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silksaddle · 3 years

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The Traveler 2

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x f!reader Western AU

Chapter summary: 1907, Old West. Talk of the Statesman gang is slowly on the rise while Jack continues to distract you from your chores, taking you on another but entirely different night-time outing.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, guns, mentions of alcohol and gangs, copious flirting, SMUT, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex/piv sex, outdoor sex, thigh spanking, please pardon me for the amount of smut content in this chapter, a crumb of plot development, Jack Daniels again...

Word count: 14k (leave me alone)

A/N: gif credit to @javier-pena once again! thank you my beloved astrid! and as always, much love to my amazing friends who sent me inspo posts and listened to my anxious ramblings about god-knows-what. you are all the best and you have my heart.

Read Chapter One ~ Series Masterlist

Chapter Two: Six Shooter

Jack is spreading his half-naked body over the mattress in a contented stretch when you return to the bedroom, flustered and hot-cheeked.

“You here to take my sheets, darlin’? I must insist I keep ‘em,” he chortles, turning his bright face over the soft pillow as you attempt stripping the sheets from under him, your lungs emptying in a huff when he catches your wrist and draws you to him instead. Your body lands perfectly on top of his with your weak protest, a poor match for his irresistibly gravel-like voice and his buzzing snugness.

“You’re making my job quite difficult,” you mumble into his neck, kissing the smooth skin there although your words are much more harsh. His chest rumbles, fingers running the length of your clothed back from when he’d hurriedly laced you back into your dress, lips skimming graceful but mindless lines on your temple.

“Mrs. Adler thinks you’re doing your chores.” Jack’s palms are now ghosting over your shoulders as you prop yourself up on your elbows, taking his gaze with you as you move, and you can tell your dilating pupils are betraying the falseness of your annoyed tone when you look at his expanding chest. He takes a deep breath in, the angle of morning light catching his eyes just right to melt them into golden flecks, his dishevelled hair incurable without a bath.

You card your fingers through, and though it’s slightly tangled, the texture is silky enough to brush through the messy state and straighten it out, just a smidge. The touch causes his eyes to flutter closed, and shimmying up his body, he leans his head back to expose his neck further, the long lines and tone popping against each other. His breath hitches when he feels your own puffing across it, his chest immobile while he waits to feel something more from you, but you don’t kiss him, don’t nip him, don’t caress him there.

“I’ve only come to take your sheets to wash them— I should already be downstairs,” you insist and he mopes, your voice softly carrying throughout the bright bedroom, limbs absent-mindedly wrapping around his firm ones until he clings to you.

“Oh,” he hums, tipping his body until you roll under him onto the no-longer-fresh sheets, landing on your back with his hands cradling your head. His handsome smile makes you forget you ever needed to take his sheets in the first place, and when he kisses you deeply, moaning low when you open up for him and his bare skin slides over you, you don’t even remember where you are. “Thought you’d wanted some more of me…”

“Mmm, Jack— she’s already a little suspicious of me,” you giggle, wriggling underneath his heavy weight and it’s a futile effort beneath his affection, his lips laying warm insistent kisses all over your forehead, your cheeks, your jaw. He’s unstoppable, whether it’s the heaviness or the happiness that makes you lie there and take it with quiet laughter as the rough skin of his cheek touches gently to yours.

Jack is as much the sunshine of the room as the real thing, chuckling sweetly along with you and growing more pleased the louder your squealing sounds become, your fingers pulling across the bare skin of his back— he likes it too much to let you off in a timely manner.

Mrs. Adler had only just believed your excuse of a poor sleep as you’d rushed out in a tizzy with your disheveled hair and clothes, and a terrible flourish of panic had bloomed in your chest at the thought of an unchecked mark lingering on your neck. But Jack had looked you over meticulously; deft fingers had worked at the laces of your layers. And even before making it to the kitchen, two dozen kisses wet on your thighs, you’d opened the door only to find the old woman pacing about on the landing of the stairs. Slamming it shut with your back on the wood, panting in the face of confrontation, Jack snickered and peeked out for you a minute later, confirming your chance to slip out undetected.

Now finished serving breakfast, Jack once again prevents you from carrying out your tasks.

“You’ve left me with a lastin’ impression,” he rasps, eyes crinkling as he slips a hand under your skirt and the touch tickles and inspires a giddy laugh from your throat as you swat him away, at last slipping out from under him.

“Give me your sheets, you greedy man,” you order, lifting your chin and furrowing your brow with your arm extended. Jack purses his lips and thinks, sitting up to run a hand through his dark hair, your smile growing despite yourself when it sticks up in bulky curls to leave his contented face in view.

“These sheets have got your smell on ‘em now,” he grins like it’s his most favoured fact in his whole life, leaning back into his palms and his cock is slowly hardening between his legs as he considers his next words, “your cum is on them.”

“Jack,” you chuckle, “you’re dirty.” Inching closer to him, his joyous face turns dark when you arrive in the middle of his strong thighs extending past the edge of the bed, “Get up, please, or I’ll have you explaining why I’m behind schedule for the second time today.”

He presses up onto his feet, his gentle scent covering you as if a fleeting spell, and before any more rational thoughts occur, your hand is reaching into his unbuttoned pants, wrapping around his hard length. His head tips back, the softest growl filling your ears and he pushes his hips forward, placing his hands on your cheeks, urging your lips to slide along his as he fucks into your tight fist. It’s a sweet kiss compared to his already desperate thrusts, his cum still streaking your thighs, inside of you, outside of you, from mere hours before.

“I told you I’d come back here tonight. We’ve plenty of time to ruin more sheets.” Your whisper earns a heavy sigh expelled onto your skin, his grip sliding down to your neck and as his mouth hangs open, you nip at his bottom lip and pull it into your mouth, a tender suckle on the plush softness. He hisses as you let it go, burying his nose into the curve of your neck, and stilling his movements with your hand, he lets you work him like that— your fingers tightly curled around his cock as you slide it in and out of your palm.

“Fuck me,” he groans, “I better see you back here if you’re gonna touch me like this, darlin’.”

Smiling, you pump him quickly, whispering how you can still feel him as if he’s fucking you right now, how good he is, how thick, and he growls from his chest, shutting his eyes tight in concentration.

“Maybe you’ll let me touch you tonight, too, Jack, leave your ropes for another time…” Your free hand clamps around the back of his neck, twirling your fingers around the hair at the nape of it, before tugging him down for a slower kiss, capturing his striking whine in your mouth.

“Shit, darlin’... I’d do anything you say right about now… Christ,” Jack’s fingers trace the neckline of your bodice as his lips skate along your cheek, and his voice is so husky and rumbly, you almost consider a greater risk of trouble.

He makes no protest as you bend carefully, still pumping his thick cock while you yank the sheet away from the mattress, pulling back to fold it into your arms and finally leaving his hard length unattended. Jack’s eyes snap open in a crushing neediness, his displeased but wrecked voice calling after you in a bid to keep you here and he laughs incredulously, “You get back here right now.”

Backing up into the door, your lip caught in your teeth, you reach behind and find the cool handle, offering a cheeky grin before you slip away and murmur, “I’m busy.”

A mellow afternoon follows Jack’s disgruntled exit to the fractional post office, stealing a rushed kiss in the corner of the parlour for the mere seconds you were alone together, giddy glances spared through the window on his walk to work. You spend a small segment of your time concocting tea for Mrs. Adler who pours over the payment book, thanking you as she slides a list across the bar; it’s full of all things you know to do without the help of paper and pencil.

“How about that Mr. Daniels?”

Spluttering, you swivel on your heel, unsure of the intention of her question, your eyes mistakenly blowing wide with no answer to fill the subsequent silence. She must know, you worry, she must.

“What about him?” You query, looking down at your apron in no need of smoothing, yet your hands fiddle with the pockets, and her amused scoff scrapes through your uneasy stance.

“My, you’d better sleep well tonight... that man whipped those fools down in a second,” she laughs, flipping the page of the large notebook and scribbling something down with a spotted, shaky hand.

“He did.” Wiping your face, you conceal a sliver of a smile under your hand when you think of him— ease and cockiness burned down to his big pleading eyes looking up at you for permission. “Thought you disliked him.”

“Well, I could admit we need someone like that around here more often,” she croaks as you pretend to look over the list of laundry, sweeping, cooking, cleaning. The sentiment lands somewhere uncomfortable in your chest— you no more than agree with her and you could never tell her why or how.

“Oh, and dear, the sheriff came by this morning,” she adds, relaying his spiel of reports.

Only the most notable happenings make it over from town to town, lawlessness rendering crime nothing more than irrelevant. It takes a mass robbery, or a mammoth fire, or an offense so deeply doused and coloured red in rage to make the rounds of neighbouring settlements, so when Mrs. Adler shares the spreading news of heightened gang exploits a little ways north, your heart sinks and adopts a painfully heavy sensation.

“He advises to be extra careful,” she finishes with a stern look, “they could be coming here for all we know. Those Statesman men are horrible…”

“Statesman?” you echo her words, scouring the back of your mind to place the familiarity of that name, but she smiles in return to soften your worried brow. Statesmen, a Statesman. You’d read it somewhere, embellished into leather or stitched into the label of a visitor’s coat while tidying.

“I wouldn’t worry too much. If anything, girl, that Daniels boy should be of use.”

A challenge not to snicker, she gives you, when she tells you not to fuss, as if you’ve got the liberty to enjoy the outdoors where a vigilant attitude is required— but Jack is the remedy, you think, eyeing the stray strands of her brittle grey hair twisted up, scrunching your nose.

“Alright, Mrs. Adler,” you agree, passing her through to the laundry closet.

The air is stuffy inside the small, shelved room, where pleasing, cooling, tiny splashes pepper your forearms as you pour the water bucket into one of the tubs, then grabbing the soap, you flump onto the short stool and drag the laundry basket to your side. The first sheet on the pile is the last one you’d taken— Jack’s— carrying his heady and wood-fiery scent now mingled with yours. With a vibration of anticipation up your spine, your thoughts twirl upon your admittedly cruel handling of his need— tonight, you’re surely in for it.

The usual, slowly passing and hot hours fill with inescapable reveries toeing the line of unrealistic: a cloudy day in bed, a sunny evening at the river, clothes discarded to the side. Shaking those heart string-stretching thoughts and trading for a better focus, you hang the wringed sheets on the line as the last blazes of the sun spread over the field, and take a moment to rest your elbows on the log fence at the back of the yard overlooking the vast, lush area.

Something heavy, once more, tugs at your weary limbs, watching the calm breeze push along the beige blades of plant-life, and you think of Sylvie— her bright mane and soothing demeanor, the rush of riding with her and him. The thrill no longer chased, waiting for you still. There must be a few months worth left of him, two at the least, perhaps enough to soothe your aching heart in seeking more vibrant days. But before too long, you set back on your course of chores, trekking up to tidy the bathing rooms for those coming back from a dirty day.

Jack finds you there an hour later in the open door, kneeling on the floor by the bathing tub, scrubbing away at its already-shiny exterior, and he smiles under the sticky and sweaty clothes, watching the way your body jostles with movement.

“Hey, cruel woman.”

Halting, your head briefly hangs between your shoulders before you sit back on your heels and grin up at him, his weary feet leading him towards you, a set of clean clothes hanging off his arm. His shirt is sheer in some places more than others, namely his chest, damp with muscular effort.

“Did you have a hard day, Jack?” You question, making big eyes at him from your low spot compared to his tall height, and his face grows slightly stern.

“Oh, darlin’, you know I did,” he kneels, takes your chin in his hand and you find yourself leaning up into his face, mere inches from his lips, entranced by their pouty curve. But he doesn’t kiss you. He pinches your chin harder, a deep pressure as he looks over you, taking in the way you indulgently advance until you’re on hands and knees, caged by his own, staring at him with none of the power you held this morning.

“You oughta continue what you started…” he whispers almost on your lips, never close enough to touch, your eyelids heavily drooping as you look down his torso, leading to his cock.

“Oh,” you sigh, slick pooling where he can’t see or feel it, “Jack, I can…”

You crawl forward between his spread legs until your nose nudges the material of his pants, resting your weight back on your knees when you reach out for him, but his face is a sinister, knowing grin when steadily rises back up to stand, rocking into his heels.

“Not now, though,” he coos, swiping a damp thumb over your lip, “off you go, little lady.”

“Why—”

Whining involuntarily, you watch while he shrugs off his suspenders and closes his eyes, fluttering back open with a smirk at Mrs. Adler’s distant call for you to prepare dinner.

“That’s why.”

Your mouth hanging open, you roll your eyes, taking his calloused hand as he aids you upward from the hard floor, though he finally gives you a greeting of a peck on the cheek, “Later, angel, you can show me what you’ve been thinkin’ about all day.”

Nudging your body, he sends you off to your chores in a frazzled state and shuts the door with a wink, settling in to wash himself off from the dust and dirt.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so needy, it nearly feels stupid to still have the crushing weight of wanting Jack as you chop ingredients, peek into cupboards, fill plates. It’s even worse when he sits at the table, clean and fresh and irresistibly smooth, chatting in easy conversation with Mrs. Crockett who enjoys his company dearly as she tells him uninteresting stories of her husband.

He watches your back as you turn about the steps, as you pass along plates to each person, and he brushes his fingers purposely along yours when you arrive at his spot, a gesture to offer his silent token of appreciation. Your breath catches, and his wink sets it free again through a quiet sigh, smiling sweetly for him. He tries not to laugh, you notice, and you stop yourself from touching his shoulder here in front of everyone— namely Mrs. Crockett, who has also made a poor reputation of gossip and a budding friendship with Mrs. Adler who is closest to her in age. The last thing you can manage is a rumour about your little life; by that point you’d be begging Jack to take you with him even before the post office is built, even with so much left to explore with him.

As the chitter-chatter diminishes down to an empty table with empty plates, and the visitors disperse into corners or run off to different buildings— they always come back for dinner to get their money’s worth— you sort out the dried laundry, slipping into the ladies’ rooms to aid with corsets, all with distant thoughts in a place where they shouldn’t be. They never ask about your day so much as they speak of theirs, whether time spent with their sweetheart, telling you how they prefer their things folded, or muttering how much they liked dinner. The last one you take lightly, thanking the ladies in whispers. Now, though, it doesn’t cause as much of an ache in your heart when you listen to their free and happy memories— you think of doing the same with Jack, of asking him and receiving his sweet smile in return, ready if you are.

When you finally sit at your simple vanity, it’s with a powerful sigh that you remove your boots, step out of your clothes, and trade them for your nightgown. You pull the threaded pink ribbon taut into a bow, and look over yourself in the mirror, giddy in your stomach for when the time comes to slip into Jack’s room. Judging by the clock, another half hour would do to be sure everyone has settled in so you can sneak in complete privacy, and it feels less daunting now than it ever did before.

Folding your petticoat to lay the soft cotton on the tabletop, you hear the handle click and turn and you gasp fiercely in response, rising from the chair as Jack all but barrels in, haphazardly shutting the door before swooping you into his arms.

“Oh, my—” you squeal, cut off by a rough kiss that you eagerly return, bombarded with the scent of his soap and shaving cream. You only urge him off with your hands sneaking between your bodies to press on his chest and ask a burning question, his lips not wanting to part from you. It’s a tiny struggle but he eventually gives way, fondly looking down at you as you speak. “Did anyone see you?”

“Hall was empty. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ of you… lost my damn patience,” he croons, plushy lips open on your neck, leaving kisses that bloom into pleasant flourishes of need like ink dipped into water. It’s a new spot that you allow him to explore, bringing your hands up his wide shoulders as you turn around the room together, stepping at random. “Had to keep from touchin’ myself and dreamin’ of you…”

You wrap your arms around his neck, reeling him in closer for a whisper against the shell of his ear.

“You don’t have to dream, Jack, I’m here.”

His breath stutters uncharacteristically and it must be your chance to keep him like this, his pleasure dependent on what you decide to do with him— so you pin your front to his and he grunts, giving a miniscule, testing rut back.

“No more teasin’?” he asks hopefully, sweet brown eyes glowing in the low light of your little lamp. “You weren’t so nice this morning…”

“Oh, Jack, I’m not so sure about that.”

In a mirror of the morning, you slip your hand lower to find his cock hard again, splaying your fingers over its thick length and rubbing over the fabric. He squeezes your waist, digging his thumbs in helplessly as he staves off a groan in a bid to keep what willpower is still left with him, then loses it all when you place a simple kiss to his collarbone, not open or rough or wet— just plain, pressed lips to his skin, and he asks you for more.

“Will you let me touch you this time?” you murmur, urging him backward onto the bed. He slumps over the mattress, eyes trained on your face as he places himself further up with his legs spread, palms sinking into the covers. He swallows thickly when he takes you in: standing over him in the sheer, light fabric of your nightgown, its lace edges bordering the slopes of your body.

“I want you in my mouth,” you continue, lowering yourself to your knees, hands over his own as he shuts his eyes and breathes deep, long breaths, grunting when he feels your fingers working at his buttons. “Think I’ve earned it.”

“You could ask me for anything you want, darlin’... shit—” His thighs tense under your ministrations as you reach in and pull his cock out, the tip of it shining in his own, generous arousal. He looks down from himself to your sparkling eyes, and cups your cheek in his large hand, its smoothness traveling down the curve of your face. “Anything you want.”

His lip twitches, mouth falling delicately open and his eyes shutting once more as you place your tongue flat at the base, licking upward, circling around the head while you watch his face strain and pull, his neck sticking out prominently. He’s gorgeous when you touch him like this, still so fresh and clean from the bath. The warm drips of precum glide slowly on your tongue as you hold it out, then wrap your lips around him, whining when he fists through your hair and cramps his fingers.

“That mouth is just about gonna kill me already,” he rasps, bucking his hips up a smidge to perch himself deeper in your mouth, your hand rising to cover his at the base of your neck. Its heat is dangerous yet satisfying in its revelation of just how affected he is, a tiny spot of sweat swiping from his palm onto your neck.

Blinking up at him, you pull off, wetly sliding over half the length of him before moving back down to take more, feeling it brush against the back of your throat. You keep him there as he squeezes you harder, his spine curling over you and the new sound he makes is just begging to be heard, but he smothers it with a bite of his own lip to quiet it.

“Like that…” he sighs, carefully canting his hips forward as you wrap your fingers around his base, enveloping him and spreading the wetness of your mouth over his entire length.

He glistens like that, shimmering in the low and golden light, fisting at the blanket and your hair, puffing focused breaths every time you take him deeper, longer, sucking him harder.

Up and down, you keep your lips wrapped snugly around his cock, its throbbing heft a pleasurable weight on your tongue, the satisfying hit of the head at your throat.

“Where have you fuckin’ been,” he nearly laughs in disbelief that you’re even here, much less on your knees, much less with your mouth around him.

Pulling off for a deep breath, you trace the edges of your nightgown, eyeing him and his debauched, handsome face as you bring the lacy straps off your arms, leading them from your wrists. “I’ve always been here.”

The fabric gathers at your waist in a soft pool of cotton and ribbon, your chest bare and level with his cock.

“Do you like that, Jack?” you preen, settling closer to him this time over the hard and truthfully painful floor— you don’t notice it as much when you feel him hitting that spot all the way down your throat.

“You know I do,” he smiles breathlessly, crinkles and that little dimple creasing in his content face. He leans down for a kiss, its nature unlike the urgency of your own mouth wetting his cock— it’s always sweet like he is to you in every other way, lingering there before you lean into the space between his legs, eager.

“I wanted you all day,” you coo, running a thumb over his tip, a saturated kiss placed there before you put him in your mouth for a brief suck, managing to keep him inside for a few short seconds. “I should have felt so tired after what you did to me, but all I could think of was this.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, he then lets it go in a gravelly sigh as he holds your bobbing head in his hands, spanning the sides of your face. Your forehead brushes his soft stomach as you push down, hollowed cheeks hugging every inch of him and he jolts, driving himself the smallest bit further, moaning at the tight and wet sensation of you. You pump him, looking so falsely innocent between his legs, your chest and shoulders bare for him to admire, peeking out of the fine gown.

“Keep goin’ darlin’, I’m gonna fill that pretty mouth up... know you want it down your throat, bet you thought about havin’ my cum drippin’ from your mouth all day, too, hm?”

Licking the tip and rubbing him faster, you nod fervently, opening wide in a stretch to finish him off with firm squeezes and strokes, his breaths now raggedly rough from above you every time he hits that spot. Your mouth is hot on his skin and he warns you he’s going to cum soon, he’s going to fill your mouth up nice and good, and you shut your eyes tight in concentration, focused on the thick feel of him sliding in and out between your lips.

“Wanna see you when I fill you baby doll, c’mere n’ look at me.” Jack’s fingers brush the underside of your chin, and you strain to look upward before you slide your hand over his slick cock. He tenses up by another degree, his chest and forehead damp, throat straining as he swallows thickly.

A final squeeze and he cums all over your extended tongue, the milky liquid sliding off and onto your chest as he moans through gritted teeth, dazed as you are as you both watch it drip all over your exposed half. You swallow what remains in your mouth, letting your jaw drop to show him your now clean slate.

Bending into you and still panting, he smiles, streaking his thumb down your chin to gather up what’s left, guiding it into your open mouth. Heart racing, you take it in, your enthusiastic glow causing his face to soften.

His gaze drifts south to linger on your glimmering chest, pressing his palm flat and firm into the slight pool of it. He paints you with it, spreading his cum all over each breast with a clear sheen from the separation, special attention granted to each nipple with a flick of his wet thumb. Its initial warmth has cooled and with it lingers a soothing cover over your front as you lay your cheek over his knee, toying with the worn laces of his boots.

“Now… how to thank my darlin’ girl and her perfect fuckin’ mouth…” Jack wonders aloud as he cups your cheeks in his hands and puts a contrasting, innocent kiss to your forehead.

Grinning up at him and placing your hands over his, you tell him that’s all you wanted to give him, all you needed was to finally feel him in your mouth.

“Well,” he whispers, “I wanna show you what I was thinkin’ about all day long.”

The spark in your eyes must be a blinding one, his hands gliding over the slope of your body as you work yourself back onto your feet, your knees throbbing and sore. Wincing, you balance yourself on his broad shoulders, glancing down to notice his eyes not relieved of their dark hunger.

“Jack, you’re…”

“Not done, angel,” he finishes for you, and that’s when you feel it, the slick dripping past your core to spread slightly down your squeezing thighs. He pushes his sleeves up as the corner of his lip tugs upward too, straight teeth glinting the same as his eyes.

“Your turn, then,” you murmur, parting his hair through your fingers. It falls back into place, his pillowy and gentle lips finding yours as he stands with you, always chasing you, waltzing you backward until your ass bumps against the thick windowsill.

“I was choppin’ wood, thinkin’ of settin’ you right here,” he confesses lowly, ensuring the curtains are drawn completely open with a quick swipe of his hands over the gauzy lengths previously covering the glass, “thinkin’ of fuckin’ you on my fingers like this.”

You situate yourself properly on the sill and he steps back, taking a comically focused once-over of your seated body, but the desire is still so thick it doesn’t even bring you to laugh when he hurriedly comes back to you. He spreads your thighs wide, his palms a fiery heat that couldn’t be further from where you want it.

Tugging at his collar, you reel him in to place an open kiss just under his ear. “Give it to me how you want.”

The glass cools the staggering temperature on your skin as he knocks you into it, your back sticking to its chilly surface in the midst of his swirling breaths, ghosting the edges of your shoulders before he hikes your thighs up higher to his waist.

“You ready for me?” he murmurs with a husky voice, and it’s a powerful shock from your head to your toes, seeing how easily he’s worked back up to needing you as he lowers a hand to your core. His fingers part you, a slick and effortless slip through your folds to your entrance. “Darlin’... you’re soakin’ my hand already. Did suckin’ my cock do all this to your sweet little cunt?”

A hushed, restrained sound tears from you and is quieted by his mouth covering yours when he rubs his calloused fingers over your clit, rasping those low words sweetly into you, nipping your bottom lip between his teeth as the digits travel lower. The arousal dripping from your cunt makes that first slide so easy, Jack bottoming out to his knuckles with a soft sigh. His stomach nearly touches your own still covered by the bunched nightgown and he pauses there, a reassuring squeeze to your side and then a smooth gracing of his free hand to hold your thigh tight to himself.

“This is where I’ve wanted to be,” he confesses, his nose drawing a line from your shoulder, delicately down to your chest as he bends and swipes his tongue broadly over your sensitive nipple. The signals from your brain to your muscles are jumbled now, feeling the heat of his wet tongue tasting the cum on your chest— it’s out of your control when you arch your back into him and whine, when your fingers tangle into his hair and tug.

He responds in a groan, licking across your skin to your unattended nipple which he suckles on gently, lapping at it. Jack curls his two thick fingers before straightening out to kiss you fleetingly on your lips; he parts and watches your eyes intently, a stray curl falling to hang between his brows.

“So full already, hm?” he teases, his thumb swiping slow patterns on your clit, and you lean further back into the glass with a pant, its surface no longer able to cool you down.

“Yes,” you manage to respond in a gasp as he grants a second, deeper hit, a slight slapping sound causing you both to hug each other tighter and chuckle.

“Tight, sweet thing,” he groans, extended curls and strokes stretching you wholly around his hand, “take my fingers just right. Is that it, darlin’, were you made for me to fill you?”

“Mm,” you suck in sharp breaths, “mhm, you fill me up, Jack, you fill me up so good.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, and his chin hooks onto your shoulder, digging into it hard as he holds you with one toned arm snaking around your waist. Like this, your damp chest brushes his, his fingers pump and work you open another smidge wider as he pushes in, grinds his palm against your clit, pulls his fingers out a fraction of the way. The motions of his hips against his own wrist are gentle, unhurried for now, having already cum into your slack mouth.

With the flat of his free palm caressing your back through soft strokes, he draws his lips back and forth over the curve of your neck.

“You know what I see?” he asks, urging his knuckles deeper in the hardest plunge he's given you tonight, an agonizingly fiery touch to your clit. “Men, walkin’ around all dumb— could see me fuckin’ you right here on my hand if they’d just look up— shit, they got no clue I’m feelin’ the wettest little pussy, huh?”

“Fuck, Jack,” your nails dig into the lean and muscular bulge of his biceps as he keeps you upright against the glass, your thighs squeezing him so close he can hardly fuck you anymore— he just rubs and grinds his hand against you while remaining far inside your aching pussy, soaking his already drenched fingers with more slick.

“And only I’m gonna watch you cum,” he adds in a grunt, working himself into you with every last drop of energy he’s saved, his soft moans and sharp teeth spurring you closer to coming all over his perfect fingers. You might have gone longer if not for the irreversible, desperate need for him that sucking his cock had instilled in you— had you nearly dripping onto the floor, your body left unimaginably sensitive that each time he brushes up against you now, you dig deeper into his skin. He likes it though, and it makes him move with a crazed edge, his moans transforming into snarls.

“Only you…” you echo, starting to grind with him yourself, rolling into and meeting his short, fast thrusts, every muscle tensing and straining and it’s so close, almost there—

“There you go, doll, can feel you squeezin’ me so tight… cum on my hand, fuckin’ soak me, c’mon…”

“Jack, Jack I’m gonna—” Urgently, you tap at his shoulder with wide eyes and worried brows as you feel it start to happen, knowing how close you are to crying— your nails dig into his shoulders so intensely when you cum, jaw dropped and eyes shut and he makes a wincing yet completely pleased noise into your mouth; it’s cruel. You manage not to make a peep at the cost of losing large breaths, and it makes your orgasm all the more intense: light headed, woozy, and tingling numbness reaching the length of your body.

“Sweeter than fuckin’ honey when you do that,” he smiles widely, until his mouth drops fully open at the way you hug his hand inside from coming so hard around him. Your slick gathers between your thighs and you still can’t breathe, his face buried into the spot under your jaw as he pulls them out of you, dragging the pads up to your clit while the rest of it spreads throughout your folds. He stares down at it, at the wetness dripping and glistening from your core, and he groans again, blinking slowly.

Placing his palms on the sill by either side of your trembling figure, he hums, your smile against his skin buzzing at his insatiable drive, how he’d fucked your mouth and your pussy with such short rest, feeling the damp hair at the back of his neck. He drops his head down as an offering and you take him in a gentle cradle, kissing his forehead as he’d done to you while he nestles. He looks up and back down, waiting for another, your fingers smoothing the unruly hair from his face.

“Hell, if I don’t wanna fuck that pretty pussy every night till I die,” he exhales, another glance at his wet fingers, dropping a kiss to your collarbone.

“Oh, Jack,” you laugh, your heels hitting the wall underneath you, “if only you were here for that long.”

His face scrunches a little in confusion before his lips curve, “How many times do I have to remind you I ain’t leavin’ so soon?”

“As many times as it takes,” you whisper, fingers scratching down his arms, his own dipping into your cunt again without a warning, “fuck—”

“Yeah, baby doll,” he croons, “I got somethin’ to prove to you still?”

You nod with a greedy smirk and he retracts his fingers, taking them into his mouth after drawing a line between your breasts to taste your mingled releases, moaning in your ear. “Go n’ get on the bed. You’re gonna ride my face.”

A shiver chills your spine, mainly at the way his voice has dropped a miraculous third time, his hand landing a light swat on your ass when you pass him, shaky legs taking you toward the mattress. He follows to lay on his back, perpetually pleased with himself, arms outstretched and beckoning you forward. You crawl up to him and you can feel your own cum streaking your thighs as you move, soon beside his large body, and he raises his brows impatiently, “Well go on, sugar, I wanna taste some more of that.”

Stretching his neck every which way, his eyes crinkle as he grins between your thighs while you throw one over his shoulder and his arms fall behind him, fingers searching for yours until he laces them together, squeezing.

“You’re not tired yet, old cowboy?” you tease lightly, the force of it lost when he gives a broad swipe of his tongue and moans yet another time, indulgently, swallowing the remnants of your previous release.

“I ain’t ever gonna tire of this,” he replies, another lick from your entrance to your clit, such an easy slip of the muscle, your sensitivity dialed up too many extra notches. His brows knit together in effort, rough cheeks pleasantly scratching on your skin when he moves his head side to side, tongue hanging out of his mouth and edging with a perfect pressure all over your sensitive bud.

“I’d hope not,” you exhale, grinding your hips over his wet mouth until his grip moves to your thighs to prevent you from moving. His eyes look up at you keenly as he closes his lips around your clit and sucks, your head tipping in silent rapture as you take it all for him without the relief of motion.

“We go real nice together,” he grumbles into your slick center. Tightening the hold of your thighs, he laves his tongue all over you in focused circles, faster, with just enough force for your legs to start shaking around his handsome face, for another gush of arousal to spread over his swollen lips. All that’s left for you to handle it is to scream it out, how good he makes you feel, how precious, but the house is so silent and only you can hear the slick sounds of his mouth on your clit— he won’t even let you rub yourself over him. You can only bite your lip and hold your breath, yet little puffs and moans sneak out when he does something unforeseen, like a single bite on your thigh or a gentle nip to challenge you— it’s all on purpose and easily noticed by his gratified face.

He tugs your clit a short, miniscule distance and lets it go, shaking his head when you mope over the loss of contact.

“Are you tryin’ for me, sugar?”

“You’re being tough on me,” you whine, shimmying further up his body to regain his lips that are brightly shining.

“If I ain’t tough then it ain’t right,” he whispers, “stay still and quiet for me and I’ll take you out again.”

He tips his head down and forward, swiping his prominent nose to spread you further open, but you don’t even consider the promise of a gift, your focus on the return of his soaked tongue to your throbbing core, biting hard on your lip to quell the need to cry.

“Is my darlin’ gonna come? You gonna cum all over my face? Gimme another one, dolly.” His mouth latches back onto your clit and you can’t think, much less form an answer in your blank head where all you see is white, or maybe blinding stars, or just plain nothingness as you let go, his moustache wet with you, his lips dripping.

By some miracle, the scream you fend off becomes so high pitched in your throat that nothing makes it out of you save for the helpless cry of, “Jack!” as you tremble around his cheeks.

“Yes,” he grunts, and thank goodness it’s muffled by your soaking core; your fingers finally escape his hold to grip at his hair with a fierce, unforgiving tug, and that softer sound fills the room again while your body freezes up and you cum harder this time, covering him, coating him. He grumbles something again, but it’s nothing you could hope to make out in the crushing wave of pleasure that hits you— the light sensation does not leave you, though the shaking eases off as Jack places a tender kiss to your clit, and you jolt at just that velvet brush, his eyes turning sympathetic. You breathe deep, slumping with great exhaustion and the dazed happiness of having him in your room now as you lift your thigh from his body and he leans his head up to grant a quick kiss while it slips away from him.

“Knew you could be quiet,” he smiles under the shine of your second release, resting his arms open over the blanket to welcome you into them.

“As if you don’t make it hard.” Huffing, it’s with a reciprocal smile that you crawl back to him, nearly toppling over on your way with the weakness of his own power against your body, and he chuckles at you, not shying away from his joyous teasing when you throw him a half-glare.

“Did I wear you out again?” he questions, guiding you into his side, turning his body over yours to swipe his tangy tongue over your bottom lip.

Whimpering, it turns into a cheerful giggle as he drops pecks over your nightgown, wrapping his finger around the tail of the ribbon.

“You just keep going, don’t you, Jack?” you cup his face in your hands, and it’s now that he adopts a sheepish expression, turning his eyes away to tilt his neck and kiss your stomach once more.

“Until you ask me to stop, darlin’.” He lends two more kisses, one to each breast, and then gathers the straps of your nightgown from the pooling of fabric underneath your chest, tenderly helping your arms through the holes. You admire him quietly as you sit up to ease the gesture, letting his fingers guide the intricate lace edges back to your shoulders. He pats the cotton down to smooth it, your thumb stroking over his left eyebrow. His hands pry under you to wrap his arms around your middle, his cheek resting over your belly as you scratch through his dark hair.

“I think you’re softer than you realize,” you whisper, twirling a lock around your finger and he peeks up, the apples of his cheeks rising in a twinkling smile.

“I can shoot a gun a million times but I sure don’t like it more than kissin’ you,” Jack coos, tickling up your sides and swatting away your protesting hands until you make an involuntary squeak and his eyes widen, hurriedly covering your mouth with his own. You titter over his smooth lips, his weight pinning you as he opens his mouth, taking more. “I’d think I’d have sold my soul to the devil to end up here with you if I didn’t know any better.”

You let the next bubbling ripple of affection take over you when he whispers that with his gleaming eyes, and you kiss him three more times, each slower than the last.

He rests there for some time, indulging in the carding of your fingers over his scalp, and he ensures you’ve drifted off before he rises in search of a cloth. He finds a green one folded by your petticoat, his fingers briefly dragging across its white lace before he dips the cloth in the small dish of water left beside it. He crawls back up beside you, lazily yet with careful attention guiding it under your slip and over your breasts, relieving you of the stickiness. You stir but don’t wake— his touch is too light, yet still unlike a feather— he cleans you off, sets the cloth back in its spot, and resumes his position, nestled up next to you.

Sneaking into Jack’s room— or him into yours— becomes a habitual routine after the goodnight click of Mrs. Adler’s door, though you often find yourself with an early visitor with eyes too bright and a needy little grin on his face. It follows his giddy lips on your neck hours before in scarce moments of isolation from other guests, or after he’s stared too long across the bar, and to ease the tension, he’ll ride to take Sylvie to stretch her legs, a sympathetic look on his face at the door knowing you can’t join.

And he wears you out. Nightly. A simmering threat to your timeliness in the morning that you can’t let go of. A single time, he’d taken the sheets with him in a rapid roll onto the floor as Mrs. Adler knocked and knocked outside, calling for you to rise, until she barged in and the thump had to be blamed on yourself, standing in your disheveled chemise. Her shifty eyes become less of a fear in your head and more of a laughing stock, though not as much as Jack was in his stupid course of action to thump on the floor behind the side of the mattress, taking the blankets, too.

His dignity is not lost, though, each time you press on him about it— his grip tightens over your thighs as you straddle his lap, feeling the impression of his leather settling into your skin.

A rare clump of clouds settles over town the following week, lingering long enough to darken this evening further and forcing an early lighting of the lamps inside, a cozy glow over the hectic and crazed state of the bar.

“Let’s not slack, dearie,” Mrs. Adler sings in her urgently high-pitched voice as you handle the treacherous beast of the card game hours, handling too many requests for the strongest liquor from the cabinet, working your wrists as you open new bottles and impatient sighs crumble out of overworked throats.

Jack glances at her, a rapid flick of his angry eyes as he sets his glass of whiskey down, furrowing his brows in obvious disagreement with her words.

“She’s doin’ fine,” you hear him grumble, and you don’t have it in you to turn and face him to offer your surely-silencing glare, and without it he continues, “think we could offer a little patience.”

Chest fluttering, you shut your eyes with a bothersome huff, setting your hands flat over the counter as you wait for Mrs. Adler’s response, and the other men waiting at the dining table chat over things well beyond you, another fleeting mention of the Statesmen— but Jack remains silent along with her, and you can already picture the way he must be maintaining a hard stare at the old woman to leave her increasingly frazzled.

“My girl does this every day,” she states primly, blocking his view of your back with her own body after an uncoordinated waddle, “you keep out of it.”

Jack scoffs, soft but pointed, the wood groaning under the slide of his glass as he moves it aside, “If you cared to notice, ma’am—”

Spinning on your boot, away from the assortment of glasses set over the counter in their stage of finishing touches, you raise a hand, his first name almost slipping out until you choke on the unspoken word, widened eyes earning a mirrored expression from Jack, “It’s alright, Mr. Daniels,” you soothe, and his smirk is much too telling in his amusement of your spluttering, that you’d called him the old, proper name.

Mrs. Adler huffs a victorious breath as she checks over the full and heavy tray, granting approval while you giggle at Jack’s silly face made behind her back, followed by a wink of his eye.

He closes his eyes as Mrs. Adler finally limps off into her study— what she achieves in there he does not know— and watches you with affection and a warming dose of admiration in his stomach as you handle the tray, setting down shining crystal glasses on the table, a soft smile on your face as the youngest card player offers his thanks. They rarely ever do.

“You look real nice,” he drawls as you round the counter, his elbows sliding along the surface as he leans in, all sparkling eyes and teeth with his wide grin as he follows your steps. “I think I’d like to get my hands on—”

His words fall away to a whisper as you shake your head in feigned annoyance, the laughter stealing your breath as you lean opposite him, taking in the sly look on his face and the pull of his shirt across his shoulders. His hand reaches for yours, tentatively, and you’re powerless against the sweet touch on your fingers as he traces them out, pulling your palm into a bed of his two hands.

You watch as his eyes set on the random patterns he draws, eyelashes curling against his face every time he blinks, your conscious mind soon oblivious to your placement in relation to the large group at the dining table— but it doesn’t matter. They’re as absorbed in their gambling as you are in his focused touch and feel, your heart an obnoxious flutter when he smiles up at you, a perfect mix of kind and sultry darkness.

“I’d like to get my hands on you,” he murmurs, those repeated words spoken lower this time and with a twinkle, raising the back of your hand to his lips. A gentle press, your eyes locked together in a soft gaze to match, and he gives you back your hand as the spell of slowed-time is broken by a shocking round of cheering from the group behind you both.

With a subdued grin, you ease yourself away from the magnetic pull of your lips to his, “You’ve always got your hands on me.”

“And in,” he huffs, stifling a snicker at the fifth roll of your eyes today, watching the ends of your tied apron’s ribbon swing around over the length of your skirt.

“You’d better find something to do in the meantime, or I’ll be asking Mrs. Adler to send you off herself.”

Jack shudders in a fake paddy of fear, the miniscule shakes of his body diminishing the sooner he realizes the severity of your words, and he merely chuckles. “Why’d you want to get rid of me?”

The pleading pull of his face and the wide and warm eyes he gives are somehow not enough to stop you from gesturing your head towards the pile of dirty dishes from dinner, waiting beside the basin. “You’re distracting.”

“Sweetpea, I’m ‘fraid that’s what you’ve got yourself caught up in,” Jack rests his chin in his palm, eyeing the clearing weather outside, “if you insist on woundin’ me, I think I’ve got a horse who needs to go for a ride, and a little lady who’ll have to join us next time…”

“I’ll see you later, Jack,” you whisper, rounding the edge of his ear with your fingers, easing his hair back into place and he adopts a light blush— softer things always more efficient in pausing his heartbeat than harsher things— and he grabs his hat left to the side of him, placing it over his head and bidding you a caring goodbye, “Miss me, darlin’.”

Once the room has cleared at last, leaving you in that familiar spot with soapy hands, sore feet, and a wandering mind, you arrange the wet dishes to dry, stacking each on top of the other with meticulous attention. You dry your hands on the fabric of your apron, rough cotton soaking up the water, your back leaning into the hard edge of the bar behind you. The strain in your neck grows sharper as you push your head back, groaning, willing away the next few hours until you can put your feet to rest upon Jack’s lap.

And at the thought of him, a whistle from the exterior shoots your stream of mental pictures down as your head whips to look out the window, and there he is— Jack, thighs spread wide over Sylvie’s back as he urges her to stop, his eyes straining to find you through the window. Stomach twisting, you make a speedy trip to the stash of berries hidden away, and you pull a handful of them into your apron’s pocket before sparing the parlour a thorough peek and slipping out the front door.

It’s not loud enough for you to make out, but it must be Jack’s voice in a baby soft tone as he tells Sylvie what sounds like “there she is,” with a pat between her perky ears and a smile towards you.

“Hello,” you grin, stepping to the edge of the porch where you meet the two of them, shamelessly devouring the way he sits tall upon her in the dying sunlight clear of clouds, dark clothes, dark hair, dark eyes, a bandana hugging his neck under his glistening throat. “Back so soon?”

“It was her idea,” Jack pokes, leaning back in the saddle as Sylvie adjusts her hooves into place over the dust and sparse blades of wheatgrass. “Suppose I had to lead her here, though…”

With a hand gliding along her wide neck, you watch his smile only grow in size as he watches you gather the berries from your pocket and throw a quizzical look his way, to which he nods enthusiastically, leaning forward again to watch and guide.

You call her name softly, approaching her from a better angle, and she makes an odd pattern with the movement of her head before she digs into your offered palm of treats, her wide mouth a great tickle on your skin that you try not to flinch at.

“Nice girls,” Jack whispers, swiping his hand over Sylvie’s shoulder, then turning his attention to you. “No more flak from the lady, I’m hopin’?”

“No, haven’t seen her since,” you giggle, “you know, Jack, that was kind what you did, but I am still fine.”

Sylvie chomps down the rest of your stash of berries, licking the leftover juices off your palm as you gasp, retracting your arm, and Jack extends his hand far across to you in a warm beckoning. You give him the dry one and he laughs when he notices, “I ain’t afraid of no horse’s mouth,” steering you around to where he’s sat on the saddle.

“You’re not even afraid of Mrs. Adler,” you say bluntly, resting your laced hands over the meat of his thigh and then your chin on top, and Jack stares down at your widened eyes, his chest stuttering with a slightly choked breath.

“I came here to see you, darlin’, to tell you somethin’.” Running his thumb over your hand, he starts to lean his body down, your own straightening for his lips to meet your ear in a warm breath, sending ice down your spine and a melting heat between your thighs.

He waits for your prompt, his radiating need causing your posture to wither as you slant up and into him, “What is it?”

Whatever upward curve your lips adopted seconds before falls away as your eyes close, that heat between your thighs now wetter, your grip on his leg tight enough to pinch.

“I’m gonna take you out again tonight, gonna lay you in the grass and fuck you dumb, listenin’ to you whine loud as you can.”

He’s utterly pleased with the visible, hitching breath you can no longer take in, your chest pausing in its stunted passing, and he straightens up his back again to look down at you with his face shadowed under his hat. “Ain’t that somethin’ old girl, the little lady is speechless…” Jack coos to the horse and she puffs, followed by another pat of her hoof on the ground, and his grin is a mix of genuine and egotistical happiness.

“Jack,” you purr, all bothered and wobbly-knees, a helpless look in your eye as you tug the looped rope, and he prepares to ride back off. He doesn’t partake in your pleading this time, instead giving a squeeze of his legs over Sylvie’s back.

“Same place, darlin’,” he calls, “I expect you.”

A backward glance and a tip of his hat as courtesy— or to make up for his foolish teasing— and his figure dies off in the gunpowder dust behind him and his girl, his jacket the same one you’d worn your first time away.

It’s cool and dark the next time you step out onto the porch, carefully shutting the door behind you, locking it with your key. You rub your hands over the sides of your arms as you creep over the wood, peeking past the pillars before descending the three short steps. Same place, he’d said, so you set off in the direction of the stables, bathed in the soft light of the spaced lamp posts, the same exhilarating rush as the first time bubbling head to toe.

“Ever heard of a sweet little maid ‘round here?” Jack’s happy rumbling sounds just behind you, turning into laughter at the yelp you let out, its sound squeaky and fearful until he catches you by the waist, pulling your back into his chest to sway your body around aimlessly. “Works for a Mrs. Adler, prettiest face you ever saw…”

An endeared giggle falls out of you, mouth covered immediately by your hand when he comes to place his chin on your shoulder, his fingers pressing tightly to your middle. His clothing feels rough by your neck, unlike anything else you’ve felt him wearing against you, but his cheek is soft and freshly shaven, his lips hungrily kissing behind your ear.

“Oh, I’m not so sure I have…” you murmur, allowing yourself to sink backward into his promising support, and his hum is sweet into your skin when you say so, arms squeezing you just enough for your feet to lift from the ground.

“She’s got angel eyes,” he whispers, a finger coming to trail down your cheek as he lets you back down, until his hand cups your chin, turning your head sideways to capture your lips in a deep, swelling kiss. Your own hand rises to mirror his gesture, knees suddenly like water with their wobbly weakness, and the ball of your foot scrapes over the dust as he tugs you even closer, tasting your lips.

“That might ring a bell,” you smile when you finally part, stroking your thumb over his jaw. He likes the way it feels, tilting himself further into your light grip of his face. The world surrounding you will never be the same level of interest when he stands before you— a daydream of an outing only seems as sweet if he’s there. A guidance, of sorts, a protector.

Roaming your eyes over him, a surprised gasp follows that welcoming kiss when you notice his top half covered in a navy blue poncho, its edges finished with white tassels and the wool adorned with white lines making intricate patterns over the length and width of it.

“Where have you been hiding this from me?” you simper, picking up the edge of it to feel the slightly scratchy material. He grins, weight shifting to one foot with a cocked hip, hands resting at the base of his suspenders underneath.

“Hidin’ it?”

“You’ve always got that jacket on,” you murmur, leaning upward, grabbing his face in an internal fit of fondness at seeing him covered in the blanket-like garment, giving him a harsher kiss that surprises him enough to nearly stumble backwards. He gains his balance, beaming against your mouth as he steadies the both of you, the world returning.

“You sure keep me on my toes, little lady,” he breathes, brows raised in bashfulness that you forget he has stored in that cocky brain. “Don’t you stop.”

Humming, your hand falling to rest on his chest as you recall more private contexts to his last words, you notice he wears a cross-body leather satchel underneath the poncho. “What have you got in there?”

“I can’t be full of surprises if you wanna make me spill ‘em all,” he teases, pushing his nose into yours, “come on, just you n’ me tonight.”

With your fingers laced together, Jack leads you through the familiar field to an unfamiliar spot at the top of a climbing hill, large rocks worsening the upward trek under the minimal light.

His hands find the backs of your thighs as he helps you over the last hump and your frustrated huff gets lost in your throat when you realize his hands are helping you up under your skirt instead of over.

“Jack,” you guffaw, using your biceps to push up and over the hard surface and he plays dumb behind you, a deep chortling following as you roll over to the flat space of dry grass above it. Looking ahead you notice a small gathering of wood placed in a circle around the center of the clearing in the trees while Jack rolls up next to you, much more gracefully with what must be years of practice.

He shares a sideways glance with you, “What?”

His pouty lips drag downward in his falsely innocent question, your eyes rolling without annoyance but with affection. He grabs your hand again, tugging you near the woodpile and he reaches into the satchel, revealing a box of matches in his palm.

“Is this what you did earlier?” you ask, a bewildered softness easing over your shoulders, and he nods with a grin.

“Sylvie n’ I came here to get it ready.”

Sliding the box open, he strikes the match against the rough side of the cover sleeve and the spark ignites a smoking, small flame that he holds to a coil of waxed thread under the arranged sticks and wood. It catches on and flourishes upward, sprinkling tiny sparks that rise then fall by Jack as he recoils, standing back up to his feet.

“How’s that?” he looks at you, pulling you into his warm side, your fingers instinctively wrapping around a tassel. You raise your other hand to hover over the fire, its heat so pleasant and lively on your skin and you look back at him with the same fondness as always for his generous gifts, that might not even be considered a gift to anyone else but you.

“Thank you, Jack.” On your tiptoes, you place a kiss on his cheek filled with all the words you can’t think to say— it’s only a campfire, and to you, it holds all his care, burning there.

“There’s more,” he whispers, and his fingers rise to touch where your lips had just been, then he looks to them and you, smiling. “Said you wished you could run,” he starts, pointing to an old, battered tin can sitting atop a tree stump several feet away, “reckon there’s a few things you’ll need to learn first.”

From underneath the wool, he pulls out one of his revolvers and it shines in the flickering fire, freshly polished. He extends his hand, your own hesitantly touching it’s handle, cupping the barrel with the other as you slowly hold it on your own.

“Jack, I really don’t know about—”

“Careful,” he coos, circling back to stand behind you and placing his hands on your hips, he helps you adjust your grip with the beginning of his lesson whispered into your ear, his hands gentle as they cover yours. “Two hands.”

“I’m not sure I’m the gun slinging type,” you whisper nervously, your palms becoming clammy just handling the weapon, and you remember when its silver glint was pointed at Mr Porter, under its power.

“Always assume a gun’s loaded,” he continues, aiding you in extending your arms out, the aim at the can improving as you go. “Feet apart.”

With the toe of his boot on the inside of your ankle, he pushes your feet further apart until shoulder-width, and your shoe slides over the dry grass as you suck in a deep breath at the physical order.

“Hold it tighter,” he whispers next, ensuring your fingers are hugging the grip tightly, your other hand cupping the trigger guard firmly. “Don’t leave your finger on the trigger unless you’re aimed and ready.”

Jack is rasping now, a growing hardness on your ass from watching you handle his own weapon with determination and he pinches your hips, inciting a gasp as you try to keep your arms steady.

“The cylinder's full,” he adds, “you hit the can and I’ll make good on my promise.”

With the shot of arousal that comes after his words and the reminder of his promise to fuck you hard over the grass, it’s too easy to convince yourself that you’ll miss every shot.

“Won’t somebody hear it?” you question, turning your head as far as you can and he hums thoughtfully, pinching you softer.

“It’s luck if you hear a gunshot from a distance,” Jack soothes. And it hits you, that when Mr. Porter and Mr. Bryant started shooting blindly in the house, that those were the closest bullets had ever been to you— and here, you hold them in your palms.

“Go on, sugar, knock it over and I’ll fuck you right by this fire.”

A whine escapes you before you can aim it again, the grip even sweatier than before, the fire merely a glint now as you focus on the target tin.

Locking your grip around the handle, your pointers steadying the direction, you shut one eye, then the other to test the placement, and you pull back the hammer with a stretch of your thumb.

“I’m scared,” you breathe as your arms remain pointed forward, and Jack nods, applying pressure to your shoulders with his palms.

“I’ll keep you steady. S’okay if you miss.” Jack rubs some of the tension away, your arms growing tired from holding them up as you make one last adjustment. The jolt when you pull the trigger is more powerful than you’d expected, and Jack keeps you still as your body reacts to the sharp sound and the full shock of it. The bullet only just skims the side of the can, a tinkling sound following the jarring shot from the barrel.

“Fuck,” Jack breathes, his eyes wide and his smile too, when he looks from your near-shot to your frightened face turning into confidence. He throws his hat to the side, smoothing his hand through his hair before bending slightly behind you, “that was fuckin’ close, darlin’. Go again.”

His tone is pure excitement as you shake off the last lingering threads of apprehension, and you aim again, not a one inch difference from your first shot, pulling the hammer down a second time.

You place your pointer over the solid trigger and Jack’s breath hitches as he waits and watches intently, his hands still supporting your shoulders. This time, when your upper body jostles back from the force, the shot is farther off but still close, hitting the bark where a small explosion of wood chips scatter to the grass and you startle at the cracking noise, casting a worried look to Jack.

“Keep tryin’,” he soothes, cuddling his cheek to the side of your neck as he cozies up, and you’re certain it’s not the best condition for a shooting lesson, the middle of your thighs gathering slick and your palms more nervous sweat. With a deep breath, you stretch your arms out once more, muscles pulling up tight as you adjust your feet, your eyesight on the tin can reflecting the flames of the little campfire.

“That’s it,” Jack whispers as you touch your finger to the hammer, “focus.”

Scoffing, you settle your aim, determined to ignore the way he’s still pressing up against you.

“You’re doin’ great,” his voice scratches just before you pull against the trigger’s resistance and the bullet releases, harder it feels like, and pierces the tin with an incredibly loud metallic pang, sending it fast off the stump. Although you’re not too far from it, you don’t trust it yet; looking back down at the weapon in your hand and then to him, his smile already turns smug. It’s a surprise to hit it at the same time that it’s not— luck or natural talent, you don’t think you’ll ever find out. He shakes his head with pride dripping all over, crushing you into his side with a tense squeeze of his arm, your neck fitting in the bend of his elbow.

“That’s too quick,” you breathe in modesty that Jack tells you to shush away, as your disbelieving eyes fall back on the tree stump, tin can-less. “I wasn’t far away enough.”

“Come on, darlin’.” He disembarks, jogs to the stump, picks up the can behind it. A hole burns through the center on both sides. “Still shot it on the third try.”

When he arrives at your feet again, you peer down at the silver gun in your hold. Struggling to accept your own accuracy, you slowly hand it back to him.

“It'll be harder next time,” he purrs, sliding it back into its holster pocket, “but I think you’ll make the most charmin’ gunfighter in the whole damn world.”

“That’s your title,” you smile, brushing the dark hair from his forehead, curling your fist into the wool draped over him. “And the most handsome, too.”

Jack’s chest puffs out against yours as he preens at your softly-spoken compliment, the tone of his hum pitched in a questioning way to urge you on to continue.

“I’d rather like to learn more about that lasso,” you say instead, fingering where it’s attached to his hip, and he looks at you through his eyelashes, closing his hand around the one fisted in his poncho.

“Hell, if I taught you the ropes I doubt you’d let me out of your room for a whole week, darlin’. We’d better work up to that…”

“Oh well,” you tease, perching yourself up to level your lips with his ear, “you’re too soft on me to be my teacher anyway.”

“Too soft?” He raises his brows, eager to know, causing you to step back as he advances on you.

“Too easy. I ought to shoot that can three more times from ten more feet away just to be sure I’ve learned.”

Jack lays the thick blanket next to the crackling fire after pulling it out of the satchel, motioning for you to come.

“Sugar, I’ll show you rough,” he grumbles, dragging you down to the blanket with him, your chest thumping square on his when you land, a stunted breath into his mouth. His promise, listenin’ to you whine as loud as you can, returns to you now as he holds the back of your neck and opens his lips to brush yours, nipping your lower lip to earn the first wince.

“Don’t disappoint me,” you taunt, landing yourself rolled over and pinned under his heavy weight as he lifts the poncho from his head and drapes it over your bodies, hidden and warm together as you share the fiery heat of yourselves and the physical fire beside you.

“I’d hate nothin’ more than to disappoint you.” He keeps his eyes trained on your face as his fingers creep up your leg, a soft ghosting until he reaches the stark wetness compared to your dry skin everywhere but your core and he’s already groaning at just the sensation of your slick covering his fingers. “Think I could fill you right now, hm? Soakin’ me so fast…”

“I need you to fuck me as hard as you can,” you demand, your head tipping back against the ground underneath the blanket, heat accumulating in your own makeshift tent of the dark poncho. His fingers twitch over your clit as he watches your face twist in effort to get your last coherent thoughts out, “This is where I can cry.”

“Jesus,” his head falls into your shoulder and he rubs his cock on your thigh, covered by his trousers. He’s hard and thick, just as he was watching you shoot his gun, and he lifts your skirt higher, bunching the fabric at your waist. “You always get what you ask for from me.”

Blindly searching with your fingers, you find the buttons of his trousers and pull them open, carefully taking his cock out, the tip leaking generously onto your skin. You spread it for him though it runs out quickly, but your own burning arousal is enough for the two of you as he settles himself closer, his hair flopping out of place. His moustache brushes against your temple when he spreads your legs wider, a soothing slide of your skin over the blanket before you feel his cock running through your slick folds, and it’s enough to start whining. Even the little sounds you let out at the house are suppressed and quietened— here, there is no one but the two of you.

“Give it all to me, baby doll,” he rasps over your throat as he positions himself and pushes past your entrance, slowly stretching you open on his thick cock and your thighs fall open wider, too, your breath heavy and low for him to bask in. “Ain’t that sweet…”

Jack’s eyes carry the glint of the fire beside your bodies as he stays there for some moments, letting you squirm all you need before he flattens you to the ground with his chest, cooing encouraging gentleness to contrast with the untamed way he’s going to fuck you here, on the blanket, again. His cock pushes deeper with the added mass, your whimper not enough when he finally thrusts and hits his hips to your wide-spread thighs and works the wetness of you all over his cock.

“Ja— Jack—” you whine, and his hot hand soon comes to glide over the innermost part of your thigh, rubbing it firmly as if he’s about to—

He spanks your thigh and earns the high-pitch moan he’s been working for all along, drawing himself back to return with a harsh thrust as he keeps his hand on the stinging sensation, groaning out his nose.

“Fu-uuck, there we go, that’s what I wanted,” he grunts through stunted breaths as he sets a new, punishing pace, sliding with ease in and out, hitting deep inside to brush against that satisfying spot that when he slaps the same part of your leg, the pleasure from both makes you cry louder, moan louder.

He draws the wool tighter around his back as he lowers his lips to your mouth, emitting an animalistic groan over your face when you clench around his cock and pull him in closer for another open-mouthed kiss, true and full.

“Oh, god,” you groan, his hand caressing the underside of your thigh, until he draws it up to push your knee on your chest, fitting his hand in the bend of your leg.

“Gimme more, sugar,” he demands, landing a sharp swat to the side of your ass lifted off the ground that gives him your neediest, filthiest sound yet as you fist his hair, taking his brutal pace.

“Jack, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Fuck,” he curses back harder, “I’m gonna steal you every god damn night for this.” Jack hisses through bared teeth on your collarbone, keening when you raise your hips to meet his. The fire rises beside you at the same time a wave of building pressure in your abdomen knocks through your lower half, and you place your hands on his face, sliding them up to meet his hair.

A shaky breath puffs out of you, the sting of his spankings spreading over your leg as you crane your neck and cry out while he buries himself and grinds against your clit, “You just get wetter n’ wetter for me,” he remarks hoarsely, “just can’t help but need me, hm?”

“I... Yes,” you sigh into his heated neck, your limbs softening in their hold of him as he fucks you hard over the blanket, his grip deathly on the side of your thigh.

“I want to hear it, darlin’, say it to me,” he scrapes, his voice at the bottom of his register, and when the words get stuck in your mind and jumbled out of order from the fullness of your core, he draws himself out and rolls you onto your stomach. Mindlessly, empty, you whine with an equal hoarseness to his own, the end of it pushed out prematurely when he flattens his chest over your back, lining his cock back up with your soaking entrance.

“I’ll pull every last pretty sound you got left in you if I have to.”

The words are a terrible blow to your senses, sparking a rapid increase in the sound of rushing blood in your ears as he pushes your thigh up to the side and presses down on it with his palm.

“Please…” you breathe, “I’m so close— fuck me, please fuck me again—”

Shutting your eyes, hoping to feel him push himself back inside you, you instead are met with a final, cracking swat on your leg that sends you wailing as Jack waits for you to scream it, “Tell me, sugar!”

“I need you, Jack— I need you!”

It doesn’t sound like your own voice. Never has it been clouded by so much desire and such a sinful edge to your witless begging, but it’s enough for him. A push forward, and he fills you; his own sounds have grown needier too, reaching far out. He plants a hand by your face and you grab onto his wrist as he shoves his cock repeatedly deeper and at this angle, you could consider the punishing stretch of him painful, but it’s everything you need, causing you to whine a step higher every time his hips hit your ass.

“You’re all I fuckin’ think about, darlin’,” Jack mouths at your earlobe, your bodies turning slick under the poncho and your clothes, “here you are, shootin’ my gun n’ lettin’ me fuck your tight little pussy, beggin’ for me— gonna make me fuckin’ cum.”

Your jaw drops and an involuntary squeal stumbles from your hanging lip, Jack snarling behind you as he plunges again, hooking his hands under your shoulders and splaying his fingers wide over the tops of them.

It’s a taut stretch of your chest when he pulls on you like that, the soft curl of his hair tickling your neck as he nestles his face to yours and muffles his grunts and groans. You pull up tighter around him, squeezing his cock, nearly driving him to collapse over your back when he feels it happen and what is easily his hardest, neediest and wrecked groan tears out and spreads over your limbs with the rumbling breath he takes after.

“Jaaack,” you whisper, his movements heavily weighing on you, your body resting just at the precipice of something overwhelming, “So… full..”

“I’m gonna fuck my cum into that sweet cunt.” Jack fists the blanket with his supporting hand and the next time he rams his hips forward, a full-bodied scream fills the air, and once more, you squeeze him tighter as you cum hard around his cock, your nails starting to dig into his wrist as he fucks you through it.

“Baby doll, you’re too fuckin’ good to me— squeeze me so fuckin’ tight when you cum, keep it comin’—”

“Oh god, oh god, oh god— fuck!” You can’t stop gushing around him as his thrusts lose rhythm, as he focuses more on the sounds you’re making and the grip you have on his cock and it just won’t end, tears beginning to form in your eyes while the movements never cease.

“That is just heavenly,” he says with a strained laugh, “shit, you really did need me, huh? You want my cum inside you too? Want to be spoiled?”

“Yes!” you cry, miraculously raising your ass just a little against his cock as the orgasm finally calms, a growl and a bite on your shoulder at your ceaseless will to beg.

“Take it.” One final, gorgeous moan from his throat and he buries himself, a wet warmth painting your walls, his chest deflating as he settles around your back and rubs your thigh in a soft contrast to what was his stinging swats minutes before. He blows and pants to recuperate, and as he brings himself out, you feel the warmth spreading and dripping down to your clit. For a moment, you share the breaths you’re both trying to catch, but the sensation of his cum sliding over your skin is yet another obstacle to returning to a manageable state of being.

“This…” he whispers, taking his hand back, leaning on his other elbow to support himself as he slides his fingers under your skirt to lead them to your swollen cunt, “is my favourite, darlin’.” He spreads his cum over your folds, milky liquid sliding wherever he traces, and you push back on your knees to raise yourself for him while he guides it back inside you, your throat tired but still whimpering as he pushes his fingers in.

“Keep me inside,” he murmurs on your temple, urging you to lay back down over the plushy blanket, and as you relax, mussed and twinkling by the fire, he drapes the poncho over your body, tucking the fabric under your sides. He strokes your cheek with the dry hand, lifting your head to his lap as he carefully sits by you, your eyes delicately fluttering closed.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks, and without opening your eyes, you shake your head no. Jack makes a purring sound, considering the moans his actions pulled out of you, and he begins to stroke your face some more. “Hope I never do,” he adds softly, studying your peaceful expression under the firelight and stars, “you’re soft.”

The last two words make you blink and smile up at him, finally granting him a peek which he returns with curved lips, and you know that “soft” doesn’t mean “weak” when he says it.

“I got an idea of where to take you next, if you think you can handle it...”

tags for yeehonk idiot:

@filthybookworm @frannyzooey @javier-pena @javierpcna @astroboots @userdindja @pedros-mustache @princessxkenobi @trashcora @writerdee1701 @thelemongeneration @libraryofrecs @fan-of-encouragement @herb-welch @writeforfandoms @queenofthecloudss @leannawithacapitala @the-feckless-wonder @kesskirata @fuck-goes-on @lawfulgranola@apascalrascal @prismaticpizza @xemmaloveskillianx @littlemissoblivious @quica-quica-quica @spideysimpossiblegirl @little-big-mac2 @recklesswit @frankie-catfish-morales

let me know whether you’d like to be added or removed!

#agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #pedro pascal #agent whiskey #pedrostories #userastrid #tuserdaniela #userdindja #xuserannie #userhai #jack daniels x you #agent whiskey x you #western au #jack daniels i love you forever #no devil dealings here...

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01solarsmiles · 3 years

Text

synopsis: you’ve been at jaehyun’s “secret” flat for a while now. you’re not quite sure how long, he says time passes differently here. not that you mind. you’re healing and there’s nothing you have wrong with that. having been away form everything that was bad for you, you’re coming to realise that things really were better with jaehyun. and no matter how many times he tries to tell you, he knows you have to come to that conclusion yourself.

tl;dr: you heal under jaehyun’s caring gaze.

genre: fantasy!au, kind of domestic!au, magic!jaehyun, fluff, smut, fem!reader

warnings: smut in the forms of kissing, titplay, basically motorboats oc, brief nipple play, heavy petting/fondling, grinding (?), oral (male recieving), jaehyun can’t hold his load oops, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), creampie, brief cumplay lmao jaehyun is the teeniest bit kinky

other: jaehyun is my soft boi, wanna smooch and cuddle in his pastel coloured sweats, i’m british so he lives in a flat, soft smut… almost r*mantic,,, jaehyun is a boob man; do what you will with that B), jaehyun uses pet names bc i think it would be sickly sweet leaving his lips, time is relevant so i can do what i want with this thanks xox

wordcount: 8.5k

a/n: this is a continuation from the last chapter. i split it bc i needed inspo lmao so once again, not happy with how it ended previously so i had to write more. admittedly, it was origianlly one long piece but i realised i wanted to add more depth to when they’re living together (basically) so i split it therefore enabling me to write what i wanted about them being cute and stuff. yeah.

You had been given a wheelchair by the hospital but had refused to use it, wanting to prove that you were okay, to yourself and Jaehyun. He had convinced you to stay in it as you left the hospital to please the staff on your way out but you had point-blank refused when you made it to the small block of flats he said he lived in. After walking two steps from the car you let out a whimper and gave in to his incessant pleas to get you to sit in the wheelchair.

Oddly, there had been no one in the foyer and you hadn’t bumped into anyone in the hallway in front of the lift. He had helped you when you made it into the flat, moving you over to the sofa where you melted into the plush cushions of the seat.

On the way here, the two of you had already argued about where you were going to stay, him insisting on not leaving you alone and you insisting that you’d be okay at a friends place. In the end, he promised to contact your friends and family to tell them you were spending a little time away (you wouldn’t let him tell them you had been to the hospital). After all, he had saved you when you needed it most.

Your cracked lips remained tightly sealed as he folded the wheelchair away and tucked it behind a cupboard where it wasn’t in your direct line of sight.

You decide to look around, wanting to take up some time and to avoid looking him directly in the eye.

The flat was… cosy. It looked lived in, all the trinkets and small collages stuck up on the walls drawing your attention away from the shelves stacked with potted plants. Everything about the room seemed to tie together with another aspect of the flat. You couldn’t help but wonder why he had a place like this.

He notices your inquisitive look, “It’s supposed to be a secret. Though almost everyone important knows this is where they’ll find me if I disappear without an explanation.” Jaehyun moves towards the small kitchenette, fetching a glass of water befoer placing it on a coaster on the glass coffee table by your legs.

You wait for a second, acknolwedging the glass of iced water, then look up, meeting his hesitant gaze, “Everything’s green.”

It wasn’t a deep green either, more like a soft earthy green. Maybe a sage colour, but you were mostly going off of the presence of the plants and the colour of the sofa. Some of the counters in his one-person kitchen were a soft green, accented with wood countertops and a pastel fridge. It was soothing on your eyes, you had to admit.

He nods, unsure what you’re getting at, “Yeah…?”

“The first and second time I met you, you exclusively wore red. And it was glittery,” you point out, one wordlessly eyebrow raised.

He tilts his head, dimples appearing in his cheeks as he stuffs his hands in his jogging bottom pockets, rattling his keys in his pockets, “Just because I wear red doesn’t mean my whole life revolves around that primary colour.”

You roll your eyes and lean back into the sofa cushion, tenderly crossing your arms, “Well, no. I guess not,” you let your headrest on a pillow he slips behind your neck discreetly, “I suppose… I just assumed that you did,” you shrug your shoulders, “wasn’t something I gave much thought to.”

Jaehyun kicks off his trainers and throws his keys into a bowl on the kitchen counter. You could probably stick your arm over the back of the sofa and touch the pillar that separated the two areas if you tried hard enough adn weren’t brusied all over. He’s got a small smile on his face that brings his dimples out as he makes his way over to sit on the sofa with you, letting himself fall haphazardly onto the cushions. “So you thought about me, even a little.”

Ignoring his comment, you take in his flat to its fullest. You weren’t wrong, this man lived in a green, cottagecore aesthetic in his off-time. Admittedly you were a big fan of the wall of shelves stacked with different plants, mostly succulents and cactus -- the odd spine of a book eeking through -- and you even enjoyed the small desk that was home to a few depictions of watercolour flowers. Your eyes fall on the black figure, slinking under the legs of the glass coffee table pitched in front of you, making you flinch as you suppressed your reflex to jump; it was only a cat.

A cat man. Of course, he was.

Jaehyun’s eyes follow yours, “That’s Prim. She likes to keep to herself. Occasionally she curls up with me.”

“You made it sound like you rarely come here.”

“Mhm.”

“You have a cat.”

“I have a cat,” he affirms.

Prim disappears around the pillar into the kitchen. Jaehyun must’ve put down some food for her because you can hear her softly eating followed briefly by the sound of her lapping at a bowl of water.

“And plants.”

“Those too.” He’s not sure where you’re going with this, neither were you, but he was humouring it, seeing it through to the end if he got ot be in your presence longer.

Your eyes go back to wandering around the room, watching how the sun dips in between the curtains and cascades through the room. You had sat in the seat closest to the entrance, meaning Jaehyun’s back was to the window as he faced you while you were talking. He was still dressed in the outfit you assumed he slept in at the hospital. You were dressed in the same clothes you had gone in with, having had to change out of the gown they had provided when you left.

He looked so effortlessly pretty. It made you want to cry.

You suck in a breath and say, “I’m a little tired. Can I sleep… anywhere?”

He nods and jumpts to his feet before helping you to yours. Slowly, you make your way down the hall, almost all of your weight is beared on Jaehyun. He’s practically carrying you but neither of you mention it. It was only a small flat, something you couldn’t wrap your head around when he could probably have anything he liked, and so it only had one bedroom.

Initially, you had put up a fight but he simply said he wasn’t tired and there was a box room he could get a bed into if the sofa wasn’t comfortable enough (it was but you weren’t okay with the fact that he was giving up his bed). You lay on your side, a body pillow supporting your small frame. You were so tense, worried about Soobin and Dan-ah and Mina and your Mum and Dad and Hyejin as she was probably the only friend of yours who regularly checked in. There was so much running through your mind and you almost don’t notice Jaehyun’s soft palm gripping yours, his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand. Unbeknownst to you, he had seen the anxious look on your face and had guessed that you were psychoanalysing everything in your head, cogs turning. He wanted to subtly draw you out from your thoughts... so he let a little of his power surge through his fingertips and into your palm, hoping it was enough to make you woozy.

Without much thought to it, you rested your head on his pillow and fell asleep.

Jaehyun stays, for a minute or two, holding your hand until your grip weakens, your breathing becomes heavier and your chest goes into a steady rise and fall. He watches, as you lay, unbothered by the world outside. You looked at peace. At home.

Was this the first time you had been able to wind down like this?

He sighs, wriggling his hand from under yours and gets up to leave before he pulls a brown monochrome blanket over your frame. A slight frown etches itself on your forehead as your fingers twitch, looking for the hand Jaehyun had slipped away, before you subconsciously grip the blanket and curl into it instead, the frown erasing itself from your face, leaving you looking at peace once again.

You wake up to the sun going down outside, a blanket covering your body and pillows squished underneath to support your body.

You’re tender. That’s safe to say.

The room was airy; Jaehyun had left the window on the latch and the door cracked open so as to not make it stuffy. Glancing around, you notice the simplicity of it. Bed, side table, lamp and wardrobe. It differed massively from the rest of his flat. Maybe he hadn’t gotten around to decorating substantially in here.

You get up, perching yourself on the edge of the bed before making your way out of the room. Shuffling along, you cling to the wall as you know full well you shouldn’t be venturing around by yourself and make your way to the living room, “Jaehyun?” you call. The calling stops when you spot Jaehyun with an open book lying in his lap while he snores lightly, passed out on the sofa. The corners of your mouth twitch, curling into a smile at the sight of him so peaceful.

You hold out your arm, inspecting the bandage on it. You sigh, “I need a shower.”

You turn back, headed towards what you assumed was the bathroom. The door creaks open; thankfully, you were correct. There are fresh towels hanging on the rack and a laundry basket sits tucked into the corner. Stripping from your clothes gingerly, you turn on the shower. While it warms up you unwrap your bandages and softly poke the back of your head. You’re probably not supposed to submerge it yet so you work with what you can. The shower itself was a standalone that had frosted glass wrapped around it, hiding what was on the inside if anyone were to look in.

The whole ordeal was a show in itself, you carefully moving things about, trying not to knock anything all while trying to do your best with what you’ve got. It wasn’t the best situation in the world but it was the best out of the hand you were dealt. Having not been back to your flat to get anything, you didn’t have any of your usual hair products so you used the products that were already there and a lemon body wash that had been sitting patiently.

Eventually, you finish up with half-washed hair and a mostly clean body. Your fingers had pruned long ago and you took that as a sign to get out of the shower to stop using all the hot water.

You stepped out, and grabbed the towel off of the rack, wrapping yourself in them. They were so soft against your skin. Holding it tightly against your skin you move to stand in the middle of the bathroom. It wasn’t big but it had an oval mirror hanging above the sink. Staring at your reflection for a little, you internally pick apart everything you don’t like.

Staring with the obvious bruises. “I’ll heal,” you tell your reflection, “I won’t degrade myself like that again.” Your fingers brush against your towel-covered ribs, making you flinch. “He won’t do this to me again; I won’t let him,” you pause before whispering, “I’m not going back to him.”

By now, your eyes are watering a little so you sniffle and wipe the forming tears away before they’re given the chance to fall. You deserve better. You know this. “I deserve better. I am worth better.”

In the middle of this, Prim slinks through the crack of the door, making you jump a little. With your hand on your heart, you take deep breaths, watching as she jumps onto the closed toilet seat and sits down on a pile of clothes. A pile of clothes you don’t remember putting there. Your eyes widen at the thought of Jaehyun seeing you naked but then you whip your head to the shower walls, reminding yourself that they’re frosted and he would’ve only been able to see an outline at the most.

Prim purrs, drawing your attention back to her.

She blinks at you. She’s so calm. You reach the backside of your hand out so she can sniff it. After a quick sniff, she turns her head and rubs it into the palm of your hand. You gratefully accept her and let her continue to rub herself on you as you alternate between scratching the underside of her chin and the back of her head. She purrs in content and you let out a quiet giggle.

Jaehyun had been awake for the past ten minutes or so. He’d dug through his drawers, pulling out an old pair of jogging bottoms that he’d bulked out of but never gotten around to throwing out, a pair of clean underwear and a jumper that was currently his size but probably oversized on you. He’d slipped them onto the toilet seat (thank god it was so close to the door) without peeping past the sink and must’ve forgotten to pull the door up all the way on his way out.

He listens to Prim purring and you giggling softly from the safety of his sofa in the living room, a smile making its way onto his face. He had flicked on the table lamp on the end table by the sofa, continuing to read his book – A natural history of Dragons. Not as accurate as he remembers but a little light reading never did anyone any harm.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, you looked fresh. Swamped in his jumper and bare feet padding across the panelled flooring. He looks up from his book, noticing you gradually making your way over to him, he jumps up, trying to help you. You looked cute with your sweater paw leaned up against the wall.

He tucks a hand under your armpit for leverage, you turn, a little surprised and open your mouth to say something but can’t bring yourself to when you realise how close your faces are. Jaehyun either doesn’t notice or pretends to not know, making you feel more embarrassed than you thought possible. His musk engulfs you, overriding your senses and you hesitate in your step.

“Oh,” you say, face hot to which you can only pray he doesn’t sense how he caught you off-guard, “you don’t have to–”

“It’s okay,” he whispers softly, hands pulling you into him so he can use his body strength to help too. You feel goosebumps from his caring touch and you wonder about the last time someone treated you like this.

Since when did he become so domestic?

You brush it off and he helps lower you down to the sofa and Prim follows suit, helping herself to your lap as she curls into a ball, letting you run your fingers down her back in a soothing motion.

You could feel the heat rising up your neck at how close the two of you had been, your mind running to months before when you had been close to him. Before, you had been embarrassed about yourself as he was helping you out of the hospital but he had reassured you that you had nothing to worry about – the gentleman that he was – he didn’t want you to feel ashamed. So, you let yourself relax on his plush sofa cushions while he went about making something to eat for the both of you with a grin on his face, knowing all too well what he had inflicted upon you moments ago.

That’s how the next month or so went by. You pushed yourself to your limits, all of your minor injuries healed (somehow), and followed Jaehyun around while Prim followed you. As promised, Jaehyun brought home a bed for the box room to which you insisted on sleeping in since you were the one who was the guest but he had none of it. In the end, he dressed the room up nicely and it ended up looking like it had been there all along.

At first, Jaehyun hadn’t let you do any of the things you offered to do, especially the cooking. He had a large repertoire of recipes up his sleeve and wasn’t letting you do anything to strain yourself.

Your phone had briefly glitched the first time you turned it on, which was odd on a good day.

“Time passes differently here,” he had explained, “Einstein was right about that one; time is relevant. He almost caught us out one time with his research into it but Yuta turned him around and set him back on track again.”

To which he then had to explain to you who Yuta was. He sounded nice, harmless but what got you was the fact that there were more people like Jaehyun. You had yet to meet more than the man who stood in front of you as he explained that to you.

Weeks into your stay, he took you round to your place, helped you pick up your things and also helped you leave a thick layer of red glitter all over your now ex-boyfriend’s penthouse. He deserved it. According to Jaehyun, your ex was in the process of moving out, as per Jaehyun’s convincing argumentative skills.

You rang some of your family and friends, asking after them and telling them you were okay after it was established between you that you and Soobin were no longer together but the most heartbreaking one was between you and your niece. She had been there, she knew now, even if you didn’t want her too, she knew. You could only pray that it slowly faded from her memory, for her sake more than yours, as she grew older.

According to Hyejin (when she rambled to you on the phone as she bawled, bless her), Soobin had been given the sack and lost most of what he owned. He’d also been sporting a black eye for two weeks after you got out of the hospital. She had been the first person you rang but the small detail had slipped your mind until later that night. You tried not to outright weep tears of joy, knowing that he’d had even the tiniest bit of his own medicine fed back to him, followed suit by you quizzing Jaehyun to which he hid his knuckles behind his back as he walked in with a tray of sushi that had been delivered tonight as a treat before your anime marathon.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I haven’t seen him,” he throws his keys into the bowl on the kitchen counter after toeing off his shoes in the entrance of his flat.

Having had time to heal, you pull yourself to tuck your legs underneath you as you look over the back of the sofa. “Jaehyun,” you warn. Prim materialises from the depths of Jaehyun’s bedsheets, where you had left her earlier, to greet her beloved owner. She purrs against his leg and he leans down to scratch behind her ear.

“Y/n,” he says back, trying his best to match your tone.

Your eyes follow Prim, closely watching as she jumps onto the kitchen counter and paws at the key-bowl. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth you nibble until you can form a sentence that wouldn’t betray you when it left the corners of your mind.

Thinking about it, you decide against arguing with him on it. If he was lying it wasn’t something that was going to stop you from hanging around him, so why push it? Because you wanted to know why. “You were out a while after you texted me you’d finished food shopping the other day, where’d you go?”

Jaehyun glances at you, his hair stood slightly on end as if he’d been running his hand through it, possibly one too many times. It was shorter than when you had first come into his care – you’d helped him one day to trim it. You’d also insisted that he let you do it because you used to cut your hair in the bathroom mirror. ‘Not the same,’ he had said but he had handed you the scissors all the same. He was still dressing for comfort, something that you appreciated when the evening came and the tv turned on. It was a small flat which meant a small-ish sofa. He wasn’t against wrapping an arm around you and the two of you had been known to fall asleep to a movie or two in recent weeks.

“Went to work, briefly. Gotta make sure everything’s on schedule; they’d practically die without me to ditto everything they’re already sure of,” he flashes you a grin that his dimples can’t escape, “it’s nice to be home.”

You murmur a response.

Scattering away, Jaehyun has a shower after being out and gets dressed quickly to return to you. He walks over to the kitchen, deciding to grab some things for the evening.

His back is turned to you now, he’s grabbing a couple of drinks from the fridge, the glow of the light illuminating his face.

“I missed you.”

You… what?

The pounding of your heart against your ribcage was deafening. Had you just said that out loud? He turns to meet your frantic gaze, waiting for your response. He can barely breathe out the response, “I missed you too.”

He grins, sinking himself into the space next to you and slings his arm over the back, his hand resting close to your neck. “Awh, did you really?”

Your body practically recoils, turning back on itself, “No. I just wanted you to bring ice cream; I’ve been craving it all week.”

Instantly you regret your choice as he frowns slightly and turns away.

You’re forced to think about the countless nights you’d spent curled up in his bed, some of them the result of you weeping into one of his many pastel sweatshirts you adorned about your failed relationship with Soobin, others about how you had neglected to tell your family and friends about the situation you had been in for almost a year by the time Jaehyun had pulled you away from it. Most nights, Jaehyun heard you, upset and alone in the dark. In the beginning, he wasn’t sure what to do about it, part of him knowing that he should leave you to heal but the other part of him screaming that he shouldn’t let you suffer alone – shouldn’t let you think you’re in this alone when you’re most certainly not where he’s concerned.

The first time he had left you, not sure he had heard correct when he came back from work, groggy from the use of his powers and feeling like he needed to faceplant his pillow from the exhaustion. You had stopped, little sniffles being masked by the vibrations of Prim’s purring against your body where she had hopped up on the bed to comfort you, when you thought Jaehyun was listening, hoping that he would leave you to hurt for a short while longer.

He had sensed your hesitation and made his way to the shower, deciding he needed to be fresh for the next morning.

He was oddly caring. Not that it was odd for someone to care but it was odd for someone to care this much and for the person to be Jaehyun was the cherry on top.

Turning back to face you, he grins, “Wanna watch that anime you were telling me about? I googled it last night and read some forums; apparently it’s good.”

Your eyes light up, “Sword Art Online? Yes please.”

Jaehyun shakes his head, chuckling to himself at how eager you are. He loved when you showed interest in things like this. His auburn hair falls into his eyes as he skims through whatever application he had pulled up (Netflix; no chill) while you weren’t looking and he breathes softly through his nose, concentrating on the screen in front of him.

Once again, you were studying him. It had been a long time since you had arrived. Time is relevant, true, but how much time is too much time?

The sun had set an hour or so ago now and you had already eaten some of the takeaway earlier as neither of you had been interested in cooking. You wondered if he knew how the table lamp accentuated his face, the soft hue acting like his usual haze when he was in his suit – which you learned was the reason he practical glowed as he had since told you there was magic twined into the thread it was sewed together with – and made him look angelic. You wondered if he knew the camel sweats he was wearing made you want to cuddle him and nuzzle your nose into his side, somewhere that you felt more than safe to be. You wondered if he knew how much you liked it here and how you were apprehensive about going back to the real world full time.

You’d been out, of course, he couldn’t confine you to his flat even if he wanted to but he always made sure that there were the correct precautions in place. He was always here, anyway, choosing you over everything else so there was rarely a time where you could go out without him. Smiling to yourself, you remind yourself that you don’t think you’d want to go by yourself when there’s a perfectly good Jaehyun waiting for you.

His hair fell in soft waves on his forehead, and his brow furrowed as he tried to figure out why he couldn’t find Sword Art Online for you two to watch. The two of you had fallen into a routine, he pats his leg, signalling for you to lay your head down on his lap as he pulls a pillow from behind him for you to rest your head on.

Shifting your body, careful of your ribs still, you lay down and wrap a hand under his leg for leverage, being sure to keep it closer to the back of his knee than his thigh as it was easier to curl your hand. He didn’t mind because when you sat and watched horror movies you would squeeze his leg in anticipation for a jump scare of sorts. He thought it was cute.

Eventually, he finds it, “Here we go,” he mumbles, clicking on the first episode. You settle in, pushing your face further into the cushion as Jaehyun lets his hand rest on your shoulder, somewhere safe for him to touch. His other hand plays with your hair absentmindedly as the episode begins, showing the people who had been waiting for the game to come out so that they could play it.

It remains like this, you making comments here and there, ooh’s and ah’s coming form both of you as you talk about the episode before it rolls over to the next one. At one point, he says something that makes you sit up completely, throwing him off as your warmth leaves his body.

“Did you just suggest that Kirito could be –”

His eyes widen, “I merely suggested that he –”

You scowl, pout and cross your arms, your cardigan falling off your shoulder at an angle, “No! You said what you said. It’s out there now, in the cosmos, for all to judge. You can’t take it back.”

He’s looking at you, first with shock but then with an expectant look. All you were doing was arguing over anime. You’re not sure you remember seeing him like this, eyes filled with something you cannot describe. Is this what being loved feels like? The flying thought catches you off guard and you hold your breath. He wonders if you know that’s how he’s feeling, how he’s seeing you. The rose-tinted filter settled in and he was determined to keep it that way for a long time.

Jaehyun had got dressed after his shower into a sweatshirt and sweatpants, and joined you on the sofa while you were watching the back end of a drama you had been meaning to watch for months before you had switched over to anime. It was your thing; watching anime together.

His hand reaches to rest on the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek and fingers splaying down to reach your neck and brings his face closer to yours, making your breath hitch. The last time you had been like this neither of you were thinking in coherent thoughts. At this point, you’d spent months with him, hiding from your family and friends – only partially as you had wanted to gain your confidence back again and go back with a real job.

His hair was still drying on the ends where he hadn’t bothered to towel dry it. It brushed against your forehead as he brought his forehead to rest on yours, savouring the moment.

Breathily, you manage to say his name.

He hums in response, eyes trained diligently on your lips, waiting for your response. He doesn’t notice how you watch him watching you, he’s enamoured. He loved when you looked like this. So carefree. So pure. So… pretty.

“Kiss me.”

He doesn’t wait any longer.

Lips centimetres form yours, he gives you the opportunity to change your mind but you bring your lips to his, not wanting to drag this out any longer. His fingers stay on your face while your hands have yet to find somewhere to be placed – something that Jaehyun notices – so he picks up your hand and curls it around the back of his neck before wrapping his own around the small of your back, a smirk finding its home on his face.

Feeling more confident, you bring your free hand to splay across his cheek, thumb mindlessly rubbing the dip where his dimple becomes prominent. His hair stands on end on the back of his neck, the sensation of your fingers brushing his face so calmly as he pulls your lower lip between his having caused goosebumps to form down his arms.

Secretly, he was glad he was wearing his sweatshirt so that you couldn’t see how sensitive he was to you.

Jaehyun leans gradually away and you chase his lips, not wanting to forget the feeling any time soon. All of the time you had spent with Soobin and yet none of the moments you had shared felt like this. It made your heart pound and the butterflies were making their way up, tickling your diaphragm as you struggle to breathe.

“Y/n,” he begins, lids heavy and forehead pressed to yours. He’s not really sure what he wants to say… how does one express the euphoria they feel from finally doing the right thing and knowing it’s the right thing? Because that’s how Jaehyun felt. You knew he wanted to say something so you lightly prompt him.

“Jae… what are you thinking?”

His lids close and he bumps his nose with yours, lips parted, “I want to kiss you like that more often.”

You giggle, which throws him off, “Do you?” He looks up to meet your wandering gaze through his lashes, “because I want to kiss you like that more often, too.”

He grins, tightening his grip around your waist, pulling you in until you’re straddling his lap. “Oh yeah? How about I do just that, then.” His lips return to yours. You noticed that Jaehyun’s lips tasted of cherry chapstick, and you loved that, deciding to part the seal of his mouth with your tongue to devour the taste further.

The subtle curve of his lips was something you didn’t want to forget – that was for sure. You work on memorising this feature and lightly tug at the tufts of hair at the back of his head, making him moan into your mouth ever so slightly.

“That was adorable,” you mumble against his lips, lowering yourself so your bum is resting on the heels of your feet either side of his thighs.

His face flushes but he pretends to not notice and instead lets his hands roam until they’re palming the globes of your ass.

This shocks you into action a little, the squeezing fingers forcing you to lift and lean on your knees, breasts pushed up against his chin as you continue to kiss him.

As you slipped your tongue to mingle with his, you decided then and there that you were absolutely in love with kissing him. Possibly smitten, just a tiny bit.

You had worn a tank top and a light cardigan for comfort around the flat, not wanting to pull jeans on and a blouse every morning and instead opting for leggings and light-tees regularly. You weren’t sure what kind of man Jaehyun was, an ass or boob man but something igniting inside you and hardening in his sweatpants told you that you were going to find out pretty damn soon.

Pulling away you offer a small smile at him, he grins, like he knows he’s about to get a present he’s been waiting for ages for. Ironic, considering his job profession.

You bite your lip and let your hands fall down to his arms, running your palms up and down his biceps. By now the episode had rolled over and was about 10 minutes into the next but you and Jaehyun were far too distracted, you figured it would have to wait. It would still be there tomorrow when you could rewatch it and continue your marathon.

His own hands rest below the curve or your breasts, thumbing at the swell.

You dip your head, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before letting your tongue peak out and swirl its way down to his neck. Peppering kisses against his tan skin you pick a spot where he makes the most fuss when you reach it and bruise it with your lips. He groans at the feeling of your lips tainting his skin so skillfully and thinks about how you went to waste on someone like your ex before him. His breathing grows heavy and his fingers run up and down your back in a soothing manner, toying with the hem of your tank top every time his fingers brush the bottom.

“Oh my God,” he breathes out when you’re finished.

You giggle, “What?”

You had slipped your cardigan off, letting it fall in a heap on the floor and hooked your fingers under your shirt before throwing it across the room.

Gazing up at you, you can practically see the hearts spinning around his head. You knew that if this was a Looney Toon cartoon, his eyes would’ve been pounding hearts right about now.

“You’re so beautiful,” he sighs as you press a closed mouth kiss to his jaw, “…pretty girl.”

You were left in a dark pair of leggings and your t-shirt bra. It wasn’t anything fancy (you were here for comfort, for god’s sake) but Jaehyun looked at you like you had put all the stars in the sky yourself, something you were unfamiliar with. Pride swells in your chest and lust swells in your core.

“Are you going to keep staring or are you going to do something?” You tease. He merely smirks, enjoying what he hasn’t even done yet, and buries his head between your breasts.

You let out a small “Oof” noise and steady yourself on his shoulders. Leaning on your feet normally would’ve been enough but when he stuck his head between your boobs it had knocked you slightly off balance. Your fingers dig into his shoulder blades, pressing crescetn moons into his skin, but Jaehyun takes no notice as he noses his way to a fleshy spot and attaches his lips.

“Smell so good,” he’s referring to the perfume you had brought with you when you cleaned out your apartment. “Wanna taste,” he mumbles into your boobs. Your panties dampen at the confession, not knowing completely how to respond without crying out a moan.

Unshockingly so, this was one of the few tinmes you had felt like the only girl in the world, not to quote Rihanna, but it was truly a moment you had no desire to forget any time soon.

Instinctively, your hands retire to the back of his head, pulling him closer whilst he goes to town on a hickey he’s suckling into your skin.

Pulling back, he grins, “Perfect.” He’s admiring his handiwork but it still sends the stupid butterflies contained in your abdomemn stir crazy when his gaze meets yours, filled with lust, love, adoration – whatever you want to call it, his eyes contained it. Lids low and mind focused, his hand snakes behind your body to unhook your bra but you stop him.

In fear of pushing you too far he drops his hand and waits, eyes wide for what had stopped you.

“I-I haven’t – no – I don’t…” you struggle to find the correct words in front of Jaehyun, the cool breeze making you shiver in the slightest.

“What is it, angel?” He brings his hands to your waist, rubbing slow circles to calm you.

“Soobin,” you exhale. It was all Jaehyun needed to know so he took a deep breath.

He’s watching you as he says, “I don’t care. That was then… this is now.”

You nod. His features twist into a smile, images of that night coming back to him, “Plus I already fucked you against the –”

Your hand finds itself pressed across his mouth in the blink of an eye, praying he doesn’t finish that sentence, “I know,” you squeak before emphasising, “I was there.”

He tilts his head and offers a mischievous glint, “I thought you didn’t think I was real, simply a figment of your imagination, if I do remember correctly.”

Groaning, you roll your eyes, “Stop with that! You showed up, dressed in red and in the middle of the night after I’d written a letter that only I could know the contents of. Who’s to say you weren’t an incubus, huh?”

A single eyebrow is raised on his part.

“And you were gone before I woke up,” you mumble against his neck, now enticed by his scent again, “I never told anyone because it sounds wild, right? You have to admit that part at the very least.”

That made him take a second to process, “I never thought of it like that,” he mumbles, pressing feather-light kisses up your arm.

“It was something I thought about for a while,” you meekly replied to his unasked question.

“Well,” he begins, “you don’t have to worry any longer,” and presses his lips to your clavicle, fingers unclasping your bra behind you, this time you let him, sighing into his golden touch, boobs pressed against his chest. He groans at the feeling or your unclothed, hardened nipples cutting in on his pecs. You sling your bra across the room, not giving much thought or care towards where it ended up as there were more pressing matters you cared about.

Your neck is tipped back as his tongue dips to the valley of your breasts, he places an endearing kiss to your sternum and sets his sights onto your nipples.

Hand resting on the nape of his neck, you arch into the feeling of his wet mouth latching onto your nipple, peak caught between his tongue and teeth as he teases you, and tug on his hair.

He savours this, moaning before switching to your other nipple, not wanting to leave one without the same amount of attention. At this point, your panties are embarrassingly soaked from all of the stimulation.

“You’re so good to me,” you whine, not talking about just this very moment. You’re reminiscing about the past couple of months you’ve spent in his care too and something tells you that he knows that too.

He releases your nipple from his lips and glances up at you, “Is that so, angel?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, not sure what he wants you to say or what you should say to keep the mood going, “all the time. Miss you so much because of it,” you pout slightly, not wanting to draw too much from the conversation in case things went sideways.

You bring your hands to his cheeks, resting either side and pinch lightly, toying with him. “Keep me happy,” you state before leaning down to kiss him again. His eyes flutter close and you trail your hands down his abdomen, pressing harder with your nails as you slide them down to the hem of his jumper.

“Off,” you mutter against his lips. He gladly complies, you were topless and it was only fair he comes level with your nakedness. When you part momentarily to lift it over his head, your hungry eyes zone in on how constricted his hardened dick was within the confines of his sweatpants.

Jaehyun notices this, ruffled hair askew and mind now clear from the fog you had bestowed upon him when you had kissed him. He knew what he wanted, did you want it too?

Without hesitation, you palm the outline of his dick over the sweatpants, wanting to see his reaction. You were best pleased when he fights the urge to roll his eyes but bites his lip to stop himself from thrusting into your silky touch. Not that he’d felt that today, just yet.

You stifle a giggle, “Eager, pretty boy.”

One kiss is placed to his lips before you slip off of his lap, knees thudding as they land on the floor. You hook your index fingers around the waistband of his sweats and underpants, the tell-tale Tommy band staring back at you, knowing he would comply but you only pull them down just enough to free his weeping cock.

It springs up, slapping against his abdomen, veins prominent from the grining you had been doing earlier. Your mouth waters at the sight and you lick your lips, praying that it lives up to your expectations.

You give him a few slow strokes of your nails up him and one of his hands reaching up to push a few stray strands of hair form your face.

He groans when you finally wrap your slender fingers around his shaft, thumb wiping the leaking tip of his swollen mushroom head. It throbbed a pretty shade of pink, much like his lips, after you pressed a delicate kiss to the top.

“So, so good to me, angel,” are the words that leave his lips when you lick your own before dipping your head to lick up the underside. You offered a devilish smile and lowered your hot mouth onto his throbbing length slowly, wanting to savour every second and push Jaehyun to his limit.

You hum in agreeance to his statement, sending a shiver up his spine and eliciting a moan from him, his hands quickly tangling themselves in your loose hair as he makes a make-shift ponytail to keep your hair out of your face.

Once your jaw has adjusted to the burn of his girth, he helps you bob your head up and down, curling the ponytail around one hand and using that as leverage. Flattening your tongue, you press it to the underneath of his length. You experiment with seeing how much you can take as it’s been a long time since you’ve been intimate with someone like this. One of your manicured hands reaches down to tickle his balls – a trick Hyejin had taught you the last time you were having one of those conversations – and he all but thrusts up into your throat, making you clench your legs and rub them together for some friction as your eyes close tight, forcing tears to run down your face.

“Oh fuck, I don’t think I can ah-” he lifts you off of his dick and brings your mouth to his, pressing hard against your own.

You’re flushed from his abrupt actions but that doesn’t stop you from stripping yourself of your leggings when he practically begs you to. Unsure what he wants next, you fiddle until he instructs you, “Those too,” he gestures to your panties. They weren’t grand but, had you not been about to get it on with possibly the hottest and most caring man you’ve come across, you would’ve been embarrassed about him seeing them in any normal situation.

Once they’re discarded, he stands, shimmys out of his sweats and pants and brings you close to him and guides a leg to wrap around his waist, rock hard dick pressed between your two sweaty bodies.

He kisses you hard, a clash on tongue and teeth; it’s one of the messiest kisses you had ever been on the receiving end of but ultimately still one of the best you’ve been able to experience, and lowers the two of you onto the sofa.

Again, you’re perched on your heels. He breaks the kiss, looking between your bodies to align himself with your entrance. “I’m sorry, angel,” he mutters against the column of your throat.

“Wha-”

He waits no longer before slipping himself into your core impossibly easily, as he sets a killer pace.

Squealing, you let your head fall onto his shoulder as you try your best to thrust down as much as he thrusts up into you but it was proving difficult as he suckled sweetly on the juncture where your neck and shoulder met – sending your senses into overdrive.

“S-so tight,” he breathes out, trickles of sweat forming in his hairline. One of the few brain cells you have working tells you the clench on his next thrust, only making him moan louder than before. In response, he ups the pace, setting his sights on destroying your sweet pussy.

Knowing full-well that he hadn’t tasted your arousal like he had originally intended, he brings his finger to dance across your clit, stimulating the bundle of nerves until you were whining, hips stuttering as your vision hazes, unsure of how to control yourself. Still unable to match his deadly pace, you settle on tensing your legs and hovering above him where he pounds upwards, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing around the room.

You knew that by the time he was going to be finished, your ass was going to be tainted red from where his balls were slapping your underside as he pounds into you.

“Jaehyun,” you barely manage to breathe out, “fu… fuck.” Not what you were going for so you give it another try, “Jae… kiss.”

His eyes linger on your disheveled features. You open your eyes and look down at him, worried that he hadn’t heard you. His eyes meet yours; you pout, “Kiss me, p-ah–” one particularly strong thrust ignites inside you, the tell-tale sign of your orgasm about to snap through you; halts your half-hearted attempt at riding him.

He captures your lips with his, nibbling on your lip before licking it as if to heal it. His fingers are still rubbing tiny circles in your clit that send you over the edge and into complete euphoria, spine arching.

Within milliseconds, your vision is blurring and eyes unfocus, switching for white dots across your line of sight to pair with the white hot pleasure ripping through your core. “Ah,” you whine, “oh... Jae-Jaehyun,” your voice breaks, not being able to comprehend the possibility of more thanone thing happening at once.

As you clamp down on him unintentionally, he groans, unable to hold back any longer and empties his load inside your trembling pussy, cursing as he does.

Moments pass before he can bring himself to say anything, “You’re so perfect, angel. So pretty and perfect.”

You lift your head to look at him. At his fucked-out face you melt into him, swety bodies gradually becoming one and sliding off of his softening cock so you can wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle closer to him. He brings his arms around your waist, pressing his face into the crook of your neck and breathing sharply through his nose.

“You’re so good to me. Can’t remember the last time someone fucked me that good,” you whisper against the shell of his ear. You have one hand raking your fingers through his hair. You breathe out a laugh as he shivers at the feeling.

Knowing that was probably an ego boost enough, you press a languid kiss to the side of his mouth, not really paying much attention to where your lips landed. Continuing to pepper him with kisses, he stirs slightly, not wanting all of this attention to go to waste.

“Hey, c’mere,” he says, holding you from your waist before slowly lowering you onto the sofa beside him so your back is flat.

You’re barely holding it together, Jaehyun’s cum trickling down the side of your leg from your sore hole. He pushes your legs apart, one falls haphazardly off of the sofa and the other is pressed between his side and the back of the sofa. He doesn’t care, though, bringing two fingers up to meet your quivering core.

“What are you doi – ah!”

A lazy grin spreads across Jaehyun’s face, his fingers now covered in yours and his essence as he stuffs it back into you. The overstimulation makes you quiver but he was determined about making you suffer. “So pretty with my cum stuffed inside you, angel, so pretty.”

By now, you’re convinced he’s drunk but you don’t put it past yourself to consider yourself just as drunk on him as he is on you. You squirm, not wanting him to continue as his fingers repeat their actions. “O-oh, too much,” you whimper, “sore, so fucking sore baby.”

You knew you probably could’ve handled a little more but he obliges, not wanting to scare you away (as if that was even possible) and finishes by pushing his fingers past your lips, coaxing you to lick them clean.

Gladly, you do as he was silently suggesting.

He groans, his dick twitching but he ignores it, knowing you’re still healing and by the state of you currently, you probably weren’t up for another round. Instead, he picks you up bridal style and takes you to the bathroom, feet wobbling a few times on the way before getting to the bathroom.

“Gotta clean up, angel.”

You mumble, putting your legs to use and absently moving to switch the shower head on, soaking both of you in the stall. The water is freezing but you make no complaints, wanting to settle the heat radiating from your body. Jaehyun says nothing too. He just helps you clean yourself as you’re making a half-hearted effort – this makes him chuckle.

Twenty minutes later, the both of you are laying on his bed (the one he gave up for you), snuggled into each other.

For the first time in a long time, you slept in the crook on an arm where you felt safe, possibly loved (that would have to be addressed another time).

While you lay, breathing slowly as you listen to his heartbeat, Jaehyun has his head propped up with one arm and his other arm rests on your side, t-shirt that he had lent you riding up on the side, fingers running up and down as he takes in the feel of your smooth skin under his fingertips.

Jaehyun was smitten.

a/n: hi hello. how, uh, how was it? feel free to leave me some feedback or pop in my ask box. you’re all my angels. i just like posting to post sometimes but interaction is p darn cool too. lyl <3

i follow from @00solarsmiles

net: @neowritingsnet

#neowritingsnet #nct #nct jaehyun #jaehyun fic #jaehyun smut #jeong jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jung jaehyun x reader #jung jaehyun x y/n #jung jaehyun x you #jung jaehyun fic #jung jaehyun fluff #jung jaehyun fanfic #jung jaehyun fantasy #jung jaehyun imagines #nct jaehyun fic #nct fic #mine

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bukojuiice · 3 years

Text

You got questions, I got answers tonight, babe.

ೃ pairing: (pro hero! katsuki bakugo x pro hero! fem reader)

ೃ warnings: nsfw (18+)

ೃ genre: smut

ೃ word count: 2,139 words

ೃ my nav → my mha writing masterlist → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ shoto’s valentines fic → izuku’s valentines fic → virtual valentines hcs

ೃ please reblog, reply or leave like if you enjoyed! it means a lot! c:

ೃ song inspo: love by dean ft. syd

ೃ you and the bakusquad drag bakugo to a short vacation after such an intense week of hero work, much to his annoyance. however, his stress and pent up energy was more than you expected, so you knew exactly how to release all his frustrations.

After an intense first week of Pro Hero activities, you were given a 5 day rest period. The Bakusquad had a wonderful idea of going on a short vacation to Okinawa before you guys have to face reality again.

You practically dragged your boyfriend, Bakugo to come along as he had second thoughts and didn’t want to ruin his so called “villain streak” by taking a well-deserved rest and relaxation when he could just continue fighting off villains.

Kirishima, Kaminari, Mina, and Sero were so excited for this trip that they could not shut up about it. In turn, Katsuki was more irritated than usual as you take the plane ride there. He was forced to go on this trip after all.

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

You had arrived late in afternoon and the first thing that you guys do as soon as you arrive at the hotel was dropping the bags in your respective hotel rooms. You and Bakugo were in one room while everyone else had separate rooms entirely to themselves.

Before you could even take a full look at the room you were staying in, your pink-haired friend came knocking on the door.

“(Y/N)-chan!” Mina spoke from behind the door, her gleeful voice ever so echoing. “We’ll meet you two at the swimming pool lounge okay? We’ll be ordering food already!”

“Alright! We’ll see you later Mina-chan!” You shout back, and as soon as Mina heard your words of confirmation, you could hear her footsteps as she walks away.

Bakugo continues to rummage through his things, cursing under his breath.

“Is there something wrong?” You ask him sweetly, poking his cheek. “Look, Katsuki-kun… you need to rest. It’s been an intense week, even the Hero Commission wanted us to-“

“Yea. Yea. I get it. Let’s go to the lounge.” He says harshly. He leaves the door open as you follow suit.

“That was… cold.” You blink, trying to process what your boyfriend had just said.

The two of you arrive at the lounge area however the rest of the Bakusquad was nowhere to be seen. Bakugo approaches a waiter and begins to order whilst you decided to go around the area to look for your other friends.

You were minding your own business when a weird and bad-intentioned man begins to approach you. You didn’t pay him any attention at first since you were occupied with looking for your friends, but the weirdo was persistent.

“A pretty girl like you alone in a resort like this?” He coos, trying to catch your attention. “I must be dreaming.”

“Piss off.” You snarled before he could even touch your arm, you quickly run back to Katsuki, as the weirdo loses sight of you. You slowly pace back to Bakugo who had an annoyed expression on his face. When you arrive at the area where he was standing, he grabs your hand and takes you to the elevator.

He clicks on the button that led to your floor and swipes the card key to your room, he comes to a sudden stop when you enter your dark hotel room, and he looks down at your hand in his like he’d forgotten he’d been holding it.

You pull Katsuki closer, twisting your hand around to take his more firmly.

His strong fingers fit perfectly between yours, and you know he can feel it too by the way he tightens his grip. His other hand settles on your waist, holding you against him, so close you can practically feel his heart beating.

“Did you really have to pull me out of the lounge area like that?” You pout seductively.

“Tch. (Y/N)….” He says your name in his low voice that sounds like an “I want you,” but you need to hear his actual words. You can see he’s so used to trying to brush things off that it’s an instinct, but he fights against it.

“Because I couldn’t stand to see an asshole try to make a move on you while I was at the other side of the area, waiting for the food. Who the hell gave him permission to even be within a few meters of you?”

His voice is irritated and strained. Your heart races under the intensity of his gaze, all his unspoken desire just beneath the surface.

“It’s okay Katsuki-kun. You saw how I brushed him off… What did you take me back here for?”

He moves suddenly, backing you against the wall. You gasp, and then he’s right there, pinning you to the surface, hands on either side of your head.

As you shift, you hit the light switch, and the room is illuminated, revealing the bed. Katsuki goes still as he sees it.

“Of fucking course. Of course Mina would book one bed instead of two.”

His voice is tight, barely restrained. As if he wants to release an intense surging energy inside him. Your body is attuned to his tension. He’s coiled so tight, you feel it radiating off of him.

“Katsuki. Answer me. What did you take me back here for?”

His eyes drop to your lips. You feel his breath skimming against them.

“The way that fucking sleezeball loser looked at you… I couldn’t help it. You’re everything. And I want you more than anything.” Your stomach swoops at his intensity. He’s finally giving you the honesty you’ve been asking for but your conscience chimes in for a second.

“Katsuki…”

He brushes his thumb against your lips, and it’s like a bolt of electricity races through you, leaving you tingling for him.

His stare becomes more and more intense, as if he was craving for something.

“(Y/N), tell me. Right here, right now, what do you want?”

“It’s you, Katsuki. I want you.”

He sucks in a breath then crashes his mouth to yours. You both let out moans as he pushes you harder against the door and you pull him closer.

He kisses you hard and you melt at the feel of his lips and tongue, the sounds of your gasps and needy moans filling the quiet hotel room.

“Fuck. I’ll never ever get enough of this. Every time I kiss you, I get more desperate for the next one.” His throaty groan makes your stomach swoop again, and you tangle your fingers into his spiky hair.

You wink at him, your eyes giving off the same passion and love in his. “Then don’t stop.”

He brushes his lips against yours. It feels so light, yet the desire and the lust behind it is so powerful you can’t help but not resist.

“(Y/N)…”

A shiver runs through you as his mouth covers yours. Everything narrows to the feeling of his kiss, slow and intense like he’s taking his time tasting you.

His hands slide down to your sides to hold your hips, the heat of his body radiating against yours.

As your desire grows, you try to deepen the kiss to match the rate of your racing heart, but he draws back as it starts to get intense.

His eyes smolder, intense and teasing at the same time.

He nips gently at your ear and you arch against him. His hands slide up to grip your waist, pulling you tight to his body while still pushing you back against the door.

“(Y/N)… say my name again…”

You crash your lips to his again, feeling and pouring all your desire and impatience into the kiss. He grabs your wrists and pins them to the door above your head, his show of power making you giddy. You arch against him, and he sucks in a harsh breath, fingers digging into your wrists with delicious pleasure.

Katsuki’s eyes darken, and he captures your mouth with a desperate kiss, tongue sliding against yours, leaving you breathless. You tip your head back against the door as he runs his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking with every inch of his love.

He grabs your hips and pulls you off the door, steering you to the center of the room. You throw your arms around him and speak with your lips pressed onto his. You moan as he kisses down your neck, gasping as his teeth scrape against your skin and he soothes the spot with his tongue.

“(Y/N)…” He says demandingly. “I need you. Right now.”

He takes a step back and starts to undo the buttons of his shirt, but you still his hand with your own.

“Sit back and relax Suki-kun. Let me do it.”

He bites his lip at the term of endearment, or maybe at the thought of you peeling off his clothes.

You brush your lips against the corner of his mouth, and feel him shiver. His chest rises and falls as you continue to slowly unbutton his dress shirt, grinning wolfishly as you toss it to the floor.

“(Y/N)…” there’s an impatient growl in his voice. His hands flex at his sides, and you know he’s dying to touch you, to rip your clothes off.

“Shh. Your patience will be rewarded.”

You press your palm to the center of his chest, then drag it downwards over the ridges of his abs, following the path of his well-toned abs. He rolls his hips forward as you undo the clasp of his belt, and he catches your wrist in an iron tight grip.

“I can’t wait any longer.”

The hunger in his voice makes your brain feel like it stopped for a second, and before you realize it, he’s undressing you.

“Ah. Yes. I will never get tired of how impatient you are.” You shake your head yet feel nothing but arousal from the way he looks at you as he continues.

“I can’t help myself when you’re so irresistible,” He shrugs then smirks.

You help him undress you, and soon your clothes are lying in a heap on the floor. He hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you against him. You both moan at the feeling of your bodies pressed together, the heat emanating from the both of you.

Your stomach swoops as he spins the two of you around, backing toward the bed. He falls down onto the mattress and pulls you down on top of him. He laughs, his voice husky at your look of surprise, bringing his hands to your waist to steady you as you lift yourself up to look down at him.

Still laughing a little, you lean down to kiss him, and it quickly grows heated as the intensity between the two of you spikes.

He’s still in his pants and you make quick work of the belt and zipper. He lifts his hips up to pull them off and throws them aside.

You press your hand against his cock over his underwear, and he bucks against you, head thrown back.

“Ah…”

You feel the heat of his desire through the fabric, but what you want is right beneath.

You close your teeth around the waistband and tug them down. He groans, lifting his hips to help you get them off. Once you cast his underwear aside, you wrap your lips around his member and suck briefly, a teasing touch that has him arching higher off the bed.

Before you could even process what had just happened, he throws a leg over you and flips the two of you over so that he’s on top and your legs are parted around his hips.

You call out his name as he roughly removes your underwear and creeps between your legs to tease his fingers against you, sending bolts of pleasure racing through all parts of your body.

“K-Katsuki…”

His mouth is hot against your neck as he speaks in a rush, hips rolling against yours.

“Make this one last the w-whole night,” you whisper in between breaths.

Lust flashes in his eyes and he growls deep, slowing the movement of his fingers against you.

You gasp as you feel him push into you, taking one of your hands and lacing his fingers with yours.

He sets a tantalizingly slow pace, making you groan loudly at the purposeful way he thrusts into you.

You grip onto his muscular shoulders, giving yourself over to the exquisite feeling as he bites back several deep groans of his own. He ducks his head to kiss your breasts, then begins to suck your nipples, sending shivers through your body as pleasure coils tighter and tighter inside you.

He stills suddenly, and you groan in a mix of pleasure and frustration, lifting your hips to search for more.

“You want this to last the whole night, huh? I’m going to give you what you want.”

You throw your head back as he starts moving again, your moans filling the room as he teases you toward that bliss, as you lose all sense of time.

_______

“(Y/N)! BAKUBRO!” You hear Kaminari knock on the door playfully. “Were you guys THAT exhausted that you did nothing but sleep yesterday!? We didn’t see you guys by the pool! Is something wrong? Are you guys sick!?”

You were cuddling with Katsuki after such an intense but amazing night, still wearing nothing, the blankets and comforters being the only ones shielding you from anything.

“W-we’re fine Kaminari-kun.” You say groggily, Bakugo’s strong arms still wrapped around you, giving you all the warmth and comfort you need. “W-we’ll be down in an h-hour.”

“Ok then! See you!” Kaminari leaves as soon as he arrives. You sigh softly and turn to your explosive boyfriend who was still sound asleep, you rest your head on his chest as you too, drift back to dreamland, excited for what else this vacation has in store for you.

-Fin.

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just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi · 3 years

Note

Being Forced to bathe, by whumper, caretaker, henchman, maybe even a fellow whumpee who’s already been broken

CW; sick-fic (my first!!) noncon touch, references to the Machine, whumper bathing whumpee.

(nonsexual and Tool is still clothed)

Overall, the Mechanic was quite pleased with his assistant. They were rather useful around the manor, but they served even better as a proof of concept. Tool was far removed from the young thing that walked into his office, tentative but confident.

There was no confidence left now.

The Mechanic heard a soft thud from the hallway. He paused, but no other sound followed it. Leaning back in his chair, he called out curiously.

“Tool?”

No response.

He stood, deciding now was as good a time as any to take a quick break. He stepped out of the room and peered down the hall, stifling a little chuckle.

Tool laid sprawled on the ground, brow knit and eyes struggling to open. Sweat beaded down their face and their hair was damp and plastered along their head. As the Mechanic crouched next to them, he could hear a faint whine in their breathing. They were burning up.

“Feeling a bit under the weather, eh?”

His assistant whimpered softly and finally pulled their eyes open. They looked bleary and exhausted, eyes red. Bright blue-green eyes locked onto his, not really seeing him. Tool licked their lips and tried to speak, but drawing in breath caused a coughing fit.

“Alright, alright,” said the Mechanic, slipping a hand under their back and knees to lift them up. They went easily, as they would even at full health. They whimpered again, and he shushed them. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Everything had been blurry to Tool for some time. It had started a few days ago with a dry spot in the back of his throat and a nose that kept running. He had tried to ignore it, tried to sleep a little better, tried to drink as much water as he could, but it got worse. He stumbled through his tasks, muscle memory taking over where his brain couldn’t. Eventually, even that slipped away.

The next time Tool came back to themself, they were in a bathtub of lukewarm water. They jolted, unable to remember how they got there, but the Mechanic’s hand on their shoulder stilled them immediately. He was kneeling next to the tub, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Welcome back, Darling,” he joked, pushing them back into the water. Tool’s teeth chattered as they hugged themself, sliding until they found a comfortable angle against the back of the tub. They were still clothed, at least partially, in boxers and their tight undershirt. The Mechanic was still by the tub, leaning away to grab one of the bottles. Tool took a deep breath and tried to calm their beating heart a bit.

The Mechanic had bathed him before, but Tool could always remember the beginning. What led up to it. He shivered. He usually only ever needed help when he was recently taken out of the Machine. Heart rate increasing again, he frantically searched his memories and swallowed, hoping something would clue him into what had happened.

The Mechanic noticed Tool’s panic and grinned. What a fantastic contraption he had made.

“You’re alright. You got sick and passed out in the hallway.”

Tool sighed in relief, but even that irritated their throat enough to start another coughing fit. By the end of it, they were holding onto the side of the tub, ribs aching. The Mechanic tsked and used a cup to wet their hair.

“I think the Machine might have an effect on the body’s immune system. An annoying flaw, if it’s true, but one that can be dealt with.”

Tool shuttered as the Mechanic applied shampoo to his hair and became to lather it. There was still a pressure in his sinuses and what felt like an open wound in his throat, but he would be fine.

The Mechanic would take care of him because he was too weak and broken to take care of himself.

@unicornscotty @as-a-matter-of-whump @starnight-whump @whump-me-all-night-long @whump-it @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @valkyrie-whump @cupcakes-and-pain @whole-and-apart-and-between @misspelledwitch @fanmanga1357-blog @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @thehopelessopus

#whump #tool #tool and the machine #sickfic #noncon touch tw #references to the machine #whumper bathing whumpee #thanks!

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cherrybracelets · 4 years

Text

Gimme Love

masterlist | requests

spencer reid x reader

word count: 1.2k | warnings: none, all fluff!!

song inspo: gimme love by joji

an: this is short and dumb and made me cry ok fuck i love spencer fucking reid anon this was based off your request i hope u like it

Spencer regularly had cases that made him more nauseous than others- and this was one of them. The deaths weren’t exceptionally bad, no worse than the stuff he usually sees. The fact was, this case was bothering him so bad because the victims looked like her. They had her shape, her hair color, ethnicity, even down to the eye color. Every new body they found made him sick to his stomach, worried one of them was going to be her.

He dreaded hearing the words “They found another body.” He would immediately call her, crossing his fingers that she’d pick up. There were times when she didn’t, when she was working, or taking a shower, cooking dinner. The funniest thing was, Spencer was six hundred miles away from DC, where his roommate was living happily and unbothered by the unsub here.

Even the team could tell he was off, his inability to focus at the crime scene, the frequent bathroom breaks, constant phone calls. Emily was the first to say something, quietly asking if everything was alright as Spencer poured himself another cup of coffee in the back of the police station.

“Yeah… this case is just really bothering me, for some reason. I’m sorry, I’ll pull it together,” he responded, his eyes staring blankly at the floor, another sign that he was in another universe.

s“These girls… they look a lot like (Y/N), don’t you think?” Emily watched the way his face changed as she brought up his roommate, someone that he vehemently denied he had any feelings for, although Emily knew that was bullshit. She first knew something was up with him when he brought (Y/N) along to the Christmas party. Spencer would not leave her side, barking at any guy who tried to get near her. Emily and Penelope were laughing about it all night, even turning it into a drinking game between the two of them. So Emily completely understood why Spencer was having such a hard time with this case. They all looked like her- the girl he was massively and secretly in love with.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Em,” he replied, laughing slightly as if her comment was so ridiculous and comical. Emily just rolled her eyes and moved on, realizing that it is never worth arguing with Spencer Reid.

When they finally caught the guy, Spencer should have felt better. It should have made him sleep a little easier knowing there was no way this man could find (Y/N) and hurt her. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw the unsub hurting you over and over. The worst part was, Spencer would try everything in his power to help you, to save you from this man, but he couldn’t. He’d eventually wake up gasping, covered in sweat, his mouth dry and his stomach queasy.

“You alright, man?” Derek asked, sitting down next to him on the jet. All Spencer could manage was a silent nod, his mouth unable to produce any words.

The drive home was quiet, his head pounding too loudly for any music. He was desperately craving a cigarette, something he promised (Y/N) he’d quit. Everytime he lit one, she’d float towards him, her beautiful radiance filling him with warmth.

“You’re killing yourself, you know?” She’d say, her soft voice flowing through his ears like a siren, luring him to her, to his inevitable death.

“I’m gonna die anyways, might as well be happy while I’m alive,” he’d say, taking another drag and allowing the nicotine to calm his nerves.

(Y/N) would just roll her eyes and walk away, disappointed in him. That was what hurt the most, in Spencer’s eyes. She was never angry at him, just disappointed. She was one of the few people that actually believed Spencer could be human, could live outside his job. He hated the look on her face when he continued to smoke, drink endless coffee, not eat breakfast…

Spencer pulled into the driveway of their townhome, a calming presence floating down on him. He could feel (Y/N)’s light from all the way out here, her aura drawing him in. Being around her intoxicated him, and he stumbled out of his car and up to the front door, clumsily unlocking it and walking inside.

He heard the mumbling of the TV, not able to make out what she was watching. He walked down the hall and into the living room, noticing her immediately. She was cuddled into the couch, a blanket wrapped around her legs and glass of wine in her hands. She was wearing one of her old college shirts, covered in paint stains and a few rips from years of use. He smiled when he saw her, a sigh of relief as his own two eyes confirmed her safety. He was home now, and he could protect her. As long as he was with her, she would be safe.

“Hey you!” She exclaimed, throwing her blanket off and standing up. “I didn’t know you were coming home!”

“Sorry, I must’ve forgotten to text you. I’m exhausted.”

She frowned at him, noticing the dark circles under his eyes and the paleness of his face. She always lectured him about his sleeping habits, and how important it was to get at least six hours a night. ‘I know saying eight is asking for too much, but can we at least agree on six,’ he heard her saying, making him grin slightly.

“I was about to watch a movie, wanna join?”

“For sure. Let me get changed.”

“You want a glass of wine?” She asked, walking towards the kitchen and wiggling her glass in the air, that was now near empty itself.

“I’d love one, thank you.” Spencer smiled at her, his heart seemingly growing in his chest as he watched her focus on pouring his wine. He ran to his room to change quickly, not wanting to miss a second of time with her. He never knew when he’d get called away again.

When he got back to the living room, (Y/N) was back on the couch and under the blanket. Spencer walked to the couch, grabbing his glass of wine and taking a sip. He sat on the other side of the couch, quite far from her, nervous to get too close. He wanted to hear her song, but if he got any closer, there might be no going back. Falling for her… it was a guaranteed death. She was his best friend, and love only ended in heartbreak. He couldn’t lose her. As amazing as it would be to love her, he couldn’t take the risk.

“Come snuggle with me, I’m cold!” She whined, throwing back the blanket and inviting him in. He couldn’t say no to her, no matter how hard his mind tried to hold him back. He crawled up next to her, putting his arm around her and kissing the top of her head.

“I missed you,” she whispered, hugging him tighter.

“I missed you, too.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff

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shhh-no-ones-home · 3 years

Text

cake walk bucky barnes x reader

+++++++++

Inspo can be found here, i really liked the idea and kinda ran with it lol

sorry ive been away for a while. ive been in a shit mindset but things around me are changing again and im hoping for the better. im away from home this week and figured id finally finish this, as well as restart the marvel shows on netflix so expect some new daredevil and punisher one shots in the near future 😁

also this is like half edited so if it sucks or i forgot to fix anything sorry

Song: soft by motionless in white

tag list: @cynic-spirit +++++++++

Bucky had been super tired lately. He had been having nightmares here and there and though he hadn't had one in a while he was still worried he'd hurt me in his sleep. So he was currently taking a nap in our shared room at the compound. We were only here for a few days to train new recruits and then we would all be back to our own homes. Me and buck, Sam, Clint, even Scott showed up. But then again he was always excited to be part of the team. Now I was in the kitchen like I usually was, stress-baking. But just to be safe, and per his request, I had a camera on buck while he slept to make sure he was still okay and I could rush to our room if he needed me.

So I stood at the island, gathering ingredients and singing softly to myself. not unusual for me to do, it was a good distraction after all and everyone else loved it because it made the place smell great. that and they all loved the many cakes, cookies, muffins, breads, and other baked goods I decided to make. a lovely thought really, one that brought a smile to my face as I began measuring out the dry ingredients. when I turned to look at the monitor though Bucky was gone, making me set the flour back onto the counter. Panic set in immediately. I tapped the screen twice, hitting the tracking cam on his watch and the footage coming up. I sighed deeply as I saw the blurry side video of Bucky murder-stomping his way through the halls. I tapped my own watch quickly.

"attention we have a 'wolf out of containment.' if you see him direct him to the kitchen but do not engage. If you wake him he'll hurt himself."

I said into it, rolling my eyes at the code name, and looking back to the monitor in worry. I heard my voice echo off the walls as he stepped towards the sound. One of the agents was walking down the hall and paused when he saw Bucky, rage behind his eyes as he got closer. Now Bucky was holding him harshly in his metal hand.

"Where is she?"

He said through gritted teeth and i could see both of their faces in the view on my watch.

"Kitchen. Down the hall to the left."

The agent squeaked out. Bucky threw him to the ground quickly before making his way down the hall. I double tapped the monitor again as he turned into the room. There was an intensity and pain strewn across his features as he made his way to me. whatever nightmare this was it had a full hold of him. he had been sleep walking a lot recently but it had never gotten this bad. but he knew what to do, even unconscious. Before he even made it to the table across the room Sam was rushing in behind hi, coming to a screeching halt when he realized what was happening to his best friend.

"I heard the code. Is everything okay?"

He asked and Bucky turned around, throwing a punch his way and him ducking. he made a scared face as he stood back up ready to fight.

"At ease soldier!"

I yelled and Bucky froze, mid motion as he began to throw another. He looked over his shoulder at me, seething, breathing heavy, eyes glazed over.

"Come here."

I said softly. He sent Sam a glare before doing as told, backing his way to the counter where i was standing. he never once stopped looking at Sam, or the other few agents that came rushing in with guns. that definitely didn't help.

"do you need help?"

one of them asked, looking between me and Bucky as he plucked a knife out of the wood block on the counter, holding it in a defensive position as he stood in front of me.

"no, I don't need help. Sam and I can take care of this."

i said matter-of-factly, the agent speaking into their watch and all three of them lowering their guns.

"just leave us be. everything is fine. if i need anything ill call."

they all nodded hesitantly, looking to Sam briefly before leaving. i sighed out when they were finally out of sight, side stepping buck and going back to measuring my sugar and vanilla.

"He sleep walking again?"

Sam asked quietly, stepping very slowly around the table and I nodded, moving to put mix my dry ingredients together. Bucky stood next to me, fist clenched tight around the knife as he watched Sam's every move with vigorous intent. I pulled one of the stools out from under the counter before grabbing a spoon and mixing the wet and dry ingredients together to make the cookie dough.

"Sit."

I offered buck and he sent me a confused looked. I glared at him and he did as told.

"Sam you mind setting a timer on that pad for twelve minutes?"

He nodded and did as told, stepping closer but not close enough for buck to do anything about it. they stared at each other as I molded the dough into balls on a tray.

"has this been happening a lot recently?"

Sam asked and i nodded, pushing the chocolate chips off the ends of my fingers.

"it hasn't been full mission before, and this one is lasting much longer."

i noted, washing my hands in the sink to the right of the counter.

"how do you know what to do?"

i let out a nervous laugh, tucking the tray of cookies into the hot oven behind me.

"in all actuality, I don't. I'm just hoping that the things I've tried before work. "

Bucky looked between me and Sam as I stood back up, drying my hands on the towel and moving to touch his cheek gently. he flinched for a second, staring at me as i tucked his hair behind his ear.

"its okay soldat. you can relax, he's not going to hurt me. he's my friend."

i said very softly, looking over his eyes as he turned back to Sam.

"put the knife down."

i said just above a whisper, moving to stand behind him. i began slowly running my fingers through his hair. he still held the knife tightly as i started to hum along to one of his favorite songs from his childhood. he had shared it with me sometime after we had moved in together. it had been my savior more than once.

"does that work?"

Sam asked and i sent him a look, trying to get Bucky to lean back into my chest. he kept jolting himself back up, fighting the urge to close his eyes. as I got to the end of the song though he had his head completely rested against me, body limp, and knife clattering to the rug beneath us. he had fallen back into a deep sleep, snoring softly as I continued to finger comb his hair.

"yes Samuel, it works."

i said, and then the timer went off. Bucky jolted upright, the stool shaking as i leaned forward and caught him before he fell off. I held his shoulders as he breathed heavily, looking around in deep confusion.

"Sam?"

he asked before looking back at me and drawing his brows.

"hey baby, its okay. I'm sorry we woke you."

he turned to me and took my hand.

"y/n, why am I in the kitchen?"

i let out a nervous laugh, letting him go and getting my cookies out of the oven.

"you were sleep walking again."

he groaned, standing up and freezing when he looked down.

"I didn't hurt anyone... did I?"

he said horrified as he picked the knife up. i shook my head frantically, taking it from him and putting it back in the block.

"no! no no no. baby you did not."

i said quickly through one breath, placing my hands on either side of his face. he looked like he was going to cry.

"hey, no, look at me. James. you didn't hurt anybody. I dropped the knife in surprise when you came in here. it had nothing to do with you."

Sam sent me a sad look as i tried to calm Bucky down.

"you're sure?"

he asked pained and i pulled him into a tight hug, cradling his head in my hand and mouthing to Sam to not say anything.

"yes Jamie I am sure. you are perfectly fine. scared the shit out of some agents. but no more."

he took in a shaky breath.

"i scared you."

he repeated just above a whisper and i pulled him away from me, holding his head in my hands and looking between his eyes.

"you just caught me by surprise, nothing we haven't been through before."

he sighed heavily and closed his eyes. i kissed his forehead gently.

"hey, now that you're awake, you want a cookie?"

i asked and he looked up at me, offering a small smile.

"uh, yeah, id love one."

i nodded once before turning and carefully taking one off the tray and placing it on one of the dry paper towels sat on the counter in front of him.

"made especially for my buckaroo."

i said and he laughed lightly before taking a bite. he was none the wiser and Sam sent me a testing look.

"Sam?"

i asked, holding one out to him and he took it begrudgingly. i went back to finger combing Bucky's hair as he snatched another. sending me a genuine smile as he chewed. i shared another knowing glance with Sam before he pulled another bar stool out and sat across from us.

"these are pretty good y/n, wish we could share with more of the guys here."

he said and i sent him a look.

"well i guess we'll just have to save them some for later. I'm sure they're all very busy right now with other important things."

i said a little condescendingly and he shook his head.

"so uh, i don't know what's happening but if i sit here any longer there wont be any left for anyone else. what do you say we go for a walk or something?"

Bucky said with a smile and i nodded, smiling back.

"i think that's a great idea. Sam?"

he looked from Bucky to me and to the tray.

"uh you guys go ahead. ill make sure these get to the guys, and that the recipe doesn't make its way into their daily reports."

i took Bucky's hand as he stood and nodded once at Sam in understanding. he was going to make sure no one got word of Bucky's incident, just in case. he was getting better after all.

"thanks Sam, it means a lot. come on buck, lets get some air."

#wattpad #x reader #bucky barnes #winter soldier #falcon and the winter soldier #white wolf #334

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mugi-chan · 4 years

Note

I was just watching some animation and opening and I was like, what the twisted Bois will do if they catch MC singing some song of our world? Not only Disney like, even Grim, that come back at Ramshackle singing "Believer of the imagine dragon" and run(or fly) to find help cause thinking that you are going to overbolting? Or Rook that hear you singing "le festin" and start to walk whit you trying to guess the song 😂 and choose you who will be the most funniest 😂 P.s.: love your writing :,3

ლ Tea Order: Vice Dorm heads: Woah what kind of song is that?

ლ Warnings: None!

ლ Shop owner notes: Trying to think what songs would fit the vice dorm heads where kind of hard 工ｴｴｪｪ(;╹⌓╹)ｪｪｴｴ工 Also I had like the biggest writers block for the past week and suddenly I got inspo to write during school like... bruh

You were helping Trey out for the next upcoming unbirthday party

Trey tasked you with doing the mixing of cake batter

As this was most of the time a really long and boring task you were quietly singing to one of your favorite song

Trey was focused on decorating that he didn’t notice your singing at first

But once he finished decorating one tier of the cake he overheard your singing

He didn’t say anything at first letting you finish your song

“That’s a really nice song, what is it?”

“Oh it’s (f/s)”

Trey was thinking if he heard that song before but drew blank

“I never heard of the song”

“Well I don’t expect you to it’s a song that I don’t think this world even has”

This peaked his interest

He knew your world has different taste then any of their countries

So he took this as a perfect time to get to know your world better

“So how those the song go?”

You were happy that Trey wanted to know more about your world

“Well it kind of goes like this”

You started to sing the song but soon got really embarrassed and stopped mid way to cover your face.

Trey wrapped his arm around your waist resting his forehead on yours

“Aw come on it’s really good, can I hear more?”

Still embarrassed you reluctantly agree

Giving out a helping hand is always needed for Ruggie

Trying to deal with Leona and the rest of the dorm is stressful

So you decided to help Ruggie out with some chores

You two were on top of Savanclaw dorm doing laundry

As you were putting up the laundry you were singing one of your favorite songs

Ruggie being the cheeky little hyena he pretends he can’t hear you

You continue singing until you realize Ruggie was just sitting there smiling

“Aw don’t stop (y/n) that song is really good!”

“Y-you heard?!”

You started to grow shy and turn away

Ruggie just laughed as he got up

“What song is it? I never heard of it”

“It’s (f/s)”

“Ahh must be music from your world”

You two discussed the music that your world might think is good

“Shishishi, one day if you do get back home you should bring back a CD full of your worlds music”

You agree, hoping one day that you can go home but find a way to come back to see your lovable goofball hyena

The next day you could hear Ruggie sing the exact same song you were singing

“Ruggie how can you remember the lyrics already?”

“Shishishi, well I’m just that good”

You nudged his side laughing with him.

(Sorry Ruggie was short I ran out of Ideas)

When Grim first busted into the mostro lounge, jade was going to scold him from busting into the mostro lounge until he saw how distress he was

“Oya oya Grim what seems to be the problem?”

“(y/n)! I don’t know what’s going on but they’ve been muttering to themself for a while in a strange language!”

Now this confused the octa trio

What? A strange language and muttering to themselves?

Azul put Jade in charge of this since clearly Grim is in distress and (y/n) is his s/o

Plus this could make for a good deal, who knows what Azul can get out of this

Jade clearly disapproved of that reasoning but that will have to wait

His main focus is on you

When he got to Ramshackle dorm everything looked normal nothing out of place

Opening the door everything still feels normal, nothing still feels out of place

But who knows what could happen

Entering the kitchen he saw you preparing a snack muttering to yourself

He sees why Grim was worried

He didn’t understand the language you were singing to

A playful smirk appeared on his face as he leaned down behind you

“What a nice song your singing there my little guppy”

You shrieked as you turned meeting face to face with Jade

“Oya oya, Is my little guppy scared?”

“No you just scared me!”

“Apologies”

Jade explained himself on why he was here

A small oh came from your mouth

You gave a small glare to Grim as you explain what you were doing

“Ah I see, may I hear more of it. I may not understand it but your voice is cute”

You rolled your eyes as you went back to what you were doing

You were brushing Jamil’s hair as Jamil had a pretty stressful day

Brushing his hair made him calm

And you singing, oh he feels like he may be in heaven

But this song you were singing, it was strange

You sang in a language he has never heard of

All of these weird intonations

And words he can understand but not know the context for it

How very strange these songs were for him

He let you continue singing as he was trying to decipher what you were singing

Alas he drew blank

Once you finished singing the song Jamil asked you about the song

“Oh, the song? It’s like a pop song from my country”

“Ah I see” Jamil leaned back letting his back meet your chest

“Do you want to hear more?”

“I would like to know the meaning of the song”

A smile crept on your face as you explain the meaning behind the song as you started to braid his hair.

If you think Jamil had a nice soothing voice, your right

But Jamil also thinks your voice is very soothing as well

It helps him relax

A very familiar language echo across the Pomefiore halls

Could it be? Someone in here speaks French as well?

Rook went to the hallways trying to find the source of the voice

Drawing near the end of the hallway he was met by his beautiful and wonderful (y/n)

Oh just seeing you there felt like an angel just fell upon earth and took interest in Rook

He hid from you knowing how much you dislike having an audience

The song was so beautiful, majestic for his ears

Deciphering the words he could understand parts of it

Derniere Danse? What was his sweet (y/n) trying to say?

Your last dance? Oh my, is something wrong?

So much questions forming around his head as he decipher the words

None of these were making sense

Once you finished singing Rook clapped scaring you

“That was beautiful my love, truly magnificent!”

A small blush crept on your face as you tried to look away from his gaze

Rook plopped himself right next you snuggling close to you

“What songs was that?”

“Oh just a song that I knew for a while”

“I thought you told me you never spoke French?”

“Well I may not know French but I can sing it”

“I still think it’s beautiful, may I hear more?”

You nodded allowing Rook to be comfortable as you try your best to sing french songs

Heck you tried to sing the theme song from Ratatouille

But did Rook care? Nope! He’s just happy that his love is speaking… well singing in french

The forest is a great way to get away from all the noise that NRC produce

Rowdy first years, light music club noise, and Sebek

Lilia was at light music club so you had time to yourself

And walk in the woods are nice to have

Hearing the nice calm forest gave you a place to talk to yourself about all your woes and talk about your own world without anyone asking a million questions about the world

I mean you don’t mind answering questions but sometimes it can be tiresome and annoying at times

But there will always be this one thing that will always resonate in you

(f/s), a song you know the lyrics for and the only you can still remember as it have been ages since you last saw your world

Singing said song always bring peace to your just like the forest

What you didn’t know was the Light music club ended early so Lilia was looking for you

Once he did he spotted you in a clearing in the woods singing to yourself

My my my what a strange song you are singing, clearly Lilia drew blank as the song was so strange yet seems so familiar to him

He waited for you to stop singing to appear next to you

Of course scaring living soul out of you

“My my, what a beautiful song you have, mind if I ask what it is?”

“Lilia you’re here early!”

“My club finished earlier than expected”

“Anyway what was that song you were singing?”

“You heard?!”

“Of course”

Oh no did Lilia do something wrong?

You were trying to hide you face in embarrassment as you didn’t want Lilia to hear it

“What’s the matter (y/n)?”

“I didn’t want you to hear me sing”

“Oh my love don’t say that I love you singing it’s beautiful”

Lilia gently grabbed your cheek resting his forehead on yours

“I don’t mind if you sing it a hundred times, it’s beautiful”

Would you like to order something? Look at our Tea shop rules first!

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anothertimdrakestan · 4 years

Text

Totally F*ckabke

Tim Drake x Reader

(SFW don't worry haha)

Words: 1.8k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“Hi! Can I request 20 with civilian fem reader and Tim?” (20. well fuck me. "gladly")

LINK TO PROMPTS -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

Ok so I don’t know who you want to say what and I believe with every ounce of my being that it could 1000% go either way and it’s totally cute so I decided why not write both! Thank you for the inspo!

Reader -> Tim

Public speaking was never your strong suit. You’d like to meet a person who doesn’t get sweaty, jittery, and just a complete nervous wreck during presentations. It didn’t help that this was one of those shitty presentations where the class got graded on paying attention so all eyes really were on you and you were the last presentation of the day. With note cards shaking in your sweaty hands you slowly walked to the front of the room, looking at your classmates who looked bored out of their mind.

Making your way to the front of the room you stopped when your teacher screeched “Timothy! No sleeping in class! What is this? The fourth time I’ve caught you this week?” Glancing up you watched as the school genius rolled his eyes, lazily sauntering to the front of the class slumping into a front row seat. With a yawn Tim propped his head up on his arm mumbling something about the irrelevance of this class for someone of his intellect. While you couldn’t help but agree, you needed to ace this presentation to secure your grade for the semester.

Finally done with the situation, the class’s attention turned to you. Taking a deep breath you began, hoping you wouldn’t run out of time before the bell; trying not to look at the notecards was easy for the first few slides, but nearing the end you needed to be reminded of a key fact to your presentation. Looking down at your notecards you realize you’d smudged almost all the words with your shaking, sweaty hands. So frustrated with yourself you just let slip “Well fuck me” with a groan. While this may have shocked any normal class it was what Tim said next that shook the world.

“Gladly” With that your high school classroom descended into chaos. Your teacher continuously switched between yelling at you for cursing and Tim for even worse while some people in the class whooped and patted Tim on the back and certain girls glared at you for drawing Tim’s attention. Standing in front of the class, a blushing mess, you wanted to melt into the floor and die in one of the cracks in the floor.

Suddenly the bell rang, the majority of the students in your class stood up as you froze, realizing you probably just flunked this class. Deciding you needed to stay back and beg for the teacher’s forgiveness you pressed yourself to the wall and watched students filter out, some winking at you, some glaring, and some making wildly inappropriate gestures.

After begging for another chance and explaining your outburst your teacher let you off, clearly more upset with Tim, who had already left the classroom. As a student who normally worked really hard she let you go, but you had to make a whole new presentation as punishment. More work, but not a flunk so it was a win. Thanking her profusely you practically skipped out of the class, all had not been lost!

Abruptly turning towards the exit you missed a certain classmate waiting outside the classroom for you. “Y/n- wait up!” recognizing the voice you rolled your eyes and kept walking, but you couldn’t help a little smirk at the idea of Tim - Mr. Future Wayne Enterprises CEO waiting for you. As you opened one of the double exit doors he sprung out the other jumping in front of you, looking a little regretful and surprisingly nervous. Stopping in your tracks you crossed your arms and waited for him to talk.

“So, um, I just wanted to say sorry cuz I, um, I just kinda blurted it out and I’m really sleep deprived - like all the time, I practically live off coffee you don’t even know - that’s not the point, basically totally my bad, but like: can you blame me you’re really pretty and very nice plus I think you’re smart even though you don’t show it off but what I mean is, uh, please accept my apology. Plus I heard you get to do the presentation again so that’s good!” Finally he paused to breathe, you took a moment letting it all sink in and somehow finding his exasperation cute. Tim looked up at you with expectant eyes. With a sigh you decided it was fine. Smiling up at him you nodded. “It’s okay, plus pretty boy you’re not so un-fuckable yourself” watching his face flush was payback enough.

“Well if you think so, maybe I can... make it up to you? I can help you with the second presentation?” you agreed, liking the idea of getting to know the sleep deprived, fast-talking, genius coffee monster. “It’s a date!” you smiled, exchanging numbers before you walked off, unable to wipe a grin off your face. What you didn’t notice was Tim behind you grinning punching a fist in the air mouthing “YES” as you walked away.

Tim -> Reader

With a yawn you cursed yourself for covering the late shift for y/b/f at Big Belly Burger, especially after a long day of school. No one ever came in but the store was open 24/7 so for the night it was just a chef who was surfing the internet with earbuds in and you, trying not to sleep on the cash register. When the clock hit 3am you decided it was time for your shift drink, black coffee.

While you were in the back grabbing a coffee mug you could’ve sworn you heard the entrance bell jingle, but it was probably just your imagination. Stretching your arms you made your way back towards the coffee pot and saw four boys sitting at the bar. Every single one looked different, the tallest looked bored, like he didn’t want to be there while the second tallest looked expectant, constantly messing with the shortest, ruffling his hair, pinching his cheeks, and just constantly mothering the young boy who looked about ready to fight anyone who messed with him again. In the back of the group was a lean looking boy, he yawned and looked intently at the coffee pot you had begun brewing, he pushed his slightly messy hair back and you couldn’t help but trail your eyes down to the skin showing when he raised his hand...

“Hey princess a little help over here?” the tallest boy raised an eyebrow at you, snapping you out of your moment as you rushed up to the counter with a smile. “Yeah, sorry, long night. No one usually comes in this late but what can I get for ya?” putting on your best smile you couldn’t help but steal glances at the yawning boy, while the other two older looking guys were good looking, he was the only one who radiated kindness and a lack of the overconfidence the other three carried themselves with, he reminded you of yourself.

Taking their order you had to shake the chef awake, but he began preparing the food. Walking out you noticed the boys had stayed at the bar, clearly waiting to order drinks from you. “Alright what do we want? Milkshake, coffee, soda pop, or water?” the tallest answered first, “Chocolate milkshake!” while the kid looked up at the once motherly figure as he replied, “I’ll do a vanilla and Damian, uh the kid, will take a water. What about you Tim?” mentally logging the two youngest’s names you and Tim made eye contact for the first time, looking directly at you he lost all form of language. Trying to cover for him you asked, “saw you looking at the coffee pot earlier, can I get you some?” he nodded, looking down as one of the boys started laughing. “Jay stop please” came from Tim.

Trying to break some tension you said “So little fella here is Damian, tall and brooding is Jay, english major is Tim, and the one who paid is Dick” you waited for confirmation. Slightly impressed the boys nodded, adding that they were brothers. Chatting while you prepared and blended their shakes you realized they were the Wayne brothers, but you didn’t want to embarrass them. You were so tired, your brain holding no self control, wanting to learn more about the boys, especially Tim. Learning that Dick demanded they bond every other week and this was tonight’s chosen activity you understood the different boy’s emotions.

While handing each boy their drink you held on to the handle in hopes you’d touch Tim’s hand. “Uh it’s hot here, grab the handle then I’ll let go” feeling his hand wrap around yours made the both of you blush and clearly distracted Tim as he dropped the mug of coffee. “Well fuck me” Tim groaned, he jumped up glaring at his brothers as the laughed, the two of you began wiping up the mess. Tim hopped over the bar to help you clean on your side where the majority of the coffee was spilled, you couldn’t help but be impressed with his agility. While both of you bent down below the bar you decided to be brave, whispering in his ear, “you said ‘fuck me’ and I just want you to know I would gladly” he completely flushed and you popped up, throwing out paper towels.

Tim eventually rose from behind the bar, still blushing uncontrollably and smiling. “Shit lemme get behind that bar I want what Drake’s having princess” Jason began to get up with a smirk before he was pulled down by Dick. “Sorry buddy she’s clearly going for Timbers.” Dick smiled approvingly while the youngest Wayne rolled his eyes, tired with the flirting. “TT y/n I believe it is, I can see our food is ready but please take all the time you need trying to get with my brother but can I please eat while the two of you idiots make eyes at each other.” a wildly embarrassed Tim leaped over the bar again, this time going for Damian.

Spinning on your heels you grabbed the food and placed it in front of each boy. As they ate you chatted with them. Damian and Jason were clearly bored with the small talk while Dick couldn’t stop grinning. Before leaving Tim tried to hype himself up to get your number. As the other boys walked out he stayed with hopeful eyes. Not having to say anything you knew what he wanted. “Would you like a receipt?” you asked with a wink, again unable to form coherent words he nodded. Handing him your number on a folded piece of paper, you kissed his cheek over the bar and waved goodbye. Watching him walk away unable to wipe a grin off his face as his brothers patted him on the back you felt like you could actually see a future with Tim.

#tim drake #tim drake x y/n #tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #tim drake fluff #dc fluff #tim drake x fem!reader #bat boys #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #tim drake x civilian!reader #tim drake cute

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jotarosbelt · 4 years

Text

Colorful Camboys, 2.

a/n: hi!! i'm back! i finished up school and got a bit of my writing inspo back, so, i thought i'd write another Colorful Camboy's chapter for you guys <3

hope you're all staying safe! enjoy~

p.s. i haven’t written smut in a HOT minute and lowkey forgot how to write for josuke, but i tried! i’m sorry 😭

p.p.s. i didn’t proof read :) we die like men, fuck it

————

Summary: A Modern AU where your favorite boys are just trying to get off and make money.

You're one of their viewers and happen to catch their attention.

————

18+ content ahead!

Josuke - Pink

You’d come to the point where porn was honestly just boring.

It didn’t hurt to want to try something new! Maybe a new genre, a different site? But, all of it was the same old same old. And the disgustingly cheesy, clickbaity titles didn’t do much to turn you on or catch your interest either. You pursed your lips as you scrolled, coming across a camboy website.

You blinked. ‘A camboy website?’

Curiosity had ultimately gotten the best of you as you clicked the link. Almost immediately, tons of live-streams came up, thousands of boys right at your disposal.

‘This is gonna be fun.’

You scrolled through the plethora of streams in search of a boy that appealed to you. For the most part, a good chunk of them were your type. In shape, good looking— there weren’t many bad apples on the tree you were picking from.

Your eyes landed on a certain pompadoured boy by the name ‘ShiningDiamond1999.’ The username definitely raised an eyebrow or two, and the boy sure was good looking, so you simply clicked the stream to see what was up.

He wasn’t popular for no reason. He was cute! It was the oddly ‘adorable, yet super hot’ combo, and girls (and guys alike) were eating that shit up.

You sat back as you watched the boy palm himself through pink boxers.

“Oh? We gotta new person, huh?”

He leaned forward, hand still on his cock as he narrowed his eyes at his monitor. Part of you was embarrassed that he caught you so quickly— he had so many patrons there already! He must’ve been an attentive host.

You liked that.

“A guest, eh? How about you give me a name to call you by, cupcake? You don’t have to make an account for me to take notice of you, yanno.”

You couldn’t help but smile. He seemed sweet; he gave off the aura of someone who’d take care of his partner no matter what, and you had to admit that it was comforting. Not only was he easy on the eyes, he was someone who gave off the impression that he wouldn’t break your heart despite the fact that everything he said was meant for both you and the thousands of other viewers he had right now.

He really must’ve been good.

You splayed your fingers out across the keys, typing out a response. ‘Just call me [username].’

You could see him raise an arched eyebrow. He smiled brightly and leaned back into his chair. “[Username]? I can do that for you, babe.”

Teasingly, he ran his fingers down his torso to the waistband of his boxers. He simply smiled mischievously at the camera and popped the band against his hipbone. “Enough with the chit chat, yeah? I don’t wanna bore our new guest, so let’s get this show on the road, babies!”

Thumbs slipped under the elastic and pushed his underwear down his muscular thighs. His cock sprung out, slapping against his toned stomach and you couldn’t help the groan that escaped your mouth. No wonder he was so loved— he was sculpted by the gods themselves.

His bottom lip wrung itself between his teeth as he gripped his member with a large hand. Up, down, up, down— the motion was hypnotizing as it was erotic, and you could’ve sworn the way he looked at the camera while he did it brought you to the brink of an orgasm alone.

“I hope you’re touching yourself, too, baby girl. I don’t wanna be the only one getting off.”

His hand left his cock to push his boxers the rest of the way down. Without the restrictions the garment brought, he spread his legs wider. You could see everything from the way his balls tensed whenever he teased his head, and the way his asshole clenched around the pink buttplug on the downstroke.

Your eyes widened. ‘Buttplug? He's into that?’

Your eyebrows relaxed and a sly grin took form on your face.

The things you’d give to ruin this boy.

“God, fucking—“, he keened desperately, “I wish you were here right now.”

You subconsciously rubbed your thighs together. You were here to get off, but his performance was so goddamn captivating that you didn’t want to take your eyes off of him for even a second. So, you did what you could to strip yourself of your shorts and panties while still watching, reaching over to grab your vibrator.

“You’d be taking care of me right? Stroking my cock till the head turns red— shit—“

The soft buzz of the toy filled your room and you gingerly placed it on your clit. You jolted at the sensation. It had been a while since you had a nice session for yourself; you didn’t have much time to draw it out and really make yourself see stars. This was nice. Being able to sit back and watch somebody get off to help you get off wasn’t something you had seen yourself doing, but you really might have to make it a more common occurrence.

“[Username].”

Your eyes snapped open and met his, despite the fact that he couldn’t see you. You switched the vibrator over to your non-dominant hand and let the other reach out to the keyboard to type out a quick “yes?”

“Since it’s your first time here, I’ll let you choose.”

Well, this was interesting.

The man on the other side of the screen reached out of frame for a moment to grab something. When his hand entered view again, he had a hot pink dildo in hand.

“So, love, buttplug or dildo? What’cha in the mood for?”

You narrowed your eyes at the screen best you could in the midst of your pleasure-filled haze and typed out your answer.

‘Dildo.’

You didn’t miss the inkling of a grin that lied on his lips. The ravenette leaned back in the chair and pulled out the plug, replacing it with the pink toy.

“Hah~, fuck. Good choice, babe—!”

His eyes rolled backwards into his skull as he sank the silicon toy further into himself. You whimpered and leaned back further into your seat, bumping up the intensity of the toy. This was gonna be a good session, if you said so yourself. You’d have to bookmark this page for later.

“Fuck, I bet you look so good right now. All flushed and panting and wanting to cum, right?”

Your breathing sped up, chest heaving as your hips canted into your hand. “God, yes please—“

Almost as if he heard your pleas, he continued right after you finished speaking. “Then lets cum together. S-Shit, cum with me baby, I’ll count.”

As if on instinct, you grown the vibrator into you, putting it on its highest setting. It was enough to make you jump out of your skin. You had goosebumps everywhere, cold sweat was running down your forehead, and your thighs were shaking like mad. How could a stranger have so much power over you?

“Five.”

You forced your eyes open to look at your screen, eyes locked on the streamer and his hand furiously jerking himself off. You watched as his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

“Four.”

Your vision began to blur. You were so close yet so far from your orgasm, and in all honesty, you could’ve came right now. But, finishing with this stranger seemed a lot more appealing than doing it on your own.

“Ah, fuck— three—“

The veins in his arms bulged and he reached around to grip the base of the dildo. He threw his head back as he fucked himself it, his jaw falling slack and hanging open.

“Two—!”

At this point, both of you were chasing your releases like animals. There was something so primal about this— backs arched and hips spasming as you both selfishly chased euphoria. You gripped the side of your desk chair bruisingly, waiting for him to finish counting and—

“One— fuck, one, I’m cumming—!”

Your moan mixed with his as it came out of your laptop speaker. He whined, you yelled, and you both were riding your orgasms like a wave. You hadn’t cum that hard in a while. It was the kind of finish that makes you see stars and make your scalp tingle, and when you came down, you saw the camboy covered in his own release and strands of his hair out of place.

He looked so out of it. He was panting heavily with red airbrushed over his chest and cheeks, and pieces of his once perfect hairstyle stuck to his forehead. He was definitely not present in that moment in time, still on Cloud 9, but you didn’t mind watching as his vision came back into focus and his breathing slowed.

Slowly, he reached down to pull the toy out of his ass and place it some place out of frame. He laughed airily, his large hand running down the expanse of his throat momentarily before speaking.

“Alright, that was really fun. I gotta go clean up now, but I’ll be back to tomorrow, same time!”

You followed his hand as it moved to his mouse to end the stream.

”Oh, and I hope to see you again tomorrow, too, [Username]. I hope you had fun, love.”

This user is now offline.

#not sfw #jojo’s bizarre adventure #jjba #writing #jojo josuke #josuke4 #josuke higashikata #diamond is unbreakable

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bopbopstyles · 4 years

Text

9. Itches to Scratch

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 8.8k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK TO JOIN THE TAGLIST

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

a/n: only two more chapters left! what the actual FUCK!!!!! thank you so much for all the love on OE, they. are my little babies and i love them so much. slide into my DMs and tell me what you think!

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

“H?”

Harry was in his dressing room while Y/N showers before his show in Bologna. She was leaving in a week and he spent every waking moment trying not to think about it. He had loved having her on tour with him—waking up with her in his bed, seeing her belly grow and her body change right in front of him, being able to sing to her. Bounding off the stage and directly into her arms was his favorite part of the night. They had also gotten really good at having sex in his dressing room without anyone hearing them, something he was going to miss. Desperately.

At the moment, he was on his phone texting Gemma, checking in on what she was up to at work. But at the sound of Y/N’s voice he perked up, on his feet immediately. He beelined for the shower and then paused in the doorway of the bathroom. “What is it, love?”

She shoved open the shower curtain and Harry was met by a wet Y/N looking flustered, a razor in her hand and soapy legs. “I can’t reach my fucking legs, Harry.”

Oh. He toed off his shoes, then his clothes, and walked straight into the shower with her, despite her protests that he really didn’t need to get all the way in the shower. But Harry would walk through fire for her, the water didn’t really do much. “Why are you shaving in the first place?” He asked, turning down the intensity of the shower. “I really don’t care if you’ve got hair on your legs, baby.”

“But I do,” she pouted. “Makes me more…attractive, I guess.”

His head bounced up from where he was studying her dainty ankles. “Why would you be less attractive?” She had brought up to him only once or twice before her insecurities about her appearance since she’d gotten pregnant and he flat out didn’t understand her concern. He didn’t think he’d ever been more attracted to her—she fucking glowed, she constantly wanted to touch him, she let him do things for her, and she was carrying his child. (And her tits were utter perfection.) So when she said things like that, he just didn’t know how to reassure her more.

She pushed her wet hair out of her face and avoided his eye contact, much to his dismay. It was hard to read her when she didn’t look at him, although he was getting better and better at telling from her body language as they spent more time together. “I just feel so…not like myself.”

“Hey,” he murmured, rubbing the skin at her thighs. “You’re still you. You’re my Y/N. Same person, same utterly drop-dead gorgeous person.” Her eyes finally met his, a blush on her cheeks he adored. He loved that he still made her blush. She didn’t reply, didn’t fight him on his words, so he started to run the razor down her legs, the hairs collecting on the blades before he rinsed them in the water. They were quiet as he worked, delicate strokes on her skin so he didn’t knick her. The last thing he wanted to do was to make her bleed. “Feel nice and soft,” he informed her as he moved to her other leg, making short strokes on her knee since the skin was thinner and harder to shave.

She mumbled something he didn’t catch, but he didn’t ask her to clarify, knowing it was probably some snide remark about his work. Instead, he massaged her calf, smiling at the gasp he heard over the shower. “Harry…” She said, voice in a warning.

“I know, I know.” They didn’t have much time—he was due for hair and makeup in probably a few short minutes, and after that there wouldn’t be time until after the show. “Just let me mess around, huh?” She rolled her eyes at him, but didn’t protest, so he continued his actions. He shaved her hair and massaged at her skin, peppering kisses on the bits closest to him. The precise swipes of the razor were leaving her hairless and glistening under the florescent lighting in the bathroom, and Harry surveyed his work with pride. “Think I’m done,” he said, leaning back and letting her rinse off her leg under the water. “Can touch it up later if it’s not up to your standards.”

He stood up and captured her lips in a quick kiss before she pushed him away, telling him to dry off before Ayae got there and had his ass for being all wet and drippy. He chuckled and left her to her own devices, finishing the shower while he got ready for the stage.

Harry gripped Y/N’s hand the minute he was off the stage, pulling her behind him all the way to the dressing room, ignoring her questions entirely. He was a man on a mission, and when he shut the door behind him and pushed her against it, his lips capturing hers, she knew what for. Hands covered every free inch of her skin, his ring-clad fingers desperate to touch her.

“Thought about you when I was on stage,” he said, wrenching the neck of her top to the side, exposing her bare collarbone. “About fucking you, about your wet hole, about hearing you moan for me.”

Her hips bucked into his without trying to, his words stirring a fire in her. “Couch,” she breathed out when he sucked into her skin. “Need to feel you properly, H.” Because of her belly, her seven-month pregnant belly, she couldn’t touch him the way she wanted to.

“Yeah, baby?” He walked them backwards to the couch, him sitting down with her on top of him. He leaned back deep into the cushions, the angle allowing her to grip his thighs behind her and grind, her clothed center brushing against him. The rings of his fingers dug into her thighs when he rucked up her dress, one of the many Harry Lambert had found and ordered for her, loving the opportunity to explore maternity fashions. The cold metal made you gasp and you looked from the ceiling to his eyes, loving the devilish look in his eyes. “Can I make you come?” He asked, nose nudging hers.

She nodded, the prospect making her desperate. He could feel it in the way she shuddered at the idea, the way her eyes fell to his mouth and watched him lick his lips, something he did just to taunt her. Delicately, he rolled her, her back hitting the couch cushions and Harry dropped to the floor in front of her, not minding that his hot pink pants were going to get ruined from the rug. Her hands pushed at his matching suit jacket and he shrugged it off, letting her untie the bow tie around her neck that she had helped him with only a few hours before. And when he was free, he bent down, not wanting to waste a second of time.

He dove into her without warning, without prep, knowing she wouldn’t need it. She was already dripping for him, the effect of his words driving her wild, but the feeling of his tongue inside of her had her squirming against him, hands pulling on his hair and his name falling from her mouth in a chant. He loved going down on Y/N because it was when he loved how she responded to it—how she pulled on him, touched him everywhere she could, held his head close to her.

“H,” she breathed, “need your fingers.”

Her wish was his command. He slid two fingers in, the sound of her groan as she adjusted making him smile. As he slid his digits in and out of her, curling them deep inside, he rested his cheek against her thigh, watching what he was doing to her. And then he looked up at her, only to find her watching him, breathless. “I know you wish you could see,” he said softly, because she had told him more than a few times, “but can you hear what I’m doing to you?”

It was loud in the room, the sound of her juices as he moved in and out of her, the slick of her skin against his fingers. She nodded, licking her lips as they dried from her pants. “Feels so good,” she whispered, head lolling as he kissed her clit tenderly before sucking on it. “Gonna come,” she breathed out as he stroked her clit with his tongue over and over again, a brutal course set on her skin.

“Want to feel you come on my fingers,” he told her, knowing that his words were what she needed now. “Can you do that for me, love? Come around me, squeeze me tight like you do my dick? Hmm? Know you can, want to feel it though.”

“Fuck,” she said, drawling on the word as she bucked into him, his fingers brushing her back wall just the way she needed. That was what made her come, squeezing around in a vice grip, thighs clamping around his head as he watched her drip onto him, juices dripping around his fingers.

He lapped at you, tongue picking up every last drop, not wanting a single bit to go to waste when he pulled his fingers from you. “Beautiful,” he murmured, pressing kisses to the rise of her bell as he lifted his head. “Can I have you, baby? Need you so bad.”

“Please.”

It took some logistics to figure out a position that was comfortable for both of them, but finally they found it. He was lying down on the couch, her in reverse cowgirl perched on top of him. He hated not being able to see her, but whatever was most comfortable for her was what he wanted. And if he couldn’t see her face at least he could see her ass, her back, her hair cascading down her back, the curve of her spine and her shoulder blades when she moved. He dug his finger into her ass, her head tipping back at the feeling of his rings on her skin.

Knowing she was sensitive already and how ready he was for her, he didn’t wait. He pushed at her hips, urging them up, and pumped his dick twice before nudging against her slit, the sensation drawing moan after moan from both of them. When she sat down on him, she didn’t hesitate—she took him fully, sitting against his hips so deep he had resist the urge to buck up into her, knowing she was adjusting around him. He loved it when she was in control, loved letting her set the rhythm and bounce on him at her own pace, basically using him as she needed. It never ceased to make him want her more, and he sat up slightly, changing the angle and making her squeal, so he could hold her belly. He knew it made it easier for her, and he didn’t want her to be in pain.

“You doing okay, angel?” He asked, sucking harshly on her shoulder.

Her head rolled back and found his lips, mouths fighting for dominance as she rose and fell on his cock, his hands holding her up. When she rolled her hips against his her head fell back onto his shoulder behind her and he was essentially fully supporting her. He loved it though, the feeling of her sweaty back on his chest. He pushed his hips up into her slightly, making his dick brush her walls in the way she loved and his name a prayer in her throat.

He swept her hair over her shoulder so he could nibble at her neck, murmuring praises to her skin. “So good for me, baby, huh? Love feelin’ you all around me, squeezin’ me just like that. God, you feel like heaven, love, know that? Made for one another.” It had her squeezing around him tightly, her hands scrabbling for the couch cushions at her side for support as she rose and fell. She was chasing her orgasm and he wanted her to find it, knowing that her orgasm was what he needed to come. “Need you,” he said, suckling on her earlobe, swiping a circle underneath the tender skin. “Need to feel you come around me for me to finish.”

“Oh my god,” she whimpered. “Can you touch me, H? Can’t reach.”

His movements were immediate, moving one hand from her stretched skin to her clit, thumbing rapid circles over her clit. She shuddered in his arms, back curling into him as she bent forward. It was crushing his hand but he didn’t care, loved the reminder that she had his baby inside of her, that she was the mother of his child. “C’mon love, want you to come for me.”

The feeling of her clenching around him, her thighs threatening to shut as pleasure rocked through her body had Harry coming right behind her. She slid up and down him a few more times, movements shaky, but it was just what he needed as he finished, his lips sucking into the back of her neck as she rode him. His ring-clad hands gripped her hips, holding her to him as they both caught their breath, not ready to let go of her yet.

Then, Y/N rose up, his dick slipping out of her, and turned around so that she was sitting in Harry’s lap, but facing him. His fingers brushed across her stretched skin, and pressed a kiss to the rise of her belly. “I’m going to miss you,” she murmured as she ran her hands through his hair, sweaty from the stage and then sex.

Harry looked up at her, the sad expression on her face, and his heart broke. “Wish you didn’t have to go. Wish I could go with you.”

They’d spoken about it last night at length, about how if Harry could, he would cancel the rest of tour and go home with her. He loved laying down with her and talking to little Peanut or doing vocal warmups aimed directly at their child growing inside of her. Watching her body change, talking about how she was doing, calling their parents together to check-in. He didn’t want to experience it all from thousands of miles away through the tiny screen of his iPhone.

She kissed the top of his head, and then his nose, then the corner of his lips. “I know. But this is how it is, hmm?” Harry nestled his head onto her chest, sitting right above her breasts. They had taken her dress off earlier, but her bra still held them up, and he pushed at the strap gingerly, pushing it off her shoulder and exposing the flesh to him He nibbled at the skin, Y/N whining at the feeling and pulling at his head.

“Harry…”

“What?” He asked, licking at the sensitive skin and smiling as she squeaked.

“You need to shower and we need to get going,” she reminded him. It was approaching time for them to head out, let people finish cleaning up and for them to get to the hotel. Y/N was exhausted and she had an important meeting tomorrow that she needed to be awake for.

“I’m only showering if you come too,” he said, resting his chin on her sternum and looking up at her. He made his puppy dog eyes at her, which he knew were her weakness, but the thought of not having her skin next to him was torture. “Please, baby.”

“Fine,” she said, pushing at his head. “But no funny business.”

“Me? Funny business?” He scoffed as she pulled off of him. She rolled her eyes and walked towards the attached bathroom, the same one he’d shaved her legs in hours earlier. The sight of her, naked except for expensive underwear set he had bought for her because her old bras were too small and he wanted her to feel gorgeous, made him hard all over again.

She was literally going to kill him, he thought to himself, before pushing himself off the couch and following after her into the shower.

Y/N was only two weeks into being in Harry’s house alone and it was already hell.

She missed him like crazy. She would wake up in the morning, back aching and desperately having to pee, her hand stretched out to his side of the bed, which was empty. Every night she slept in an old shirt of his, one of the few that still fit her, but it had long lost his smell, so she kept spraying it with his cologne so she could pretend he was there with her. The one night she hadn’t because she ran through the leftover bottle he had at home she hadn’t been able to sleep, and when she’d mentioned it to Harry he had overnighted her a new one. Told her he didn’t want her to be without a piece of him. He threatened to make a custom dildo for her of his dick, knowing how horny she was, but she had refused, telling him it was dangerous for him to make a mold of his dick and send it off somewhere, to which he burst out laughing. “What are they going to do love, start making Harry Styles dildos?” She wasn’t too sure it wouldn’t happen, though.

She filled the void by worrying herself sick over the pregnancy and being a mom. When she had been with Harry they did it together—the learning, the late-night Googling, the questions to her doctor. But now she did it alone, or to Harry in texts. Questions like: Do we need another bib? To which he would reply that No, love, already got four, right? He was always correct, somehow keeping an inventory of every purchase they had made for the nursery logged in his head despite being on another continent. She had started calling her mom when Harry was asleep, just to have someone tell her Yes, you’re going to be a great mom, Y/N.

The worst part was that she and Harry hadn’t even settled on names yet. The gender was going to be a surprise, but she wanted to have names picked out at the very least, but they hadn’t been able to settle on any. They had a long-running list in the Notes app on her phone, a strikethrough over the ones they had decided against. Harry for some reason was obsessed with the name Rose, but Y/N had a bully in school named Rose and she just couldn’t get over it. They’d played around with gender neutral names, but quite honestly neither of them really liked the options they could think of all that much.

So they just texted each other names that popped into their heads, and Y/N added the ones that they both liked to the list. They decided they would pick once he got home, wanting to decide in person rather than over the phone. He would be flying home on June 1st, right after his last show in Mexico City. It was cutting it close, but it was the best they could do, and she was just praying that she wasn’t early.

Although she was very much was done with being pregnant, that was for sure.

The constant back aches, having to pee constantly, her feet getting swollen to the point where she was about ready to wear Harry’s slippers to work. All she wanted was to have her baby in her arms and out of her body, but at the same time, the prospect of the baby actually being there was frightening at the same time. Sometimes she would find herself looking in on the nursery, the crib and rocking chair staring her in the face, almost mocking her. As if to say, yeah, we know you’re freaked out, but guess what? No backing out now!

The truth was she was fucking petrified. And she didn’t know how to tell Harry, because he was so over the moon about becoming a Dad. When they’d FaceTime he would tell her about how big little Peanut was (who wasn’t quite so little anymore) and say he was reading some pregnancy books while they were on the road and he’d learned about some supplement he wanted her take. At first, she didn’t buy them, but then Harry could ask her about how they were and she was caught in a lie, so she started doing it. Some of them tasted awful, but she did it for him, because she knew it made him feel like he was involved, despite the distance.

So telling him that she was so scared to be a mom that she had a panic attack last night? It would just send him into a tizzy, and she didn’t want him to worry about her from so far away. She knew it would do nothing except make him feel like shit, and she didn’t want that. He was so good to her, far better than anything she could’ve hoped for, and the last thing she wanted was for him to feel inadequate, or that it was his fault.

She moaned about it to Hanna over decaffeinated tea, but Hanna had nothing to add but telling her she was going to be a good mother. Which did nothing for her at this point.

“It’s just, what if I fuck my kid up?” She said, twirling the cup in her hands. They were sitting on a park bench, coffee mugs in their hands and a long-forgotten lemon poppyseed scone between them. “I don’t want to be the reason they’re in therapy for the rest of their lives.”

“Y/N,” Hanna said, setting her cup on the bench, “we’re all in therapy at some point. We all get shit from our parents, okay? There’s no way to avoid that. You’re just going to do the best you can, and you’re going to do amazing.”

“But what if I don’t?” She could feel tears rising in her throat as she picked at the hem of her dress, a summer dress that her mom had sent her.

Hanna wrapped her arms around Y/N and pulled her in, holding her best friend close as the sobs broke through. A hand rubbed up and down her back, just like Harry would do, and Y/N suddenly missed him even more. She wanted him to be comforting her. But he was in Singapore or something. “I need you to listen to me, okay?” Hanna said, arms still around her. “You’re one of the kindest, most caring and generous people I know. You think through every single thing you do, you work harder than anyone I know, and you love more loyally than anyone else. And you’ve got Harry, who I think is literally meant to be a father. It’s insane how much of an amazing father he’s going to be to your baby. So you two as a team? Unbeatable.”

“What if we’re not a team?” The thought tumbled from Y/N’s lips before she could catch it, the fear that had been niggling in the back of her head breaking through.

Hanna pulled away, looking her in the eye. “What?”

“I just...What if having a kid pulls us apart? It’s all fine now, but what if after nights with no sleep and diapers and bottles, he gets…bored? And doesn’t want us anymore?”

“Harry is not going to get bored,” Hanna told her, voice firm. “He forced you to let him be in your child’s life, remember? Fought you on it. Fought to be here, to know his child. There’s no way in hell he’s going to let the opportunity to raise a child with you slip through his fingers. But, if things go south, you’ll be okay. You’ll both be okay.”

The thought made her stomach turn—the idea of breaking up with Harry at some point. Because having a child with him, it meant he would always be in her life, even if they weren’t together. It made her want to vomit. “I don’t want to be a single mom,” she mumbled, voice soft. “I want my baby to have two parents who are together. I didn’t get that.”

“Then you need to make sure it doesn’t happen,” Hanna said. “Talk to him about all this, Y/N. He needs to know about your fears and worries—deserves to. He tells you, right?”

All the time, she thought to herself. He was so open about how he was feeling, texting her about when concerts didn’t go how he wanted or if the crowd wasn’t as good, or when he messed up on a note. When he responded to a text too harshly and beat himself up about it, or was pissed off he wasn’t with her. It was his default state, somehow. But it was anything but hers. She was trying—fuck, she was trying so hard to get it right with him, but this was the part she kept tripping up on. The part where she expected him to fuck up and ended up convincing herself it would be horrible before she even got a chance to talk to him about it.

“I’ll tell him,” she decided, picking up her tea cup. “You’re right.”

Hanna nodded. “Know I am. Always am.” The reply made her laugh, something she desperately needed.

A few nights later, Y/N finally plucked up the courage to have the conversation with Harry. He was in Tokyo and it was the late morning for him. He had the day off and was spending the day talking to her instead of doing sightseeing like he normally might. He was curled up in a hotel bed, hair still messy from sleep, chest bare and duvet covers up to his shoulders. Meanwhile, Y/N was on their couch, a blanket around her legs and a bowl of ice cream on her lap.

They were talking about his tour, but he could tell something was amiss. Y/N wasn’t focusing well, her eyes darting all over the place, short answers to his questions and comments. Finally, he asked, “Y/N? Everything okay, angel?”

She gave a sharp exhale, fear curling in her stomach. But it was now or never. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something that’s been worrying me,” she said softly.

On her phone screen, Harry sat up, running a hand through his hair before replying. “What is it?”

“I’ve been feeling really…anxious lately,” she explained slowly, searching for the right words. “Had a panic attack about a week ago.”

“What? Are you okay?” Harry’s face changed immediately, concern ripping through his features. “Fuck, love, why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N ducked her head down, trying to pull her emotions together. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Oh baby,” he murmured. “Can you look at me?” She looked back at him and he’d smushed his face closer to the screen, as if he couldn’t look closely enough at her. “Hey you. It’s okay,. I just want to know what you’ve been so anxious about.”

“It’s the baby,” she replied, watching Harry nod, understanding in his expression. “What if I’m a shit mom? Completely screw our kid up and then they’re in therapy for the rest of their lives, talking about how their mom messed them up?”

“You’re not going to be a shit mom,” Harry said, “and you’re not going to screw our kid up. If we screw our kid up, we’re going to be doing it together—no way I’d let you take all the credit for that.” It made her chuckle, and Harry gave her a small smile, happy to know he had cut through her stress a bit. “But I’m serious, love. We’re going to figure it out together. Neither of us really know what we’re doing, but that’s okay. No one really does, right?”

“Guess not.”

“Exactly. Is there something else that’s been bothering that pretty head of yours?”

It was as if he could read her mind, even thousands of miles away. “I…I was thinking about how both our parents are divorced,” she said finally. “Does that mean we’re destined for the same thing?”

Harry’s face dropped, and she could tell the prospect of it hurt him in the same way it hurt her. “No,” he said, voice soft in her ears. “No, it doesn’t, baby. We’re going to give it our all, okay? You, me, little Peanut.”

“We’re not damaged goods?”

“No,” he said, choking on his words at the sight of Y/N brushing at her teary eyes. “Not at all. Listen to me, okay? I’m not going anywhere. You and our little one come first, always, no matter what anyone else wants. If that means no more music, no more touring, no more press, moving to fucking Antartica, I don’t care. I’ll do anything for you. For Peanut. For us, for our family.”

At some point in his speech, she started to cry, a combination of her emotions and Harry’s words sending her over the edge. It was in moments like this that she wondered how she had found such an incredible man, how she had gotten so lucky in life for him to be at a Christmas party and make her break her rules. “I love you,” she told him, sniffling. “I’d do the same.”

Harry gave her a smile, a tear of his own streaking down his face. “See? That’s why we’re going to be okay. Both too damn stubborn, too.”

She laughed, and then looked down at her ice cream. “My ice cream’s melted.”

“Go get some more then, and tell me about work.” Harry settled back into his spot on his hotel bed and Y/N got up, her heart settling now that she had told Harry about what she’d been worrying about. He always managed to put her at ease, even from far away.

Harry usually loved touring, but right now, he fucking hated it. Usually he would be all excitement and energy, but with Y/N halfway across the world with his child growing inside of her, his mind was elsewhere constantly. Couldn’t focus during interviews, the whole time he was on stage he was thinking about when he’d get off stage so he could call Y/N, since it was the daytime for her. He’d stay up late talking to her or wake up early, his sleep schedule fucked not only from touring but also from waking up at all hours of the night just because he wanted to hear her voice.

The band loved that Harry was excited about the baby, but he could tell they were getting tired of him showing them photos of Y/N’s adorable pregnant belly multiple times a day or him jabbering on about some new thing he had learned in the parenting books he carried everywhere. He was listening to a podcast, too, wanting to fill his every free moment with either talking to Y/N or learning about how to be the best dad he could be.

In the back of his mind, he knew he should be putting in more of an effort to be present, if not for the fans than for the band. But he also just frankly…didn’t care as much as he cared about Y/N and little Peanut. It filled his every thought, awake and asleep. He had dreams of Peanut and he’d send her voice memos explaining them, still half asleep and unable to coherent type. Most of the time she was awake and would send a voice memo or text back, and he’d end up staying awake talking to her until she chastised him for not sleeping.

When he couldn’t talk to Y/N about how excited he was to be a dad, he talked to his mum. Anne was his second favorite person to blab to about his approaching fatherhood, because she was just as excited to be a grandma and was full of advice and good thoughts. She’d suggested a few books, even, the classics she had used while pregnant with him and Gemma. It was nice to have someone to share his fears with too, someone other than Y/N. They’d been better about sharing, being more open, even while he was touring but he also didn’t want to overwhelm her. She had plenty going on with her job and preparing for her maternity leave, getting ready for the baby, and just being generally pregnant. His biggest regret was that he couldn’t be there to take some of the load off. He tried from afar, checking in, ordering her groceries when she was too busy and having them delivered, got her a massage or two to help with her back pain, but it just wasn’t enough. He wanted to be the one giving her massages, picking up the groceries, dropping her lunch off to her at the office when she was too busy to meet him.

For one of the first times in his career, he was so homesick it was almost painful.

When it was just the two of them, it was manageable—he’d done it before, been in a relationship while touring. It was never pleasant, but he could do it. But his girlfriend being pregnant while he was on tour? It was something Harry never wanted to experience again. The thoughts swirling through his head of would he tour once the baby arrived? never seemed to cease, but he didn’t have the answer. He had talked to Anne about it, Mitch and Adam and Sarah even, but none of them had answers or him. He’d even talked to the therapist he had while he toured about it, to no avail. Everyone kept telling him it was his decision, his and Y/N’s decision, but the issue was he didn’t want to even have the problem in the first place. He didn’t want to have to choose.

And he knew it was selfish to not want to choose, to ignore the problem and let it fester, but the thought of it stressed him out to no end.

So those were the thoughts swirling through his head when he was sat on the couch in the dressing room, dressed in the suit of the night, and his phone buzzed. It was Y/N, telling him she was on her lunch break, asking if he was free to chat before the show. He called her without even looking at the time, knowing someone would come get him when it was time to go. His extensive pre-show ritual was a thing of the past, forgotten in lieu of conversations with Y/N that did a better job of calming him down than any meditation or mantra could.

“Hi babe,” she said when she picked up, her sweet voice floating through his phone. It instantly had him relaxing into the couch, the stress in his shoulders lifting.

“Hi you. What are you having for lunch?”

He heard the click of a microwave, the beep of buttons being pressed. “Leftover pasta. Made that spicy one you like.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, the thought of a homemade dinner with Y/N suddenly the most glorious thing he could imagine. “Sounds delicious. How’s work going? Had that presentation this morning, yeah?”

“Yeah, went well I think. They seemed to like the direction we’ve chosen, said some good things about the design mockups. Supposed to let us know by the end of the week, all things going well.”

He smiled, the prospect of a success at work for her a win for them both. “I’m sending good vibes into the world for you,” he said and she giggled, the sound making his heart swell. “How about little Peanut? They doing okay?”

A beep went off—her pasta—and she paused, before saying, “Sorry, had to grab the pasta. Peanut’s good though. I had some wild dream last night, but apparently that’s normal?”

He had read about this the other night in his book and he beamed, excited he could offer some insight. “Yeah, that’s normal for the third trimester. Do you have varicose veins at all? Any clumsiness?”

Y/N chuckled and he heard a drawer open and close. “Yes to clumsiness, no to varicose veins, thank you Dr. Styles.” She said hello to one of her co-workers and Harry listened to the sounds of her in the office, going out to the patio where she ate her lunches and spoke to him most days.

“What about leaky breasts?”

The sound of Y/N sputtering had him smirking, loving that he could still get a rise out of her from afar. “No, Harry, my breasts are not leaking. What the fuck kind of question is that?”

“Apparently it happens in the third trimester,” he replied. “Sorry, angel.”

“Fucking hell. Now I’ve got that to look forward to, I guess.”

“I’ll still love you when your breasts are leaking.”

She scoffed. “You better, it’s all your sperm’s fault we’re in this position anyway.”

“Hey!” They’d had this joke running for so long it no longer got him all moody and annoyed, instead just making him laugh. “You’re beautiful all the time, lovey.”

She was quiet for a moment. Harry knew that compliments made her uncomfortable, especially now, which was exactly why he showered her with them. “Thank you, H.”

“Harry?” He looked up and saw one of the stage managers standing in the door. “Time to go.”

“Okay,” he replied. Then, to Y/N, he said, “Sorry, love, time to go on stage. Give Peanut a kiss for me?”

He listened to her smooch her fingers with a smile, a tradition they’d started where she kissed her fingers and ran them along her belly, sharing his kiss with their child. “Good luck, babe. You’ll do amazing.”

With another I love you, he hung up, tossing his phone to couch before standing, checking his hair in the mirror. As expected, it was a bit messier, but at least his nerves were settled and his mind clear. Talking to her always brought him down a couple notches, even if it was just this and that. Any time he could talk to her was time well spent, in his book.

“Y/N, you’ve got to have a shower,” Hanna said, leaning onto the counter. She and Jamie were over for dinner and a movie night, having declared that Y/N needed more fun times. They claimed she was working too hard, but the truth was that it was about all that distracted her from missing Harry all the fucking time. Plus, she had her maternity leave to prepare for—she was training her replacement, a girl fresh out of college who she prayed wouldn’t steal her job.

Hanna and Jamie were trying to convince her she needed to have a baby shower, but she was unconvinced. She didn’t need people bringing her a bunch of gifts for her kid when they didn’t need them—Harry had made it clear that he could afford anything they needed and she didn’t want her friends and family to feel like they had to get them anything at all.

Plus, the idea of people all fawning over her pregnant belly made her uncomfortable as hell. “No,” she insisted again, turning off the oven. “Not only do I think they’re stupid, Harry would want to be there and he’s not home until two weeks before the due date.” She opened the oven door and pulled out the lasagna she had made, waving the oven mitt over the top to help cool it down. She was starving, although she had been in a perpetual state of hunger for eight months at this point.

“Harry doesn’t have to be there,” Jamie said, taking a sip of sparkling water. Her friends had promised not to drink around her in solidarity, which meant they were resigned to sparkling water in wine glasses and pretending there was liquor in it. “But if it’s important to you that he is, it can be right when he gets home. There’s no time stamp on when you need to do it. I think you might regret it if you don’t do it, Y/N.”

She sighed before pulling down plates for dinner. “I just—you both know I hate being the center of attention. A shower sounds awful.”

“Think of all the cute baby clothes you’ll get, though!” Hanna said, bustling over to your side to help cut the lasagna and serve.

“There’s also the privacy thing,” you reminded them. “I don’t know how Harry will feel about it.”

“Keep it small then.” Jamie grabbed his plate and followed you to the couch. You had given up on eating at a table where your belly didn’t fit comfortably quite a long time ago. “You’re both pretty private people—just invite your closest friends, your parents. It doesn’t have to be a big to-do.”

You took of a bite of the lasagna—fuck it was good—and then said, “But then what’s the point? If it’s just our close friends?”

“The point,” Hanna said with the roll of her eyes and a poke to your knee, “is that your pregnancy is a reason for celebration, not shame. You’re happy you’re having this baby, yeah?” You nodded. “And so is Harry?” You nodded again. “Then why not celebrate the little Styles kiddo with everyone you both love?”

There was some truth to what she was saying. Somewhere between the unexpectedness of it and the fact that you and Harry wanted to keep quiet about it, avoiding paparazzi photos and staying mostly inside, that you had felt like you were hiding it. That you should be ashamed to be the Girl Who Made Harry Styles Cancel Tour and the Girl Who Is Having Harry Styles’s Baby! Both of the headlines were real and they had sent you into more of a tizzy than you liked to admit. So many subconsciously the thoughts had festered, creating a shame that you hadn’t really spent the time to think about.

“I’ll talk to Harry,” you conceded, and Hanna beamed. “No promises. But if I do it, you two are planning it because I have no patience for that shit.” They both immediately began to jabber about themes and games and attired and Y/N sighed, resting back into the couch, her plate balanced on the rise of her stomach.

The next day, Y/N called Harry, who was on a short break between Japan and Argentina. He was spending the time in Italy doing a shoot for Gucci, which she was jealous of—under normal circumstances, she would’ve forced him to let her come along, but she was unfortunately not allowed to fly. He would be home in about two weeks, and she was itching the time to arrive. It had been too long within him in her bed, joining her in the shower, coming back sweaty from runs and rubbing his sweaty skin all over hers just to annoy her.

When she broached the subject of a baby shower, Harry immediately squealed, a sound she rarely heard from her boyfriend’s mouth. “A shower? Yes! Of course! Can I be there? Can you wait until I’m home?”

Of course he was over the moon at the idea. Now that she had asked him, she was confused how she had ever thought he wouldn’t be. “Yeah, I can wait, babe. Are you sure you want to? I didn’t know if it was too much, I know how private you’ve wanted to be about this all.”

“I appreciate that, love, but having a small one is completely okay. I don’t want my fear of people getting all up in our business preventing us from having a life, yeah?”

“Are you sure? Absolutely positive?”

“Yes angel, I’m sure.” She could heard shuffling in the background.

“H?”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, voice garbled, “spilled some water on my pants and now it’s all over the floor, fuck.”

She giggled, the thought of Harry balancing his phone between his shoulder and ear, on the floor wiping up some spilled water. “Which pants are you wearing?”

“Just some linen ones,” he answered.

“…want to show me?”

Harry was quiet for a moment, and then a sigh came through her phone. “You’re such a little minx, Y/N.”

“And? You gonna show me?”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he murmured. “Of course I will. Can’t refuse you anything, you know that.”

Y/N laid back on their shared bed, knowing that he was going to rile her up just how she needed. Two weeks couldn’t pass soon enough.

Harry pushed open the door to his house with a sigh of relief, the air conditioning hitting his skin immediately and the smell of Y/N and home wrapping through his body like a blanket of comfort. Usually when he got home she was downstairs waiting for him, a smile on her face, ready to pull him into her arms. But this time, she was nowhere to be found. He called her name through the house, setting down his duffel and letting his suitcase rest against the wall. The rest of his luggage was in the trunk of the car, but it could wait—he wanted to know where Y/N was.

However, he got no response. He dropped his keys to the counter and toed off his shoes before making his way through the house. The living room was empty, and porch lights were all off, so she was probably upstairs somewhere. He climbed the stairs, the floorboard creaking slightly under his weight, and he smiled. He had missed those sounds of home. When he crested the top of the stairs, he called her name, but still no response. The door to the nursery was shut tightly, as were the other doors, all except for the one to their room.

Once he reached it, he immediately knew where Y/N was. The sound of Phoebe Bridgers floated through the room, and under it was the sound of running water, Y/N’s voice singing along. She was having a shower and hadn’t even realized he was home.

The thought of surprising her was too enticing, even though he knew she would hate him for it. He pulled his hoodie over his head, his sunglasses resting on the dresser, and pushed his trousers and boxers down his legs. Being naked in a shower with his girl? A dream. He padded over to the open door of the ensuite bathroom, smiling at the sight of her body swaying to the music, eyes shut. They had a clear shower door along with a rain shower head that they both treasured deeply. It made their bathroom one of the best rooms in the house, the massive tub on the other end of the room making it even better.

When he pushed open the door to the shower, Y/N screamed, her eyes fluttering open immediately. “Harry! What the fuck!”

But his arms were already held out to her, laughing at her reaction. She gave him an annoyed glare, but then gave up. It had been too long since she had seen him to stay mad for long. “Hi, baby.” He mumbled into her hair when she folded into him. His hands ran up and down her spine, sighing into the feeling of closeness.

“Scared me half to death,” she told him, her head resting on his chest. “You know I hate it when you sneak up on me.”

“Couldn’t help myself.” He pressed an open mouthed smooch to her forehead and she smiled into his skin.

“I didn’t expect you back for another hour,” she said, lifting her head so her chin rested on his sternum, her eyes meeting his.

He nodded, another kiss to her forehead. He couldn’t stop putting his lips on her. “Plane left early, shockingly enough. Texted you when I was on my way, but I guess you didn’t see.”

She blushed. “I’ve been in here for a while, I guess.”

“Runnin’ up the water bill, huh?”

“Hush up.”

He laughed, before letting her move away. He grabbed their shampoo from the caddy and squeezed some into his palm, but then she caught his hand. Slowly she swiped the shampoo from his hand and massaged it between hers, twirling a finger for him to turn around. Harry followed her directions willingly, tipping his head back so she could wash his locks, the curls having long since relaxed after hours of him running his hands through them from the stress of traveling. His eyes closed easily, giving himself over completely to her control.

He was putty in her hands and didn’t mind one bit.

She pulled him a few steps back so the water hit his hair, and she ran her fingers through them, getting all the soap out. Then, she squeezed conditioner out, scrunching it into his ends before patting his shoulder. “You’re supposed to keep it in for a while, you know.”

“I did know that,” he informed her. Some stylist told him years ago, he just chose not to care. “Just annoying so I don’t.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at him. “For someone in the public eye, you’d think you gave a shit about what your hair looked like, and yet you’re either pinning it up with one of my clips or forgetting to wash it for days on end.”

He grabbed at her hips, desperate to touch her again. Fingers danced over her stretched skin, his eyes absorbing how her body had changed since he had last seen her in person. She had sent pictures, but they didn’t capture the sight of her belly hanging lower, her belly button popped out and her breasts heavy in his hands. Beauty in every way, he thought to himself. “Good thing you don’t mind.”

“Can you scrub my back?” She asked, changing the subject and handing him the loofah.

“‘course. Turn around for me, love.” He rubbed some soap onto her skin before rubbing the loofah over her sky, humming at her soft moans of pleasure at the sensation. “Feel good?”

“Mhm,” she murmured. “Had this spot that’s itched for ages and couldn’t reach.”

He chuckled, brushing at her lower back. “Thankfully I’m back so I can scratch all your itches,” he teased, and she slapped at the hand that was wrapped around her waist playfully.

“I know of another itch you can scratch,” she said, tipping her head back to look him in the eye.

Harry could feel his dick plumping immediately. The sight of her naked and wet in front of him had done plenty to get him going, but when she suggested sex herself it always made him need her immediately. And on their bed, not some hotel sheets or a couch? A dream. “Yeah?”

“Missed your cock,” she whispered into his ear and Harry groaned, her hand coming down to wrap around him. The loofah was long forgotten on the floor of the shower when Harry turned them around, letting the water run through his conditioned hair before hauling her out of the shower. She squealed and he didn’t care. Wrapped her in a towel, just enough so she wasn’t dripping wet, and then was hoisting her into his arms, thankful for the extra time he had spent working out so he could lift his beautiful pregnant girlfriend.

Then, he carried her to the bed and hit all the spots that itched, clawing at the sheets and marking up her skin, reclaiming her as his, her name on his tongue the song he loved to sing most.

Afterwards, they laid curled up in bed, Y/N playing with the ends of Harry’s hair. They were tossing around baby names, as they often did in moments like this. She had brought out her phone list and they’d crossed through some more. It was coming down to the wire and they both were anxious, not having found the perfect name. Harry wanted something gender neutral, as did she, and they had decided long ago that if it was a girl, the middle name would be Anne, and Peter for a boy. So the name had to work with those names, and with Styles, which wasn’t an easy last name to work with.

Harry hummed as she scratched at his scalp, his thumb resting on her phone screen as he surveyed the list. Then, suddenly as if out of a dream, it came to him. “Emerson,” he said. His eyes lifted to hers, wide and waiting for her reply.

It was if the air knocked out of her chest, hands still in his hair. It was perfect. Simple, yet elegant, nick namable, and worked with the middle names. “Emerson Styles.”

The grin that spread across Harry’s face settled it immediately. “That’s our little Peanut,” he murmured, a tear pricking at the corner of his eye. “Emerson.”

TAGLIST: @smokeinherperfume @afire-hes @harryinsweatersandbandanas @marinalima3 @havethetimeofyourstyles @ursogoldenshan @inmygardensuit @marinalima3 @amaridon @harrys-watermelons @dontgiveupthedayjob @cronias13 @apples2019 @laula843 @afterstylesmadeit @kait-brin @harrys-watermelons @groovybaybee @clumsywithlove93 @1142590m @erin0717 @ketchuplukehemmo @harrysclementines @meetmeinfleetwood @kakaym @harrystyles-concepts @harrymoncheri @berrynarrybanana @samjo1986 @adams-tammy72

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LAST CHAPTER COMING AUGUST 1ST @ NOON CST

#harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles dad #dad!harry styles #harry styles pregnancy #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #1dff

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boymeetsweevil · 4 years

Text

the most magical place in hell

Grouping: (For Science) Reader x JK

Word Count: ~3.1k

Warnings/Themes: implied sex, 5 is a crowd annoying friends since that’s the vibe these days, d*sn*y please don’t sue

Prompt: “For Science, I miss this couple sm. Any scenario would be fantastic! For inspo, did JK and OC get to go on a vacation, (jk expressed he wanted to in his journal) if so how did that go? Any fun new experiments?”

A/N: This commissioned fic is part of the Changes with Luv project, hosted by FicsWithLuv. Here you can find more information about the project, cause, places to donate, and ways to commission a piece or offer your services if you are a content creator. Thank you!

On the third day of the cruise, Jungkook rolls over in his sleep. His hand reaches for you. His palm meets the bare skin of your shoulder already moving despite how pale the morning light is under his lashes.

“What’s happening,” he mumbles before grabbing more greedily at you. There’s not too much resistance as you let yourself be dragged a few inches across the sheets.

“We have to get up. Breakfast starts in 10 minutes, remember?”

You lean down to press a peck just above his brow bone and he groans. As you pull away, there’s a sweet waft that hits him and lets him know you’ve already showered and gotten ready. Now it’s his turn.

He gives himself just until you gather your things and shut the door to the room. Then he’s pulling himself out of bed with every ounce of energy he has left. He brushes his teeth with his eyes closed, does a perfunctory shower with the lights off like it’ll give him some more sleep. But he’s still dead tired as he throws on an outfit and heads out the door.

The walk to the dining area was exciting 3 days ago. The decadent decor, the view from the high balcony separating his floor from the others, the grand 20’s style atrium with Mickey Mouse memorabilia incorporated throughout. Everything used to be exciting 3 days ago. Sadly, the first day passed and things quickly lost their charm.

As he scoops a smiley-face omelette onto his plate in the buffet line, he searches for your face in the crowd of families scarfing down their first meals of the day so they can take their kids to the waterfall pool on deck 6. By the time he reaches the end of the line, there’s still no sight of you among the tables. So he ventures outdoors where there’s less seating but considerably more sun. He thinks back to his quick routine in the room. Did he remember to put on sunscreen?

When he finds you, you’re stretched out on a beach chair and taking in some of the sun. His mood is partially lifted when he sees just how content you look getting warmed like a lizard on a rock in your tiny bikini. He stands over you deliberately just to see you pout and pull down your sunglasses with a huff.

“Oh, it’s just you.”

“Who’d you think it was?”

“I thought it was Hoseok about to ask me to take his profile pic again.”

Jungkook chuckles a little before sitting in the open seat next to you. “Couldn’t have been him. Too early.” “That’s true.” You sit up then, peering at his plate. “What’d you get us?”

“Us?” His smile is warm. “I thought you’d have eaten by now with the way you left the room.”

“I was looking for an empty spot for us. It was your job to find the actual food.”

“No one else would willingly wake up this early,” he cuts a fraction of the omelette before holding the bite up to you. “But I guess it’s only fair.”

You open your mouth happily.

“Permission to board the S.S. girlfriend?”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m wasting fuel in the port,” he continues to hover the fork just outside your reach, even when you jump forward with a nip.

“Permission to board,” you grumble.

He laughs like you told a great joke and gently feeds you the bite. With soft eyes, he watches you point to different things on the plate and dutifully feeds you your fill. This might be the first time he’s been able to spend a few moments alone with you since the five of you got on the cruise. He finishes up the bit of toast you couldn’t finish and the few blueberries that didn’t interest you. He must be staring because you turn to him in your reclined position and return the favor.

“You’re looking a little red. Did you put on sunscreen?”

“I think I forgot. I was trying to get ready fast so you wouldn’t have to sit around alone.”

“I wasn’t alone,” you reach into the bag you brought for sunscreen. “Yoori was with me. She left for the gym maybe 2 minutes before you came out here.”

“Oh,” is all he says.

Jungkook scowls a bit as you rub the lotion onto his face. That Yoori and Hoseok, and probably even Taehyung, might be spending more time with you on this trip than him is starting to be the horrible icing on this shitty vacation cake.

“Why don’t we take some time to—” He begins but a large shadow looming over the two of you makes him stop in his tracks.

“Hey,” a man with thick blond hair and even thicker muscles nods down at you. “You were at the adult lounge last night, right?”

Jungkook’s mouth drops open. Thor—or the actor who plays him during the Marvel day activities—has come up to your spot. He’s got the Ragnorok breastplate on with board shorts adorning his chiseled lower half. From the top up, he looks just like the real thing.

“Wow. Yeah I was, I’m surprised you remember,” you hold a hand over your eyes so you can look up at “Thor”.

“How could I forget. You and your beautiful friend were quite the sight yesterday.”

“Oh, uh. Thanks.”

In all his excitement, he overlooks the flirting. Jungkook stands up from his seat then and sticks out his hand. “Thor” shakes it hesitantly.

“Hey. I know you’re not the real thing, but it’s great to see you. I wasn’t at the adult lounge last night, so we didn’t get to meet.”

Jungkook makes sure to puff out his chest so “Thor” will notice the print of his button down shirt. Tiny little hammers.

“Do you like the shirt?” He beams.

“Thor” squints down at the animated hammers.

“I can’t say I really know what’s on it, but sure.”

“They’re...they’re Mjölnirs.”

“Mole-whats?”

You gasp, clapping your hands over your mouth.

Jungkook drops “Thor”’s hand at the same moment, disappointment turning down the corners of his mouth.

“Nothing. They’re just drawings. Have a good day, man.”

“Thor” chuckles before looking back down at you. “Cute kid,” he says before sending you a wink and making some comment about getting to rehearsal.

Yoori returns from the gym that moment, nearly running into “Thor”. He gives her an appreciative once over which she returns smugly. Her expression changes as she approaches you and Jungkook looking like you had both seen a car crash.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you respond quickly with a subtle look at the back of Jungkook’s head to tell her ‘not now’.

“Well,” she plops down on the end of Jungkook’s beach chair, “How was breakfast?”

“It was fine,” Jungkook sighs and scoots back so she’ll have some room. “We finished a little while ago. Now we’re just making plans for the rest of the morning.”

“Couple stuff...I’ll go get myself a plate, then.”

You wait until Yoori’s disappeared into the dining area to turn to Jungkook. He doesn’t look angry per se. Just resigned.

“What were you saying before?”

“Hmm,” his eyes are far away, “I was just saying we could take some time to ourselves.”

He wants to say he feels like he’s barely seen you since he stepped on the ship, but he doesn’t want to make you feel bad. The funny thing is that you weren’t even looking forward to the trip before the first day. The tickets for this Marvel cruise were a last minute gamble. You had dropped many not-so-subtle hints about wanting to go somewhere a little less kid-friendly, but he’d waited until the last minute.

At first it seemed like the best possible last choice a person could have. You were all fans of the comics and movies with the exception of Taehyung and Yoori. Taehyung was more of a DC fan and Yoori just sort of let the movies wash over her. You’d been worried that the week would be torture for you with all the screaming kids around. But you were actually having the time of your life. Meanwhile Jungkook was having a less than ideal time.

“Sure. Like what?”

“Maybe we could relax? I’ve had research video meetings the last two nights, so I haven’t really been up for the late night stuff. And I’m just barely up for the morning stuff.”

“Hmm. What about the spa? I haven’t been there yet and it’s on my list.”

“The spa?” Yoori comes out with a mountain of waffles and rumpled-looking Taehyung and Hoseok behind her. “Yeah, let’s go to the spa!”

“Actually, I think Kook just wanted to—”

“I heard it’s actually pretty decent on this boat. They have a hot rock massage where all of the rocks look like the Tinman’s suit.”

“The Tinman,” Jungkook practically chokes.

“I think she means Iron Man,” Hoseok grins sleepily. “Anyway, I’m down for the spa thing too. Never too early to have a tiny lady go in on my thighs.”

“You’re literally so nasty,” Yoori glares back at him.

As your other friends bicker, you flash Jungkook an apologetic look. He shrugs because that’s easier than fighting it. He relishes the second plate of food you get for him and lets you feed him the bites in between kisses and mini-reapplications of sunscreen. It’s all the rest he gets that day. The spa is probably the least relaxing moment of his life.

He doesn’t even get to sit near you. Instead, he gets roped into the men’s section where Hoseok’s tiny lady goes too hard on his thighs and the resulting yelps make Jungkook’s ear drums pound. Taehyung falls asleep two minutes into the Iron Man hot rock massage and snores in a way that’s nearly identical to the 60 year old guests napping nearby.

You emerge from the women’s section with Yoori looking like you’d smell and feel like a rose petal. But Jungkook doesn’t ever find out if you do, because he’s being thrown right back into more “fun”. Somewhere in the back of his mind—between Black Widow meet and greet and the Ant-Man lunch show—he thinks that he would probably be having actual fun if he had some time to breathe. Although, he figures it’s enough to just breathe you in. He feels slightly less drained looking at your smiling face and wide eyes as a wild Hulk appears behind you at the pool after lunch, spraying you lighty with comically huge muscles and a comically tiny water gun.

“You’re not coming?”

Jungkook groans, partly out of guilt and partly out of exhaustion. It’s nearing 10:30 at night and you’re getting ready to go to the adult lounge again. This time it’s for all-things-Spiderman trivia and drinks. He wants to want to go. But he can’t find the strength. He figures too much sun and too much socialization is the answer.

“You’re not staying,” he counters as he does his best to sit up in bed. There’s a nice soft glow bleeding in from the giant picture window of the suite that looks onto the water and there’s some Loki pajamas calling his name. Your tight little dress is calling to him too. I’d look better on the floor, it says.

“I figured this would be a lot more lowkey than everything else we’ve done today. There’s no water and no noisy families. Or screaming Hoseoks.”

“You heard that earlier?”

“I did,” you grimace. “He must have really pissed off that masseuse.”

“I’m pretty sure he just talked with her like he talks normally.”

“Can’t fault her for that, then.”

There’s a beat of silence as you test the security of some strappy heels. Naturally your eyes wander from the shoes to your boyfriend. He’s tapping away at some emails on the ship’s slow wifi no doubt. If you couldn’t tell how tired he was from the slope of his shoulders and the bruise-like shadows under his eyes, the giant yawn he barely stifles is a giveaway.

“Maybe I could just—”

The door to your suite swings open, revealing Taehyung looking frightened in a silky peach button down as Yoori pinches Hoseok’s ear.

“You’re coming, right? Please tell me you’re coming.”

“She’s coming,” Jungkook pipes up from the bed. His eyes never leave the screen of the computer as he types away, but he blinks slow and long. Your heart aches a little.

Taehyung breathes out a sigh of relief and links arms with you. You get one last look at your exhausted boyfriend before you’re pulled out of the room entirely.

“Do you think they’ll even bother asking about the Garfield version?” Taehyung’s question shakes you out of your worry.

“Pfft, no.”

On the fourth day of the cruise, Jungkook is awakened earlier than he wants yet again. A large clap of thunder and the bolt of lightning flash from the other side of the window. He crawls quietly around your sleeping form and throws on his glasses. There’s heavy rain too—a sure sign that the pools and sundecks will be closed. Out of habit, he checks his email and sees a message from the ship coordinator.

Esteemed Guests,

As some of you may know, two performers at last night’s dinner show in House of Mouse theatre (Deck 5, room 6B) showed signs of a stomach bug during the performances. For the safety of the rest of the cast, staff, and guests, we will be postponing today’s shows to sanitize the performance rooms and allow the actors time to recover. Room service will still be available.

We know this is a large inconvenience, and to thank you for understanding, please check your trip accounts for a refund for today’s fares. Additionally...

Jungkook can’t help the fist pump and small hoot he lets out. The email gives him the same feeling he gets on those days when he wakes up hours before his alarm only to discover his professor had cancelled class for the day. With a skip in his step, he returns to bed.

When he wakes up hours later, it’s natural. You’re still spooned to him, still soft and warm and pliant in sleep. He runs the tip of his nose along your neck while the fog of sleep lifts. The smell of your soap and skin is warmed with sleep. The sniffing must tickle you, because you stir before arching against him in a morning stretch. He moves so he doesn’t get in the way of your swinging limbs and smiles to himself. It feels like it’s been forever since he last got to hold you like this without the threat of someone whisking you away.

“Morning,” your voice is gravelly from disuse. “What’s going on. What’s the plan?”

“There’s no plan.”

You’re still half asleep, but you have the social awareness to let your voice go high with incredulity. “No plan?”

“No plan. They sent an email.”

“Read it to me?”

He reads the formal apology while you turn in the covers so you can embrace him while you wake up. By the time he’s done reading, you’ve sat yourself up to look at his phone screen as well.

“Sounds good,” you chirp.

“Really? I would have thought you’d be disappointed about not having a packed day. You’ve been zooming around since we got on board.”

“Yeah, but this was supposed to be our time together. It’s only natural that your friends would tag along.”

“So they’re my friends now?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Only when they’re annoying.”

As if on cue, the front door sounds with knocking. Taehyung is the one who calls out about breakfast plans, but you know all three of them are out there. It’s almost a menacing thought.

“Your friends are here,” he groans. His head falls back onto his pillow defeatedly. They’re likely to burst in any second.

“Don’t worry.”

The sound dies down momentarily when Yoori mentions the extra keycard you gave her for emergencies. Hoseok and Taehyung continue to jiggle the door for sport while chatting idly. Meanwhile, you crawl underneath the sheets and re-emerge on Jungkook’s side of the bed. You look him over, as if searching for something. He’s about to ask what you’re looking for when you reach out and pinch both his cheeks suddenly. While he’s mid-yelp, you swoop in and nip at his lips. It’s quick but it was just harsh enough that his face looks blotchy and his mouth starts to swell.

He whines. “Is this because I called them your friends?”

“Just trust me,” you hiss before your hands disappear further down the sheets to tug off your own underwear and throw it towards the door.

A moment later, the door swings open to reveal Yoori, Hoseok, and Taehyung. Their smiles are bright until they take in the scene. Jungkook’s hair is a mess, his cheeks are flushed, and his mouth looks like it’s been lightly ravaged. Though you’re mostly covered with the sheets, the underwear that is very clearly not on your body and the way the sheets drape over your head as you lay between his knees tell a very convincing lie.

“I think I just caught that stomach bug.” Yoori says lightly, still smiling. Hoseok peers behind her, looking mildly interested.

“I hate it when I remember they have sex with eachother,” Taehyung buries his face in his friend’s shoulder looking mortified as Yoori slowly closes the door.

“Yeah, it’s kind of like walking in on your aunt and uncle doing it. But, like, 12 times worse.”

Jungkook basks in the new silence for a few moments before it’s replaced with the rustle of sheets.

“What are you doing” he trails off to a whisper as you tug the waistband of his underwear down. Your hands still.

“You don’t want to have boat sex?”

“No, no, I do. I wanna have boat sex.”

He nods intensely and you laugh at how earnest he still is. Jungkook’s cheeks flare up, now doubly red from quiet excitement.

“Guess I should have just proposed this, huh?”

“Yeah,” you hum thoughtfully while moving on your knees to straddle his hips. “I can't see how this would have ruined anyone’s fun.”

“I can think of a couple people’s fun we just ruined.”

“I really meant my fun. Speaking of which,” you settle onto his lap and begin to grind.

He shudders, head falling forward with a sigh. This, he thinks, is the real happiest place on earth.

#changeswithluv #networkbangtan #btswriters #bangtan bookclub #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #honestly not sure where this title came from but who cares i guess

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