can’t help but rock his hips forward. “Sugar.”

He could probably call you whatever he wanted and you would just go with it, but hearing him call you Sugar — that sickly sweet name he favors so much yet seems to bestow on you so rarely? It feels like you might melt so deeply into his plush mattress that you will never get up again.

Moving from your lips takes sheer willpower but he wants to explore more of you. One hand bracing on the bed and the other sliding up to squeeze your breast as he kisses down your chin and to the soft, vulnerable skin of your throat. “Driving me crazy, baby girl.” He coos, voice rough and lusty. “So goddamn pretty.”

No one who has ever met Jack would be surprised to learn how mouthy the cowboy is in bed. He’s mouthy in every other aspect of his life so frankly it would be pretty strange if this was the exception. Still, to hear those words said to you is beyond your wildest dreams. It’s surreal in the most sensational of ways. Even when you had dreamed of being with Jack, you had never dreamed of him praising you.

He groans when your fingernails bite into the skin on his chest as you hastily push the shirt opened. “Tigress, huh?” He growls, squeezing your tit again, a little harder this time and his hard cock pulses against your inner thigh. “Don’t worry, sugar. I’m just as goddamn eager as you. But ‘ole Jack likes a bit of wildness.” He bites down on your shoulder as he chuckles. “We’ll have ourselves one hell of a rodeo tonight.”

If you even knew where half this boldness came from, you might be a little embarrassed. But given the fact that you never thought this would happen, it mostly just feels like you're telling yourself not to waste the chance. Lightning never strikes the same place twice and this is your lightning strike, so you're going to lean into the whole thing if that's what he really wants. Your nails strike a path down his chest but get caught in his undershirt, a fact which makes you huff in frustration and search blindly for the hem to tear off that layer of clothing as well.

Jack groans and finally decides to give you what you want. Pulling back long enough to finish pulling his arms out of the shirt sleeves, he tears the undershirt off and throws it off the side of the bed to reveal his chest. Unable to resist pulling your dress down to pop your breast out and diving back down to wrap his mouth around a nipple.

"Oh fuck." It's a move you weren't expecting, but your back arches off the mattress instinctively to push your chest up and invite him to take and take and take — just as much as he wants to. If you were coherent enough to suggest it you would try to start wiggling out of your dress but as it is the only thing you can focus on is the heat of him surrounding you and the way every place he kisses you seems to catch on fire immediately at the press of his lips.

He suckles, bites and then licks the hard nub in his mouth like he’s gorging himself on you. Because he is. Hands searching for the zipper to your gorgeous dress. It’s beautiful, but it needs to be beautiful on his floor.

"If you want it off, you have to let me sit up," you manage to huff out, barely able to do more than pant at the way he's clearly trying to devour your tits first.

Groaning in protest, his lips are twisting in a pout as he pulls away. Panting breathlessly as he itches to launch himself at you again. “Hurry up, sugar.”

Your hands are shaking when you reach for the zipper, pulling it down and carefully undoing the clasp at the top before letting the heavily sequined cocktail dress slip off of your arms so you can maneuver it over your head. Half-naked in Jack's bed with panties so soaked you could probably wring them out is not how you expected to end this night, but here you are.

“Fuck.” Jack frowns at the tight shapewear he’s met with. “My present’s a little too wrapped for my liking, baby girl.” He hisses, curling his fingers under the layer to start stripping it off of you. “Want you naked.”

"It was the only way that dress was gonna look halfway decent," you mumble, shifting under him and definitely avoiding looking him in the face while he peels the Spanx off of you. It's a little bit too intimate even for the man you've wanted to be intimate with for years — to the point of making you feel completely naked even when you still have your bra and panties on.

He scoffs, nearly ready to whip his knife out and start slicing the material. “Bullshit.” He huffs, happy there’s just the bra and he uses two fingers to flick the four hooks open. “You don’t need nothin’.” Instead of explaining, he’s diving back into your tits while one hand dips into your panties.

“Fuck, Jack!” Instead of a tight reaction of shock, this time he’s rewarded with a moan and your legs falling open for him as the fingers of one hand dig through his thick hair to scratch along the base of his scalp. If he wants you to be bold, you’ll be bold. You’ll be whatever Jack wants as long as you just get to be in his bed for one night.

Jack moans against your tits, incredibly turned on by the pure moxy he’s always loved in you. Despite your utterly untrue view on yourself, you are sassy, sweet and sexy. That’s why he’s unable to resist now that he’s tasted you. Once he’s teased one breast enough, he switches to the other. “Gonna eat you up, sugar. Devour you whole.”

"All yours." It's sort of unintentional, the vow-like nature of the thing, but you're just being honest. You've really been Jack's since the day you met him. Even if it's taken so many damn years to get the two of you into this situation together, it's still the truth. "Whatever you want, handsome."

He groans, fingers sliding through the sweet slick that is covering your folds. “Want you.” He mumbles as he starts to slide his finger deeper, pressing against your entrance.

It's not even in your mind to ask why when he's splitting you open on two thick fingers like that, and you swear if that's how this night is starting you might actually ascend directly to some higher plain if you get to actual sex. "Ha—fuck— you have me."

“Mmmmmm.” He licks your nipple “Not yet.” He pouts, pulling his fingers back out of you to plunge them in again. “But I will, sugar. Cum for me and then I’ll have you like I’ve been dreamin’.”

The curse you groan out is nearly incoherent, more of an agreement than anything else but you'll be damned if you let this moment be anything less than memorable for both of you. Jack hovers over you and you wind your arms around him to encourage him to continue sucking on your tits while his fingers piston in and out of your pussy with determination. You know it won't take too much longer before your legs start to shake, and as if Jack knows it just as intuitively, he curls his fingers inside you and you gasp out a moan of his name.

His teeth nip at your sensitive flesh as he hisses. Feeling how tight your pussy squeezes his fingers and imagines his cock inside you. Tight and fucking scorching hot, just like he had imagined with his hand wrapped around his cock in the shower. “That’s it, pretty girl.” He coos before he sucks on your nipple again. Moaning when you arch up, writhing under him and making the prettiest, most desperate sounds he’s heard in a long time.

No one who has ever been in this bed has ever left it with any remaining doubts about Jack’s skills as a lover, and while you knew that before? Now you understand it oh-so-very deeply. His fingers pump into you mercilessly, curling at just the right angle to make you cry out in pleasure in every pass, and yet somehow he’s managed to keep the angle of that curl perfect while still holding them apart — stretching your eager pussy open and making sure you’re ready to take every inch of him. All of those intricacies combine with the dedication attention he is lavishing on your tits, and when the tense coil of restraint in your belly snaps it explodes into a thousand white-hot stars behind your eyes as you cum for him.

You’re gorgeous when you fall apart, just like he knew you would be. Keeping his fingers moving, he watches, enthralled with you as you cry out his name in a pitch that has his cock throbbing. The hot gush of your pleasure makes his fingers squelch inside you and he groans out your name while he starts to slow down the rhythm of his hand, letting you float down from your orgasm, drawing it out for you.

“Holy hell…” When your eyes open again you’re completely boneless beneath him, giggling softly at the light-as-air feeling in your body that never ever feels lighter than anything.

Dragging his wet fingers out of your cunt is his own personal kind of hell, but the urge to taste you is too great. Watching you with dark eyes as he slips his two fingers into his mouth with a lusty groan.

“Take your pants off.” The way you groan it is nearly an order but you definitely meant it to be begging, though at this point you don’t care. Especially when he arches an eyebrow at you and smirks. “Take your fucking pants off, Jack.”

Chuckling, he shuffles off the bed to oblige you. “Never let it be said I don’t follow orders, sugar.” He winks as he kicks off the tuxedo pants and hooks his fingers into his boxer briefs. “These too?”

“The fact that you even wear underwear is a shock,” you tease, motioning for him to continue stripping and trying — but probably not succeeding — to not stare.

He smirks. “Had to contain the beast for once.” He winks as he drags the tight material down. “Don’t wear ‘em normally.”

The Beast is probably as good a name as any, and you have to swallow a groan when he frees his throbbing cock — already damp with precum. It’s a wonder he can contain it, and you’re caught in between wanting to bend forward and taste him or just lying back for him to have his way with you. Curiosity and a curtain of lust win out on the short struggle, and you lean forward to take the purple head of his cock in your mouth just after he climbs back onto the bed.

“Fuck!” Jack moans out loudly and pushes your head away gently after a moment. “Baby, baby…” he pants. “You keep that up and this rodeo will be over before it starts.”

“Sorry…” Embarrassment burns your cheeks, and you shift back to get under his blankets. “I just had to know…”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Jack huffs. Kneeling on the bed and pulling the covers away as you hide your body away from his eyes. “Just don’t want to embarrass myself by blowing my load because of your pretty mouth before I can hear you scream my name.”

“I already have,” you remind him, a softness in your tone belied by the heat in both of your eyes. “Guess I might have to be a little louder this time.”

“Only if it’s right in my ear.” Jack wraps his hand around his cock and strokes it as he reaches for your thigh. “Buried deep inside that little cunt and feeling like I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

It goes without saying that you’re both clean. All Statesman agents are required to have clean bills of health in order to be on the roster for missions and you’re both active agents. “I—have an IUD.” Is what you tell him instead, shivering a little at the reality of what is about to happen.

Eyes lighting up in delight, Jack’s lips curl up. “Oh sugar, it’s not my birthday yet, why are you showerin’ me with presents?” He coos, sliding his hand up and down your ample thigh. “Pretty as a damn picture.”

The real answer is that you’re desperate to feel him, but you just smirk instead, not wanting to get your heart more involved than it already is. “Because I don’t have a condom and I’ll be damned if we stop now because of it.”

“If you want me to get one…” Jack motions back to his pants. “I have one in my wallet.”

“I don’t want the barrier,” you admit, biting your lip at the extremely vulnerable nature of that confession. “If it’s okay with you.”

His smirk turns into a wicked grin. “You read my mind, sugar. I want to feel all of you.”

You could make a joke about how much of you there is to feel, but just this once you stifle the urge. Opting instead to reach out and gently cup Jack's cheeks in both of your hands before pressing a soft, earnest kiss to his lips. "Then what are you waiting for, Cowboy?”

As you lean back, Jack follows you. Climbing up your body and groaning as he settles between your thighs. “You want to cum again, pretty girl?”

"Not without you this time." The reality of Jack is better than anything you thought so far. Since this miracle is surely once in a lifetime, you want it to be as amazing as possible.

Jack groans your name, pressing his lips to yours in another hot, wet kiss. Passionate and consuming as he pushes an arm underneath you. “I’m right here with you.”

As impossible as it seems, he really is. He is right there with you, taking you in his arms and making you feel delicate and desirable for the first real time in your entire adult life.

He doesn’t rush, although he wants to. Every kiss is slow and thorough. Reaching down between you to take hold of himself to notch at your entrance. “Hold on, sugar. See if we can ride for longer than eight seconds.”

“I’m not gonna buck you, Jack.” You can promise him that, because you know damn well you’re going to hold onto this moment for dear life and not question the gift that it is. This one little shining moment is just for the two of you and you’re never going to forget a single second of it.

His eyes are watching, burning into yours as he starts to slowly rock his hips forward. Breaking you open with the first inch of his cock and swooping in to kiss you again when you gasp.

The world slows down, motions stretching into time and blending together in ways that you can’t quite wrap your head around so all you know in this moment is Jack. Every time he thrusts forward again your moans get that much deeper, until on the final experimental rock of his hips, he is seated fully inside you and you feel so spellbound and grateful for the moment that you’re all but sure you could cry. Instead you pour yourself into kissing him, rocking your own hips slightly to take him more comfortably and adjust to the weighty feeling of having him inside you.

“Fuck, baby girl.” Jack inhales sharply, stealing your breath as he tries to rein himself in, throbbing violently inside you. If it weren’t for the fact that he had promised you a rodeo, he would be cumming, overwhelmed by how hot and tight you are. You’re perfect, just like he always imagined. “You be a good girl and take my cock, m’kay?”

Good girl is another one of those sticking points for you just like getting your ass slapped, and if Jack had no idea before, he certainly does now, from the way your cunt just spasmed around his length and you moaned like you were coming all over again.

“Ohhhhhh.” Jack’s eyes nearly cross and he gives a particularly sharp thrust when you clamp down around him. “You like that.” He pants out. “You’re my good girl?”

“S’not fair,” you huff, throwing him a playful pout that gets cut by another shaky moan. “You’re finding all the buttons I like pushed way too easily.”

“You haven’t - fuck - figured out my buttons yet, sugar?” Jack ducks his head down and slides the arm not underneath you down your hip and thigh to pull it up higher. Sinking deeper into you with a moan of your name.

“Liking to have your cock sucked doesn’t—fuck!— count,” you tell him, back arching as he hits a new angle inside you.

He chuckles and licks at your pulse before he nips at your skin with his teeth. Fingers digging into your pillowy flesh and groans when you clench around him again.

Finding a rhythm is as easy as breathing. Being with him is so much more natural and intuitive than you dreamt it would be. Your natural tendency to be a little rougher is equaled by his enthusiasm for making the bedroom a loud and raucous experience. There’s no hiding from each other or demurring, not once you get going. It’s like something inside you has finally been unlocked after a lifetime of waiting — waiting for Jack to come along with the key that would open you up.

If it surprises Jack that you are wild in bed, it’s probably the best goddamn surprise he’s ever gotten. His back burns from the raking of your nails when he hits deep. He fucking loves it. Your wildness makes him go absolutely feral over you.

It’s the opposite of who you are in everyday life. A version of you just for him. A version of you that leaves your worries outside the circle of your bodies and embraces sex as something carefree. Which, if you’re honest, isn’t really how you’ve felt about sex with anyone besides Jack. (edited)

His lips and teeth map every inch that he can reach as he pumps in and out of you frantically. Trying to keep the pace hard and fast because every time your cunt clenches, his hips stutter from how fucking tight you are. “Fuck, my good girl.” He growls. “So fucking tight.”

“So fucking big,” you give back, starting to pant heavier and more unevenly. There’s a whine forming in the back of your throat that you can’t hold back and you bite down on the juncture of Jack’s shoulder as your legs threaten to shake all over again. You’re so close to cumming but you don’t want this to end.

Jack changes the tempo, slowing down and grinding his pelvis against your clit. “You gonna cum for me, baby girl?” He rasps out. “Cum on Jack’s big ‘ole cock and soak me?”

"So—oh, fuck—close, baby." The way you feel right now, you might actually fall apart at the seams when you cum again, but it will be worth it. It will be worth just knowing first hand how gorgeous Jack looks when he follows you over the edge. "Don't stop. Don't fucking stop, Jack."

“Never.” Jack growls, smashing his teeth together and hissing at the way you claw and writhe under him. It’s like taming a feral cat in a pillowcase and he loves it. Your thighs are crushing his hips and all he can do is imagine them around his head. “Cum for me.”

A half dozen thrusts later, your cunt is clenching down on his cock and pulsing with a fierce orgasm that has your thighs tensing at his waist and your back bowing off the bed. Everything seems to be happening at the top of however it possibly could, and that includes the way you cry his name into the night before collapsing back into his sheets with your arms and legs still around him, willing him to follow you to bliss.

Jack moans your name, pants it again against your lips. His brow knitted in concentration as he tries to last. His body tightening and tensing as his pleasure builds to that almost painful precipice. His heart pounding, but not because of the physical exertion, but because of the almost loving look on your eyes. “Love you.” He moans, right as his lips crash against yours and he breathes it into your mouth again. “Love you.”

You freeze under him, but Jack is too caught in his bliss to tell. Like a bucket of water has been splashed over the bubble of this night and popped that shell keeping you separate from the world. Did he just...? There's no way. There's just absolutely no way at all. You must have imagined it. Wished for it so desperately that you hallucinated the words. Because otherwise you're not quite sure what you'll do — because Jack has never lied to you. But he's also never given you any reason to think your feelings might be requited.

Caught up in his orgasm, Jack rides wave after wave of complete bliss as he empties himself into you, metaphorically and physically. Giving you every bit of himself as he finally acknowledges the truth of why he has always kept you at arms length. His love for you terrifying him, but right now, he’s flying. Collapsing into your arms and panting out your name as he catches his breath.

There's nothing you can do with this shock except bury it, holding him and gently stroking his hair while he catches his breath with his head on your chest. You imagined it, you remind yourself silently, blinking back tears at how much you wish it was true.

The whiskey, the emotions and the exertion have Jack cuddly and sleepy as he comes down from his orgasm. “Fuck, baby girl.” He hums, kissing your neck as he slowly pulls out of you and shifts to your side to roll you over with him. “Wore me out.” He chuckles. “But gave a hell of a ride.”

He tucks you into his arms to be his little spoon, not letting you get away for even a second. Any other time? This would have been thrilling. "Get some sleep, baby." Returning the pet name seems innocent enough, and you reach back to run your fingers through his hair gently. "You earned it."

His eyes are closed when he shoots you a sleepy grin. “Talk when we wake up, sugar.” He promises, fingers stroking your skin softly.

That promise might be why you sleep so fitfully in the night to follow. Why you're so wound up that when your Statesman issued phone chirps from your purse on his floor around 6:30 in the morning, your eyes open immediately. Jack has turned over in the night, sleeping on his back now with one arm still around you but not so tightly that you can't extract yourself to answer the message. That phone is used only for missions and confidential communication, meaning you absolutely cannot ignore it. Incoming Message: Agent Rye report immediately for mission briefing. CODE BLACK. Code Black. You curse under your breath, careful not to wake Jack, and rub one hand down your face in dismay. That level of secrecy in a mission assignment means you can't even wake him up to say goodbye. You're supposed to speak to no one, just proceed immediately to the nearest Statesman branch for your mission briefing. With a sigh and another, more colorful curse, you shake your head and glance back at the bed where Jack is sleeping soundly. There's nothing to do but get dressed and Walk of Shame your ass into the office. You just wish you could wake him up to say goodbye.

It’s been years since Jack has slept so well. Deep and dreamless, none of the nightmares that often plague his rest. The soft scent of you surrounding him and soothing him like nothing he’s had in a long time. When his eyes open, he’s feeling like he’s had the best sleep of his life. Frowning when he doesn’t feel you next to him. Calling out your name softly in case you were in the bathroom. “Rye? Sugar?”

There's no trace of you anywhere. He may as well have come home alone last night, except for the scent of you in the air and the scratches on his back. It's almost an insult when he sees a fallen sequin on the rug where your dress had been tossed.

“Fuck.” Jack’s slipped out of plenty of beds, ducked out and kept walking. The walk of shame was never shameful when there was a little bit of pep to his step, but right now, he’s pissed. Pissed you didn’t have the fucking balls to wake him before you slipped off like a thief in the night. Snatching up his pants, he digs into the pocket for his phone, dialing your number and ready to have it out with you.

"Hi! Sorry I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I'm able!" Your voicemail message is insultingly chipper when it picks up right away, almost taunting him. Like you aren't willing to talk, when nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Fuck!” Jack shouts, throwing the phone and scowling angrily. Pissed that you aren’t here, that you apparently don’t want to talk to him. “Fine, you regret it? Fuck you too.” He growls and stomps into the bathroom to shower. If you wanted nothing to do with him after he had let down his walls last night, he wants nothing to do with you either.

******

"What's got you all chewed up and spat out today?" Tequila raises an eyebrow at Jack when he comes huffing into the office, a little late and a lot pissed off. He had expected Jack to be in a stellar mood.

“Not a goddamn thing.” Even though his feathers are ruffled, Jack practically refuses to even think about you. To the point where he had thrown the sheets and the costly Tom Ford tuxedo away. “Whadda we got?” Desperate to concentrate on a mission, he jumps straight into business.

"Wingman prep." Tequila tells him, tapping the folder on his own desktop. "Somebody got tapped this morning and Champ wants us to comb some old mission files to prep for an extraction. Plan B sorta shit." And since all of the mission-ready agents on the Statesman payroll are top notch with years of experience under their belts, anyone potentially needing an extraction from a mission is a big fucking deal.

“Who got tapped?” Jack asks, grabbing a file and flipping it open with a frown on his face. “Scotch?”

"I thought you'd know already." Tequila's eyes snap back up to Jack in concern. "It was Rye."

Jack freezes and slowly lifts his eyes from the file to find Tequila frowning at him, confused by how he doesn’t know. “Why would I know that?” Jack asks after a moment. It explains why your phone was off, but you had still slipped out without saying a fucking word.

"Because...you went home with her last night?" Everybody knows that you and Jack left the party. Absolutely everyone. There was a whole extra celebration after you left. "Figured you woulda known by her getting up this morning and all."

There’s a split second where Jack wants to snap that you had left him to wake up alone, but he doesn’t. What comes out of his mouth instead, is to deny the whole thing. “Took her home.” Jack shrugs, lying easily as if he couldn’t care less. “She wanted to soak in a bath and read some book.”

The frown on Tequila's face deepens measurably, pure confusion marring his usually chipper face. "Bullshit," he huffs, leaning back in his desk chair. "I saw you kiss her. No way."

“Believe what you want.” Jack snaps flatly. “Where are we in planning the back up plans?” The hurt is soothed slightly by you being called away, but it doesn’t make it nonexistent. You hadn’t even left a goddamn message for him. He could have seen not waking him if you had left some sign that you didn’t regret the night even happened.

"Early stages." Knowing better than to poke the dragon when he's mad about something, Tequila defers to work like Jack clearly wants. "Tell me what you think, but I think me on the ground and you in the Silver Pony is the best bet." Whatever happened between you and Jack, the man is clearly hurt, and Tequila makes a note to go and talk to Ginger when he gets his next chance. If you had said anything to anyone, it would be to her.

“Whatever.” Jack practically rolls his eyes and shrugs. Usually he loves the opportunity to fly and show off in the Silver Pony, but he’s so worked up over you that he doesn’t even bat an eyelash. “Guess that’s the plan. If needed.”

“If needed.” All Tequila does is nod, but damn he really needs to talk to Ginger.

******

Jack holes up in his office, barely answering the phone and not leaving it all day, not even for lunch. Catching up on paperwork that is normally never done as he works through not being at home. Not remembering how you tasted and sounded last night. He’s even refused to pull up your camera footage, not wanting to see what you are doing. He’s miserable and is determined to stay that way.

“Thought I’d find you in here.” Champ’s gruff voice cuts through the silence long after everyone else has gone home for the night. He knew exactly where Jack would be. Especially after Tequila said the senior agent was out of sorts. “Come up to my office, Jack. We’re gonna have a drink.” It’s not a suggestion or a request. This is a direct order from this commander, and Champ turns around and heads back down the hall knowing Jack will follow.

Jack sighs and sets his pen down, ripping the reading glasses off his face and tossing them down on the folder. He had stayed cooped up in his office so he didn’t take his bad mood out on anyone so he doesn’t see why he needs to be called out onto the carpet. Still, he pushes back from his desk and follows the older man to the conference room Champ preferred over his official office. The bar cart in here was better stocked.

“Pick your poison.” Champ tells him, motioning for Jack to sit down at the conference table as he strolls over to the cart to grab a bottle and two glasses.

“Whatever your havin’.” Jack wonders what this is about, but he doesn’t ask. Just waits patiently for his boss to get to the reason in his own sweet time.

Champ grunts slightly, grabbing a bottle of ‘74 Reserve, and brings it to the table. He pours two fingers in each glass and slides one over to set in front of Jack before sitting down beside him and taking a sip from his own glass. “You’ve been hidin’ today,” he assesses after a moment of silence. “But I hear you damn near took Tequila’s head off this morning when you got in.”

“Can’t have a bad day?” Jack asks, picking up the whiskey and staring at it before taking a sip. “Woke up wrong, that’s all. I’ll apologize to the crybaby later.”

“He’s not a damn crybaby,” Champ huffs, covering his own amusement with a scowl. “I walked by your damn office, fool. And when he did come talk to me about it, it was because he was worried about you.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jack scowls and shakes his head. “I had a bad morning. I’m fine. Not gonna go off and try to kill all the drug users again.”

“Not saying you would.” Holding up his hands in a show of innocence, Champ leans back all the way and stares down his nose at Jack for a second longer before he shakes his head and shrugs. “But between you and me just these walls? Just thought you might wanna know that Rye got sent off Code Black, is all.” He isn’t supposed to say. Black is black. It’s too priority and top security. But you’d been so torn up this morning and Jack’s been so out of sorts in his own way that Champ has rightfully assumed that something fairly big must’ve happened after you left the party.

His jaw nearly drops. Champ never gives information away like that. He frowns, looking back down at his glass again and feeling relieved. If you had gotten a Code Black, you couldn’t wake him up. It would have been against protocol. He swallows and finally nods. “Good to know.”

“Just don’t want you stewing over it.” The older man says, watching carefully as he sips from his glass again. “You wanna be upset with anyone, it’s me. Not her.”

“Right.” Jack drains the rest of the whiskey and the crystal hits the table slightly harder than normal. “Anything else?”

“Nah. That’s it.” There’s nothing more that Champ can really say, and now Jack needs to process. That’s just how these things work. “See ya in the morning, Daniels.”

Jack stands. “‘Night, Champ.” He walks out of the room and back down the hall towards his office, looking down at his feet as he goes.

******

It’s two weeks before Tequila and Jack are given a stand-down order and told their rescue mission won’t be necessary. Mission success, they’re told with authority, even though it took longer than expected. They don’t get more than that, though, and Jack is walking past Ginger’s lab on his way out of the office late that night when he hears your voice again for the first time in weeks. It’s tired, and quiet, but unmistakable. “Can we just get this over with, Ging?” You ask your friend quietly, knowing that decontamination and a full physical are extremely necessary considering where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing. But you want to get the hell out of here and finally go talk to Jack.

He would never admit it, but he’s been living at Statesman. Barely going home to change and often refreshing the outfits that he keeps in his office for unexpected late nights. On call the entire time in case you needed him. Now you are here and Jack feels like running away. So much self doubt had built up over two weeks, he’s driven himself crazy over every little thing. Obsessing over the details of New Years.

“Once you have a clean bill of health, you go storm the ranch or whatever it is you’re going to do.” Ginger teases, full of warmth. “But I would try his office first.”

Jack frowns slightly and wonders what the hell Ginger is talking about, storming the ranch. He almost pushes the door open, but he doesn’t. Just wants to see what you will say if you know that he’s not listening.

“It’s been two weeks, Ging.” The pops and hums and beeps of her equipment punctuate your voice from inside the lab. “Every single second I haven’t been thinking about this mission I’ve been reliving that night. And I could kill Champ for sending me away Code fucking Black before I could even tell Jack how I feel about him.”

“I know it was bad timing.” He hears Ginger sigh. “But hopefully it gave you some time to think about what you’re going to say?”

Jack’s stomach twists and he feels nauseous. Wondering if you’ve decided that it was a mistake. He swallows harshly and whirls around, not wanting to hear how you plan on letting him down or friend zoning him.

“I’m going to tell him the truth,” he misses hearing you say. “That I’ve been in love with him for six years, and that I’m done being a coward about it.” This mission so easily could have killed you every single day that it became something of an eye opener. Getting back to Jack had become the most dominant and driving force in your mind at times.

Walking down to his office has Jack twisted in knots. He’s never been a coward before but he damn sure feels like running. Playing back that night in his head over and over had made him realize what he had said. More importantly, what you hadn’t said back. Walking over to his bar cart, he pours himself a heavy double and bolts it down. He’ll get wasted after you crush his hopes but that was needed so he doesn’t beg like a pathetic wretch. He needs to keep his pride somehow.

It’s twenty more minutes before he hears footsteps in the hall and hears your tentative voice calling his name. “Jack?” There’s nerves in it, anxiety hovering around you despite your triumphant mission. But you appear in his doorway looking worried and chewing your lip. “Hey…you’re still here.”

“Work’s never done.” Jack huffs, plastering on a friendly but not too friendly expression. “Haven’t seen you around in a few weeks. Mission go alright?” It’s painful to see you in that doorway, looking tired and beautiful. Reminding him of how you looked before he had fallen asleep and lost you.

“I’m home and in one piece.” It’s what you always say, but at least it’s true. He doesn’t exactly look happy to see you, though, and that makes you falter a little. Not enough to shake your resolve, but your optimism that he’ll respond with joy cracks right away. “Do you…can we talk a little?”

“Sure.” He takes off his reading glasses and stands. Moving over to the alcohol again. “Want a drink?” He asks, not looking over his shoulder at you. He sees the worry on your face and knows you are concerned about your working relationship. What he will do will be accept your wants, wish you well and promise that he will not let what happened affect your professional relationship. Then he will demand a transfer to the New York office, permanently. You nod and he pours out two drinks. “What’s on your mind, Rye?”

“Well…you are.” It seems like such an obvious answer that it almost feels silly saying it, but he won’t even look you in the eye so staring at the beginning seems like a good idea.

“Oh?” Turning around is hard, but he manages to look curious instead of sick to his stomach. “Now why would I be on your mind, sugar?” The endearment slips out and he nearly bites his tongue as he carries them over to the small sofa area.

The message is loud and clear: it really didn’t mean anything to him. Regardless, though, you have to power through. If he really didn’t mean what he said and has no interest in being with you, you’ll request a permanent transfer. Chicago, Dallas, Los Angeles — anywhere but here or New York. Swallowing a sigh, you accept the glass from him but just hold it in your hands while you gather your thoughts. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk before I had to leave,” you start, trying not to let the warmth and proximity of him get under your skin so easily. But you can’t really help it. “I did the best I could for a message to let you know what had happened, but it wasn’t much. And I’m sorry for that, too.”

His facade cracks, the scowl as quick to vanish as it appears and he scoffs. “Message received, Rye. A lone sequin on the floor. Practically like it was a dream, except for that.” He tosses back the whiskey. “Can you just get to the part where you tell me it was a mistake, you don’t want to ruin our friendship or work relationship? Or whatever bullshit excuse you’ve settled on to tell me you regret it?” His eyes are dark and pained when they finally land on you, barely resisting the urge to flee.

“On the floor?” Your brow furrowed instantly, a frown painting itself on your lips, and you set the glass in your hands aside to shift closer to him on the little couch. “Jack, I left a sequin on your nightstand.” The choice was even more horrible than you had worried it would be, apparently, because he looks so hurt he could actually cry. A fact which makes you instantly want to cry as well. “A black sequin was the best I could do for a signal. It—it must have…blown off. Stupid fucking flapper dress with all that fringe. It must have gone flying when I left the room.” There was no other breeze, no window open or fan blowing. Only you could have sabotaged yourself like that.

He doesn’t believe you and shakes his head. “Why would you leave a black-“ he trails off when it hits him. Black sequin - Code Black. Trying to tell him that you had wanted to leave a message but couldn’t. Champ had broken protocol by telling him about the Code Black and apparently you had tried to signal the same thing. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You shake your head in resignation, blowing out a shuddering breath. “I didn’t want to leave. Especially not after…” Another shaky breath leaves the rest of you shaking in turn, and you shove your hands under your legs on the couch. This is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever asked a person in your entire life. “Did you…mean it? What you said?”

Jack bites his lip, wanting to ask you what you’re talking about but he can’t do that. You look distraught that he had thought you had just disappeared. “Yeah.” Jack admits quietly. “Look, I know that it’s not something you were expectin’ ta hear, and you don’t feel the same.” He rolls on with the emotions that he needs to get out. “I won’t be mad, or take it out on you. But that night….fuck.” He blows out a breath. “I got to touch you. Just like I fuckin’ dreamed of. And I couldn’t just let you think it was a heat of the moment thing for me.”

“Why do you think I don’t feel the same?” With your heart beating wildly and your shakiness only increasing, there’s a sort of explosive quality in your mind and body that you can’t quite figure out how to control. Like all you want to do is launch yourself at him for a kiss but you know you need to talk first. To get it all out in the open. To be honest with each other. “I—I honestly had no idea you thought of me as anything but a friend. I was…well…shocked is a bit of an understatement.”

Jack snorts. “I know my reputation. Hell, I crafted it. But I couldn’t flirt with you. It’s too- shit- you had me from the first time we met. I was fucking hooked and it wouldn’t have been right. You were a junior agent and -“ he shakes his head. “I was running from the kind of commitment you were made for.”

“Your reputation was built by a man who had loved his wife so deeply that he couldn’t bear the thought of loving and losing again,” you remind him quietly. You sure you hadn’t known that right away, but when you had learned about his wife and son, you understood implicitly. “But it…it never stopped me from falling in love with you. Even when I thought I’d never be more to you than an acquaintance. I considered myself damn lucky to eventually become your friend. I just thought…I thought the fact that you never, ever flirted with me…meant that it was unrequited. So I made myself okay with it. Until two weeks ago.”

“I respect you, Rye.” Jack murmurs quietly. “I didn’t want to make it seem like you were everyone else, because you weren’t.” It’s backwards and twisted, but no one ever said that he had defeated all his demons. “When I broke- I gave you everything.”

“More than you know.” A soft huff of a laugh escapes you and you shake your head again, willing your nerves to calm down even a little. “Just…please understand, Jack. That I’ve been in love with you since the second I met you. And the only reason I didn’t say it back the night we slept together is because I was so shocked to hear it from you in the first place. I thought I’d hallucinated what I wanted to hear, and then before I knew it we were asleep…and then I woke up to a Code Black.”

“I was upset.” Jack admits quietly. “Really upset.” He flushes slightly. “May have been thinkin’ some not-so-polite things until Tequila told me it was you who was slated for the mission.” He won’t tell you that Champ had broken the rules. “Convinced myself that you had run off to go save the world so you wouldn’t have to tell me that you’d had too much alcohol and that’s why you let me take you home.”

“Not at all.” Taking a chance, you reach for his hand and practically sigh in relief when he slots his fingers through yours. “I pretty much thought I’d died and gone to heaven, if I’m honest. I just kept thinking…if this only happens once, I never want to forget a single thing.” You squeeze his hand gently, wishing you could have said all this two weeks ago. “I’m sorry my message didn’t work. That’s…you have every right to think nasty things about me. I’m so sorry.”

“No I don’t.” Jack protests. “Not if you meant to be here. Not if you wanted to be here the next morning. Then it’s just a bad misunderstanding and I’m sorry.”

“Then I guess we’re both sorry.” He’ll never know that you cried all the way to the office that morning at having to leave him, you decide right now. It would only make him feel even more guilty and he doesn’t deserve that. “But I’m not sorry about what happened between us.”

“You aren’t?” He tightens his grip on your hand, relaxing slowly as you talk and he understands that this was one giant cluster fuck. He’s used to those, he can handle those. “That’s good, sugar. Because New Years was probably the best night of my life.”

“God, I hope you mean that.” Your shakiness is for more than one reason, although you needed to have this conversation first. Whatever the two of you decide will happen next is a decision made by both of you, not just you alone. “Because…Ginger couldn’t clear me…after my physical. I can’t go back on the list.”

Jack frowns, brows pulling together. “Why can’t Ginger clear you? What’s wrong?” There’s a number of things that can be fixed by Statesman tech and he’s worried that it’s something bad.

Your stomach churns with worry, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. The unmistakable advances of Statesman tech can do things that most doctors absolutely cannot, thanks to Ginger Ale, and you’re not sure whether to thank her or curse her. “It’s not that something’s wrong, technically,” you admit, giving another worried squeeze to his hand. “But we probably ought to have used that condom…”

Jack’s eyes widen and they drop to your stomach, discerning the meaning of your comment. You aren’t a liar and Jack would believe you if you said you didn’t sleep with someone else, but he’s confused. “Sugar- how?” He chokes out. “I got snipped when I joined Statesman.”

“When was the last time you had your sperm count checked?” You had made Ginger do the test three times, but the result was always the same. Your birth control failed and Jack’s second kid is already growing, if very slowly. “The chances of a vasectomy failing are less than one percent, but it can still happen.”

Jack frowns and then rolls his eyes and groans. “The chamber.” He remembers. “When I got shot and then- uh, put back together.” He shakes his head. “Ging said I might need to get it checked but I dadgum forgot.” He bites his lip and tries not to freak out over the fact that you are pregnant after your one and only time together. “What do you want, sugar?” He asks.

“Not more than you’re willing to give freely.” The answer is that you want all of him. Every single bit. Love and a life and a family. But you know that even if Jack does love you, he’s never loved anyone the way he loved his wife. And losing Maria nearly destroyed him, so he may not be willing to take that chance again. “But I…unless you really object…I’m keeping the baby. Even if you don’t want a commitment or anything. I just…you’re right about me. I want a family and if this is my only chance I don’t want to give that up. Especially not if I get even the littlest piece of you with it.”

“You think I would-“ he shakes his head. “No, I would never force you, one way or the other.” He frowns. “I was asking if you wanted to have a baby. And if you think I’m gonna sit back and let you raise it by yourself, you must have hit your dadgum head.”

“I want this baby.” It had only taken about ten seconds after learning it existed to determine that, even if you’re still grappling with the reality of it. “And I want you.” You inch closer to him on the couch. “However you want to be together. That part is up to you.”

“It’s been a long damn time since I’ve thought about being a daddy, sugar.” There’s a slight smirk on his face but he doesn’t make the obvious crude joke. “But I’m pretty traditional when you break it down. I’m not gonna want to be apart from you and our baby.”

He might not have made the joke but you still laugh, having made the sugar daddy connection in your mind easily enough. “I know it’s a lot, Jack. And we didn’t plan it. But…” All you can do is shrug your shoulders slightly, looking up at him with such obvious hope and even more obvious water behind your eyes. “But, I love you.”

“I meant it, baby girl.” He promises you, reaching out to caress your cheek and then cup it. “I love you. I love you so much, sugar.” Licking his lips, his eyes drop down to yours. “Can I kiss you?”

"I wish you would." practically beaming at him, you lean in and let the moment wash over you. Jack's lips against yours. His hands on your skin. His baby - your baby - is already starting to grow.

Jack pulls you close, pressing his lips against yours and groaning softly. “Sugar, you’re gonna have my baby.” He whispers against your lips in awe. “Just the one time, one time between your thighs and you are carrying my baby.”

“One time is all it takes.” You can’t help the broad way you smile, giggling softly against his lips as you steal another kiss.

“I don’t regret it.” He promises. “I don’t regret you.” He smiles as he kisses you again. “We really did shake things up for New Years, didn’t we?”

“Just a little bit.” Another laugh escapes you, and you lean into his side only to be rewarded with Jack’s arms encircling you and holding you close. “I don’t regret any of it. Except maybe not making my message a whole lot clearer.”

“We’ll get better at communicatin’.” Jack promises with a smile. “We’re partners now.”

“Do you want to go get dinner, maybe?” The end of a mission can be crazy even when it’s successful, and you just want to try to relax tonight. Especially with everything changing in your personal life too, apparently. “My treat?”

Jack scoffs and shakes his head. “You ain’t paying, sugar.” He huffs. “Not while you’re with me. If you want dinner, we can go out, or I can take you home and throw some steaks on the grill.”

“I kind of want to celebrate,” you admit, feeling silly about it even though it’s the truth. “If that’s okay?”

“Then we’ll go out and celebrate.” Jack promises before he frowns at something you had said. “Why would you have thought I would never be interested in you?”

“Because…” It feels sillier than the celebration thing now that you know the truth. Silly and even a little pointless, but he asked so you’ll tell him. “Because you flirted with every woman in the world besides me. Which Ginger said is how she knew you were interested in me. But I didn’t believe her.”

“You know you’re wrong, don’t cha?” Jack asks you. “When you said that you get sent on assignments to be invisible? You’re sent on the assignments you are given because you get the job done. Champ knows that if he gives you a task, it will be done.”

“Whatever the reason is, he’ll have to do without me for about a year.” It isn’t worth having a debate over your lack of self esteem with him right now, and you especially don’t want to ruin the mood by crying anything other than happy tears, so you just redirect the conversation altogether. “This baby is my top priority.”

“Our top priority.” He corrects you. He’s nervous, terrified really, but there’s no one he’d rather have a happy accident with than you. “Our New Year’s baby.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Daniels x f!reader #Jack Daniels x plus size reader #Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels #Kingsman Golden Circle #new years eve #new years fic #idiots in love #pining #the love is requited they're just dumb

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cevansbrat0007 · 4 months

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Cross-Country Christmas

Summary: When Ari is left stranded at the airport on Christmas Eve, you find yourself in need of a little holiday miracle...

Warnings: Light Angst, Mature Themes, Angst, Ari Being A Menace, Holiday Themes, Smut, Arguments, Oral Sex (fem rec), Spanking (mentioned), Pet Names, Cursing, Violent Thoughts, Minors DNI

A/N: Full story! Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

2:00pm, Christmas Eve – Bell’s Creek, Texas

You couldn’t believe this was happening. After spending the last several days out of town with his family, Ari had been due to fly back to Bell’s Creek tonight so that the two of you could spend the holiday together.

Your first Christmas as a couple.

But that was before the surprise arrival of the severe winter storm that was currently sweeping through the Midwest, resulting in numerous canceled flights that had left thousands stranded across the country – including your handsome Bounty Hunter.

“Are they at least trying to get you on another flight, or are you just shit out of luck?” Putting the phone on speaker, you set it on the counter so that you can go back to rolling out more dough for your next pie.

“Well, the airline is being a little evasive.” Ari admits, blowing out a heavy breath. You can practically hear him raking an agitated hand through his chestnut locks. “But with this storm comin’ in, I’m gettin’ the sense that I’m most likely fucked until tomorrow. Maybe a little longer.”

“This is exactly why you should’ve just stayed at your sister’s place.” You sniffle, blinking away tears as you wield your rolling pin with a touch more force than necessary.

“Bird.” You can tell he’s doing his best to keep hold of his patience.

“Oh, don’t “Bird” me.”

“Bird.” This time your name is spoken with a slightly more authoritative note. It’s one that your body recognizes almost immediately. “Please don’t start with me, okay? I’m not in the mood.”

Too bad you weren’t neccessarily in the mood to obey today.

“I’m just saying.” You continue, feeling more pissed at mother nature than anything else. “If you would’ve stayed with Evelyn and the kids at least you would’ve been able to be with your family on Christmas.” You toss the pin in the sink, wincing at the loud clatter it makes. “Now you’ll probably be stuck all alone, sleeping with a bunch of grumpy strangers at the flippin’ airport!”

“That’s enough of the sass, baby.” Ari grunts.

“It’s not sass if it’s the truth, Ari.” You hum, peering over at the apples you’ve got soaking in a bowl filled with 7-Up.

“Sweetheart.” The soft rebuke rolls easily off his tongue. “I made a promise to spend Christmas Day with you – all wrapped up in you – and it’s one I intend to keep. Somehow.” He tacks on the last bit, which unknowingly brings a smile to your lips.

“At this rate, you’re gonna be spending at least part of the holiday sleeping at your gate.”

“Fuck.” He curses under his breath.

“Want me to call the airline, sugar?” You ask as you go to rest your elbows on the counter so you can attempt to stretch the muscles in your lower back. “See if I can fight with ‘em enough so they at least put you up in a nice hotel so that you can get a good night’s rest?”

“Nah, baby. They got me on standby and all that. I’m trying to get away from this shithole as soon as possible.” While you appreciated his determination, not even your big, bad Bounty Hunter could beat a snowstorm.

“Hey! Omaha is not a shithole.” You chuckle, feeling a little defensive on behalf of a city you’d never visited. “I looked ‘em up. They’ve got some amazing museums.” You fish an apple slice out of the bowl and pop it into your mouth, chewing slowly. “I could have a good time in a place like that.”

“Then get your pretty ass down here already and we’ll take every goddamned tour they’ve got.”

“Would if I could, Beast.” You find yourself squeezing your eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. “I’d give anything to have you back in Bell’s Creek with me. I miss you taking up all the space in my tiny kitchen while you help yourself to my treats.”

“I know. I promise I’ll get there. Just do me a favor and don’t start looking for my replacement just yet, okay?”

Your stomach dips when you realize he’s about to say goodbye. Which is fine because you also still had a ton of baking to do. And while you still weren’t quite sure if you were going to follow through with your original Christmas Day dinner plans, the last thing you wanted was for Ari to hear you crying at the unfairness of it all over the phone.

It would only make him feel worse than he already did.

“I’m not sure if anyone could ever replace you, not that I would ever try.” You tell him honestly. “I love you too much.”

“Damn right you do.” Comes your man’s rich, self-assured reply. “No better feeling in the world than being loved by my Duchess.” The warmth in his tone has butterflies stirring in your belly.

They were the good kind of butterflies – the ones only Ari could cause.

“Go get some food and then call me in a bit.” You glance at the clock to check the time. At 2:06pm, there was no way that all hope was lost just yet. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll be an update.”

“Sure thing, baby. But the same goes for you. And don’t just snack – eat something real for me.” His bossy tone has your pulse kicking up.

“You didn’t say please.” Your hand goes to cover your mouth as you tamp down a playful giggle.

“Mmm.” Ari groans as he moves to stretch out the kinks in his back. At least that was what you imagined he was doing. “Could you please do me a kindness and keep feeding those curves? I reckon I’m gonna need a little taste of something sweet when I walk through that front door. You with me?”

“I–I’m with you.” You stammer slightly, your mouth suddenly dry. Another effect that man seemed to have on you. “And I promise I’ll eat. Now hang up with me and go make some friends or something.”

“Thank you, sweet girl. But we’ve been over this, and I’m pretty sure you’re the only friend I need.” He quips rather smugly, his voice deepening ever so slightly.

“Ari…” This had the makings of one of the older, more ridiculous arguments you’d had written all over it.

“Because the way I see it, we’re best friends.” He continues almost as if you hadn’t spoken. “What with all of the sleepovers, and the hair braiding, and don’t get me started on how many times you’ve kept me up late so you could make sure I’ve had my fill of all that sweetness you’ve got between –”

“Okay, okay, okay!” You cut him off with a hiss, not missing the way he laughs. “Fine, we can be best friends as long as you work on getting your cute butt home to me before Christmas, alright?”

“Yes, Duchess.” He finally replies after taking some time to collect himself. “You have my word I’ll keep working on that too. Just hold tight and I’ll be in touch with an update as soon as I have one.”

“Thank you, Beast. I’ll, uh, talk to you soon.”

“You can count on it.” Is all he says before the line goes dead, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more.

If Ari couldn’t make it back for Christmas, you would be devastated. Here you were, finally feeling safe in a secure and loving relationship, and now there was a strong possibility that you both might be forced to celebrate the holiday hundreds of miles apart from each other.

“God, I can feel a headache coming on.” You mumble as your fingers go to massage your temples.

8:30am, Christmas Day - Bell’s Creek, Texas

“I promise I’ll be fine, Beast.” Drying your tears, you crumble up your tissues in your fist before discarding them in favor of taking a sip of your coffee. “Like you just said, there’ll be other holidays. And certainly other Christmases.”

Ari was still stuck in Omaha. And while you had suspected this call was coming, you hadn’t been prepared for how much the disappointment would affect you.

By all accounts, your Bounty Hunter appeared to be in good spirits, albeit a little tired. He was still on standby, even though all flights were still grounded indefinitely. But you’d at least been happy to hear that he’d somehow managed to catch a few hours of sleep.

Not only that, but he’d also made a new friend in some guy named Clint. They apparently had a number of things in common, with the most important being that they’d both served overseas. Ari had also alluded to his new buddy being in law enforcement as well.

But if you were being honest, you’d been so focused on trying to sound positive that you hadn’t quite been able to focus on his words as much as you would’ve liked. Thankfully, Ari seemed keen on having a conversation – even if it came across a bit one-sided.

“The airline keeps offering to put us up for the night. Anyone who accepts will be guaranteed a spot on one of the first flights out.” Ari coughs softly before continuing. “However, if you’re willing to wait a little bit there’s talk about them sweetening the deal with some sort of voucher or somethin’, plus miles and all that shit.”

“Oh?” Is all you can manage, forcing yourself to take another pull of your now lukewarm coffee.

“Yeah. So, Clint and I were thinking…” He trails off, briefly leaning away from the receiver to comment on something you couldn’t see.

“You two were thinking…what?” Your next sip of coffee tastes surprisingly bitter on your tongue. Maybe you should dump out the pot and brew a fresh one.

“That we should take ‘em up on their offer and just ride this storm out. We take the points, get the voucher, and then maybe in a month or two, we go on a vacation together somewhere nice.”

“You and Clint?!” You screech, accidentally knocking over your mug in the process. “Shit!” You scramble out of your chair to grab a dish towel and hurriedly mop up the mess.

“Hate to break it to ya, baby, but Clint’s not really my type.” The Bounty Hunter chuckles into the phone. “I was talking about me and you, Bird. We can pick a destination and have ourselves a holiday do-over.”

A beat goes by before you respond the only way that makes any real, logical sense. Even though it seems to take every last bit of your resolve.

“Okay.” Your voice comes out small and resigned.

“Aw now, don’t fret. I’ll be home soon.” Ari does his best to reassure you. “And once I’m back, we will spend every waking minute making up for lost time. You have my word.”

Well, when he put it like that…

“I guess we can hold off for a little while longer.” You sniff, wishing you could just go back to bed and sleep until tomorrow. “But you had better keep your promise, Beast. Otherwise I’m gonna have to track down Santa and ask him for a new man.”

Your half-hearted attempt at humor elicits a short bark of laughter from Ari which, in turn, makes you smile as well. Sometimes pushing his buttons a little managed to bring joy to your life.

“Try it, sweet Bird, and I’m telling you right now that I’ll have you in my truck and over my knee before you make it outta the next county.” Comes his gruff response, clearly not enjoying the image of you hanging off another fella’s arm.

You know without asking that he’s probably not kidding – so you decide to leave it alone. If he wanted to thump his chest a little, then you’d let him.

“It was a joke.” You amend when the line falls silent. Standing, you pad towards the fridge on bare feet, stopping once you reach the doors. Yanking one open, you survey the contents, silently wondering if you could even be bothered enough to cook today.

Granted, the spiral cut ham you’d purchased from the butcher wouldn’t take very long in the oven. All you had to do now was throw together the glaze and it would be ready to do its thing. Plus, you’d already baked the pies yesterday, which meant that all that was left for the day was the cake.

“Joking about my replacement isn’t funny.” Ari growls, the sound rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. “Especially when I can’t be there in person to plead my case.”

You blow out a frustrated breath at the same time as you roll your eyes. Couldn’t he understand that you needed to make yourself laugh now and then in order to keep from crying? What was so wrong about that?

“I just said I was kidding. But if you wanna plead your case to someone, plead it to your new friend, Clint. See what he says.” The words tumble out faster than you can stop them.

Now you could feel your sadness slowly giving way to anger. Not at Ari or his newfound airport buddy, but at the situation as a whole. Which meant it was time to get off the phone before you said something you would later regret.

“And just what’s that supposed to mean, Duchess?”

“It’s – nothing.” You clamp your mouth shut and close the fridge, all the while trying to keep the tears at bay.

“Because if I had my way, I’d be there with you right now so we could have this stupid argument in person. You gotta know that.”

“I know.”

“Do you, sweetness?”

“Yes, I do.” You respond a touch more firmly, scrubbing your eyes with the heel of your palm. “I just hate this. I hate that it’s Christmas, and that you’re stuck all alone in Omaha and I’m here. But I don’t wanna fight with you, Beast. Not really. I just miss you.”

“So then let’s not fight.” His soft plea makes you sniffle. “I’m gonna go figure out how all this hotel bullshit works and get myself settled in. In the meantime, I want you to go take yourself a nice hot shower and just relax. I’ll call you later, okay?”

For a moment, you allow the gentle warmth of his voice to wash over you. If you closed your eyes it was almost like you could pretend he was with you now. As if he was only seconds away from wrapping his brawny arms your waist and hauling you close.

A tear rolls down your cheek as you imagine him burying his face in the crook of your neck, planting tiny kisses along your sensitive flesh until he had you giggling and squirming in his grasp.

“Bird?”

The sound of your nickname jolts you from your reverie, reminding you that it was time to say goodbye. At least for a little while. Good Lord, when had you become so needy for this man? It must’ve happened when you weren’t paying attention.

“Goodbye, Ari.” You whisper before using your thumb to end the call.

Setting your phone on the counte do a quick spin, silently taking stock of everything you still had to do. If you started cooking relatively soon, you’d be able to occupy yourself until mid-afternoon. And then you would take a shower, and while you were busy doing that you would figure out your next move.

You’re sitting in a chair that isn’t yours with your arms propped up on a desk that doesn’t belong to you while your chin rests on your palm. Instead of spending the afternoon moping, you’d decided to bring a little holiday cheer to your local boys in blue in the form of a home cooked Christmas dinner.

“Glad you like everything.” You say for what feels like the umpteenth time as you watch Bell’s Creek’s newest Deputy, Milton Foster, happily devour his second helping of macaroni and cheese.

A few days ago, you would never have imagined that this would be how you would spend your Christmas Day. But, as they say, beggars couldn’t be choosers. So, it was either enjoy a front row seat to watch Milton wolf down his food at an almost alarming speed, or you could go home and maybe watch a Christmas special on TV.

Alone. By yourself. Yeah, no thanks.

“Yep.” Milton grunts once he finally comes up for air. He manages a sip of his drink before diving back in for a slice of glazed ham, stabbing it with his fork and shoveling it into his mouth. “Looks like Levinson’s loss is my gain. Sorry buddy.”

The words are spoken through a mouthful of food, but you understand them just fine. But just because Milton was arguably your favorite member of the town’s police force didn’t mean he was above pricking your temper every now and again.

And today you were feeling mighty prickly.

“Another crack like that and no pie for you.” That stops him cold, his sharp gray eyes immediately zeroing-in on the whole cherry pie you’d decided to bring along as dessert.

“My apologies.” He beats a hasty retreat, using his fist to muffle a burp. “You know I was only kiddin’. I’m just happy I don’t have to subject myself to another year of Ma’s Christmas Tuna Casserole.” He shudders playfully. “I don’t think I coulda’ handled that one.”

“Yikes.” You mutter before pushing away from the desk to stretch your legs.

“Yeah, it’s a hard-knock life.” He offers you a smile before wiping at his face with a napkin. “You sure you’re not hungry? I know the man’s not here, but I doubt he’d like the idea of me sittin’ here stuffin’ my face while you nurse a Diet Coke.”

“Eh,” you shrug. “He knows how I am. After tasting and smelling everything for hours on end, I’m not typically all that hungry.”

Which was one of the reasons your Beast liked to take it upon himself to help you work up an appetite – usually by stripping down and fucking you senseless. But Deputy Milton didn’t need to know all of that.

“Hm. More for me I guess.” He hums, snagging another freshly buttered dinner roll.

“Yep.” The word is spoken like an airy sigh. “More for you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I need to go find the ladies room.” You rise to your feet and polish off your beverage before tossing it in the trash. “Be back in a jiff.”

Forty Minutes Later…

The drive from the station back to your place feels surprisingly short. Loneliness weighs on you like a heavy blanket as you pull into the driveway and kill the engine. Groaning, you let your head collide against the steering wheel with a dull thunk.

As much as you didn’t want to go inside, you knew you couldn’t linger out here in your car forever. It was much too cold for an extended outdoor moping session. You’d probably catch frostbite halfway through.

You briefly debate giving Ari a call. Other than exchanging a few text messages here and there, you hadn’t heard from him since this morning. The thought of him being upset with you on Christmas just didn’t sit right.

Maybe you’d call him later, after you’d put the food away and gotten ready for bed. Perhaps you’d even convince him to FaceTime with you so that you could enjoy teasing him while nibbling on a slice of the red velvet cake you’d baked especially for him.

Yes, that was the new plan. But first, you had to get out of the car. Grabbing your purse, you duck out the driver’s side door and make a mad dash up your walkway. It’s so cold that your teeth are already chattering by the time you finally fish your keys out of your bag to let yourself in.

First, you had work to do. And then you would check-in with your man just to make sure that all was right with your world.

8:30pm, Christmas Day – Bell’s Creek, Texas

Glass of wine in hand, you plop down on your living room couch with a defeated huff. You’d just tried Ari a few minutes ago while standing in the kitchen, wearing nothing but your new lacy, red chemise and matching thong you’d purchased just for tonight.

Because you’d known how much Ari would like it.

Except your Bounty Hunter hadn’t answered. Instead, it had gone straight to voicemail both times. Even if he was still pissed at you, you were confident that he would’ve answered. The only reason he would’ve ignored you was if–

Just then your phone dings, alerting you of a new text message. Reaching into the pocket of your robe, you’re elated when you see Ari’s name flash across the screen. But your hopes are soon dashed the moment you read the words written on the screen.

“Hey. Out with Clint. We’ll talk in a bit.”

For a second you’re almost too stunned to speak. Were you really playing second fiddle to a man he’d just met? And all because you’d been a little snippy with him this morning? No. That couldn’t be right.

Your bottom lip begins to tremble as you hastily type out the words: “I miss you.” And it only gets worse when he responds with a simple thumbs up emoji. That fucking bastard!

“Oh fuck you, Ari Levinson. And you too, Clint!” You snarl, snagging your wine and angrily gulping it down. “I’m sure you both will be very happy in Omaha. Where you can fucking stay. Forever!”

Now thoroughly pissed, you stomp your way back into the kitchen to fetch the bottle you’d left behind before returning determined to find something on television. So you could ignore the fact that your heart was breaking.

On fucking Christmas Day.

After a few minutes, you settle on the live action version of A Muppet Christmas Carol. And then you grab a blanket and snuggle up. You’d deal with all of this later. Preferably after your second glass of wine.

Hell, you might even need a third to convince yourself that murder was not the acceptable way to handle these kinds of problems in a relationship. Perhaps you’d simply pour a little sugar in the tank of his truck and see how that made you feel.

Sure, you were probably being petty. But seeing as you’d been on an emotional roller coaster for the better part of two days, you were more than ready to hop the hell off this ride. Ari could stay put for all you cared.

Anger aside, there was no denying the fact that you were absolutely crushed. With that in mind, you decide that you’re not answering whenever Ari finally found the time and inclination to call you back. If he was busy, then you would be too.

You finish off your vino before snuggling even deeper under your blanket. It was officially time for you to go to bed. And when you woke up tomorrow, hopefully all of this would be nothing more than a bad dream.

And if it wasn’t, then you might find yourself asking the Lord for forgiveness after you let the air out of one of your man’s precious tires.

10:45pm, Christmas Day – Bell’s Creek, Texas

“Wake up, little Bird.”

A faint brush of lips along your cheek has your eyes slowly fluttering open as your body fights through the last vestiges of sleep. You weren’t sure what had woken you up. Hell, you didn’t even know what time it was.

You take a moment to stretch before sitting up to reach for your phone. Squinting, you scroll through the handful of last minute messages you’d received from a couple of friends during your nap. But unfortunately there’s still nothing from the one person you’d been hoping to hear from the most.

Ari.

Your eyes stray to the TV and you’re confused when you see the black screen staring back at you. Now that was strange. Maybe you drank a little more wine than you thought.

You curiously examine the still half-full bottle sitting on your coffee table with so much focus that you almost miss the notes of Nat King Cole’s The Christmas Song filtering into your living room.

It was your favorite song, but the last time you checked, it had not been set to autoplay. Which meant someone was in your house.

“Hello?” You call as you rise to your feet, stepping over your blanket as it falls to the floor. Your hands come up to rub your arms in an effort to ward off the slight chill in the air.

The warm scent of spiced cinnamon apples fills your nostrils and delights your senses as you round the corner and scurry into the kitchen. Your legs don’t stop moving until you’re standing mere feet away from the one man who seemed to rent space in your mind from sunup to sundown.

Ari Levinson.

He’s standing there in your kitchen wearing a pair of dark blue denim jeans and a slate gray thermal, eagerly helping himself to an impressive slice of red velvet cake. He smiles at you through a mouthful of dessert, and it’s impossible to miss the way his sparkling blue eyes darken once he gets a good look at the red silk robe that matched your holiday lingerie.

“I don’t believe it. Y–you’re home.” You breathe as one of your hands flies to your chest, seeking to calm your increasingly erratic heartbeat. “But–but how?” Clearly, forming coherent sentences wasn’t your strong suit right now.

“I made my woman a promise.” Ari shrugs, setting his now empty plate aside. “And like I told you, I aimed to see it through. That cake is fucking fantastic by the way.”

“You managed to catch a flight?” You’re so convinced that he might disappear again that you’re almost afraid to drink.

“Nah. Clint and I decided to rent a truck and brave the elements in favor of a little cross-country road trip.” He leans back against the counter, as if bracing himself for your response. And you sure as shit aren’t the type to disappoint.

“Through a flippin’ blizzard?!” You squeal, gripping your face in your hands. “Jesus H. Christ, Beast! Are you insane?!”

“Clearly.” His grin quickly fades into a grimace when you let out another scream as you flail your arms wide.

“I can’t believe you did this!” You tell him as you feel hot tears wet your cheeks. “I can’t believe you–you…you’re here on Christmas.” The words come tumbling out as the dam breaks.

“Bird…”

Ari reaches for you then, although you’re quick to bat his hands away in favor of throwing your arms around his neck and hauling him close. At a loss for what else to do, one of his heavy palms comes to rest on your lower back, rubbing in small, soothing circles while you busy yourself with sobbing into his broad chest.

“Breathe, baby. There we go.” He coos softly, waiting patiently for you to pull away long enough for him to get a good look at your tear stained face.

“I’m so happy you’re home.” You hiccup, using his thermal to dry your eyes. “But I’m also really mad at you for putting yourself in danger like that. You and Clint.” You quickly amend, offering him a watery smile. “You could’ve died, and then I would’ve had to kill you.”

You weren’t joking. You’d been experiencing a variety of violent thoughts lately.

“Is that right?” Ari wraps your arms around his neck again as you two begin to sway to the beat of the music playing in the background. “Well, I’ll make sure to pass that on.”

“Please do.” You murmur as you rest your ear on his chest, content to listen to the sound of his heartbeat. “Was it a long drive?” You allow your eyes to fall closed as you wait for him to respond. Regardless of his answer, you’re determined to keep your calm.

“Eh, about ten hours or so.” He hums, dipping your bodies in time with the song. “Give or take. But the weather got much better around the middle of Kansas. We took our time. We were careful. In fact, Clint’s still out there.”

“Oh God, why?”

“He’s headed to Louisiana. Something about needing to track down an old friend named Nat.” He presses a sweet kiss to your forehead before pushing you away so that he can twirl you around. “But enough about him. I missed you, Bird.” He briefly pauses your dance before bringing your knuckles to his mouth, making you melt.

“Yeah?” You purr, rising on your toes to nip at his jaw. “I missed you too. That’s why I’m wearing one of your Christmas presents. I was gonna show it to you on FaceTime, but you didn’t answer.”

Apparently because he’d been too busy driving across the country at the time. Who would’ve thought?

“This all for me?” His hands go to the belt of your robe, deftly undoing the knot. Once free, you give a little shimmy, content to let the robe pool on the floor at your bare feet. “Oh, yes the fuck it is.” The silky timbre of his voice has you soaking your panties.

As if they weren’t already ruined.

“Merry Christmas.” Planting your hands on either side of his bearded jaw, you draw him down until your lips meet his. Groaning, your Bounty Hunter wastes almost no time deepening the kiss, his expert tongue sweeping past your defenses to duel with your own.

God, he tasted so good. Like spearmint and coffee on a cold winter’s night. You honestly had no idea just how much you'd truly needed this man.

“Next time your sexy ass is comin’ with me.” Ari snarls, breaking the kiss to lightly tug at your bottom lip with his teeth. “Was gonna lose my mind if I had to go another day without this.”

“Okay, Beast.” You whimper when he sharply smacks your ass. “Whatever you say.” Right now, this man had no idea just how close you were to giving him whatever he wanted. All he had to do was ask. “Oooh!” You jolt when he delivers another blow. “Yes, baby. More!”

You’re rewarded with yet another delicious spank, which goes straight to your already aching clit. It was taking everything in you not to reach between your thighs and touch your dripping pussy.

But you refuse to give in, knowing that your man would want that privilege all for himself.

“Mine.” He rasps, his tone taking on an almost feral quality as his calloused palms go to cup your heavy breasts through the thin fabric of your teddy. “Missed these perfect fuckin’ tits.” That’s your only warning before he grips the front of your garment and tearing it in two like it was nothing.

“Ari!” You gasp, arching your back when your man leans down to capture a pouting nipple into his warm, wet mouth. He sucks hard, using his tongue to tease the sensitive flesh. “Ungh!” You squirm in his grasp as long fingers dig into your hips to hold you in place for his sensual assault.

Eventually, he releases you with a slight pop, just as his hands fall away from your hips. “Hope you’re ready, baby. Cuz’ I ain’t lettin’ you outta bed until New Year’s.” His roguish grin has a fresh tendril of heat unfurling in your belly. “Maybe later.”

“You’re all talk.” You giggle, slowly backing away as Ari continues to stalk towards you, using his muscular body to his advantage.

“Nah.” He shrugs, his grin growing impossibly wider when your ass connects with your dining room table. “I can’t wait to lose myself between those thick thighs. Want you to fuckin’ suffocate me, baby.”

Your Bounty Hunter drops to his knees in front you before burying his nose in your panty covered pussy and inhaling deeply. You feel your legs begin to quiver when he does it again, a soft cry escapes your lips when you feel his sharp teeth graze over the outline of your swollen clit.

“Need you to fuckin’ drown me while eat this pretty cunt.” Ari growls, delicately nipping at your inner thigh. “Swear I fuckin' see God every time I get you to sit on my face. That's how divine you taste.”

“Oh!” You whine as he nuzzles his nose against the swollen bundle of nerves, making your core spasm.

“But first, I’m gonna fuck you.” He places one last open-mouthed kiss on your mound before standing up and spinning you around in one blended motion. You cry out when your hands slap against the cool wooden surface. “Teach you a lesson for all the sass you fed me earlier today.”

On a growl, Ari makes quick work of his jeans, shoving them down his hair covered thighs along with his boxers almost faster than you can blink.

“I’m so sorry, Beast…” You moan, offering up your stinging rump for another smack. Thankfully, Ari is more than happy to oblige. “Please…please...” Next thing you know, your thong has joined the rest of your ruined lingerie, putting your weeping cunt on display.

You let out a harsh gasp when you feel his hard, fat cock enter you in one swift thrust. Not wanting to wake the entire neighborhood with your screams, you find yourself biting down on your fist to keep yourself quiet.

Ari takes a moment to readjust his position, spreading his legs so that he can go deeper, get a better angle. He loves the way you sob for him, the needy little sounds you make while he fucks the shit out of your greedy little pussy.

His hips snap in time with the music as your sweat-slick flesh connects again and again – driving you both closer to the brink. Your passion-filled cries fill the room as Ari somehow finds a way to go even deeper, giving it to you so good you know you’re gonna feel him inside you for days.

Just the way you liked it.

“Best Christmas ever, Duchess.” Your man grips the front of your throat, holding you in place while he uses you the way he needs to. God, he made you feel so good. Even when he had you ready to pull your hair out, he still had this way about him that made almost everything feel infinitely better.

“Best-oh God! More!” You cry out, your eyes rolling in the back of your head when he spanks your pussy with a measured flick of his wrist. This man wanted you to see stars, and he was more than up to the challenge. “Oh Jesus - f–fuck yeah!”

“There we go, sweetheart.” Ari purrs as his thrusts become a little more erratic. “Now how ‘bout we see how many times I can fill you up before the clock strikes midnight?”

“I–ooh!” You open your mouth to respond, only to let out a small shriek when he administers another wet smack.

“Huh.” He chuckles, leaving a trail of kisses along the curve of your throat. “Guess I’ll just have to take that as a yes.”

END

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