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jamminvroomvroom · 2 months

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die for you.

ln x driver!reader

in which you can’t stand each other, or so you say…

this took waaaay too long for me to hate it sm but she’s here! and she’s long! love this concept so much, thank you for this request. so many feels so many vibes, tell me what you think <3

loosely inspired by die for you by the weeknd

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, language, slight glimpses of she fell first, he fell harder, rivals to lovers/enemies to lovers, choking, hate sex? bar fight, mentions of blood

8.3k words (oop)

it’s rare that you miss a podium, so when you do, it tastes bitter and stings like a bitch.

the car has been on fire all season long, a thing of beauty in your calculated hands. so, the string of bad luck you’re enduring, small mistakes with big consequences, it’s quite the pill to swallow.

out of the car you jump, teeth grinding hard out of frustration. you could see the commotion ahead of you, members of the papaya team celebrating their driver. your eyes roll so hard in your head that you feel a lasting ache. you side step members of your team, dodging every single person that tries to talk to you, your comms officer knowing better than to try and engage with you. you know you’re being unreasonable, it was a p5 finish! but it isn’t a podium or a win, so quite frankly, you aren’t interested, and you certainly don’t have any energy left to hear how amazingly well he had driven.

lando fucking norris.

what was once quiet disdain had grown into fully fledged hatred and you fear you’ll be violently sick if you catch a single glimpse of him on the podium. sure, he’s talented, and sure, he’s beautiful, you suppose. that doesn’t mean you have to like him. not anymore. he lives under your skin, inescapable.

you struggle through every interview in the media pen, most of which dissect your recent fall from grace, your mouth forming a hard, unimpressed line every time they mention the orange goblin and his recent streak of podiums and good luck. you wish the journos would bring up his string of women and the probable plan b receipts that went with them. that, you would love to talk about.

you drive in silence back to your hotel, leaving the track as soon as possible, and quickly find solace in your bed for the night. the idea of seeing the inside of a club makes you nauseous after your epic downfall. as your eyes are drooping, your body going limp under the thick duvet, a knock sounds from the door.

“no.” you shout flatly, but the only response you get are giggles from the hallway. for fuck sake, you mutter, groaning as you shift out from beneath the covers and trail apprehensively towards the door.

george and alex appear before you, and you throw your head back is exasperation.

“mate, it’s 9:30.” alex laughs, taking in your fancy attire; pyjamas that you’ve had since you were 17.

“what’s your point?” you croak, glaring up at your obnoxiously tall friend.

“why aren’t you getting ready to go out?” george questions, leaning against the doorframe. he, too, was obnoxiously tall, you thought, feeling the strain in your neck as you move your glare onto him.

“if it wasn’t obvious, i’m not going.” you deadpan, crossing your arms over your chest. “i thought that was clear after i ignored all 77 of your texts.” you smile sarcastically, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

“don’t be boring! you’re an f1 driver, you’re in a cool city, you’re rich and, let’s face it,” he sasses. “you need to get laid.” alex says, like it’s the most causal thing in the world. your eyes bulge out of your head at the utterance of the last bit. george bites back laughter.

“choosing to ignore that.” you hiss. “i’m sorry but i refuse to go out and celebrate that arrogant, whiny little bitch.”

they both know exactly who you’re talking about.

you and lando have simply never seen eye to eye. your karting days were spent pushing one another off the track or into a muddy puddle if things got a bit heated out of the car. sure, olive branches were extended, and maybe adolescent feelings were secretly harboured, but he never gave you any reason to tell him that. you’d grown out of the childish violence when you graduated into formula 1, but you hadn’t been able to shake the rage he made you feel.

it didn’t matter how many dinners you attended where others had conspired and forced you to sit next to each other. it didn’t matter how many times you turned up to play padel and were met with the same lame excuses of ‘oh, did we not mention lando would be here?’ it didn’t matter how many times you’d hugged it out on the podium while adrenaline and tensions were running high.

it didn’t matter how many times he’d watched you from across a crowded room and you’d found his eyes, watched him back. it didn’t matter how many times he’d smirked at you at the start of a race weekend, made you blush. and it certainly didn’t matter what happened last time you found yourself in a club with him.

you just don’t like him. not anymore. you sleep better at night when you lie to yourself.

~ the last time

you sink shot after shot, cocktail after cocktail; the taste of fruity liquor stains your lips and burns your throat. you feel electric, sizzling with ecstasy and the heat from the flashing lights above your head.

it’s approaching 4am and you can’t recall a time in your life where you’d felt so fucking good. the high of your first win is indescribable.

you’ve lost track of the guys, alex and george have packed it in and gone back to their hotels with their girlfriends. pierre and kika are somewhere in a corner, you’re certain. you’re pretty sure you’ve even seen lewis with his entourage and a brick wall of a bodyguard trailing behind him. and at the bar, a set of eyes watch you.

lando isn’t even listening to oscar anymore, no. he is too entranced in the way your hips move to the beat, lost in the carefree lines your body makes in the crowd. he’s itching to go to you, put his hands in places that would stay between you, him, and god, but he doesn’t think a broken nose would be good for business.

everything changes when you spin around, facing his direction. then, it begins: the same thing that happens every time you end up going out in the same group. you watch one another, pretending you’re not both achingly desperate to find out how the other tastes.

but lando is feeling bold. he tells oscar he’ll see him in the morning, and then, egged on by a moscow mule and a few too many shots, he makes his way towards you. it is instinctual, magnetic, the way he is drawn to you.

hands on your hips, lips on your neck. the song changes. you recognise the weeknd’s voice. you are disappointed in yourself but it feels too good to stop.

you know what i’m thinkin', see it in your eyes you hate that you want me, hate it when you cry you’re scared to be lonely, 'specially in the night i’m scared that i’ll miss you, happens every time

the lyrics sober you up. you’re in the first taxi you can see when you finally get outside.

alone.

as much as that memory makes you shiver, for several different reasons, you find yourself putting on some makeup and raking through your suitcase for something to wear. george and alex are waiting downstairs for you at the bar, and when you finally make your way down there, they have a martini waiting for you. they watch in impressed horror as the alcohol disappears from the glass mere seconds after it touches your lips.

“let’s get this over with.” you sigh.

it could have been worse, you suppose.

the club is packed, hundreds of faces blurring into nothing. you feel better knowing that there is a one in a million chance of running into lando.

you’re tucked into a booth with alex and george, carmen and lily, a few faces you can’t quite place, and charles and pierre. you’d conspired to sit on the outside, prepared to make a quick getaway at the first sign of tension.

you’d been in a state of fight or flight since your last run in, nails bitten down every time you thought about his hands on you, how good they felt on you. it scared you more than anything had in a long time, how your desire had festered.

you go to take a swig from your glass, only to find it empty, aside from a few sad ice cubes. you watch jealously as they melt into nothing, wishing they would take you with them, shoving your glass across the smooth table top when your frustration boils over.

you’re on edge, ridiculously afraid of bumping into a curly haired man. it wasn’t him you were scared of, per-say, more yourself. god knows what you’d do if you felt those warm, calloused hands pulling your hips into his again.

“you okay?” pierre calls across the table. he and charles abandon their conversation as soon as your glass goes flying towards their side of the table. you’re broken out of your trance, caught off guard like a deer in headlights.

“tired.” you reply, shrugging it off like it was nothing. it’s clear immediately that they don’t buy it.

“she’s hiding.” alex chimes in from beside you, and your elbow goes straight into his ribs. he feigns pain for a moment, cackling at your reaction.

“from who?” charles inquires. you roll your eyes, blush spreading down your neck already. you hate everything about the conversation, and yet you need to see where it goes. you’d planned your escape, and now was the opportune time to make it, but you seem to be glued to the leather of the booth.

“lando.” george smirks into his drink as a he speaks, wiggles his eyebrows.

“oh yeah, we know all about that.” pierre laughs, his head tipping back in amusement.

“what?” you spit, eyes wide with confusion.

“don’t think me and kika didn’t see you two before the summer break. that night you won? we thought you’d finally cave.” pierre explains, his grin conveying pure evil.

several “what?!”’s sound from around the table, and now all eyes are on you.

“nothing even happened.” you mumble. “he came over to me and then i left.” you look away, twisting your hair around your finger. you are sweating.

“you looked like you were minutes away from being arrested for public indecency.” pierre smirks. you almost launch yourself across the table, intent on strangling him, and then perhaps throwing yourself in front of an oncoming uber outside.

“well, well, well. i fucking knew it.” alex is giggling beside you.

“come on guys, leave the poor girl alone.” lily winks at you, but even she has a twinkle in her eye. “there’s obviously feelings there.” and just like that she betrays you. her sympathetic smile doesn’t make you forgive her.

“i think you guys just need to get it out of your system,” charles starts, pausing to take a sip of his drink. “just fuck.” he waves his hand, like it was the most causal thing in the world.

the table erupts in laughter and you decide that you are well past the end of your tether. you shake your head, declaring that you need another drink, or ten, and strut away from the table. a chorus of ‘love you’-s and ‘get some’-s sound from behind you. you reply simply by raising your middle finger and refusing to look back.

the bar is in sight, just about in your reach when your evening goes from mildly bad to aggressively worse.

“fuck sake.” you sigh.

“and good evening to you too.” lando replies. he’s blocking your path, materialising before you out of nowhere.

“get out of my way, lan.” it sounds like you’re pleading and you cringe internally.

“don’t you wanna congratulate me?” he feigns a pout and you almost swing for him.

“no, not particularly.” you say dryly. “all i want is a drink, so if you’d just…” you gesture for him to move. of course, he doesn’t.

“haven’t seen you in a while, though. thought maybe you’d missed me.” he takes a step closer; goosebumps litter your bare skin.

“you are such an entitled prick.” you spit, moving to step around him but he catches you, gripping your wrists and pulling you in. you feel heat radiating off of him, expensive cologne overwhelming you in the best possible way.

“and you, honey, are such a fucking brat. but you don’t hear me complaining, do you?” lando whispers, cool breath hitting your face, minty, laced with champagne and cockiness. you almost fold, thighs clenching so tight that he must have noticed.

“move.” you grumble through gritted teeth. you are crumbling painfully, embarrassingly fast.

“make me.” your underwear is damp, but you are fuming.

“don’t fucking test me, lando.” something in your chest sets on fire and you’re over him and his bullshit, and the way he makes you feel.

“i know you want me.” he dips his forehead down to rest gently against yours. his grip on your wrists tightens, thumbs swirling circles into the flesh, right where your pulse is.

you lean in, mere centimetres separating your lips. his eyes darken, the assumption of victory over you tugs his lips into a smirk.

“all i want is my fucking drink. come find me when you’ve managed to navigate your gigantic, stupid head out of your arse.” you catch him off guard, wriggling out of his grip. you’re shaking when you walk away, thoughts of doing things with him that would get you both fired invading your foggy brain.

you try to disappear into the crowd, finally breathe a sigh of relief when your hands meet the cool surface of the bar. you order your drink, putting it on your tab and drum your nails against the marble top. you’re lost in your own world, watching as concoctions are mixed, as shots are downed. you finally feel at ease, until your evening takes yet another turn, one that was somehow even more unfortunate than all the others.

your attention is rudely stolen by the guy stood next to you.

“can i get that for you?” the random man speaks, in a way that he must of assumed was smooth. slimy, you think. he’s gesturing to your drink, clearly having watched you add it to your bill already.

“no, thank you. it’s already paid for.” you smile politely, turning on your heel. it seems he wasn’t quite done with you. you feel a clammy hand tug on yours, a wave of sickness washes over you.

lando’s hands are bigger, warmer, softer.

“where are you rushing off to, babe?” the sweaty man asks, his tone fake in a way that makes you uneasy.

“i need to get back to my friends.” you try to pull your hand free, but he won’t budge. “can you let go-“

“i can show you a good time. always thought you were kinda hot.” you’re panicking now, looking every which way for a familiar face, a security guard, anyone.

“take your hands off of me.” you snap, still wrestling to pull yourself free.

“one night with me would pull you out of that little slump you’re in.” he leers. you visibly gag, white hot rage blurs your vision.

“okay you piece of shi-“ you snarl, interrupted by a flash of curls and tanned skin.

“she told you to let go.” lando stands in front of you protectively, rigid and furious. you’ve never been so happy to see his annoying(ly beautiful) face.

“and what are you gonna do?”

“hands. off.” lando stands up even straighter, looking bigger than you’ve ever seen him.

“okay, mate, whatever.” the stranger rolls his eyes, shoves your hand away.

lando turns to you, opening his mouth to speak when…

“keep that stuck up bitch all to yourself.”

and then, everything goes to shit.

lando whips around, fists are flying, the stranger topples to the ground, amassed to nothing in the face of the mclaren drivers rage. lando doesn’t stop there, makes sure he is sufficiently dealt with, flat on his back on the sticky floor. you don’t know what to do, calling out for lando, begging him to stop, as satisfied as you are. lando hears your shouts, pulled out of the chaos and back to you. always back to you.

“are you okay?” he has his hands on your face searching for any remaining fear or upset. a crowd has formed and you see alex and george towering above the other club goers, jaws agape.

it’s as if he dj has it out for you, and you realise that the song has changed to something moodier, slower, one that gives you whiplash.

even though we're going through it and it makes you feel alone just know that i would die for you baby, i would die for you

“we need to get out of here. security are coming.” you mutter, keening into his touch.

“i have a car outside.”

“well, let’s use it then.”

you can’t help but stroke over his knuckles mindlessly in the car, an unlikely comfortable silence settling between you. they look raw, cracked slightly and you have an overwhelming desire to kiss them better. your head is fuzzy, and you’re unsettled with confusion, but at the same time, you feel lighter.

“why did you do that?” you murmur, disrupting the quiet that has settled over the backseat of the town car, the question burning desperately on your tongue.

lando turns his head so that he’s looking down at you, his good hand comes up to cup your jaw softly.

“no one can talk to you like that.” he’s staring so deeply into your eyes and you almost squirm at the intensity. you feel exposed, bare.

“but why did you step in before that?” you reiterate shakily. lando hums in understanding.

“i’ve known you since we were 10 years old. i know when you’re scared.” he whispers, breath dusting your cheeks. you almost lean in, then, something about his words pull you even closer towards him. you feel warmth creeping over your chest, sinking into the pit of your belly.

“we’ve arrived.” the driver calls from the front, signalling that you need to get out of the car. it was like an elastic band had snapped, and you spring away from lando, scrambling to undo your seat belt, the moment of weakness long gone.

you sneak into the lobby, on the lookout for any angry PR teams or incognito photographers that are scoping for their next pay check. the coast seems clear, so you manage to scurry discreetly into the elevator. you hit the button for the third floor.

“can you hit the button for five?” lando asks, leaning against the opposite wall.

“you’re coming to my room.” you state, offering no other explanation, even when he raises his eyebrows.

the ding of the lift has lando pushing himself off of the mirrored wall, trailing behind you into the corridor. the lights are low as he follows you to your door, hands deep in the pockets of his jeans. he watches in anticipation as you rifle through your small bag for your keycard. the green light gives you the go ahead to open the door, and he awkwardly follows you inside, peering around the room.

you notice the slight apprehension in his features, eyes blown wide from alcohol and adrenaline. they seem to sparkle more than you’d seen in a while, a hazel-y blue twisting with secrets and unspoken thoughts.

“let me find my first aid kit.” you tell him. you guide him towards the foot of your bed, gesture for him to sit. “make yourself comfortable.”

“you don’t need to do this.” lando replies, sitting down anyway.

“and you didn’t need to get between me and that dickhead but here we are.”

your words elicit a low chuckle from him, and you’re glad you have your back to him while you dig through your suitcase. he can’t see your smile at the wholesome sound, and he doesn’t need to.

random pieces of clothing fall out of the bag as you rummage through it, your attention taken up completely by your mission to find the small box. you don’t notice the pile of garments littering the floor.

“wow, didn’t take you for that kinda girl.” lando teases. your cheeks flame red when you catch sight of the cherry red thong that has managed to get caught in the wheel of your suitcase.

“shut up, i’m helping you.” you grumble, balling up the lace and burying it at the bottom of the case.

“why is it ferrari coloured? something you wanna tell me? do you think charles is… foxy? or is it fred? oh, i bet it’s fred, isn’t it.” he’s laughing now, loud and boisterous, and if it wasn’t for the butterflies erupting in your belly at the sound, you would have throttled him.

“i’ll leave you to bleed out.” you tease back, pointing at the dried up blood across his knuckles.

“of course, i am in urgent need of medical attention!” he exclaims sarcastically, clutching his hand. you roll your eyes.

“you know where the door is.” you stand from the floor, carrying a little square antiseptic wipe with you.

“yeah, i do. feel like staying now, though. i’m just so comfy.”

and with that, he throws himself back on your bed, closing his eyes as he sinks into the mattress.

you stare at him for a second, noticing the way his eyelashes dust the tops of his cheeks, his tanned, thick neck peeks out from in between the undone buttons of his dress shirt. you exhale shakily, moving to sit beside him on the bed.

“give me your hand.” you instruct him, tearing the packet open and unfolding the wipe.

“romantic.” lando snarks. you shove his shoulder in response. he holds his hand out.

“whatever.” you sigh, avoiding eye contact as you run the wipe over his knuckles. you can see how they are already tinged purple, wincing at the idea that it is your fault.

“what is it?” lando asks, noticing.

you don’t respond. this proximity is odd, you can’t quite tell yet if you like it. what you do know is that you certainly don’t know how to handle him now that the alcohol is wearing off and you’re left tending to the wounds of a man that you could have sworn you didn’t like.

“so that’s how it’s gonna be? we’re going back to the silent treatment again?” lando scoffs.

“don’t know what to say.” you mutter, keeping your eyes trained on every line and indent of his knuckles.

“why do you hate me so much?”

“i don’t.”

“yes, you do.” he scoffs.

“i don’t think about you enough to hate you.” you lie. it’s cruel. he winces.

that shuts him up.

“i’m gonna go. thanks for this.” lando waves his hand and you feel a wave of guilt hit.

“no, fuck, i’m sorry.” you apologise, bowing your head. “stay.”

“i’ll stay if you tell me why you hate me.”

“i’ve never hated you, lan. haven’t always particularly liked you but i never, ever hated you.”

“okay.”

that’s all it takes for him to flop back onto the bed. some unexplainable instinct that you loathe has you crawling onto the bed beside him. you wrap your arms around your pillow, watching him watch you.

“i used to have such a big crush on you, you know.” lando says. you stare at him blankly.

“what?”

“yep. i think i was about 15. you were the first girl i ever really liked that way.” he smiles, recalling the memory. “it kinda sucked because i knew you wouldn’t even look at me twice but it’s funny thinking back to that time.”

~ 15

he watches the way her hair gets caught in the breeze as she takes off her helmet. two messy braids are shaken free, and his heart skips a beat or two, or seven, when she turns around with the biggest grin on her face.

she’s just won a race, another one, and he’d be so jealous if it wasn’t her.

he thinks she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. george and alex go over to her, congratulating her, hugging her. he wishes he could do that. he definitely can’t.

she doesn’t see him, the only times that she does are when they argue, when they push eachother off the track and scream at one another across a gravel trap. the times when she plants her pointed finger in his chest and calls him dirty, the times he gets heated and calls her something he doesn’t mean under his breath. and she always hears him. always. he watches her eyes pool with tears every single time.

he wants her, in a way he’s never wanted anyone before. he’s never felt like this, wonders how he can make it go away. she hates him. she must.

he can never have her, so why even try?

“i had no idea you ever felt that way.” you’re quite shocked, really. you knew that you had this intensely charged sexual tension between you now, but you had failed to realise how far back this all went.

mutually, at least.

“i’d say i’ve done a pretty good job of hiding it.” his smile changes slightly. it was now a sad smile, one that conveys disappointment in himself, and that you hated to see. it reminds you of the one you’ve gotten used to seeing on your social media feed after he’d had a shitty race.

you sigh, bracing yourself for what you are about to say.

“you’re not the only one who hid it.” you raise an eyebrow, your face says ‘guilty!’

“no?” lando’s eyes widen at your revelation.

“i think we were 13. you gave me half a cookie to apologise for pushing me off track.” you smile coyly. “it’s kinda sad but 13 year old me died inside.” you laugh.

“so, we’ve both… liked each other.” lando assesses. you nod.

“when did you stop?” you inquire, scanning his face. you take in each detail, each individual freckle, the curve of his lips. he seems closer, all of the sudden, and that’s when you realise you’ve closed the space between you. lando is within reach now, it would have been so, so incredibly easy to shift even closer still; it was like you were in his gravitational field, reeled in by pretty, pretty eyes.

“who said i stopped?”

“oh.” you breathe.

~ 13

he snaps the crumbly biscuit between his fingers, trails towards her awkwardly. he feels bad, feels a strange pang in his chest that he doesn’t recognise.

he finds her around the back of her parents car, arms crossed, eyebrows scrunched, pouting hard. he thinks she’s cute.

“why are you here?” she whines.

“this is for you. i know it doesn’t make up for the race. i didn’t mean to take you out, i swear.”

he sounds panicked, sincere. her tummy turns funny.

he’s holding out a cookie, the children’s equivalent of an olive branch.

her face softens. she accepts it. they bite into their cookies at the same time.

it’s not the worst day in the world anymore.

messy kisses and soft whispers lull you to sleep.

his nose bumps yours every time your lips meet, gentle and plush.

you feel delicate in his arms, treasured. his lips press gently to your hairline. he’s different, softer than you’ve seen him since you were teenagers splitting cookies.

it’s the easiest thing in the world to curl into his side, mould together until you’re part of him, and drift off.

the heat wakes you up.

you stir, eyes fluttering open, searching for the source of the onslaught of warmth. it clicks quickly, and you realise that you hadn’t dreamt the events of the night before.

lando is in your bed.

lando had protected you.

lando had wanted you since you were stupid kids who didn’t know any better.

he is the heater that had woken you up, and suddenly you don’t care that you’re far too hot. you curl back into his side, head rests on his chest. it rises and falls softly, his heartbeat thrums beneath your ear. you are jealous of how pretty he looks when he’s asleep, relaxed and infatuating. you lose track of time, gazing up at him.

a sharp pain in your side makes you groan. you had fallen asleep in your dress, lando in his jeans and his shirt, and now you’re paying for it, your fingers searching for the zipper that was now digging into your side. your movements draw him out of his slumber, and when you look back at him, he’s watching you, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“you okay?” lando croaks, his voice deep and sleepy. it sends shockwaves through you.

“mhm. how did you sleep?” you ask, mindlessly running your hand over his jaw like it was the most natural thing in the world. a smile breaks out across his face, eyes fluttering shut once more.

“really fucking well.” he laughs, almost in disbelief.

“yeah, me too.” you smile at him, shy.

“what’s bothering you?”

“well, a human heater woke me up and now this fucking zipper is killing me.” you joke. it’s weird that this doesn’t feel weird.

“i am pretty hot i guess.”

“yeah, yeah.” you roll your eyes and stand from the bed.

lando sits up, resting on his elbows. his eyes follow you as you walk around the room. you take a bottle of water, drinking half of it before passing it to him. his lips wrap around the bottle and you have to turn away, the ache between your legs that you’d been fighting for months rearing it’s irritating head. you clear your throat, composing yourself.

“need to get this dress off.”

lando pulls himself off of the mattress, stalking towards you. you stop in your tracks and he meets you at the foot of the bed. his hands find your cheeks, thumbs smoothing over your skin in little circles, and then kisses you deeper than he did last night.

it’s impossible not to melt into him, hands running over his chest, his shoulders, and finally finding solace tangled in his curls. if someone told you the morning before that you’d wake up in lando’s arms, you would have cackled, urged them to seek medical attention, and probably spat in their face. how things change.

“i think you should keep it on, look so pretty.” lando breathes, staring down at you. you blush hard, leaning into him.

“but i’m uncomfortable.” you grin coyly. and then, a surge of confidence has you whispering: “i’ll let you take it off if you want.”

“let me make you comfortable first.” lando murmurs, dipping his head down until it rests in the crook of your neck. “want me to get you nice and comfortable, baby?” he kisses up your neck.

you cave, finally.

it takes him all of thirty seconds to have you spread out on his face, laying himself down on the mattress and pulling you on top of him so that you’re hovering over his lips. he mouthes at your panties for a second, getting his first taste of you, and then he drags them to the side, clearing a path. his tongue laves over your cunt, groaning as soon as he gets a proper taste.

your dress fans out over your thighs, and lando has disappeared beneath the fabric. you can tell he’s there, though, by the strong hands gripping onto your thighs, the tuft of curls peeking out, and the feeling of his nose bumping your clit as he buries his face deeper and deeper between your folds.

“lando.” you cry, throwing your head back. the straps of your dress are slipping down your arms, skimming your goosebump ridden skin. he just groans into your pussy in response, pulling you impossibly closer to his mouth, backwards and forwards until you’re grinding down on his willing tongue. you reach down blindly, grabbing one of his hands where it rests on your thigh, and your other threads through his hair, gripping tight as you revel in the pleasure.

lando pulls your clit between his teeth, grazing over the bud and you’re jolting, writhing above him. you feel like you’re going to die, heat pricking all over your skin, your tummy tight from the building orgasm. he’s so eager, sliding his entire face through your slippery folds, obscene sounds falling from his lips that ricochet through your quivering body.

tears prick your eyes when you finally let go, slumping forwards from the overwhelming sensation taking over every single nerve. he lifts you off of him, laying you back on the bed as you come down from your high.

“you okay, baby?” he coos, brushing sweat dampened hair from your eyes.

his lips are stained, dark pink and shiny, a mixture of enthusiasm and your slick coating them. lando scans your watery eyes, feral at how fucked out you look all because of him, and tantalisingly licks his lips.

“need you.” you moan, reaching out for him. his shirt is wrinkled where he’d slept in it and your shaky hands find the few buttons that are actually done up. you push the material off of his shoulders, pupils blown wide at the sight of his toned chest, at the feel of smooth, golden skin. you pull him in by the shoulders, swallowing him whole as you kiss him with everything you’ve got left.

lando’s hands find your thighs once more, running his hands over them to push your dress up your hips.

“wanted this for so long.” he whispers into the kiss, pulling away so that he can take the dress off of you. he looks ravenous the more he pushes the fabric up your body.

you feel vulnerable under his intense gaze, watchful eyes taking in every movement you make. you try to pull him back in for another kiss but he resists.

“let me look at you, please?” lando asks. “there you go, baby, let’s get this off, hmm?” he sits you up so that he can get it over your head, and you lay back, bare aside from your panties that he’d left in disarray.

he sucks in a breath, raking his eyes over the curve of your lips, your collarbone, the slope of your breasts. his gaze lingers there for just a second, before continuing further over your belly, the length of your legs. you want to hide away, pull him in so that he can’t look at you like this, or just dive under the duvet and stay there until you need to catch your flight.

“god, you’re so, so fucking beautiful.” he gasps, awestruck. he sounds speechless, and you feel yourself going red again.

“come here.” you whine. “needed you for so long.”

your admission seems to kick him into action, because seconds later, he’s on top of you, fingers grazing the band of your underwear while you fiddle with the button on his jeans.

“gonna be good for me, aren’t you?” lando stares you down, tone sending a shiver down your spine. you nod, batting your eyelashes. “words, my love.”

“yes, lando.” you affirm, arching into him. that’s all he needs to know, kicking his jeans away, boxers too.

“good girl. took care of me so well last night, now ‘m gonna take such good care of you.”

your eyes skim his body, honing in on how hard he is. your hand finds his cock, tentative at first, stroking over it softly. it’s heavy in your hands, red and dripping already. he wants this just as bad as you do. you continue to jerk him off, watching the way his eyes squeeze shut and his lips part, soft pants falling out. a low hum sounds from the back of his throat, and you wet your lips, threading your free hand through his hair.

lando opens his eyes at the sensation, gently batting your hand away. he dips down even closer, resting on one of his forearms. he lines himself up and your legs wrap around him instinctively. slowly, he pushes inside of you, his breath catching in his throat.

“fucking hell.” he groans, deep and guttural, something carnal sending shockwaves through his body. “been dreaming about all the ways i’d get to fuck you.”

your eyes roll back and you go languid in his arms, feeling every inch of him slide against your slick walls.

“want you.” you rasp, clinging to him, your fingernails leaving patterns between his taut shoulder blades as you beg for it.

“you have me, baby.” and then he kisses you, messy and slow, stealing the air from your lungs. you’re dizzy when he pulls away, sitting back slightly to change the angle. you cry out, feeling him even deeper and everything is more sensitive, warm. you roll your hips, meeting his thrusts deliciously, and he chokes out a moan as you clamp around him. “yeah, that’s it. fuck yourself like that for me.” he encourages.

this is all too much, too good. you have whiplash, physically and emotionally, eyes pooling with tears as the man you’d wanted so badly that you hated him for it rocks into you. lando hits the right spot every time he pistons his hips harder, and his nimble fingers slide up your abdomen, applying light pressure to your navel that makes you writhe.

“fucking perfect for me. gorgeous.” lando slurs, entranced by the sight of where you’re joined. he can see just how wet you are and it drives him insane, barrelling into you like a man possessed, drunk on every single way that your body responds to him.

his wandering hand finds your breast, kneading it before he traces your nipple. he watches the way it hardens at his manipulation, wetting his lips. he collapses back on top of you, sucking the bud into his mouth. you’re panting, whining beneath him as his tongue swirls over your chest, switching to the other side. you jolt, a silent scream scratching your throat when he slips his hand between your thighs, working your clit with the pad of his thumb. he’s rutting against you, grinding deeper, faster, uncontrollably.

“come on, baby. you’re so close, so tight for me.” he mutters into your skin. you nod frantically, your words lost on you. he kisses over your collarbone, the base of your throat, until he finds your lips.

“so close.” you sigh.

he stops.

“tell me you’re all mine.” lando growls, his entire demeanour changing. the tone of his voice almost finishes you off but you’re suddenly enraged. you’re too close for him to stop.

“c’mon lando.” you hiss, trying to move your hips but he has you firmly in place.

“need to hear you say it.” his hand slithers over your chest, finding a new home at the base of your throat. it makes you throb, the way his thick fingers wrap around you. slowly, his grip tightens, and you see an opportunity.

you buck your hips hard, whimpering at the sensation, but your plan works and now you hover over him. he’s still buried inside you, and you can feel him pulsing as you steal control.

“for once in your life, honey, shut the fuck up.” you smirk, mischievous in victory.

slowly, you build up your rhythm. he feels bigger like this, deeper, and you almost lose yourself in the small circles you make with your hips.

“knew you’d be like this. you liked giving yourself to me but i just knew you’d need to take back control.” lando teases. his hand is back around your neck, squeezing slowly, and you grind frantically, dizzy for him. “i was right last night, wasn’t i, baby? pretending to be my good girl when really,” he pulls you down so that you’re chest to chest. “you’re just a fucking brat.”

lando holds you close as he fucks up into you, feeling the way you go limp on top of him as the pleasure washes over you like a million electric shocks. you’re crying, tears pooling on his chest, because there is nothing you can do, nothing you want to do, but take it. he’s got you right where he wants you, and you’re loving every fucking second of it.

“yeah, baby, take it how you want it.” lando commands through gritted teeth, and you move your hips in a feeble attempt to match his speed. everything is slippery, everything feels wet and flushed.

the power play, the position, the frenzy he seems to be in as he fucks you, it all has you gushing, spilling all over him. you choke out a sob, shuddering as the elastic band in your belly snaps. lando stops his thrusts, replacing them with small rolls of his hips to help you through your orgasm.

a sharp breath and a string of curses from him give you the strength to muster the last little bits of energy you have left to look up at him. you pull your head up off of his chest just in time to watch him shatter into a million little pieces.

his neck flexes as his head rolls back, sinking into the pillow, his eyes tight. swollen lips part and your name falls from between them like a prayer. you can feel him filling you up, his hands tightening their hold on your hips like he’s scared to let go, like the world will stop if he does.

the world stops anyway, because then you’re looking at each other. really looking at each other.

it only takes a second for you to be drawn in and his hands leave your hips to cup your face. his calloused hands feel your skin, stroking over rosy patches on your cheeks. it’s deathly silent all around you, apart from the breathless pants you share.

swollen lips crash hard into yours and you melt. he’s still buried so deeply inside of you, your hips digging into his, impossibly close. you’re blindly reaching for any part of him you can get your hands on, and his big hands slide down your body until they meet the small of your back. ever so carefully, he flips you onto your back, easing your spent body into the mattress.

lando collapses on top of you, mouthes at your neck for a moment, delicate kisses making your eyes flutter shut. the eye contact almost sends you into cardiac arrest as he pulls out, oh so slowly. tease.

he holds you close in the shower, fingers massaging every part of you. sex and sweat are washed away, almost lovingly. you let the water run for far too long, content in clinging to him. it’s quiet, reflective time for both of you, exactly what it needs to be. you’re both hung up on questions that need to be asked, neither one of you brave enough to take the first steps. you know one thing, and one thing only: something has changed, in a forever kind of way.

your hair is stringy, half dry, and you’re stood in your underwear. your legs are still shaky.

“your flight soon?” lando asks. he’s stood in his boxers on the other side of the room, scrunching the water out of his curls.

“yeah.” your throat feels raw.

“and you’re going back to monaco?” he’s stopped what he’s doing now, staring at you. you can see the cogs turning behind his eyes.

you nod.

“fancy a sleepover?” he grins, boyish and careless. your heart falls to your feet.

you’re giggling when he sweeps you into his arms and kisses you into the freshly made bed. the sheets are on the floor by the time you finally remember you have a flight to catch.

you’re his now, you realise. he’s too beautiful for his own damn good.

“baby?” you hear lando call from his bedroom. you make out the faint sound of his footsteps making their way in your direction. he appears before you can even answer him, and he’s smiling softly at the sight of you bundled up in a blanket, sprawled across his couch.

“what is it?” you ask. the next thing you know he’s on top of you, peppering kisses over every single inch of skin he can get to on your face. “hey, get off, muppet.” you whine playfully, ruffling his hair.

“do you know how much i love having you here?” he murmurs. it’s endearing as fuck and you fight a foolish, dopey grin.

“you’ve mentioned once or twice…” you’ve been here since your flight touched down a week ago. you haven’t even been home to get clothes, not that you needed them in his company.

“we might have a teeny, tiny issue.” he squints, pulling a face.

“and what’s that?” you ask, your voice measuring equal parts cautious and amused.

“so, alex called…”

“oh, shit.”

“we have to go to dinner tonight.”

“we have to?”

“he’s suspicious as fuck. you do realise they’ve been plotting for us to happen for years,” you roll your eyes as if you say duh. “and also, you’ve been in monaco for a week and haven’t seen him once. oh, and also, the last time we saw them, we were running away from a fucking crime scene.” lando smiles sarcastically, and you sigh, defeated.

before you can reply, your phone is ringing somewhere beside you. you root around in your blanket searching for it and when you find it:

“son of a bitch.” you exclaim, showing lando the caller ID. alex is one persistent motherfucker.

“hey girl.” alex singsongs down the phone before you can even say hello.

“hello to you too.” you can hear the fear in your own voice.

“dinner. tonight. although, i’m sure lando already told you.” alex teases.

“why would lando have told me? what?” you choke. lando slaps his hand over his face. your voice has gone up several octaves. not suspicious at all.

“so, you’re at home? you haven’t been at his place since last week?” the playful interrogation begins.

“why would i be with lando?” you try and feign disgust at the implication. it does not work.

“because you hate fucked after he beat up that perv? i have to say, i didn’t think he had it in him but he’s been in love with you since he was like, ten, so, you know-”

“bye alex.”’

“you’re not denying it-“

“bye alex!”

you’re flaming red when you throw the phone to the other end of the sofa. lando, as on brand as ever, is cackling into a pillow.

“he is such a fucking shit stirrer.” you bury your face in your hands, slumping back into the fuzzy cushions.

“well, he’s right about one thing.” lando trails off. suddenly he’s looking anywhere but you and you see him gulp, hard, swallowing his words, like he’s too afraid to bare his soul.

“huh?” you ask gently, sitting up to reach out for him. “what’s wrong?”

“we need to get ready for dinner. that’s what he’s right about.” lando says, standing from the sofa and walking towards his room. you’re suspicious, watching him go with furrowed eyebrows.

“lando, behave! you’re the one making me go to this dinner.” you squeal, batting his restless hands away.

you’ve made it as far as the elevator before he pounces on you, caging you in against the metal walls.

“but you look so good, can’t help myself.” he mutters between kisses on your neck, pressing himself even further into you.

the hand that finds it’s way between your legs, exploring beyond the hem of your skirt, is the one that makes you press the button for his floor. why have plans when you can have sex?

he gets through the door to his apartment at lighting speed and carries you all the way to his bed.

when you’re sweating and breathless a good hour later, half of the bedding on the floor with your clothes, you realise you never cancelled your plans.

lando is drawing shapes into the bare skin of your arm, kissing over your shoulder as he does so. his eyes are dropping from all of the over-exertion and you want to count each and every freckle on his face while he falls asleep. he’s cute like this, soft and yours.

and idea comes to your mind, and as if he can see the lightbulb, lando half raises an eyebrow at you. you giggle, somewhat evilly perhaps, and scramble for your phone on the beside table.

“what’re you doing?” lando groans, pouting as his outstretched arms try to find you.

“getting even.” you state.

with the phone in your clutches, you roll back over towards him, holding the camera above you both. he hears the shutter sound as you snap the picture, and peers closer to see the screen. when he sees the groupchat open, he quickly understands what you’re plotting.

“may i?” you ask for his consent.

“are you kidding? go for it. that’ll shut them up.” he laughs sleepily, muttering something about how this is the most lando thing you’ve ever done

FROM: you

TO: the groupchat

1 image attached

couldn’t make dinner. something came up xx

“alex always thinks he’s right, this’ll teach him for being such a little shit.” you flop back into bed even more satisfied than you were before.

you hear lando inhale shakily beside you.

“he is right sometimes you know.” he repeats his earlier words.

you hold your breath. his eyes say so many things that are too delicate to be spoken yet.

“like… like what he said on the phone?” your voice quivers with anticipation, fear. your heart is thunderous, hammering away like it wants to escape the clutches of its cage.

“yeah. i-“ he stops himself. you don’t need him to finish, you know which two words follow. they can follow in good time, you both know it.

“me too, lando.” you coo.

he’s beaming, eyes half shut. you watch as he falls asleep, the both of you ignoring the way your phones are vibrating so aggressively that they might buzz their way off of the night stand. you lose count of his freckles, but it doesn’t matter.

you’ll have plenty of time to figure it out.

let me know what you think :D

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin

(i ran out of tags omg? whoops) lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3

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daddyricsdoll · 1 month

Note

hi 💓 could you pls do “Do you ever shut up?” “Only when I’m eating you out.” w lando ? he's a yapper it just makes so much sense !!

His jpg photos and m0v video has me in a chokehold. And I decided to give you guys a sneak peek of what happened between me and Lando behind the scenes. 😉

1k ✭ Celebration!

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

I trusted my whole life with Lando, but if that meant he’d take me into random alleyways in Melbourne, oh… things could change.

Leading me down graffiti adorned walls and no breaths of life. Getting lost in his words that he didn’t even realise where he was taking me, now astray, but still not registering the hints of fear in my voice as I asked him where we were going. Somehow ignoring my question until I finally grew annoyed.

“Do you ever shut up?” I stop walking and question him, expecting his perfect lips to close and beautifully pigmented eyes to focus on me. But instead he smirked, taking a step closer to my still body.

“Only when I’m eating you out.” His words ticked me off and covered my vision in a haze to force me to forget whatever emotion I had before, and cover it in lust. Barely taking any steps back until my back hit a cold wall. Now becoming encased by Lando as he leaned further into my body. Nearly connecting my lips with his just until he decided to kneel down. Face inches from my body as he gets on his knees.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to taste you.”

“Only if that means you’ll shut up.”

“For you? Always.” Lando whispers as he parts my legs, lifting my skirt and taking my panties off, not throwing them onto the ground but stuffing them in his pocket. Gripping my thighs to bring one of my legs over his muscular shoulder. Pulling my hips forward and making it an easier job for him to latch his mouth onto my core. Soft lips, roughly abusing my cunt. Immediately hitting the right spots and being an expert at pleasing me with his mouth as if he spent years studying women- better yet me.

Lando’s curls, a magnet to my hand, being impossible to not dig my fingers between them. And of course if it were anyone that were to eat me out in a public alleyway, it would be him. Not caring if someone found us, spectating the way my head falls back and I moan in endless notes. Thighs shaking as the man beneath my skirt and between my legs plays with my clit and tongue fucks me into a oblivion where words simply don’t exist.

Licking a stripe up my core and between my folds, spreading them with his tongue and exposing me to his mouth and eyes even more than a few seconds ago. Tensing my stomach and legs quivering just the same as my lips.

It was impossible to just focus on one sensation he created inside of me, because there were so many. Two fingers thrusting inside of my devastatingly desperate pussy and lips delicately kissing my clit before sucking it into intense pleasure. Other hand pushing against my lower abdomen and dragging up to grasp my breasts. Just knowing how he wished his large hands covered my neck.

It was no secret that my climax crept closer, my thighs involuntarily closing around Lando’s head and fingers pulling against his locks. Leaning further back against the wall for stability as I released. Exploding around his fingers and clenching tighter than a virgin.

Allowing Lando to finger fuck me out of my high. Slowly gaining the courage to pull out and look up at me.

Eyes glistening with a mix of hues of blues and greens, and blown out pupils. With compliments of my slick around his mouth. I stare back down at him, in awe of his beauty, waiting for him to stand up. But instead he welcomes himself back inside my pussy. Going at it like a lost and starved man, my core being a map and a feast.

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rinhaler · 3 months

Note

HI CAN YOU PLZ DO LIKE A DRABBLE OR SOMETHING OF SUKUNA MAKING OUT WITH US AND THEN PUTTING HIS HAND UNDER OUR SKIRT AND THEN USING THE MOUTH ON HIS HAND TO EAT US OUT WHILE WE KISS SUKUNA. PLZ IM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH MWAH ILY

This prompt is SO scrumptious I had too much fun with this omggggg

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, degradation, fingering, monster fucking?, pussy eating, squirting, mutual pining (they are both low key in love but haven't confessed lmao), dom!sukuna, sub!reader.

words: 1.9k

“You aren’t ready.”

His words ring true but your lip wobbles nonetheless. Sukuna’s true form is something you can only dream about for now, it seems. But your want and agonising desperation to see it, see him, is becoming overwhelming.

You’ve heard about it in such visceral detail. Other sorcerer’s have told you bits and pieces during your time on campus, although, each specific trait told to you by Sukuna himself makes you quiver as adoration further engulfs you. Learning more about who and what he is makes you want him more.

Sure, this might make you a traitor by Jujutsu law, but you don’t care. You can’t possibly care when you’re so infatuated with him. He makes you feel special, too. Because of all of the human beings, all of the women in the world, he chose to take an interest in you.

His lips slot against yours, thumb stroking across your cheek in an uncharacteristic show of attentiveness as he notes your disappointment. You aren’t sure if he loves you, and truthfully, you don’t know if you’ll ever know. But when he’s gentle like this, it feels like love.

“I-I’m ready, I promise.” you tell him as your mouth widens to accept his forceful tongue. Your heart skips a beat when you note his hesitation. You’re not foolish enough to think his interest in you makes you exempt from his ability to swiftly end your life. So you swallow thickly as your eyes search his, red glaring irises that warn you to remember your place. They drop to your throat as he watches the journey of your saliva bobbing through your oesophagus before his eyes fix back to your own.

“I will not only decide when you’re ready,” he starts, clawed fingers grab your chin and roughly turn your head so he can finish rasping his point into your ear. “I will decide when you are worthy. Do you understand?”

Not a word makes it by your lips before that heavy grasp on your chin is forcing you to nod your head like a subservient pet. You shudder as his thick, tattooed tongue curls against your cheek. He’s tasting the salt of a tear you didn’t even know was there.

“You know… I don’t have much time or patience for little girls who don’t listen to what I say.” he tells you, his head tilts backwards and his eyes are suddenly looking down at you like you’re worthless. “I’ll cut this short for today.” he finishes.

It’s a devastating blow, but you know better than to argue. So you nod in acceptance, and now you do feel the second tear that has escaped to begin rolling down your cheek. There’s an uncomfortable ache between your thighs, your arousal pooling and soaking through the seat of your panties. He looks at you, his eyes filled with something you can only denote as suspicion as you squeeze your thighs together as subtly as you can.

“You’re soaking aren’t you?” he asks, looking you up and down. You can only imagine how wide your eyes are as he speaks, filled with shame and humiliation that he’s been able to read you with such ease. He laughs, though it’s short and restrained, but his smile remains wide as he looks at you with fangs bared. “I can smell it.”

“Jesus.” you sigh, covering your face with your hands. You yelp as large, veiny hands encase your wrists and rip them away from your bewildered face.

“I barely kissed you. And you’re that wet?” he begins. He sounds incredulous, but he grins once again when he sees your expression change from acceptance to embarrassment. “You truly wish to fuck a monstrous being so desperately? That’s why you became a sorcerer. What would your superiors say?”

“That’s not—” you sigh, stopping yourself from continuing before you say something he’ll chastise you for. “If we aren’t doing this, you should just go.”

You barely blink before you realise you’re looking up at the ceiling. Four barely open eyes look down at you with a combination of lust and malice lingering in them, but you can’t care for too long as he starts to kiss you so sloppily with passion and reverence. You moan pathetically, and he smiles into your kiss as he begins to hump his body like a beast against smaller prey.

“You dare talk back to me while your cunt is drenched like this?” he asks, the contrasting words from his almost loving body language makes your head spin. Another, heartier moan rips from your throat as his words rush to your sopping heat. “You got wetter when you saw all of my eyes. This room might turn into a hot spring if you see all of me.”

“S-Stop it,” you object, horrified by his mocking words. “It’s not—” you’re silenced with another kiss, and you’re a little surprised to hear him moan, too, as you cup his face gently with both hands as he kisses you.

“We might both drown if I pin you down with four arms. If I devour your arousal with the mouth on my stomach. If I fuck whichever holes I desire with two cocks.” his heavy breath disguises a laugh.

You can’t object anymore, you can’t express your humiliation so you just take it. Your mouth stays open so that he can curl his tongue against yours, retracting as it smooths over the back of your teeth.

His eyes remain on yours as his hand finds itself under the bend of your knee, expression surprisingly stoic as he forcefully pushes it away from your other leg until it’s pinned at an almost uncomfortable angle. A sharp breath leaves you at that moment, and still, his face doesn’t change.

“I’ll make you cum, one last time.” he assures you, hand slithering beneath your displaced skirt. You whimper, though there isn’t a specific reason why. Whether it be the claim that this will be your final tryst with Sukuna or the fact that his fingers are toying with the sodden material of your panties, it’s a heady combination that’s enough to make you cry.

“Okay…” you breathe. He smirks at the way you bite your lip as he circles your clit through your dripping cotton underwear.

He pulls the material off your body, discarding them who knows where as he smothers your lips with his own yet again. It’s enough, you think. It’s enough that you’ll be fingered by the King of Curses as a final farewell, albeit a little boring. He’s being considerate of you, he’s putting your pleasure before his own, and in spite of that you’d rather he’d fuck you until your brain turns to a pink soup that drips from your ears after his cock renders you unconscious.

“This will be a reminder that no man will compare for the rest of your days. You will never cum in the ways that I can make you.” he tells you, almost as if it were a promise.

He’s right, you know that already. He isn’t a man, after all.

He’s a curse.

Two fingers push into your tight hole with little resistance. His experience briefly crosses your mind, undoubtedly far more than your own. It makes you feel insecure when you think about it for too long, so you try not to. He chose you, after all. The way his fingers hook perfectly through your walls and target your pressure point makes your breath hitch and lodge in your throat before a boisterous moan tears through you.

You shiver violently as his teeth graze your earlobe, biting softly and tugging before he begins to lick and lave at your pulse point. The knowledge that he can easily tear out your jugular while your walls throb and squeeze around deft fingers isn’t lost on you. Though that worry soon dissipates as his mouth levels with your ear once more.

“This is more than you deserve, but you said you’re ready.” he hisses.

“What?” you ask, quietly, confused by the implication of his words.

All addling thoughts racing through the creases of your mind are lost as you feel a familiar yet nonsensical feeling between your legs. His rough kiss silences any thoughts you wish to speak, which only leaves you more perplexed.

His tongue tangles with yours, and yet you’re tremoring from the sensation of another tongue running up and down between your puffy folds. You want to pull away to ask, to look at what he’s doing to you. But his free hand holds your jaw in place and you know better than to think you’d ever be able to best his strength, even with all of your might.

The pads of thick fingers still hone in and target your g-spot as he curls and presses against it roughly. But a secondary tongue from the palm of his hand swirls around and across your clit like that’s its sole purpose. You want to scream, you want to moan into the abyss but you can’t free yourself of Sukuna’s bruising kiss.

They’re his noises, he’s earning them by reducing you to this. It’s only right that he get to devour them. You’re barely present as the lips on his hand suction around your firm clit. The alternating actions between licking and sucking have you writhing and kicking beneath his heavy form.

But you can’t move, not really. Not when he’s pinning you beneath his weight with a refusal to let you move even an inch away from what he’s inflicting upon you.

You try to scream as you finish, pussy gushing more than you ever have before. It’s only then that he pulls away, eager to see the way your pretty pussy squirts copiously for him. The hand on his mouth slurps and feeds on the fluid, the heavenly taste causes Sukuna to throw his head back in ecstasy as his hand carries on savouring and ingesting your purest flavour.

It’s only when your cunt has nothing left to give that he looks down at you. Your convulsing form and entirely white eyes make him snicker as he hides the secondary mouth on his hand and withdraws his fingers from your twitching hole. His hand smooths over your hair, and he kisses your cheek repeatedly until you respond.

“You’re alive, then.” he mutters.

“Sukuna…” you breathe, you want to caress his face. You want to rake your fingers through his hair and feel his skin against yours if this is truly the final time he’ll be with you like this. But you can’t, your body is spent and you can barely find the energy to move your lips. But you have to, you must. “I don’t want to… lose… you.”

You don’t miss how his eyes widen in surprise. Though he dispels it quickly, assuming he’s mistaking your lust for true feelings for him. He smirks instead, placing a chaste kiss against your weary lips.

“You will see me again.” he assures you. “It took so little effort to conjure up that mouth on my hand, and look how pathetic you are.”

Despite having a fair amount of notches on your bedpost, no one has ever compared to Sukuna. The way he fucks is an art. The way he can simultaneously make you feel a pleasure you’ve never felt before while also prioritising himself is a sexual experience you’ve never known, and you’re sure you never will again without him. And yet, all of the encounters you’ve had with him pale in comparison to the orgasm you’ve just had.

And that took little effort?

If you had the energy, you think you’d be able to cum again just from imagining what he’s capable of when he actually tries.

“I’ll make you ready for me one day. All of me.”

#💌 — luxe mail #📨 — requests #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu #jjk x fem!reader #tw degradation #tw monsterfucking #sub!reader

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darlingofvalyria · 8 months

Text

❝I am going to make him bow to me, brother. Mark my words.❞

[ Jace does not yearn for you. Does not wish for you. Does not want you. But oh, lies are bitter and brittle under a tongue that yearns to taste. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 4,753 ] [ series masterlist ] | jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt!reader (aegon's twin sister), might be small aegon ii x reader but it's one sided on aeg's behalf, sorry.

contains— manipulative reader, targarcest, mild nsfw, angsty - CANON DIVERGENCE - use of bastard, mentions of alcohol and slight phys. abuse (otto's a dick) - sort of non canon compliant, timeline is loosey goosey; in the books, rhae & dae visit kings landing frequently even after moving to dragonstone, so im going by that - nsfw: male masturbation, strong allusions to sex but no actual woohoo, creampie - no kings, no martyrs, no betas. unedited.

a/n— for my boy jace, the prettiest dark haired prince there is. simp!jace you will always be loved by me. comments, reblogs & like at will! + dividers by @danowh0re + accompanied song: SWEAT— HAYZ.

Aegon, under the guise of weighty cups and half-mast eyes, slides beside you, following your gaze as you appraised the entrance of the Strong bastards into the courtyard.

"Are you sure about this, sister?"

"Does wine taste like heaven under grandsire's scolding, brother?"

Aegon snorts. As your twin, the difference between the two of you are more stark than people might think. Though you share the childish, almost babe like features that usually got women to bow down to Aegon— with your doe eyes, the soft cheeks, and the curled pout — where people think Aegon is a horrible mess of a git, your shared grandsire the forefront of this slander, you are quite the opposite. Beloved, dutiful, and innocent in the eyes of many.

It didn't matter that you wore green as prettily as your mother, or that your twin is a mess of wine and women— you were different. You were kind, pretty, and enticing.

A precious flower among green thorns, the smallfolk whispered.

People had even commiserated how, despite the typical Valyrian looks of silver-gold hair and lilac eyes, your Hightower lineage softened your edges. Your looks.

Your personality.

Snort.

"You know Aemond would rather see you insult the little bastard in half, than whatever it is that you are thinking of doing."

You hum as you don't remove your gaze from the dark haired prince, making jokes with his younger brother, Lucerys. From the corner of the courtyard, you and your twin could see Aemond sparring with Ser Criston with more vigour than he usually did, especially at the time of day. Occasionally, he spared the younger Strong bastard a glance that spoke of trying to unearth his insides from his body, no doubt imagining the very same as he swung his blade.

Aegon and you shared a look, stifling laughter, before you focused back on your prey. Jacaerys Velaryon. A name he uses like a shield despite having not a single drop of the sea in his blood. All you had to do was look at the dark hair, the skin and the nose of the First of Men before him.

How your half-sister Rhaenyra can say he was a Velaryon with a straight face is beyond you.

Your gaze might be searing as Jace looks up at the balcony from where you had been idly staring at him for the better half of the time, and you give him a wry sort of smile. A soft sort of smile. An acknowledgement. Just as he makes a nod of hesitant acknowledgement— unlike your brothers, you had not join in on the hostility and mean-spirited comments — you had already turned fully to Aegon as if you are enraptured by conversation.

"It's a contingency plan, my darling Aeg," you say softly as you brush the back of your hand to his face. You are aware of Jace's gaze now focused on you and your twin and you make it good for him. You make a performance. You follow the steps you've practiced so eagerly.

And eager for your soft touch, Aegon's eyes flutter in response. Ever since you were young, and seeing how harsh everyone is of Aegon and his failures, you decided you would be the kindness to him.

Though you do like him, another contingency plan for him wouldn't be so bad, would it? After all, you can bet on a lot of things, but your grandsire's award-winning thirst for power and your mother's malady to anxieties are good tidings to see them planting Aegon on the throne and usurping everything from your dearest, oldest sister.

Aeg didn't need to know that, of course.

What he can know and what he can help with, is making sure Jacaerys was looking as you smiled softly at your brother, your gold and silver spun hair bathed in morning light, and in one of your favourite dresses— a white silver dress lined with black lace and green embroidery of dragons — you were angelic personified. The Maiden come to gather and soothe your dearest brother.

You capture Aegon's face in your hands, ever soft, ever sweet, as you smile at him. He's so deprived of physical touch that doesn't harm him that he sighs against your palms. You do feel a little bad, but you need this plan to work.

"I am going to make him bow to me, brother," you whisper, giving him a soft kiss to his temple. He shudders, hands placing them on your waist, enunciating the kind curves you sport. "Mark my words, that boy king will stifle under my hand and foot. Mother's fears will not come to fruition. All will be well."

"I am older than you," he says softly, half smiling.

A gaze sears at the side of your face, as strong as the concussive heat radiating off a dragon's maw as your thumb brushes across your twin's cheek.

There is that, you think amusedly. No one can deny the little heir is his mother's child. Bastard he maybe.

"And I am better," you whisper, snickering.

"That you are." But his gaze is past you, back at the courtyard, at the reason for the heat in your skin. A spark of jealousy is quick in his mulish blue eyes but you only laugh. Light but loud, echoing.

"Come," you say with finality, taking a step back and offering your hand as you make the conscious choice of not daring even a peripheral glance, and heading back inside the keep. "We shall see them at dinner. The king's orders."

Your brother makes a sound crossbred from a huff and a groan, and you are already making plans to ensure his wine is controlled for the night, lest he makes a fool of himself in front of the King— or gods forbid, your grandsire — and mayhaps ensure the seating arrangement once again with your mother.

But everthing else is background noise; your schemes and your plots, your facades and faces, because a faux Velaryon has made it known that he cannot keep his gaze away from you.

Everything else is moot.

Jacaerys Velaryon, firstborn son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, soon to be Heir to the Iron Throne and Prince of Dragonstone, does not understand himself.

Perhaps you are just eye-catching. Your hair is more gold than silver, but it shifts like a mirage against sunlight. You yourself seem to change under shadows and light, as if you're casting a new spell again and again. Your eyes, your lips, the slivers of presented skin (have you really shown this much skin, all this time?), and your hips.

They sway, like a panther's.

Like a dragon's.

Jace has always known you to be pretty; Helaena has always been his favourite aunt with the fact that she's quiet and doesn't antagonise him like your brothers. Because Helaena simply cared little for him not because he was Rhaenyra's son, or that he didn't look like his father, or because he was a prince of the realm set to become heir once his mother was crowned.

Helaena simply just didn't care about him as a human not as hisn ame or his blood, her thoughts lingering more in her bugs and the fat babes she had with her brother, humming nonsensical under her breath. Not insults.

You were different. You looked. Jace knew you looked but he had never caught you before. It's a dance, he later realises come dawn he is awoken and there is a weight on top of him in rings of gold and silver, breathing softly— alive and so very warm, and from that moment, his — but for now he doesn't know.

Doesn't understand.

Your gaze is weighty, leaving searing imprints like a dragon marking it's favourite horde. But it's so hard to catch.

It started at the training grounds. As if his Uncle Aemond's wasn't enough, there was yours. He knew but could only see once, and even that felt like it was deliberate, a mere nod. As if you controlled how he worked around your sphere, and by gods, were you beautiful. Then you had turned to your twin brother as if he was nothing to you— really, he was, in the scheme of things, you were the secondborn daughter of the Queen, no matter how pretty your visage or blood is, you are a woman and a third child (right after the firstborn daughter and son), and in the other end, Jacaerys was the first son and heir of the Princess of Dragonstone, soon to be Queen. In fact, you should be nothing to him.

He was to become King, and you to be offered to a lord. To be someone's wife, to relinquish your surname and become someone's mother. Rear your new lord husband countless of babes and live your life having fulfilled your sole duty.

It is a fact that tasted brittle and bitter in his tongue, like soot and ash, and he doesn't understand it. You had crossed his mind, idle as it maybe, from time to time, but nothing concrete. You are pretty, you are kind, mischievous at times, playful, and you purposefully don't keep him long in your orbit.

You were just another aunt. Aegon's Twin Flame.

Misbegotten to not even marry your brother.

It was at dinner that night, amongst clinking goblets and fat foods spilling the edges of the table, his grandsire having arrived, even Aegon, rumpled hair and sunken eyes but dressed and suspiciously sober— and you, your mother's favourite, her most affectionate daughter, late.

"Where is she?" Jacaerys heard the Lord Hand asked, but the Queen had no reply, as confused.

And then you arrive, not ten more minutes later, and Jace's entire body had locked.

Though he did not know why or what, he knew you were up to something. You arrived in a new dress from this afternoon— close to it's style, nothing like the Queen's or Helaena's, conservative high necks and pious ever green— no, you came as a surprise with a flutter of a silken hand and an embarrassed laugh, tipping to your father a kiss on the side of his good face.

Even as you sat, it took a good, long while before the chatter would arose again (from your gracious laugh at your father's compliment no less), before everyone's eyes— even Criston Cole's, ever loyal rat — would lift from your visage.

You were ethereal, simply put, in a dress that is not of pious ever green or high collar trim; but in a flutter of what Jacaerys remembers as his mother's gown when she was pregnant with Aegon, and the days got too hot. When the babe inside her, made of pure dragon, had made her a furnace burning from the inside out.

It was the same lightweight material draped over your skins, a thin material bunched up several times so it is not too sheer. Not too inappropriate. Jace doesn't know what the fabric is, doesn't care to, but it looks like flowing water against your body. It moulds to your movements. Your shape is obvious, so are the expose arms, collarbones, your chest dipping low, too low sometimes when you lean over and laugh, eyes alight— Jace's eyes cannot stay away, they are glued to your necklace, to the top of your smooth breasts — and the dress is held together in links of golden dragons, your hair made up in braids, in pearls and small emeralds, with curled strays framing your cheeks and smile, your exposed neck.

It was meant to garner looks, compliments.

But it was the colour that Jacaerys knew it was meant for him.

At the centre of your chest— your bosom that dips, two mounds, so soft looking and the urge to reach over and press his fingers down, see how soft and pliant you really are, hear the kind of noises you make, in pain or pleasure, his thoughts make him hiss, tightening his hold on his wine, pinching nails to skin to ground himself — it starts off a darken green, shifting, blending to a winter green, a bluer green, a seafoam that he is more than familiar with, before escaping the edges in deep water blue.

The colour of his father's house had never looked so good, so charming, so sinful before.

He tears his eyes away from you because it is improper to be staring so, to be looking at you and feel like he is feasting when he is rooted in his chair and still so hungry, especially with the plans of betrothal with Baela, his mother had already asked him if she is ever in his thoughts.

Baela who sits beside him, ramrod straight and keen-eyed, respectable Targaryen lady, a confidant and a good friend. She would make a good queen in the future, he had thought so before. Respectable and fearsome, the best parts of his stepfather and the late Lady Laena.

He shakes his head, swallowing down his slice of veal before he kicks Luke's leg under the table.

His brother yelps, a mournful irritated sound for his eyes had ogled far longer (just like he, but would never admit) on you than was proper, reminding him, and yet when you look up at the sound, your eyes— have they ever been so violet? — lands on him. Again.

When your gazes meet, he is enraptured, but he clears his throat and nods. "You look good, aunt." And because he cannot step, because his thoughts are cloudy and you are looking at him as if you know he can't stop looking at you, as if you can read each filthy thought he tries to stifle, as if you like it, he continues, "The sea green is a nice colour on you."

He can feel eyes on him, even the Lord Hand's. Even Aegon, goblet pressed against his lips, hiding a smirk. He burns, but he doesn't burn as bright when your smile stretches, your lids lower, and he burns so bright he fears he might be on fire.

The flames are licking him and he does not mind, so long as you keep your gaze.

"Thank you, nephew," you hum. "That is so very sweet of you to say."

And Jacaerys blushes, coughing once when he notices his lady mother giving him a look. Knowing. Curious but not probing, not yet. What he doesn't notice is the Queen's perceptive frown as she gazes at her daughter, the Lord Hand's raised eyebrow, or Aegon trying so very hard to stifle his laughter, turning to Helaena as if he is saying something to her.

But what Jacaerys does see is Aemond's intense glare, sharpened and rekindled and suspicious, and Daemon... The Rogue Prince is eyeing you differently. No longer just another Targaryen bleeding Hightower green, no longer just another offspring of the Hightower cunt.

No, Jace can almost see inside his stepfather's brain and see the Valyrian looks. The body of a woman freshly sloughed off the body of a child.

You are pretty and young and Daemon Targaryen is looking at you.

It shocks Jace how much he despises it.

It is for my mother, his thought persists even as he looks at you again and his insides whirl. I am upset for my mother.

Daemon Targaryen can see plainly what you are doing.

You've always hated that about men with good insight, who do not care for what is between your legs, only for your actions. For what it might do for what he cares about.

And Daemon cares for Rhaenyra, for Viserys, for the Targaryen legacy, pure and untainted.

(As if the blood of the First Men is okay to bastardise his bloodline but gods forbid the oldest and greatest of the Great Houses).

And he is now looking at you as if he has noticed the steps and webs you have spun around for his stepson, the direct legacy, and he is amused.

The dinner comes to a conclusion to a small dancing, and your twin, dutiful to you and your orders you had told him as you cleaned and prepared him for dinner; stood up, brushed himself off, and politely asked Baela for a dance— the latter looking so surprised he was fully sober, much less asking for her hand — that she found no excuse, and reluctantly accepted as they pivoted to the centre.

As Daemon continues to look at you, to unravel you as if you are an enemy in a battle map, you stand up quickly and turn to Aemond, smile wide and fake.

Jacaerys won't ask you to dance. He had drawn looks with his compliment, suspicion. Grandsire was right, they are planning to marry him off to Baela to strengthen their cause. Jace will not entertain anything anymore publicly.

Duty bound, honour bound.

But, but, but.

you are not a fool, you know men and their pissing contests. You are a daydream hiding a nightmare.

For the past few minutes, he had noticed Daemon's inquisitive, amused appraisal of you, and his brown eyes (pretty for a bastard's; Ser Harwin's lashes must have been long) had burned a different fire and it gives you an idea, an exhale of relief.

Jealousy can salvage anything.

You just need to push him.

And Aemond is beautiful, a true Valyrian King in visage, the Warrior come alive. You look so much softer when you are beside him.

"Sister?" Aemond looks up at you, curious, confused since the beginning of the night. There is a plot he isn't privy to, and he has been spearing glances at you, at Aegon, at his grandsire just in case he knew anything.

You were unmarried while Aegon had married Helaena. Your time is coming, and he loathes the idea of a betrothal to the Strong Bastard. He had made his complaints known when the missive came from your sister, asking sweet Helaena's hand for your son thinking your mother would have surely betrothed you to your twin.

Neither side knowing you had almost sent back your name, offering your hand.

"It has been a while since you had asked me to dance, little brother," you say, hands behind your back, framing yourself soft and playful. There are so many gazes on you, you play with it well.

"I was ten and one then, mandia sister, a boy."

"Too long," you tease. "Kessa ao daor lilagon lēda aōha mandia, valonqar? Will you not dance with your sister, little brother?"

He hums, acquiescing easily, and standing up. You peel a laughter that attracts a chuckle from the king. This is how you dance around the palm of Viserys I. Men like it when you play a part. Not to cost trouble, not to step over the line.

You aren't the elder sister, the firstborn child. You are means to further a line, not to have any important position. Rhaenyra is the exception only from the womb that bore her. You, like Helaena, are likened to fall in line and act like you like it. Like being a fat, old lord's wife has always been your dream. Bear his babes and suffer the trauma of hanging your life in the balance to produce them into the world.

It makes you burn with rage most days.

"What are you doing, mandia sister?" Aemond whispers against your cheek after having brought you close, dancing through the steps swiftly, keenly. It truly is a shame that Aemond doesn't dance oft.

"Won't you just believe and put your faith in the sister that you adore?" you snipe playfully. It's easy to use Aemond's hair to hide the glance you drop Jacaerys and see the seething glare he burns through your baby brother's head. Lust, yearn, jealousy— they dance and cook in his gaze. You giggle despite yourself.

"Grandsire will not allow you to marry that bastard," Aemond hums, unable to hide his irritation. You roll your eyes. Clever little brothers.

"As much love as I can grasp from my heart for our grandsire, valonqar, I am a dragon. I will take what I want. A tower is nothing to dragonfire. Grandsire oft forgets I am a princess of the realm and he is only a lord." You step back and bow as the song ends, as your father tires and wishes to go to bed. He only stays this long, or even leaves his chambers, when Rhaenyra decides to deign Kings Landing with her presence.

Always more for the heir. More effort, more love, more care.

And what is left for the other daughters of Viserys I?

He remembers Helaena's existence less, and if you do not make it a point to visit him everyday— to entertain him, read to him, laugh at being mistaken for Rhaenyra — you are sure you will be nothing more than a faint dream to him.

Your anger licked dark and green. Inside, it rages.

You watch as Jacaerys Velaryon says something to his mother, a rushed farewell, an excuse— a press of your fingers against your lips as you catch his breeches are tight, that his jaw is clenched — you step closer to Aemond once more, Aegon now drifting away from Baela and back into your orbit.

"Don't worry, little brother, I do not actually desire the Strong bastard. I want his crown."

Aegon giggles breathlessly, eyeing as Aemond's eye widen a fraction before he composes himself. "And what do you need now, sister, to accomplish such a beguilingly easy task?" Aegon snorts softly. There is only a faint scent of alcohol on him. You take it as win. "He's like a green boy from a quick flash of your chest. What more your tits in full display?" He leans close, mean and adorable. "You do not want a husband who is too quick for your own pleasure."

You swat his arm, pinching the soft flesh of his stomach before Aemond fully throttles him.

"Watch your tongue," Aemond hisses, fists clenching.

"It is okay. I take no offense, he is just being silly to rile you up," you placate him, pulling your twin closer to you just as Helaena approaches, shuffling close to your other side, burying her head against your collarbone. You hum, letting her quietly choose which physical affection she can take from you.

The four Green children, missing one. Scales of the dragon they may have, green fire burning from their maws. The four Green children, miss one. Sons and daughters of Viserys I. Nothing more than wombs and seeds for his legacy.

You finally turn to Daemon's probing stare and you keep it. "Keep his family away from him," you whisper to your siblings. You do not care if he understands. At this point, even your grandsire may have an idea for your plots.

And for the crown, for his lineage, no ambition is too small.

If he can send your mother to an old, grieving man after he had butchered his first wife, what ease it is to send a granddaughter willing to dance a scandal?

"I need him alone tonight."

You do not come to him immediately, more than knowing what he is doing. Maegor's Holdfast is a fun little place, with its secrets and tunnels. You had already studied the path to his apartments beforehand, and you are there, against the hidden way, hearing him fuck his fist to the vision of you, your name dripping and spitting from his pretty red lips.

You catching him after the high, chest up and down breathing hard. There is a self-loath, a disgust. You can just read his thoughts. When you enter, he is alarmed, a sword in his hand, guarded replaced to shock at the sight of you.

"Aunt," he whispers, appalled. Lustful. Righteous.

You tilt your head, unsmiling. You guard your thoughts as you approach, hands behind your back, voice soft. "Do you always reach to completion with my name in your tongue, nephew, or is today an exception?"

Jacaerys Velaryon flinches, sword hand dipping. "I—"

You are close, a hair's breadth away. Amusingly, he is struggling with himself. His honour in one hand, his desire in another. He wants to leap away from you and pull you close.

His choice is still open.

You answer for him.

"Would you like to know whose name falls from my lips when I reach completion?" you whisper against his lips. So close but still so far. Your fists are clenched behind your back, nails drawing blood. You cannot fail now. The Rogue Prince might be wandering now, ready to yank you or kill you.

You are a viper in a vipper's nest, and Daemon Targaryen is too late to realise you only want one true victim.

Jacaerys is drawn, the shock of your words melting to make way for the flutter of his eyes and the full shudder of his body as you lick a strip across his bottom lip, staining him.

Break yourself for me, Strong Boy, you think as he opens his eyes and stares at your lips. Break your oaths, your promises.

"Whose?" he asks, voice hoarse.

The surrender is at the hands he has brought first to your hips before he rose it slowly up and up, until his warm palms cupped your jaw, your face, swallowed in his hold. It is a delight to know his hands are bigger than your face, that he is told to tower over you. A boy king grown.

"Yours."

He groans but does not let you go. "I am betrothed."

You still. Such a Good, Strong Boy, resisting until the very fucking end. "I have not heard of such announcements, nephew."

"Mother will announce soon."

"Is that what you want then?" You grip his hands and stride forward until your are chest to chest. Until he can feel every outline of your body against his, until you can feel the hard line of his manhood against your stomach. Until he feels his own body breaking his oath.

"Please, Jace," you whisper, you beg. Your eyes begin to water. "I want you to take me... Only you. I have longed for you for so long. Your mother— my sister betrothed you to me first." He leans back, surprise flitting. "Yes, my love. But my mother had refused. I— I thought you would see it nevertheless. The affection in my gaze, the smile I give only to you. That I am offering my heart, my soul, my body to you. Only to you, Jacaerys."

Your tears are running down now, your voice so soft and so desperate. Where lust had clouded him, it is now tinged with a flattered adoration.

Men are so simple. Boys far simpler.

"I thought you knew," you say at last in a voice as broken as your heart. You take his hands away and step back. He grasps but you turn away, a sob wracks from your chest as fake as when you were a child, trying not to get in trouble with your mother so she can fire the septa that you hated. She had sneered at Aegon's drunken folly and was disgusted by Aemond's fresh wound.

You wanted her gone.

"Aunt, I—"

"It is alright," you cut him off. You turn back slightly, your smile watery, your gaze to the floor. "Aegon did not choose me either, unlovable as I am. Men only want me for my body and nothing more. I-I'll leave you be. Good night—"

You never finish your spiel because he had yanked you, hard, against him, his lips moving against yours— clumsily, not enough practice but aggressive in its desire — pressing you against him as if he is trying to swallow you whole.

Jacaerys is not bowing, not yet. But that night with his seed warm and full inside your womb, his body encased against your own, tightening whenever you made a movement, as if in fear any step you take away from him would slip you so freely from his fingers— his mouth, his lips, bruised by your own making, pressing featherlight soft against the side of your head, your hair — it is not too soon to think the boy king will bend the knee to you and only you.

And maybe the babe you bear him, but there is no need to rush. These steps are delicate but sure.

After all, he has only just cemented the thought that he will whisk you both to Dragonstone at first light, a traditional Old Valyrian wedding.

He will bow soon enough.

For now, you will enjoy your glowing win.

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lesservillain · 2 months

Text

borrowing.

Steve wasn't a pervert.

Sure, he's done some unsavory things in his younger years that he's not proud of. But he's never been the type to take advantage of a woman. He's not like some of his guy friends who look down women's shirts or touched someone without their permission.

Call him a pussy or a feminist, but that shit makes him sick to his stomach.

And yet...

"Fuck your pussy tastes so good."

Steve pants against the crotch of your panties. The fabric hugs his face tight as he breathes in your scent, his nose tenting the cotton fabric. His lips hold the crotch between them as he sucks and licks the damp material until your juices coat his tongue and then some.

His eyes open for a moment, looking out the leg hole to check his surroundings for bystanders. His beemer sits in the far corner of the YMCA facing the back of a gas station. It's not where he had originally parked when he arrived for his work out today. A work out he didn't even get to, all because he bumped into you.

He's noticed you ever since he got the membership with Robin. Their goal was to attend 3 days a week together per Robin's request. Something about wanting not wanting to gain the freshman fifteen when she started her semester.

But school quickly became overwhelming for her and Steve found himself going to the gym by himself.Without Robin to distract him, Steve started paying attention to some of the people at the gym.

It was just a couple passing glances at first, not wanting to be one of those guys who stares at girls while they work out. He couldn't deny you were beautiful though. And when you approached him one day after it was just you and him in the gym, he felt that there was chemistry between the two of you. You laughed at his dumb jokes, engaged him with personal questions...hell you even touched his arm with your hand.

Your friendliness expanded beyond that day, too. If he didn't say hi to you first, you were approaching him to wish him a good workout. You'd even brought him "counter productive" donuts one day because he said he loved the local shop.

It was safe to say Steve had become completely head over heels for you over the last few months. And he totally has plans to ask you out. He really does. But, after all the failed dates he had been on since high school...he was almost afraid to jinx what the two of you had going on.

Today was going to be the day though. Or...it was supposed to be.

He was running late getting to the gym this morning, bad traffic on the commute to drop Robin off to her classes put him an hour behind schedule. So as he pushed through the YMCA doors with haste, silently praying to himself that you'd not left yet, he accidentally ran full speed into a body as they were leaving.

"Woah!"

Steve recognized your voice. It pulls him out of his head, focusing on your frame before him. He's bummed to see you in your work uniform, obviously done with your work out for the day.

"Sorry I didn't mean to almost knock you down," he apologizes, looking you over to make sure you're okay.

"It's okay," you reassure him, your bright smile making his heart ache. "I thought I wasn't going to see you today, so running into me is better than nothing!"

"Ugh, yeah, I really was trying to get here earlier but traffic and--and, life! Ya know?"

You nod sweetly. "Totally!"

"Yeah..." Steve's heart thumped in his chest. He didn't need to suffer through a whole work out routine before asking you out. He could ask you out right now. And if you rejected him, he'd be able to walk away and inevitably cancel his gym membership since he'd never be able to show his face again in this establishment.

Or, you would say yes, and he could walk you to your car so you could give him your number on a napkin you keep in your glove box in case of emergencies.

"Well, I guess I'll see you on Friday," you say after a beat of silence. Steve felt the words on the tip of his tongue. But, when your hand landed on his arm with a squeeze, he froze in place. All he could muster was a weak goodbye before you were pushing out the second set of double doors and walking to your car.

He waited to make sure you got in okay before letting out the breath he had been holding. His head slumped in defeat. What happened to the crown that sat on his head when he was in high school? Was it because he wanted something real with you?

There wasn't much dwelling on the subject as a bundle of pink just a few inches away from his feet caught his eye. Steve's eyebrow quirked, and he crouched down to grab...whatever it was.

The material felt soft but wet in his hands. He cringed a bit until the material unfurled in his hands, revealing to be a pair of pink, skimpy panties. The initial shock had him almost dropping the panties, but a split second closer look had him twitching slightly in his pants.

The underwear was yours. They must have fallen out of your gym bag when he bumped into you.

He knew they were yours because he'd see them peaking out of your work out shorts when you were bending down to tie your shoe. He didn't look on purpose, you'd just happened to have stopped in front of him and he saw them. He told himself it was on purpose when he touched himself that night, but deep down he knew it wasn't.

The door almost came off its hinges with how hard he pulled it open, making a bee line to his car. He slammed the car door shut and locked it, giving a quick look around before he was ducking down just out of view.

He breathed in deeply as he inhaled the scent of your panties, exhaling with a groan as your smell infiltrated his nostrils. It felt like he took a hit from a drug. He could practically taste you on his tongue when he went in for another sniff.

Flipping the underwear so that the crotch was resting between his hands, Steve's mouth watered at the sight of the creamy white that painted the pink fabric. His tongue darted out slightly, eyes darting around again as the nerves set in. This wasn't like Steve, but he blamed the way you drive him crazy on the dirty thoughts that were running through his head.

Just as he was about to act on them, the sight of a person walking out of the building had him hesitating. He placed your panties in his passenger seat and started his car, moving to the back of the building in a far off spot that was less traveled and slamming it into park.

Once the coast was clear, Steve wasted no time bringing his tongue to your underwear and lapping at it messily. He whined as your taste hit his tongue, and suddenly his pants were way too tight on his crotch.

This wasn't like him he thought to himself. Not that he hadn't had a hook up or two out by Lover's Lake. But to do what he was considering in such a public place went against his morals...

Your panties sit between Steve's teeth as he undoes his belt. He has to scoot his seat back or else his hard cock will just bump against the steering wheel. He pumps himself a few times in his hand, squeezing some of his precum out of his tip and using is to lube himself.

Steve sucks in a breath as he starts to fist himself. He holds the panties against his face as he begins to imagine your pussy on his face. His imagination runs wild as he thinks about all the ways he would eat you out, your pussy right in his face waiting for him to run his tongue through.

"Such a pretty pussy," he says to himself.

Without much thinking, he pauses his jerking to take the panties and stretch them out, hooking under his chin and pulling them until they're taught over his face.

With his free hand, he's able to cup his sensitive balls as he jerks himself with more vigor. He doesn't know how long he's at it, too engulfed in his pleasure to care about the passing time. All he can think about is making you cum all over his face and thanking you after.

Steve's hips buck into his hands. He can feel his climax approaching, his hand focusing on his tip as he brings himself to the edge.

Just as he's about to come, Steve pulls your panties off of his face and wraps them about his cock. He does the best he can to aim for the crotch where he has completely saturated it with it with his own saliva, cumming hard into the bunched up fabric.

After a moment of coming down, Steve slumps back into his seat. Guilt begins to wash over him as he looks at the sticky mess he's turned your sweet pink panties into. How could he even face you, let alone ask you out after what he's done?

Steve shoved your underwear into his gym bag. He didn't think he could give them back, even if the thought of you wearing them after he's cum in them made him almost half hard again. He would just throw them away in a dumpster somewhere...or he could wash them and--

thanks for reading.

#steve harrington #perv!steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb

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rynwritesreid · 3 months

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Apologies| Spencer Reid

A/N: Before I watched CM the only American crime show I watched was Bones, and I wish that they had a crossover at some point(Bones and Spencer, Booth and Hotch, pls). I have also started re-watching English crime shows, Lewis specifically, and I forgot how good they are but I will always view scandis as the superior crime show writers, because can you get better than the killing and jordskott?!

Summary: After a breakup with Spencer, you notice how he only flirts with other people when you’re around. However, when you give Spencer a taste of his own medicine, he realises it will always just be you, and no other woman will ever come close to you.

Content: fem! Reader. Make up sex. Oral (f! Receiving). No mentions of contraception. PinV. Smut. Fluff. Mentions of a breakup and then getting back together. 18+

Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation

It wasn’t a rough, or hostile, breakup, you two still loved each other, but for whatever reason you just seemed to stop communicating with each other, and that seemed to lead to the breakdown of your relationship. You still worked well together, and as you promised Hotch when the two of you started dating, you never let your relationship affect your work.

However, Spencer seemed to enjoy openly flirting with other women when you were around, and it was an obvious attempt to make you jealous, but you were not going to let him win. You wanted to give Spencer a taste of his own medicine, show him how it felt.

One evening, as you sat at the bar of a local pub, nursing a drink and observing the patrons around you, an idea formed in your mind. A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you spotted a handsome stranger sitting alone at a nearby table. He seemed lost in thought, a certain air of mystery surrounding him.

You began a casual conversation with the stranger, making witty remarks and laughing at his jokes. The exchange was light-hearted, devoid of any deeper meaning. Unbeknownst to you, Spencer had been observing your interaction from afar. He couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy bubbling inside him. As much as he wanted to appear unaffected, he couldn't deny the pang of possessiveness that gripped his heart.

He watched as you leaned closer to the stranger, your laughter fading into a whisper. His jaw clenched, and he suddenly felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. The unfamiliar sensation was unsettling, a mix of anger and longing.

Unable to bear it any longer, Spencer excused himself from the table he had been observing you from and made his way across the pub. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if he were dragging an anchor behind him. The sound of his heart pounding filled his ears, drowning out the din of the pub around him.

As Spencer approached the table, his eyes never left yours. The stranger turned to face him, a curious yet guarded expression on his face.

"Mind if I join you?" Spencer asked, his voice steady despite the swirling emotions within him.

The stranger shrugged, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. "Be my guest."

Spencer pulled out a chair and took a seat, careful to keep his composure despite the tumultuous storm roaring within him. He glanced at the stranger, trying to decipher what you had found so intriguing about him. The man exuded an air of confidence and mystery that seemed to draw you in.

The conversation continued, but this time there was an underlying tension that filled the air. Both Spencer and the stranger engaged in a battle of wits, each trying to outdo the other with clever remarks and subtle jabs. It was a dance of words, laced with hidden meanings.

You watched the exchange unfold, your mischievous smile growing wider. You couldn't help but relish in the power shift that was taking place before your eyes. The atmosphere crackled with an electric energy, charged by the unspoken competition between Spencer and the stranger. It was as if they were fighting for your attention, vying for a part of you that had been neglected.

The conversation escalated into a sophisticated game of verbal chess. Words ricocheted across the table, each remark glinting with double entendre. The stranger's eyes sparkled with amusement, seemingly enjoying the challenge that Spencer presented. And yet, beneath his composed facade, Spencer's hands trembled slightly, betraying his inner turmoil.

“Well, I am enjoying this conversation, it’s getting pretty late, so I am going to head home now.” You said, standing up from the table with a sly grin. Both Spencer and the stranger looked at you, momentarily stunned by the abrupt end to their battle of wits.

"But the night is still young," the stranger replied, his voice laced with a hint of disappointment.

You chuckled, enjoying the power you held over both men. "Perhaps another time," you teased, shooting a playful wink at Spencer before turning to leave.

Spencer's eyes followed you as you walked away, a mixture of frustration and longing etched on his face. He had wanted to prove himself, to show you that he was worthy of your attention. But now, it seemed as though he had only pushed you further away.

The stranger cleared his throat, breaking Spencer out of his reverie. "Quite the woman you have there," he commented, a touch of admiration in his voice.

Spencer nodded absentmindedly, unable to tear his gaze away from your retreating figure. "Yes, she is certainly something," Spencer replied, his voice laced with a mix of resignation and determination. “As she said, it is getting late, so I also better be heading back home.”

The stranger watched as Spencer stood up from the table, his eyes filled with a newfound determination. "Good luck," the stranger called after him, a hint of sympathy colouring his voice.

Spencer nodded in acknowledgment, his mind already racing with thoughts of how to win you back. He had been foolish to let things deteriorate to this point, to let his own insecurities drive a wedge between you. But now, he was ready to fight for what he realized he couldn't bear to lose.

As Spencer made his way back home, his mind was consumed with thoughts of how to repair the damage he'd caused. He knew he couldn't let his insecurities continue to sabotage his relationship with you. The evening's encounter at the pub had been a wake-up call, a jolt to his system that reminded him of what truly mattered.

Upon entering his apartment, Spencer took a deep breath, determined to set things right. He grabbed his phone and dialled your number, hoping that you would answer and give him a chance to explain himself. The phone rang once, twice, before you finally picked up.

"Hey," you greeted cautiously, your voice tinged with curiosity.

"Hi," Spencer replied, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice. "I... I wanted to talk."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line before you spoke again. "Alright. Come over."

Relief flooded through Spencer as he hung up the phone and quickly made his way over to your apartment.

As Spencer stood outside your apartment door, he took a deep breath to steady his racing heart. He knew that this conversation would be pivotal, a make-or-break moment for the two of you. With newfound determination, he raised his hand and knocked on the door.

The sound reverberated through the hallway, each rap echoing with anticipation. Seconds ticked by, and Spencer began to doubt if you would actually let him in. Just as he was about to turn away, the door creaked open, revealing your figure framed in the soft glow of the hallway light.

You looked at him, a mixture of curiosity and caution in your eyes. "Come in," you said softly, stepping aside to let him enter.

Spencer walked into your apartment, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over him. The familiar scent of your home enveloped him, bringing back memories of happier times.

“What did you want to talk about, Spencer?”

Spencer took a moment to gather his thoughts, his gaze lingering on you. “Us. I want to talk about us. Was your intention to make me jealous tonight?”

You raised an eyebrow, slightly taken aback by Spencer's directness. "Jealous? No, that wasn't my intention. I was merely enjoying a friendly conversation."

“Sure, but you enjoyed it. Didn’t you? Watching two men fight over you.”

You paused for a moment, considering Spencer's question. "Maybe I did," you admitted, your voice softening. "But it wasn't about wanting to make you jealous. It was about wanting to see if you still cared enough to fight for me."

Spencer's eyes widened, realization dawning on him. "I do care, more than you can imagine," he confessed, his voice filled with earnestness.

“Really? Why have you been flirting with other women, every chance you get?”

Spencer's eyes widened at your accusation, his heart sinking. He had hoped that you hadn't noticed his behaviour, that somehow, he could keep his insecurities hidden. But now, faced with your piercing gaze, he knew he couldn't hide any longer.

"I... I didn't mean for it to seem like flirting," Spencer stammered, his voice tinged with regret. "I was just... I don't know, trying to prove something to myself." He took a step closer to you, desperation etched on his face. "But it was never about not wanting you or needing someone else. It was about my own fears and insecurities getting the better of me."

You looked at him, a mix of frustration and understanding crossing your face. "But flirting with other women won't solve anything, Spencer. It only pushes me further away."

“I get that now, but it will always just be you. And seeing you flirt with that man, made me realise I can’t lose you; I can never lose you.” Spencer took a deep breath, his voice filled with sincerity.

“I don’t want to lose you either, I love you Spencer, and I don’t think I will ever stop loving you.”

Spencer's eyes widened at your confession, a mixture of surprise and relief washing over him. He had been so afraid that his actions had pushed you too far, that he had lost you for good. But in that moment, as your words hung in the air, he knew that there was still hope.

"I love you too," Spencer whispered, his voice filled with tenderness. "And I promise, from this moment on, I will do everything in my power to make it right. To show you that you're the only one I want."

You believed him, he wasn’t the type of person to lie about this stuff. He moved closer to you, his hand reaching out and cupping your chin gently. His touch was warm, his eyes filled with sincerity as he leaned in to kiss you softly.

The kiss, filled with longing and forgiveness, spoke volumes more than words ever could. In that moment, the weight of their insecurities and misunderstandings lifted, leaving only the love they held for each other.

As the kiss deepened, Spencer's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. Every brush of his lips against yours was a reminder of the passion they shared, of the promises they made to each other.

When you finally pulled apart, your breaths mingling in the air, Spencer rested his forehead against yours. "I'm so sorry," he whispered hoarsely. "I never want to hurt you like that again."

You reached up, running your fingers through his hair soothingly. "I believe you," you said softly. His lips once again found yours in a tender embrace, and the world outside ceased to exist. In that moment, it was just the two of you, wrapped in a love that had weathered storms and emerged stronger than ever.

Spencer wasn’t going to let this kiss end though, he couldn’t. He would never be able to find someone like you, you were his soulmate, and nothing would ever stop him loving you.

The kiss deepened, becoming a passionate dance of love and desire. Spencer's hands roamed over your body, tracing the familiar curves and contours he knew so well. The room filled with the sound of heavy breathing and soft moans as the intensity between you grew.

As the kiss broke, you both gasped for air, your chests heaving with a mixture of anticipation and longing. Spencer's eyes locked with yours, his gaze filled with an unspoken promise. He had made up his mind to fight for your love, to be a better partner than he had been before.

"I don't want to lose you," Spencer whispered, his voice laced with determination. "I can't imagine my life without you. Let me make it right."

You searched his eyes, seeing the sincerity and love shining back at you. The doubts that had plagued your mind began to crumble, replaced by a renewed hope for the future.

“How will you go about making it right?” you said with a hint of mischief in your eyes and a small smirk on your lips.

Spencer grinned back at you, a spark in his eyes. "Trust me, you're going to love what I have in store for us."

“Oh really?” you replied, raising an eyebrow playfully.

As Spencer led you into the living room, he gently pushed you onto the couch, the cushions sinking under your weight. He stood in front of you, his eyes locked on yours, a determined look in his eyes.

"I don't want to lose you," he whispered again, his voice low and filled with sincerity. "I promise to be better. I promise to be the man you deserve, the partner you need, and the lover you want."

You looked into his eyes, searching for the truth in his words. You could see the sincerity there, the resolution to make things right. You could see the love that had never truly waned, that had always been there, waiting for you to see it.

"Okay, Spencer," you said softly, a small smile playing on your lips. "I trust you. Show me how you're going to make it right."

Spencer's grin widened as he moved closer to you, his eyes filled with mischief and excitement. He reached out, gently trailing his fingers along your cheek, his touch leaving a trail of tingling sensation in its wake.

"I'm going to remind you of just how much you mean to me," Spencer whispered, his voice filled with desire. "Every touch, every kiss, will be a testament to my love for you."

His lips descended upon yours once more, this time with a renewed fervour. The kiss was hungry and passionate, as if both of you were trying to convey all the emotions that had been left unsaid during those tumultuous times. Spencer's hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves and dips that he had missed so much.

You responded eagerly, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him closer. A soft moan escaped your lips as his hands found their way under your shirt, his fingertips gently grazing your skin. The warmth between you intensified, a magnetic attraction pulling you closer together.

As the kiss broke, both of you were gasping for air, your hearts pounding in sync with the rhythm of your desires. You looked into each other's eyes, the love and trust shining brightly, a beacon of hope for the future.

"I'm ready," you whispered, your voice filled with earnestness. "Show me how you're going to make it right, Spencer. I'm ready to trust you and be with you, no matter what."

Spencer smiled, a look of pure joy and relief washing over his face. He gently lifted you into his arms, carrying you effortlessly towards the bedroom. The anticipation in the air was palpable, fuelled by the love that had brought you both to this moment.

Upon reaching the bedroom, he laid you down on the soft sheets, the cool fabric brushing against your skin. His eyes locked with yours, filled with the determination to make amends. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead, as he smothered your face with kisses.

Your body responded to his touch, each kiss igniting a fire within you that hadn't been felt in what felt like forever. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake. You moaned softly, the desire taking over your senses.

"You're mine now," Spencer growled, his voice low and filled with possessiveness. "You're going to belong to me, completely and utterly."

His lips found yours once more, his hands exploring every curve of your body. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, wanting him to know just how much you wanted him. The passion between you was palpable, electric.

"I'll never let you go, I promise," he whispered against your lips. "You're mine, and I'll do everything in my power to make sure you know that."

His hands found the zip of your dress, and slowly pulled it down, revealing your trembling body beneath. Your heart was pounding, your breaths were shallow, as you looked into his eyes. He had a look of determination, a look that told you he was ready to make things right.

He continued to kiss you, his hands trailing down your arms, your waist, and finally to your hips. He lifted you slightly, and with one swift motion, your dress fell to the floor. You were standing there, naked, vulnerable, and exposed, but you knew that he wouldn't waste this moment.

He led you back to the bed, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with the promise to make it right. He lowered you onto the soft sheets, his eyes never leaving yours. His lips found yours in a fiery kiss, his hands roaming your body, caressing every inch of your skin.

You could feel your heart racing, your breath hitched in your throat, as you knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for. The moment where he would show you how much he loved you, how much he wanted to make things right.

His lips trailed down your neck, his hands gently caressing your skin, making you shiver in pleasure. You moaned softly, your body responding to his touch. He could feel the desire building between you, the electricity of your connection.

His hands worked their way down to your waist, his fingers trailing along your hips, down to your thighs. He gently spread your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. You could see the love and trust in his eyes, the desire to make it right.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your inner thigh, his breath warm and tantalizing. You arched your back slightly, inviting him closer, wanting him to explore every inch of you.

His tongue danced along your skin, his lips leaving a trail of kisses. You moaned softly, your breaths shallow, your heart pounding with anticipation. You could feel your body responding to his touch, the desire building within you.

He continued his exploration, his tongue delving deeper, his lips leaving kisses along your skin. You could feel your body trembling, your senses heightened, as his hands continued to explore your skin. He knew exactly what he was doing, how to make you feel alive and desired.

His tongue found its way to your clit, his lips softly sucking and caressing it. Your breath hitched in your throat, your moans growing louder. You could feel your body building towards the edge, the desire and lust coursing through your veins.

He continued his ministrations, his hands exploring your body, his tongue delving deeper. You could feel your orgasm building, the intensity of your pleasure growing with each passing moment.

You arched your back even more, your body trembling with pleasure, as you knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for. The moment where he would show you how much he loved you, how much he wanted to make things right.

Your orgasm slammed into you like a wave, your body shaking uncontrollably, your pleasure reaching new heights. You cried out his name, your moans echoing throughout the room. He continued to please you, his tongue never leaving your most sensitive spot, as you soared towards your peak.

Your scream filled the air as you came, your body convulsing with pleasure. Spencer continued to pleasure you, his hands exploring every inch of your body, his tongue never leaving your clit. He was determined to make it up to you, to show you just how much he cared.

As your orgasm subsided, you could still feel the aftershocks reverberating through your body. You took a deep breath, turning to look at Spencer, who was still between your legs, his fingers gently wiping away the remnants of your release.

He wasn’t done though, he wanted to ensure that you knew just how much he loved you, how much he wanted to make things right. He slowly lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours, filled with a mix of love, desire, and determination.

Swiftly, he stood up, his gaze never leaving yours. He began to undress himself, revealing his toned body and hardness that had been growing throughout your passion. You could feel the desire building within you again, your heart racing at the thought of what he was about to do.

He climbed back onto the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He positioned himself between your legs, his hardness pressing against you. You could feel the anticipation building within you, the desire and love between you both intense.

With a single motion, he entered you, his body fitting perfectly against yours. You gasped, your body responding to his touch. He began to move, his rhythm perfect, his movements slow and measured.

Your eyes locked onto his, the love and trust shining brightly between you. You could feel his determination, his need to make things right. This was the moment you had been waiting for, the moment where he would show you just how much he loved you.

He increased his pace, his body moving faster and harder. You moaned softly, your breath hitched in your throat, as the passion between you both intensified. Your body responded to his touch, every movement sending waves of pleasure through you.

His eyes never left yours, his love for you shining brightly in his gaze. You felt his determination, his need to make things right. The feeling of his body against yours was intoxicating, sending a wave of pleasure through your entire being.

Your breaths grew shallower, your moans growing louder. You could feel your orgasm building, the intensity of your pleasure growing with each passing moment. You arched your back, your body trembling with desire, as you knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for.

His thrusts became more frenzied, his body trembling with the same desire that was pulsing through yours. You could feel the tension building within him, the need to reach the peak together. He knew that the only way to make it right was to share this moment with you, to feel the passion and love between you both.

With one final thrust, he collapsed onto you, his breath ragged, his body trembling with the aftershocks of the intense orgasm. You cried his name, your body still shaking from the pleasure that had just washed over you.

He pulled out of you, his gaze never leaving yours. He leaned down, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss. You knew that this was the moment he had been waiting for, the moment where he had made things right. His love and desire for you were clear in every touch, every kiss, every movement.

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827 notes · View notes

wardenparker · 4 months

Text

New Year's Surprise

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, baby girl.” Jack inhales sharply, stealing your breath as he tries to rein himself in, throbbing violently inside you. If it weren’t for the fact that he had promised you a rodeo, he would be cumming, overwhelmed by how hot and tight you are. You’re perfect, just like he always imagined. “You be a good girl and take my cock, m’kay?”

Good girl is another one of those sticking points for you just like getting your ass slapped, and if Jack had no idea before, he certainly does now, from the way your cunt just spasmed around his length and you moaned like you were coming all over again.

“Ohhhhhh.” Jack’s eyes nearly cross and he gives a particularly sharp thrust when you clamp down around him. “You like that.” He pants out. “You’re my good girl?”

“S’not fair,” you huff, throwing him a playful pout that gets cut by another shaky moan. “You’re finding all the buttons I like pushed way too easily.”

“You haven’t - fuck - figured out my buttons yet, sugar?” Jack ducks his head down and slides the arm not underneath you down your hip and thigh to pull it up higher. Sinking deeper into you with a moan of your name.

“Liking to have your cock sucked doesn’t—fuck!— count,” you tell him, back arching as he hits a new angle inside you.

He chuckles and licks at your pulse before he nips at your skin with his teeth. Fingers digging into your pillowy flesh and groans when you clench around him again.

Finding a rhythm is as easy as breathing. Being with him is so much more natural and intuitive than you dreamt it would be. Your natural tendency to be a little rougher is equaled by his enthusiasm for making the bedroom a loud and raucous experience. There’s no hiding from each other or demurring, not once you get going. It’s like something inside you has finally been unlocked after a lifetime of waiting — waiting for Jack to come along with the key that would open you up.

If it surprises Jack that you are wild in bed, it’s probably the best goddamn surprise he’s ever gotten. His back burns from the raking of your nails when he hits deep. He fucking loves it. Your wildness makes him go absolutely feral over you.

It’s the opposite of who you are in everyday life. A version of you just for him. A version of you that leaves your worries outside the circle of your bodies and embraces sex as something carefree. Which, if you’re honest, isn’t really how you’ve felt about sex with anyone besides Jack. (edited)

His lips and teeth map every inch that he can reach as he pumps in and out of you frantically. Trying to keep the pace hard and fast because every time your cunt clenches, his hips stutter from how fucking tight you are. “Fuck, my good girl.” He growls. “So fucking tight.”

“So fucking big,” you give back, starting to pant heavier and more unevenly. There’s a whine forming in the back of your throat that you can’t hold back and you bite down on the juncture of Jack’s shoulder as your legs threaten to shake all over again. You’re so close to cumming but you don’t want this to end.

Jack changes the tempo, slowing down and grinding his pelvis against your clit. “You gonna cum for me, baby girl?” He rasps out. “Cum on Jack’s big ‘ole cock and soak me?”

"So—oh, fuck—close, baby." The way you feel right now, you might actually fall apart at the seams when you cum again, but it will be worth it. It will be worth just knowing first hand how gorgeous Jack looks when he follows you over the edge. "Don't stop. Don't fucking stop, Jack."

“Never.” Jack growls, smashing his teeth together and hissing at the way you claw and writhe under him. It’s like taming a feral cat in a pillowcase and he loves it. Your thighs are crushing his hips and all he can do is imagine them around his head. “Cum for me.”

A half dozen thrusts later, your cunt is clenching down on his cock and pulsing with a fierce orgasm that has your thighs tensing at his waist and your back bowing off the bed. Everything seems to be happening at the top of however it possibly could, and that includes the way you cry his name into the night before collapsing back into his sheets with your arms and legs still around him, willing him to follow you to bliss.

Jack moans your name, pants it again against your lips. His brow knitted in concentration as he tries to last. His body tightening and tensing as his pleasure builds to that almost painful precipice. His heart pounding, but not because of the physical exertion, but because of the almost loving look on your eyes. “Love you.” He moans, right as his lips crash against yours and he breathes it into your mouth again. “Love you.”

You freeze under him, but Jack is too caught in his bliss to tell. Like a bucket of water has been splashed over the bubble of this night and popped that shell keeping you separate from the world. Did he just...? There's no way. There's just absolutely no way at all. You must have imagined it. Wished for it so desperately that you hallucinated the words. Because otherwise you're not quite sure what you'll do — because Jack has never lied to you. But he's also never given you any reason to think your feelings might be requited.

Caught up in his orgasm, Jack rides wave after wave of complete bliss as he empties himself into you, metaphorically and physically. Giving you every bit of himself as he finally acknowledges the truth of why he has always kept you at arms length. His love for you terrifying him, but right now, he’s flying. Collapsing into your arms and panting out your name as he catches his breath.

There's nothing you can do with this shock except bury it, holding him and gently stroking his hair while he catches his breath with his head on your chest. You imagined it, you remind yourself silently, blinking back tears at how much you wish it was true.

The whiskey, the emotions and the exertion have Jack cuddly and sleepy as he comes down from his orgasm. “Fuck, baby girl.” He hums, kissing your neck as he slowly pulls out of you and shifts to your side to roll you over with him. “Wore me out.” He chuckles. “But gave a hell of a ride.”

He tucks you into his arms to be his little spoon, not letting you get away for even a second. Any other time? This would have been thrilling. "Get some sleep, baby." Returning the pet name seems innocent enough, and you reach back to run your fingers through his hair gently. "You earned it."

His eyes are closed when he shoots you a sleepy grin. “Talk when we wake up, sugar.” He promises, fingers stroking your skin softly.

That promise might be why you sleep so fitfully in the night to follow. Why you're so wound up that when your Statesman issued phone chirps from your purse on his floor around 6:30 in the morning, your eyes open immediately. Jack has turned over in the night, sleeping on his back now with one arm still around you but not so tightly that you can't extract yourself to answer the message. That phone is used only for missions and confidential communication, meaning you absolutely cannot ignore it. Incoming Message: Agent Rye report immediately for mission briefing. CODE BLACK. Code Black. You curse under your breath, careful not to wake Jack, and rub one hand down your face in dismay. That level of secrecy in a mission assignment means you can't even wake him up to say goodbye. You're supposed to speak to no one, just proceed immediately to the nearest Statesman branch for your mission briefing. With a sigh and another, more colorful curse, you shake your head and glance back at the bed where Jack is sleeping soundly. There's nothing to do but get dressed and Walk of Shame your ass into the office. You just wish you could wake him up to say goodbye.

It’s been years since Jack has slept so well. Deep and dreamless, none of the nightmares that often plague his rest. The soft scent of you surrounding him and soothing him like nothing he’s had in a long time. When his eyes open, he’s feeling like he’s had the best sleep of his life. Frowning when he doesn’t feel you next to him. Calling out your name softly in case you were in the bathroom. “Rye? Sugar?”

There's no trace of you anywhere. He may as well have come home alone last night, except for the scent of you in the air and the scratches on his back. It's almost an insult when he sees a fallen sequin on the rug where your dress had been tossed.

“Fuck.” Jack’s slipped out of plenty of beds, ducked out and kept walking. The walk of shame was never shameful when there was a little bit of pep to his step, but right now, he’s pissed. Pissed you didn’t have the fucking balls to wake him before you slipped off like a thief in the night. Snatching up his pants, he digs into the pocket for his phone, dialing your number and ready to have it out with you.

"Hi! Sorry I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I'm able!" Your voicemail message is insultingly chipper when it picks up right away, almost taunting him. Like you aren't willing to talk, when nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Fuck!” Jack shouts, throwing the phone and scowling angrily. Pissed that you aren’t here, that you apparently don’t want to talk to him. “Fine, you regret it? Fuck you too.” He growls and stomps into the bathroom to shower. If you wanted nothing to do with him after he had let down his walls last night, he wants nothing to do with you either.

******

"What's got you all chewed up and spat out today?" Tequila raises an eyebrow at Jack when he comes huffing into the office, a little late and a lot pissed off. He had expected Jack to be in a stellar mood.

“Not a goddamn thing.” Even though his feathers are ruffled, Jack practically refuses to even think about you. To the point where he had thrown the sheets and the costly Tom Ford tuxedo away. “Whadda we got?” Desperate to concentrate on a mission, he jumps straight into business.

"Wingman prep." Tequila tells him, tapping the folder on his own desktop. "Somebody got tapped this morning and Champ wants us to comb some old mission files to prep for an extraction. Plan B sorta shit." And since all of the mission-ready agents on the Statesman payroll are top notch with years of experience under their belts, anyone potentially needing an extraction from a mission is a big fucking deal.

“Who got tapped?” Jack asks, grabbing a file and flipping it open with a frown on his face. “Scotch?”

"I thought you'd know already." Tequila's eyes snap back up to Jack in concern. "It was Rye."

Jack freezes and slowly lifts his eyes from the file to find Tequila frowning at him, confused by how he doesn’t know. “Why would I know that?” Jack asks after a moment. It explains why your phone was off, but you had still slipped out without saying a fucking word.

"Because...you went home with her last night?" Everybody knows that you and Jack left the party. Absolutely everyone. There was a whole extra celebration after you left. "Figured you woulda known by her getting up this morning and all."

There’s a split second where Jack wants to snap that you had left him to wake up alone, but he doesn’t. What comes out of his mouth instead, is to deny the whole thing. “Took her home.” Jack shrugs, lying easily as if he couldn’t care less. “She wanted to soak in a bath and read some book.”

The frown on Tequila's face deepens measurably, pure confusion marring his usually chipper face. "Bullshit," he huffs, leaning back in his desk chair. "I saw you kiss her. No way."

“Believe what you want.” Jack snaps flatly. “Where are we in planning the back up plans?” The hurt is soothed slightly by you being called away, but it doesn’t make it nonexistent. You hadn’t even left a goddamn message for him. He could have seen not waking him if you had left some sign that you didn’t regret the night even happened.

"Early stages." Knowing better than to poke the dragon when he's mad about something, Tequila defers to work like Jack clearly wants. "Tell me what you think, but I think me on the ground and you in the Silver Pony is the best bet." Whatever happened between you and Jack, the man is clearly hurt, and Tequila makes a note to go and talk to Ginger when he gets his next chance. If you had said anything to anyone, it would be to her.

“Whatever.” Jack practically rolls his eyes and shrugs. Usually he loves the opportunity to fly and show off in the Silver Pony, but he’s so worked up over you that he doesn’t even bat an eyelash. “Guess that’s the plan. If needed.”

“If needed.” All Tequila does is nod, but damn he really needs to talk to Ginger.

******

Jack holes up in his office, barely answering the phone and not leaving it all day, not even for lunch. Catching up on paperwork that is normally never done as he works through not being at home. Not remembering how you tasted and sounded last night. He’s even refused to pull up your camera footage, not wanting to see what you are doing. He’s miserable and is determined to stay that way.

“Thought I’d find you in here.” Champ’s gruff voice cuts through the silence long after everyone else has gone home for the night. He knew exactly where Jack would be. Especially after Tequila said the senior agent was out of sorts. “Come up to my office, Jack. We’re gonna have a drink.” It’s not a suggestion or a request. This is a direct order from this commander, and Champ turns around and heads back down the hall knowing Jack will follow.

Jack sighs and sets his pen down, ripping the reading glasses off his face and tossing them down on the folder. He had stayed cooped up in his office so he didn’t take his bad mood out on anyone so he doesn’t see why he needs to be called out onto the carpet. Still, he pushes back from his desk and follows the older man to the conference room Champ preferred over his official office. The bar cart in here was better stocked.

“Pick your poison.” Champ tells him, motioning for Jack to sit down at the conference table as he strolls over to the cart to grab a bottle and two glasses.

“Whatever your havin’.” Jack wonders what this is about, but he doesn’t ask. Just waits patiently for his boss to get to the reason in his own sweet time.

Champ grunts slightly, grabbing a bottle of ‘74 Reserve, and brings it to the table. He pours two fingers in each glass and slides one over to set in front of Jack before sitting down beside him and taking a sip from his own glass. “You’ve been hidin’ today,” he assesses after a moment of silence. “But I hear you damn near took Tequila’s head off this morning when you got in.”

“Can’t have a bad day?” Jack asks, picking up the whiskey and staring at it before taking a sip. “Woke up wrong, that’s all. I’ll apologize to the crybaby later.”

“He’s not a damn crybaby,” Champ huffs, covering his own amusement with a scowl. “I walked by your damn office, fool. And when he did come talk to me about it, it was because he was worried about you.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jack scowls and shakes his head. “I had a bad morning. I’m fine. Not gonna go off and try to kill all the drug users again.”

“Not saying you would.” Holding up his hands in a show of innocence, Champ leans back all the way and stares down his nose at Jack for a second longer before he shakes his head and shrugs. “But between you and me just these walls? Just thought you might wanna know that Rye got sent off Code Black, is all.” He isn’t supposed to say. Black is black. It’s too priority and top security. But you’d been so torn up this morning and Jack’s been so out of sorts in his own way that Champ has rightfully assumed that something fairly big must’ve happened after you left the party.

His jaw nearly drops. Champ never gives information away like that. He frowns, looking back down at his glass again and feeling relieved. If you had gotten a Code Black, you couldn’t wake him up. It would have been against protocol. He swallows and finally nods. “Good to know.”

“Just don’t want you stewing over it.” The older man says, watching carefully as he sips from his glass again. “You wanna be upset with anyone, it’s me. Not her.”

“Right.” Jack drains the rest of the whiskey and the crystal hits the table slightly harder than normal. “Anything else?”

“Nah. That’s it.” There’s nothing more that Champ can really say, and now Jack needs to process. That’s just how these things work. “See ya in the morning, Daniels.”

Jack stands. “‘Night, Champ.” He walks out of the room and back down the hall towards his office, looking down at his feet as he goes.

******

It’s two weeks before Tequila and Jack are given a stand-down order and told their rescue mission won’t be necessary. Mission success, they’re told with authority, even though it took longer than expected. They don’t get more than that, though, and Jack is walking past Ginger’s lab on his way out of the office late that night when he hears your voice again for the first time in weeks. It’s tired, and quiet, but unmistakable. “Can we just get this over with, Ging?” You ask your friend quietly, knowing that decontamination and a full physical are extremely necessary considering where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing. But you want to get the hell out of here and finally go talk to Jack.

He would never admit it, but he’s been living at Statesman. Barely going home to change and often refreshing the outfits that he keeps in his office for unexpected late nights. On call the entire time in case you needed him. Now you are here and Jack feels like running away. So much self doubt had built up over two weeks, he’s driven himself crazy over every little thing. Obsessing over the details of New Years.

“Once you have a clean bill of health, you go storm the ranch or whatever it is you’re going to do.” Ginger teases, full of warmth. “But I would try his office first.”

Jack frowns slightly and wonders what the hell Ginger is talking about, storming the ranch. He almost pushes the door open, but he doesn’t. Just wants to see what you will say if you know that he’s not listening.

“It’s been two weeks, Ging.” The pops and hums and beeps of her equipment punctuate your voice from inside the lab. “Every single second I haven’t been thinking about this mission I’ve been reliving that night. And I could kill Champ for sending me away Code fucking Black before I could even tell Jack how I feel about him.”

“I know it was bad timing.” He hears Ginger sigh. “But hopefully it gave you some time to think about what you’re going to say?”

Jack’s stomach twists and he feels nauseous. Wondering if you’ve decided that it was a mistake. He swallows harshly and whirls around, not wanting to hear how you plan on letting him down or friend zoning him.

“I’m going to tell him the truth,” he misses hearing you say. “That I’ve been in love with him for six years, and that I’m done being a coward about it.” This mission so easily could have killed you every single day that it became something of an eye opener. Getting back to Jack had become the most dominant and driving force in your mind at times.

Walking down to his office has Jack twisted in knots. He’s never been a coward before but he damn sure feels like running. Playing back that night in his head over and over had made him realize what he had said. More importantly, what you hadn’t said back. Walking over to his bar cart, he pours himself a heavy double and bolts it down. He’ll get wasted after you crush his hopes but that was needed so he doesn’t beg like a pathetic wretch. He needs to keep his pride somehow.

It’s twenty more minutes before he hears footsteps in the hall and hears your tentative voice calling his name. “Jack?” There’s nerves in it, anxiety hovering around you despite your triumphant mission. But you appear in his doorway looking worried and chewing your lip. “Hey…you’re still here.”

“Work’s never done.” Jack huffs, plastering on a friendly but not too friendly expression. “Haven’t seen you around in a few weeks. Mission go alright?” It’s painful to see you in that doorway, looking tired and beautiful. Reminding him of how you looked before he had fallen asleep and lost you.

“I’m home and in one piece.” It’s what you always say, but at least it’s true. He doesn’t exactly look happy to see you, though, and that makes you falter a little. Not enough to shake your resolve, but your optimism that he’ll respond with joy cracks right away. “Do you…can we talk a little?”

“Sure.” He takes off his reading glasses and stands. Moving over to the alcohol again. “Want a drink?” He asks, not looking over his shoulder at you. He sees the worry on your face and knows you are concerned about your working relationship. What he will do will be accept your wants, wish you well and promise that he will not let what happened affect your professional relationship. Then he will demand a transfer to the New York office, permanently. You nod and he pours out two drinks. “What’s on your mind, Rye?”

“Well…you are.” It seems like such an obvious answer that it almost feels silly saying it, but he won’t even look you in the eye so staring at the beginning seems like a good idea.

“Oh?” Turning around is hard, but he manages to look curious instead of sick to his stomach. “Now why would I be on your mind, sugar?” The endearment slips out and he nearly bites his tongue as he carries them over to the small sofa area.

The message is loud and clear: it really didn’t mean anything to him. Regardless, though, you have to power through. If he really didn’t mean what he said and has no interest in being with you, you’ll request a permanent transfer. Chicago, Dallas, Los Angeles — anywhere but here or New York. Swallowing a sigh, you accept the glass from him but just hold it in your hands while you gather your thoughts. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk before I had to leave,” you start, trying not to let the warmth and proximity of him get under your skin so easily. But you can’t really help it. “I did the best I could for a message to let you know what had happened, but it wasn’t much. And I’m sorry for that, too.”

His facade cracks, the scowl as quick to vanish as it appears and he scoffs. “Message received, Rye. A lone sequin on the floor. Practically like it was a dream, except for that.” He tosses back the whiskey. “Can you just get to the part where you tell me it was a mistake, you don’t want to ruin our friendship or work relationship? Or whatever bullshit excuse you’ve settled on to tell me you regret it?” His eyes are dark and pained when they finally land on you, barely resisting the urge to flee.

“On the floor?” Your brow furrowed instantly, a frown painting itself on your lips, and you set the glass in your hands aside to shift closer to him on the little couch. “Jack, I left a sequin on your nightstand.” The choice was even more horrible than you had worried it would be, apparently, because he looks so hurt he could actually cry. A fact which makes you instantly want to cry as well. “A black sequin was the best I could do for a signal. It—it must have…blown off. Stupid fucking flapper dress with all that fringe. It must have gone flying when I left the room.” There was no other breeze, no window open or fan blowing. Only you could have sabotaged yourself like that.

He doesn’t believe you and shakes his head. “Why would you leave a black-“ he trails off when it hits him. Black sequin - Code Black. Trying to tell him that you had wanted to leave a message but couldn’t. Champ had broken protocol by telling him about the Code Black and apparently you had tried to signal the same thing. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You shake your head in resignation, blowing out a shuddering breath. “I didn’t want to leave. Especially not after…” Another shaky breath leaves the rest of you shaking in turn, and you shove your hands under your legs on the couch. This is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever asked a person in your entire life. “Did you…mean it? What you said?”

Jack bites his lip, wanting to ask you what you’re talking about but he can’t do that. You look distraught that he had thought you had just disappeared. “Yeah.” Jack admits quietly. “Look, I know that it’s not something you were expectin’ ta hear, and you don’t feel the same.” He rolls on with the emotions that he needs to get out. “I won’t be mad, or take it out on you. But that night….fuck.” He blows out a breath. “I got to touch you. Just like I fuckin’ dreamed of. And I couldn’t just let you think it was a heat of the moment thing for me.”

“Why do you think I don’t feel the same?” With your heart beating wildly and your shakiness only increasing, there’s a sort of explosive quality in your mind and body that you can’t quite figure out how to control. Like all you want to do is launch yourself at him for a kiss but you know you need to talk first. To get it all out in the open. To be honest with each other. “I—I honestly had no idea you thought of me as anything but a friend. I was…well…shocked is a bit of an understatement.”

Jack snorts. “I know my reputation. Hell, I crafted it. But I couldn’t flirt with you. It’s too- shit- you had me from the first time we met. I was fucking hooked and it wouldn’t have been right. You were a junior agent and -“ he shakes his head. “I was running from the kind of commitment you were made for.”

“Your reputation was built by a man who had loved his wife so deeply that he couldn’t bear the thought of loving and losing again,” you remind him quietly. You sure you hadn’t known that right away, but when you had learned about his wife and son, you understood implicitly. “But it…it never stopped me from falling in love with you. Even when I thought I’d never be more to you than an acquaintance. I considered myself damn lucky to eventually become your friend. I just thought…I thought the fact that you never, ever flirted with me…meant that it was unrequited. So I made myself okay with it. Until two weeks ago.”

“I respect you, Rye.” Jack murmurs quietly. “I didn’t want to make it seem like you were everyone else, because you weren’t.” It’s backwards and twisted, but no one ever said that he had defeated all his demons. “When I broke- I gave you everything.”

“More than you know.” A soft huff of a laugh escapes you and you shake your head again, willing your nerves to calm down even a little. “Just…please understand, Jack. That I’ve been in love with you since the second I met you. And the only reason I didn’t say it back the night we slept together is because I was so shocked to hear it from you in the first place. I thought I’d hallucinated what I wanted to hear, and then before I knew it we were asleep…and then I woke up to a Code Black.”

“I was upset.” Jack admits quietly. “Really upset.” He flushes slightly. “May have been thinkin’ some not-so-polite things until Tequila told me it was you who was slated for the mission.” He won’t tell you that Champ had broken the rules. “Convinced myself that you had run off to go save the world so you wouldn’t have to tell me that you’d had too much alcohol and that’s why you let me take you home.”

“Not at all.” Taking a chance, you reach for his hand and practically sigh in relief when he slots his fingers through yours. “I pretty much thought I’d died and gone to heaven, if I’m honest. I just kept thinking…if this only happens once, I never want to forget a single thing.” You squeeze his hand gently, wishing you could have said all this two weeks ago. “I’m sorry my message didn’t work. That’s…you have every right to think nasty things about me. I’m so sorry.”

“No I don’t.” Jack protests. “Not if you meant to be here. Not if you wanted to be here the next morning. Then it’s just a bad misunderstanding and I’m sorry.”

“Then I guess we’re both sorry.” He’ll never know that you cried all the way to the office that morning at having to leave him, you decide right now. It would only make him feel even more guilty and he doesn’t deserve that. “But I’m not sorry about what happened between us.”

“You aren’t?” He tightens his grip on your hand, relaxing slowly as you talk and he understands that this was one giant cluster fuck. He’s used to those, he can handle those. “That’s good, sugar. Because New Years was probably the best night of my life.”

“God, I hope you mean that.” Your shakiness is for more than one reason, although you needed to have this conversation first. Whatever the two of you decide will happen next is a decision made by both of you, not just you alone. “Because…Ginger couldn’t clear me…after my physical. I can’t go back on the list.”

Jack frowns, brows pulling together. “Why can’t Ginger clear you? What’s wrong?” There’s a number of things that can be fixed by Statesman tech and he’s worried that it’s something bad.

Your stomach churns with worry, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. The unmistakable advances of Statesman tech can do things that most doctors absolutely cannot, thanks to Ginger Ale, and you’re not sure whether to thank her or curse her. “It’s not that something’s wrong, technically,” you admit, giving another worried squeeze to his hand. “But we probably ought to have used that condom…”

Jack’s eyes widen and they drop to your stomach, discerning the meaning of your comment. You aren’t a liar and Jack would believe you if you said you didn’t sleep with someone else, but he’s confused. “Sugar- how?” He chokes out. “I got snipped when I joined Statesman.”

“When was the last time you had your sperm count checked?” You had made Ginger do the test three times, but the result was always the same. Your birth control failed and Jack’s second kid is already growing, if very slowly. “The chances of a vasectomy failing are less than one percent, but it can still happen.”

Jack frowns and then rolls his eyes and groans. “The chamber.” He remembers. “When I got shot and then- uh, put back together.” He shakes his head. “Ging said I might need to get it checked but I dadgum forgot.” He bites his lip and tries not to freak out over the fact that you are pregnant after your one and only time together. “What do you want, sugar?” He asks.

“Not more than you’re willing to give freely.” The answer is that you want all of him. Every single bit. Love and a life and a family. But you know that even if Jack does love you, he’s never loved anyone the way he loved his wife. And losing Maria nearly destroyed him, so he may not be willing to take that chance again. “But I…unless you really object…I’m keeping the baby. Even if you don’t want a commitment or anything. I just…you’re right about me. I want a family and if this is my only chance I don’t want to give that up. Especially not if I get even the littlest piece of you with it.”

“You think I would-“ he shakes his head. “No, I would never force you, one way or the other.” He frowns. “I was asking if you wanted to have a baby. And if you think I’m gonna sit back and let you raise it by yourself, you must have hit your dadgum head.”

“I want this baby.” It had only taken about ten seconds after learning it existed to determine that, even if you’re still grappling with the reality of it. “And I want you.” You inch closer to him on the couch. “However you want to be together. That part is up to you.”

“It’s been a long damn time since I’ve thought about being a daddy, sugar.” There’s a slight smirk on his face but he doesn’t make the obvious crude joke. “But I’m pretty traditional when you break it down. I’m not gonna want to be apart from you and our baby.”

He might not have made the joke but you still laugh, having made the sugar daddy connection in your mind easily enough. “I know it’s a lot, Jack. And we didn’t plan it. But…” All you can do is shrug your shoulders slightly, looking up at him with such obvious hope and even more obvious water behind your eyes. “But, I love you.”

“I meant it, baby girl.” He promises you, reaching out to caress your cheek and then cup it. “I love you. I love you so much, sugar.” Licking his lips, his eyes drop down to yours. “Can I kiss you?”

"I wish you would." practically beaming at him, you lean in and let the moment wash over you. Jack's lips against yours. His hands on your skin. His baby - your baby - is already starting to grow.

Jack pulls you close, pressing his lips against yours and groaning softly. “Sugar, you’re gonna have my baby.” He whispers against your lips in awe. “Just the one time, one time between your thighs and you are carrying my baby.”

“One time is all it takes.” You can’t help the broad way you smile, giggling softly against his lips as you steal another kiss.

“I don’t regret it.” He promises. “I don’t regret you.” He smiles as he kisses you again. “We really did shake things up for New Years, didn’t we?”

“Just a little bit.” Another laugh escapes you, and you lean into his side only to be rewarded with Jack’s arms encircling you and holding you close. “I don’t regret any of it. Except maybe not making my message a whole lot clearer.”

“We’ll get better at communicatin’.” Jack promises with a smile. “We’re partners now.”

“Do you want to go get dinner, maybe?” The end of a mission can be crazy even when it’s successful, and you just want to try to relax tonight. Especially with everything changing in your personal life too, apparently. “My treat?”

Jack scoffs and shakes his head. “You ain’t paying, sugar.” He huffs. “Not while you’re with me. If you want dinner, we can go out, or I can take you home and throw some steaks on the grill.”

“I kind of want to celebrate,” you admit, feeling silly about it even though it’s the truth. “If that’s okay?”

“Then we’ll go out and celebrate.” Jack promises before he frowns at something you had said. “Why would you have thought I would never be interested in you?”

“Because…” It feels sillier than the celebration thing now that you know the truth. Silly and even a little pointless, but he asked so you’ll tell him. “Because you flirted with every woman in the world besides me. Which Ginger said is how she knew you were interested in me. But I didn’t believe her.”

“You know you’re wrong, don’t cha?” Jack asks you. “When you said that you get sent on assignments to be invisible? You’re sent on the assignments you are given because you get the job done. Champ knows that if he gives you a task, it will be done.”

“Whatever the reason is, he’ll have to do without me for about a year.” It isn’t worth having a debate over your lack of self esteem with him right now, and you especially don’t want to ruin the mood by crying anything other than happy tears, so you just redirect the conversation altogether. “This baby is my top priority.”

“Our top priority.” He corrects you. He’s nervous, terrified really, but there’s no one he’d rather have a happy accident with than you. “Our New Year’s baby.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Daniels x f!reader #Jack Daniels x plus size reader #Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels #Kingsman Golden Circle #new years eve #new years fic #idiots in love #pining #the love is requited they're just dumb

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thedivinershiddenarchive · 1 year

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— Incubus in the Forest.

cw. fem!reader, incubus!character, dub-con, praise/degradation kink, implications of somnophilia, overstimulation, implied breeding kink, possesiveness (may not fit all characters listed)

a/n. i love going through the gonewildaudio subreddit for fanfiction ideas because i don't have motivation to make my own and my askbox can't peak my interest that much and guess what. i found some incubi content and now i wanna write a thirst about it.

masterlist | tag system | 17- & MASC-ALIGNED DNI!

All you wanted to do was camp with your friends. They were all joking about demons and horror stories and one of them popped up the concept of incubi, talking about how they go through the dreams of women and have sexual intercourse with them that would soon lead to death if the partner has too many sessions.

All of you brushed it off to the person just being weird or downbad. You were part of them because the idea of a demon going through dreams of unconscious women and fuck them in there sounded ridiculous. Thank god it wasn’t real and just a piece of folklore or mythology.

That was what you thought. You wished you were sleeping in the tents of your female friends because the so-called fictional demon was haunting your dream. Or better to call it, ‘Dreams.’

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen a cute girl like you went to this forest. No one ever dared visit here anymore because of those rumored incubi haunting the place. So it’s good that you haven’t heard them.” you frantically looked around, you weren’t in your tent anymore. But in a red Victorian room you aren’t familiar with.

Suddenly, the bed sinks and you look at the source. You faced a man with pointy red horns and a tail that was swooshing around excitedly at the sight of you. His eyes almost lit up as he crawled right in front of you, “I have to say, you look more appetizing up close than watching you from afar.”

He was… watching you? You have to admit he was quite sneaky because the forest wasn’t that big at all nor did it have many trees for people to hide in.

“I might save you since it’s been a while since I’ve gotten someone so… Lovely.” he breathes in your scent, snuggling into your neck and licking it. “Gods, you’re making me crave you more and we haven’t even started yet.”

You gulped, furrowing your brows and gasping as you got pinned to the bed, his fangs biting down your skin as he sucked your blood. He lets out a satisfied groan at your taste, pulling out with his mouth stained with red substance as he seductively licked them. You were trying to push him off while your screams were muffled by his bigger and muscular body.

You tried punching and kicking but he wouldn’t budge. He was much stronger than you are and he only stared at you with a pleasant smirk. He thought this was so entertaining seeing you deny him. Who do you think you were to push away such a handsome guy like him?

“Why don’t we get started? I’m so impatient right now.”

Fuck, you haven’t felt this full in a while. It’s probably because this so called demon was pent-up for a long amount of years that he got hard at the sight of a new victim to fuck.

But since it’ll be a very long time since he’ll get another dupe he was gonna save you and follow you around since you were the first person in a while to visit the forest. The bite on your neck served a purpose and that every time you slept, he’d appear and use you however he wanted.

Though he wanted to be careful since he’ll take your lifeforce away and make you insane. It’s been years since he’s gotten some good pussy to fuck and he didn’t want to harm you in any way. Well, the more the two of you had sessions like this, the more needy you are for the incubus to fuck you.

He was in awe of how much power he had over you. You were much more adorable than all the other women he slept with. He wanted to keep you to himself, even if it meant it would make you a desperate whore for him to play with however he wanted.

He groaned and kept you closer to him, your body flushed with his as he continued ramming you over and over. His tail couldn’t stop moving from how much pleasure he was receiving, he didn’t even know how long he had been fucking you. It must’ve been hours which were just a few minutes in real-time but in this dream? It’s much longer. Which would be quite advantageous if he could be honest.

“Ahah, you’re so good for me. I might wanna keep you for myself.. Might only want you instead. I can’t find anyone whose so fucking slutty like you are.” he moans when you tightened around him more. You were practically choking his cock to death.

He traps you on the headboard, having your legs around his waist so he could have better access to your pussy and have his cock reach deeper inside of you. Ah, it felt so good having him touch places you weren’t able to touch.

The red sheets were stained with your blood and the mix of your and the incubus’ cum. “I can’t get enough of you, sweet girl.” he soughs into your lips, ramming into you like you were the last woman he’s ever gonna fuck.

You couldn’t say anything, hell, you couldn’t do anything from how strong his grip on your body was. It’s almost as if he had control over you instead of you. “Gonna come again, take it like the good slut you are.”

You let out heavy pants as he emptied himself into you again. Your body was shaking against his, your chest heaving uneven breaths as you tried to catch them. He only chuckled and cuddled into you with his arms around your waist, keeping you close to him, making sure his cum doesn’t leak out of you. “Why don’t we go for another round?”

“D-don’t think I can go anymore..” you whimpered as he only grinded his hips in response. “Sure you can! Don’t go sleeping in your dream now, you wouldn’t wanna know what I’d do with your body if you went unconscious on me.”

He was right. If you sleep in your dream, you’ll most likely go through another deeper layer of your unconsciousness and it’ll be difficult to wake you up. You definitely don’t wanna have the knowledge of him using your sleeping body as he wishes, so you try to open your eyes wider and see that same shit-eating grin you despise.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” his little bat wings flapped in excitement as you only threw your head to the side and glared at him. “Don’t be like that, you don’t want me to go rougher on you now.”

“Not like you were gentle in the first place.”

“Hah! I can’t argue with that.” he picks you up, making you straddle his lap as he hovers your hips over his erected cock once again. “Take a deep breath, this is gonna be much longer.”

#notsodivininglover ; king’s pages #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe smut #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia smut #kaeya x reader #kaeya smut #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya alberich smut #kaveh x reader #kaveh smut #capitano x reader #capitano smut

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yuujispinkhair · 5 months

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Sukuna gave up on love years ago. But somehow, your eyes and your smile are all he can think about. -> This is part of my Blog Anniversary Event. A sweet anon requested the song "Lovebug" by the Jonas Brothers.

Pairing: Modern!CEO Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff Word Count: 700 Warnings: Mentions of alcohol. Sukuna and Reader meet as business partners, and feelings spark between them. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact.

God, it's ridiculous!

Sukuna slams his vodka glass down on his desk, laughing and shaking his head. He isn't a sentimental person. He isn't one of those fools who let their emotions get the better of them. He knows love is more trouble than anything else, and he isn't chasing it anymore. He decided years ago to stop doing that. No, Sukuna hasn't been looking for love for a long time.

And yet, all it took was one business phone call followed by an afternoon and a dinner spent with you, and now he can't stop this weird feeling from spreading through his chest. He sees your smile even when he closes his eyes. He still smells your perfume even though it can't linger on his skin after such a short moment of holding your hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss it.

It is highly ridiculous. And irresponsible. And foolish.

He swore off love. Swore off everything that could tear down his walls. And he is good at this, brilliant even. No one can see beneath Itadori Sukuna's mask of arrogance and indifference!

And yet your eyes looked at him with that knowing look. As if you could see right through him. As if you knew.

You treated him differently than the others. Your eyes didn't stray to his expensive watch or his car keys. You didn't order the most expensive meal off the menu when he said he would pay. You didn't act mysterious or slutty or any of those other things the others did, who were always so calculating, so desperately trying to fit into the image of the perfect doll, not realizing that it only made them seem fake.

There is nothing fake about you. You didn't hold back your laughter during dinner. You didn't worry about smearing your lipstick while eating. Your makeup was light, and the eyeliner applied a bit crookedly. It made his heart do a flip somehow. You didn't shy away from sharing a huge dessert with him, smiling and rolling your eyes in pleasure at how delicious it tasted. He had chuckled in genuine amusement and joy when you pushed a spoonful of ice cream towards him, telling him he simply had to try it.

So light. That's it. He feels so light when he is around you. It's as if all the small and big stresses of his busy CEO life just vanished into thin air, and instead, the sun is shining on him, and he can breathe in clear, fresh air.

He catches himself smiling as he thinks of how you snorted with laughter about one of his dry comments. Usually, none of those women laugh about his humor. And it's not just that you think he is funny. You replied with the same humor, making him laugh too.

He sighs and turns off his computer. It's late at night. Time to go home and get some rest. But not before he grabs his phone and types a quick message to you, thanking you for the lovely evening and wishing you a good night. He only hesitates for a small moment before he adds, "I would like to see you again. I know a place with even better dessert variations for two."

He is surprised by the smile he spots on his face in the mirrored walls of the elevator when he receives your reply, telling him that you would love to share a dessert with him again.

A catchy love song starts playing on his drive home. The type of song that Sukuna usually finds annoying and which would lead to him changing the radio station. But not tonight. Tonight, he lets it play, and maybe he hums a bit in tune with the melody. Maybe he feels a little fluttery sensation when hearing the lyrics about freshly found love.

Maybe all he can think of are your eyes and your smile and how good it felt to sit there with you and talk and laugh and not even realize how many hours had already slipped by, so caught up in his conversation with you. So caught up in your eyes.

He isn't someone who catches feelings easily. He thought for a long time that he had managed to become immune to all of this.

But does a man who is immune to falling in love hum along to a stupid catchy lovesong? Does a man who gave up on love smile to himself while he pictures your laugh?

Maybe the lovebug bit him after all. And maybe he is glad it did

Thank you so much for participating in my event! I hope you enjoyed this little story!! I am swooning so much thinking about spending a flirty business dinner with CEO Sukuna aww!!

Comments and reblogs would be sweet!!

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk x you

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yandere-writer-momo · 6 months

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Yandere Baki Short Stories: Wish Upon A Star

Yandere Hanayama Kaoru x Sweet Afab Reader

This piece is a little darker and very unsettling. It’s over 7k words, making it one of my longest Baki pieces. I had a dream about this so I HAD to write it immediately. Hanayama cat >>>

TW: Yandere behavior, dubcon, mentions of past abuse, angst, fantasy elements, and other dark subjects. Do not proceed if you are sensitive to these topics. You have been warned

Red Salvias mean “Forever Mine”

“I don’t need your input on my personal life.” Kaoru said in a crossly tone, he glowered at his fiancée (your name). Despite this being an arranged relationship, she treated it as if they were truly in one. And it annoyed Kaoru to no end. “This is just an arrangement. Nothing more. I’d greatly prefer if you left me alone until the marriage.”

(Your name) shrunk under his gaze. The young woman did her best to make herself as small as possible, despite her already being dainty. She hadn’t meant to upset him, she merely wanted to spend time with him… she wanted to know him better so they wouldn’t be miserable together. Plus, he spent more time with other women rather than her. It wasn’t fair.

“I just wanted to-“ Kaoru held up his hand to cut her off, the yakuza boss pointed to his office door.

“See yourself out and take the bento with you. I don’t need your affections.” (Your name) bowed her head and took the bento with her while she held in a sniffle. She truly hadn’t meant to upset him…

“I won’t bother you again then. Have a good one.” (Your name) bowed her head to him for the final time before she turned on her heel and left. She wouldn’t make an attempt to get close to him again.

Kaoru grumbled and got back to his paperwork. His eyes glanced at her retreating figure. Hopefully she would keep her word.

(Your name) kicked off her shoes once she made it back to her small apartment. The young woman reached up to undo her bun as she locked her door behind her.

She sighed heavily before she plopped herself in her reading nook. Her body sunk into the plush pillows, the calming scent of lavender soothed her heavy heart.

“Rejected yet again.” (Your name) bitterly chuckled to herself. She hugged a pillow close to herself at an attempt at comfort. How foolish was she to think she could find the love she so desperately wanted all her life.

To cope with her loneliness, she’d read fairytales. The ones of romance and happy endings to dull the senses. Her only escape was in her head.

(Your name) sniffled, the dam that held back her tears started to crack. And soon a loud sob followed. Was there something wrong with her? Was she not pretty enough? Not curvaceous enough? Was she too loud?

(Your name) didn’t know but she knew none of the physical things mattered on Kaoru’s interest in her. She was her father’s daughter and their families had been at odds for generations. Their marriage was simply a truce to stop the blood shed between them.

(Your name) glanced at the night sky, her eyes filled with wonder at the shooting star that danced across the sky. A childish delight filled her pitiful form yet the bitterness from her rejection still burned in her heart.

“I wish...” (Your name) sniffled, her fingers wiped away a few of her tears. “I wish for him to fall in love with someone who has no interest in him.”

Kaoru strolled through an alleyway with one hand in his pocket and the other smoking a cigar. Every time he saw (your name), it left an awful taste in his mouth.

She always tried to come to him with her soft smiles, hopeful eyes, and warm meals. She reminded him of a bunny with those innocent eyes and shy glances. (Your name) was weak, she wouldn’t last in the yakuza world.

Kaoru took in a deep inhale of his cigar, the smoke burned his lungs a bit but it soothed his frustration. She was the daughter of his enemy. The chess piece meant to be a peace offering.

Kaoru would never be able to give her what she wanted. Not when her family has been at war with his for so many generations. Kaoru hated her for where she came from. She’d never have his heart nor a place in his bed. He only agreed to marry her to end the blood bath between their families.

Kaoru exhaled the smoke and stomped his cigar out under his shoes. Even the thought of her disgusted him.

Kaoru glanced up at the sky, a bright light caught his eye. Was that a shooting star?

Kaoru chuckled to himself, a bitter wish spilt from his lips.

“I wish for that woman to no longer be interested in me.”

And that’s when a bright light consumed him. His eyes wide in shock as his body began to shrink and sprout white fur that matched the suit he wore. What the hell was going on?!

And before Kaoru could get a word out, he was now a cat. A very fluffy one at that.

How on earth was going to explain this one to Kizaki?

For three days Kaoru roamed the Tokyo streets as a cat. So far, he’s been chased off by his own men and had rocks thrown at him from ornery children. Kaoru had no choice but to hide from the elements and the people. They weren’t friendly to cats that looked like him.

Kaoru had seen his reflection in a puddle. Sure he was a Persian but his face was riddled in ugly scars. What may have made him intimidating as a man, only made him ugly as a cat. No one wanted to touch or take care of a cat that looked like it fought.

Kaoru was miserable and at this rate, he may die of starvation. He didn’t know anything about being a cat. He has never been so humiliated in his life.

And that was when he heard a familiar, soft voice. His body froze from under the dumpset. (Your name)…

Kaoru peaked out from the dumpster, his now copper eyes took in her familiar form as she bought groceries at a local market. Why was she in a place like this? She was the daughter of a yakuza boss. She should be at an estate.

“Are you sure you’re alright dear? You look so tired.” The elderly cashier expressed concern for (your name).

“I’m alright. Thank you for your concern, Hana.” (Your name) gave the cashier a smile. Her arms scooped up the paper grocery bag. “Thank you for the fresh fish.”

“Of course! You need some more sleep. Maybe you’ll attract a husband then?” (Your name) had a disgruntled expression on her face, but it was gone in a flash.

“Maybe. Thank you again.” (Your name) bowed a bit in respect. And then she was off.

Kaoru immediately pursued her, his fluffy tail stood straight up. His small paws tottered after her.

Come on… look at me. Turn this way.

(Your name) sadly was not a mind reader so Kaoru had no choice but to swallow his pride and…

“Meow.” (Your name) froze in her tracks, her head turned around to see the fluffy Persian that sat behind her expectantly. Its white tail flicked back and forth like a clock.

(Your name) studied the scarred cat in curiosity. What on earth was a Persian doing on the street? That breed was such a high maintenance one and it could get sick… was it abused?

(Your name) bent down and held her hand out for the cat to sniff. She didn’t have a clue that this cat was her fiancé.

Kaoru reluctantly rubbed his head against her hand. His copper eyes stared up at her pretty face. Even he had to admit that she was attractive despite their circumstances.

“Are you lost?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her expression soft. “Poor thing…”

(Your name) frowned at the mats in the cat’s white fur and the dirt on it. It was most likely abandoned… just like her.

(Your name) slowly wrapped her hand around the cat and hoisted it up in her arm next to her groceries.

“You’re a heavy thing.” (Your name) whispered while she continued on her way to her apartment. A small smile on her lips when she felt the cat’s stomach growl. “And you’re hungry… well I have some extra fish. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Kaoru sighed. Of course she’s take in an ugly cat like him. If he would have known, he would have come to her first.

Hopefully this situation was temporary. He had no intention of staying with her once he became human again… or so he thought.

(Your name) gently bathed the cat in her tub. Her fingers gently worked through the mats with dish soap. So far, the cat has been silent since she’s brought it home.

Perhaps the cat’s trauma made it mute? The cat didn’t even purr when she pet it. It hurt her heart to know this poor animal has never felt love before.

“I wonder if you’re a boy or a girl?” (Your name) muttered, her hands turn the cat around to check. The cat hissed loudly and swatted at her. “Oh I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you.”

(Your name) apologized to the cat like it would understand her (Kaoru did). But she caught a glimpse of male genitals so now she knew her furry companion was a boy.

(Your name) scratched the cat behind the ears while she pulled the plug to the tub. She then gently picked the cat up and dried it with some towels. She found that the cat’s entire body was covered in so many scars. Most likely from years of abuse.

(Your name) studied the cat’s face in thought. Now that she had a better look at the cat… “You’re a little ugly.”

Kaoru furrowed his brow, which made (your name) giggle at how grumpy the cat looked. “But you’re also kind of cute.”

Kaoru flicked his tail back and forth while she continued to dry him off. He was perplexed. Even when he was a cat, she was still sweet to him.

Kaoru couldn’t understand her. What did she gain from this? How could someone be so kind to a fault?

Kaoru felt something stir in him as his copper eyes studied her face. A thought running through his head for only but a single moment…Had she always been this beautiful?

Kaoru was fed pretty nice meals for a cat. (Your name) would share some of her vegetables and fish with him. Food he knew he’d never find on the streets.

Yet he’d catch her nearly prepare a lunchbox once and awhile. The young woman would mumble curses at herself and hurriedly feed him whatever she was about to prepare.

“Oops. A bad habit. How could I be so stupid?” (Your name) quietly scolded herself once more before she fed Kaoru the chicken she had cut up. “Here you go. At least it will go to someone who will eat it.”

It took Kaoru a week to realize that her bad habit was preparing a lunch box for him. Human him at least. She had truly stuck to her promise of not bothering him again but Kaoru could see the hurt in her eyes whenever she caught herself. Why did she look so sad? They barely knew each other?

Kaoru’s copper eyes observed her clean up the kitchen in haste. She was such an anxious thing. She was like a scared bunny. Always jumping at the slightest noise and apologizing. Kaoru found it kind of endearing.

Kaoru perked up when she sat at the little nook in the center of the apartment. Her dainty body sunk into the cushions while the city lights reflected off her eyes. She looked so beautiful… like an angel.

Kaoru found himself trotting over to her before he realized it. His feline body now seated beside her.

“Oh? Do you want to see?” (Your name) softly asked him before she picked him up and placed him on her lap. The view was beautiful from the window. Kaoru could see most of the city from here. “I bought this room just for the view…”

Kaoru turned his head up to look at her face, only to be taken aback by the sadness in her eyes. Why did she always look so sad?

“I hope to enjoy it furfor as long as I can… I wonder if I’ll have a nice view once I have to get married?” (Your name) thought aloud, which made Kaoru freeze. “I hope… I’ll just sit there all day and read. I’ll be quiet. I’ll be good.”

And that’s when Kaoru slowly began to realize the signs. She was always so quiet, her voice was barely above a whisper at all times. She’s never been treated well.

Kaoru felt so awful when he felt a few tears drop on his head. He had assumed she was an awful person because of her family and yet she was just as much a victim. She was genuine and she had hoped to cultivate a relationship with him because she’s never had one.

Kaoru rubbed his head against her hands which shocked her. His copper eyes took in the small smile on her face. He burned it into his memory.

“Are you comforting me?” (Your name) gently held the cat close to her chest. Her fingers pet the cat’s head fondly. “Thank you… Yuki.”

And for the first time in the week and a half she’s had him, Kaoru purred.

Kaoru found himself rubbing against (your name)’s legs whenever she was in the kitchen after two months with her. His custom made collar jingled while he purred. Kaoru was content with her. He was happy to be by her side.

She’d talk to him sometimes and she’d read to him her favorite stories. (Your name) let him sleep beside her in her soft bed. His feline life was peaceful with her. Kaoru wanted to stay with her. He wanted to make her smile. He wanted to make her laugh.

She told him her secrets. Of how abusive her family was. How she was scared of thunder storms. How she would hide in her closet whenever she was scared. And what her father did to her first pet. How she wished she could move far away and start over. It made his blood boil to know what she’s been through.

Kaoru didn’t want her to ever be sad or scared again. He only wanted her to smile and to live a peaceful life. Kaoru would give her an amazing life if he ever became a man again.

Kaoru would make sure she could eat her favorite meal more often. He would sit with her as she read aloud. He would hold her close if a thunderstorm passed through and whisper sweet things into her ear. He would make love to her every night. He’d spoil her like a princess. He’d give her the world.

But with her interest in him as her cat, as her companion Yuki, he failed to realize that she had completely lost interest in him as a man.

A harsh reality he’d soon come to realize…

“I’ll be out for groceries.” (Your name) smiled warmly at her cat. Kaoru purred as he sat by the door. “I won’t be long.”

Kaoru sat by the door, even when it clicked shut. His paws touched the wood as his heart raced. Six months with her… he’s been by her side for six months. And it made him realize how much he loved her. How he adored her. Kaoru wanted to tell her… he needed to tell her.

“I love you.” Kaoru was shocked when he spoke rather than meow. His body soon began to change back into that of a man. The small purple collar snapped but Kaoru was able to quickly tuck it into his suit pocket.

Was this whole situation some crap version of beauty and the beast? Was love what broke the strange magic off of him?

Kaoru admired his hands and stretched them. It was nice to be a man again… but (your name) wouldn’t understand why he was there… maybe he should make it look like the cat was taken?

He’d have to make a scene in this apartment and then he’d have to find a way to explain his absence to Kizaki.

And what better excuse to use than to say (your name)’s family had harmed him? Kaoru was going to have to make sure to rough himself up before he went home.

Kaoru used his strength to break the door knob off and threw it against the wall on the apartment. Her then threw her cheap coffee table across the room and broke a few glasses. There. Now it was a breaking and entering.

Kaoru quickly fled the scene before he was seen. He didn’t want to be caught in her home and he didn’t want anyone to see him.

Kaoru’s heart hurt. He knew she’d be so crushed that her cat was gone but he’d swoop in to save her.

He’d be her prince just like the ones in those fairytale books she loved so much.

(Your name) held her groceries close to her chest. Her heart fluttered at the thought of Yuki being excited to see her.

She made sure to buy his favorite, salmon. Maybe he’d like to sit at the table with her?

That cat had no idea how he saved her from her pit of despair. How he made her want to live again.

(Your name) began to climb up the steps to her apartment but she stopped halfway. Her eyes wide in horror when she saw police outside her door.

“Ma’am is this your apartment?”

“Y-yes.” It was so hard for her to breathe. Yuki… was Yuki okay?

“I’m afraid there’s been a burglary-“ the cop froze when she dashed up the steps and frantically checked her house. “Ma’am. This is a crime scene.”

“I just need to make sure Yuki is okay…” (your name) felt her body tremble when her beloved cat didn’t come to her. Has her father taken yet another thing she loved from her?

“Ma’am-“ the cop froze when he saw the young woman sob. The cop awkwardly put an an around her.

“I’m sorry ma’am. Is there a place you can stay until the investigation is over?” The cop softly asked. “And you called out for a Yuki. Is that a child?”

“No… he’s my cat.” Her life. He was her life and he was gone.. gone.

(Your name) sat in her old room at her family’s compound over the last few days. She never wanted to come back here but her father didn’t want her to become ‘damaged goods.’

(Your name) curled up in the dark room and hugged her knees. A small light from the ceiling her only light.

Perhaps this was her fate? To live in a dark room for the rest of her life without any light. All for being a (last name).

“Yuki…” (your name) softly whispered, her hands held her body tighter. She should have just fled with her cat when she had the chance. She no longer craved love from anyone.

All she needed was her animal companion and she would have been content. Animals were better than people. They didn’t hurt her unless they were scared. Not like people… not like her father.

(Your name) jumped when gunshots and screams echoed throughout the estate. What was going on?

(Your name) began to panic, her head whipped over to her closet. The young woman crawled into it and made herself as small as possible. She just needed to make herself small… tiny and invisible. She wasn’t here. She was far away.

(Your name) was far away and with Yuki. She was safe. There weren’t footsteps in her room- there were loud footsteps in her room.

(Your name) put her hands over her mouth and held her breath. Her body as still as water.

The figure now stood in front of her door. She could see their large silhouette. She was going to die. (Your name) hoped someone took care of Yuki, if he was still alive. That they’d feed him bits of salmon and let him lay with them.

When the door opened, she was surprised to be pulled into a hug. A large body held her tightly to his, his body shook in powerful tremors.

“It’s okay… you’re okay.” (Your name) froze at the voice. Kaoru? Why was… why was he here? “Your husband has you.”

(Your name) was still frozen in fear, which made it easier for Kaoru to scoop her up in his arms. The yakuza boss pushed her face into his neck.

“Don’t look, okay? You don’t need to see them anymore.”

(Your name) trembled and clutched onto his shirt. She didn’t have to look to know what he had done. She knew he massacred her family.

The question was… why didn’t he kill her too?

“Boss, if you want I can take care of her-“ (your name) flinched when she heard a loud slap. Her body still held tightly against Kaoru’s.

“Don’t even think about touching her.” Kaoru pressed his lips against the top of her head. “She is mine. Do you understand?”

Kaoru safely escorted (your name) into his limousine. His arms held her tightly and refused to let her go. It confused (your name) to no end.

Why was he so sweet with her now? What made her special?

Or… was he just prolonging her inevitable death?

Kaoru was frustrated. Despite (your name) being with him for a month now, she refused to come out of her room. She trembled whenever he touched her and it upset him.

“Boss, what’s gotten into you?” Kaoru froze when Kizaki furrowed his brow. “You’ve been so… obsessed with Miss (last name)-“

“Missus Hanayama.” Kaoru corrected Kizaki. The man swirled his whiskey in his glass in thought. “Why is she so scared of me-“

“You killed her family. I think that’s a normal human reaction.” Kizaki pointed out which only made Kaoru huff.

“She hated them. They were awful to her-“

“How do you know so much about her anyways?” Kizaki asked with his brow furrowed. “Where were you actually for the last eight months? Were you truly being held captive?”

Kaoru sighed and gave Kizaki a look. “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me. But (your name) saved me.” Kaoru muttered, his expression soft. “I love her.”

Kizaki sighed. He could tell Kaoru was telling the truth and he knew Kaoru meant every word he said.

“Okay… just start off small with her?” Kizaki advised Kaoru. “Maybe you could eat with her or something?”

Kaoru’s face lit up when an idea hit him. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

“Kizaki. Let’s move her to a room with a big window and add a reading nook in front of it.” Kaoru smiled at Kizaki. “She’ll love it.”

(Your name) was led by Kaoru’s servants to a new room. The young woman clutched her hands close to her chest in nervousness. He’s been hovering around her for the last month like a surveillance drone. Had he been plotting all this time? Was she finally being brought to her execution?

(Your name) was shocked when the doors opened to reveal a cozy room with a reading nook that was eerily similar to her one at the apartment. Except it was much bigger than her old one. How did he know she loved a reading nook and how did he pick the same colors?

(Your name)’s fingers traced over the large nook in wonder. It looked so cozy…

“Do you like it?” (Your name) nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Kaoru’s deep voice. Her head whipped around to see him standing in her rooms, the servants had already skittered away like mice. “I thought it would make you more comfortable.”

(Your name) glanced towards the floor. She was still scared of Kaoru… and she felt as if his kindness had a hidden motive. She was terrified of him.

“It’s lovely. Thank you.” (Your name) jumped a bit when Kaoru grabbed a strand of her hair. The oyabun pressed a tender kiss to the silky strands.

“I just want to make my wife happy.” (Your name) was shocked when Kaoru suddenly pulled her into a hug. His lips pressed to the top of her head.

“Oh… but we don’t have to keep the arrangement now.” (Your name) replied in a mousy tone. If she had rabbit ears, they’d be folded back. “You’re free from the promise between our families-“

(Your name) squealed when Kaoru grabbed her face, his obsidian eyes filled with an emotion she’d never seen on his face.

“Has someone told you to leave me?” Kaoru asked, his eyes filled with an angry fire. “Have any of the servants been mean to you? You can tell me.”

“N-no.” (Your name) began to cry which made Kaoru move his hand down to hold her. “I… you said you didn’t want my affections…”

Kaoru froze in horror. He had forgotten he had told her that almost a year ago… that he always pushed this beautiful, sweet girl away.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” Kaoru bent down and pressed kisses all over her cheeks. “I will make it up to you. You’ll live a good life with me.”

(Your name) gasped when he picked her up and laid with her in the large nook that perfectly fit the two of them. Kaoru’s large hand moved to hold her head again his chest. His heart drummed in his chest and his cheeks felt warm since he was close to her.

This was the way it was supposed to be… this was perfect. His princess was safe and sound in his arms.

(Your name) sniffled but relaxed in his hold. There was something oddly comforting about Kaoru but she couldn’t put her finger on it. He knew so much about her… it was scary. She’s never told anyone anything about herself.

Except her cat, Yuki. She hoped he was okay. She hoped he wasn’t on the streets starving or cold. She felt like an awful pet parent.

“What’s on your mind?” Kaoru asked in a gentle tone. His cheek pressed against the top of her head.

“…I miss my cat.” (Your name) admitted in a whisper which made Kaoru frown. He was her cat… but that would be such a strange thing to admit.

“You can tell me about you cat.” Kaoru replied. “Maybe I could help you find him?”

“Really? You’d do that for me?” Kaoru’s breath hitched at the beautiful smile on her face. There it was… there was her smile.

“Of course I would.” Kaoru smiled down at her. “I’d do anything for you.”

(Your name) smiled and cuddled into his chest. Yes… she’d find her cat.

And then she’d make a run for it.

Kaoru made a lot of effort to help her find her beloved cat. He had a sketch artist draw her description and he even walked around the city with her whenever he wasn’t busy. Kaoru was wonderful to her.

She began to trust him and accept his subtle touches as the weeks turned to months.

Kaoru would have his chefs prepare all of her favorite meals and he’d sit with her on her nook to read.

Kaoru would make sure to cover her windows if there was going to be a thunder storm. He would even lay with her in her bed and hold her when it was storming. He didn’t care when she shook and cried, he’d shush her with sweet words.

(Your name) just couldn’t figure out how he knew so much about her without her telling him anything. He was a completely different man now.

It was almost like he was a prince… but that pain of the rejection from long ago was still there. She wasn’t sure if she could be with him romantically.

Today would be the first time she would seek him out. (Your name) felt bad that he always doted on her.

(Your name) opened his office door and peered in. He must have been out.

She was about to leave but something purple caught her eye. Was that… Yuki’s collar?

(Your name)’s hand shook as she lifted up the collar to her eyes to examine it. The engraved heart name tag broke her heart. It was Yuki’s…

(Your name) felt her knees buckle from under her but strong arms caught her. Kaoru had snuck up on her and flipped her over into an embrace. His face buried in the crook of her neck.

“I can explain-“

“Is he…” (your name) felt a sob rack through her body when Kaoru only held her tighter. He knows she’d never believe him if he told her the truth.

“I was so afraid to tell you. I didn’t want you to fall apart thinking you’re alone.” Kaoru whispered, his lips pressed against her shoulder blades. “I’m here.”

(Your name) melted into his hold. Kaoru was right. He was here and he was warm. He looked just like Yuki in his white suit. He even had the same facial scars…

(Your name) froze while her mind began to race. How did Kaoru know she was scared of thunderstorms? How did he know she loved to sit by a window in a nook and the color scheme she liked? How did he know about her abuse? Her favorite food?

Kaoru suddenly was affectionate with her when he had only ever ignored her and pushed her to the side.

“Kaoru…” (your name) felt like something was stuck in her throat when Kaoru nuzzled his head on her shoulder the same way Yuki did.

“Yes?”

“This is going to sound crazy but… are you Yuki?” (Your name) felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up when Kaoru went completely silent. “That was stupid to say wasn’t it. I’m sorry-“

Kaoru silenced her with his lips. His hands grabbed at her flesh like she was his lifeline.

(Your name) gasped when he shoved his tongue into her mouth and eagerly danced with hers. His body trembled and his embrace tightened like a snake’s coils.

(Your name)’s eyes were still wide while Kaoru sensually moved his lips and tongue against her still ones. What… what was he doing?

Kaoru slowly pulled away, his body shivered. His cheeks were a bit rosy and he felt so warm. He finally kissed the woman he loved.

“I love you.” Kaoru whispered, his eyes filled with so much adoration in them that (your name) thought she would drown. “I love you so much.”

The wish… she had wished for him to fall in love with someone who was not interested in him… why did it have to be her?

Kaoru frowned when she didn’t reply. Her eyes stared straight ahead.

“Say something… please.” Kaoru furrowed his brow. His heart hammered in his chest in anticipation of her answer. “Do you love me too?”

(Your name) shook her head, her hands tightly gripped his white suit.

“There was a shooting star almost a year ago… what did you wish for?” (Your name) muttered under her breath. Her body shook like a leaf.

Kaoru went still. The star… the star turned him into a cat. Was that (your name)‘s wish? Had she… no. She wouldn’t wish him harm. She was too kind.

“I wished… for you to no longer be interested in me.” Kaoru whispered, he gave her body a squeeze from in his inescapable hold. “But I love you now so we can be together-“

“I wished for you to fall in love with someone who wasn’t interested in you.” (Your name) whispered so softly that Kaoru almost didn’t hear it. The tears started to fall down her face. Their wishes corresponded with each other’s… is that why it was granted. “But it wasn’t supposed to be me. You’re not supposed to love me-“

Kaoru pressed another kiss to her lips. His whole body shook. She couldn’t be uninterested in him. He was the perfect man for her. He knew everything about her. They shared so much with each other. She completed him.

“Perhaps this was meant to be then?” Kaoru replied, his hands tugged his tie loose. “It doesn’t matter because I’ll make you love me.”

(Your name) could only cry when his lips descended against hers.

She should have never wished upon a star.

(Your name) found herself in Kaoru’s bed as he hurriedly undressed himself. The twenty five year old cursed a bit in his frustration.

Kaoru had lit candles around the room for a dim, romantic lighting. Yet he was restless.

“I wanted this to be perfect… I don’t want you to experience anything less than perfect.” Kaoru sighed while he ran a hand through his hair. The black tresses now a bit messy. “But it’s all fallen apart now.”

“Kaoru?” (Your name) gulped when he glanced towards her. His eyes heavy with a mixture of lust and obsession.

“Yes, my wife?” (Your name) shivered when he sat himself on the bed beside her shivering form. “What’s wrong, dear?”

“I… I don’t want this-“

“You will.” Kaoru smiled at her, his lips pressed against her forehead. “I’ll show you just how much a man can love a woman. I’ll show you love and pleasure you’ve never experienced before.”

Kaoru’s lips descended to softly kiss her stomach. His eyes glanced up expectantly into hers.

“You’re so beautiful. My beautiful wife.” Kaoru whispered. His lips trailed up her stomach while his hands pushed her shirt up. “I want to see all of you… I want to love all of you.”

(Your name) tried to push him away but Kaoru grabbed her hands and kissed them. His expression soft.

“It’s like it’s the first time again for me… except I’m going to make love to the love of my life.”

“K-Kaoru. Please-“ Kaoru pressed his lips against hers and pulled her hips into his. A gasp escaped her lips when she felt something big press against her. There was no way… there was no way he was going to fit.

Kaoru could feel her nervousness so he helped her out of her shirt. His hands and lips covered every bit of bare skin he could reach.

“It’s okay. If you get scared, you can hold onto me.” Kaoru smiled at her, his hands tugged her pants down.

(Your name) inhaled a deep breath when Kaoru tenderly pressed his lips against hers. His plump lips nearly devoured hers from how much bigger he was than her. She felt as if she was a lamb about to be slaughtered rather than a lover.

Kaoru moved his lips from her to kiss her cheeks and down her neck. He made sure to greedily suck on each sensitive spot to leave his mark on her.

Kaoru snapped her bra apart with two of his fingers with ease. His breath hitched at the sight of her bare chest.

“So beautiful… my beautiful wife.” Kaoru sung her praises while he continued to kiss and nip at her flesh.

Kaoru then gently placed one of her pert buds in his mouth and gave it a suckle. His pointer finger and thumb softly pinched the neglected nipple while he paid utmost attention to her pert chest. A smile on his lips when (your name) began to moan and gasp under him. There it was. She was starting to fall under his spell.

Kaoru continued to suckle her chest, the man switched between each nipple to give them both equal attention. His tongue and teeth circled each bud in a salacious manner. Small waves of pleasure began to stir within (your name) as her eyes stayed locked with his. She couldn’t look away no matter how badly she wanted to cover her face in her hands. And that only encouraged Kaoru to take more steps.

(Your name) gasped when his fingers ran up and down her clothed slit. Her lacy panties her last line of defense from his starving eyes. Kaoru’s expression lit up at the dampness.

“I knew I could make you feel good… I’ll be slow, okay?” Kaoru quickly ripped the panties off her and threw them across the room. The man pulling back a bit to admire her completely bare form. “Beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”

“Kaoru, please-“ (your name) gasped when Kaoru began to kiss down her stomach until he stopped right on her pelvis. Kaoru gave her one last look before he dragged his tongue down her damp slip, which was only the beginning.

Kaoru gave her one last look before he dove into her folds. His tongue swirling and thrusting into her entrance. Sinful noises echoed throughout the room, his hands held her hips in place so there was no escape from him.

The young woman elicited sharp gasps at the sensation, her hips bucked forward and her toes curled. Her fingers tangled in his dark lock to try to ground herself from his assault. Her body betrayed her mind as he began to bring her to the brink of ecstasy.

And Kaoru knew that from the way her body began to go taut and the cute bit of drool that dripped down her lips. She didn’t need to fight it, he wouldn’t waste anything she’d give him.

(Your name) cried when her orgasm tore through her. Her body convulsed and shook to try to get away from Kaoru but he kept going. The man greedily riding her orgasm with her until she felt so over stimulated and spent.

(Your name) felt her body go slack with bliss. The poor girl has never experienced anything like this in her entire life. Not nearly to that magnitude.

(Your name) gasped when Kaoru sunk a finger into her, the man hummed at how greedily her pussy sucked the digit in. Her face scrunched up at the uncomfortable stretch. His finger was so thick…

“So greedy. Do you want some more?” Kaoru softly asked her with a smile. A bit of her essence glistened on his lips, his pink muscle quickly darted out to lick it off. “I’ll have to prepare you a bit more. I’m more than likely bigger than any man you may have had before.”

“I… I haven’t been with a man.” (Your name) nearly screamed when Kaoru began to thrust his finger in and out of her. His eyes filled with stars and his mouth agape.

“Then… then that makes you all mine.” Kaoru whispered in a hushed tone. (Your name) could only gasp when he began to insert a second digit. “My wife… my beautiful wife.”

(Your name) began to cry from how over stimulated she was. Her poor body trembled as his fingers expertly curled in and out of her. Her hands grabbed his forearms to try to brace herself.

“You’re ready.” Kaoru pulled his fingers from her, his fingers covered in her fluids. Kaoru pulled apart his fundoshi to reveal himself to her. (Your name)’s eyes widened in terror. There was no way… no way that was going to fit inside of her.

(Your name) attempted to scoot back but Kaoru was faster. His hands grabbed her ankles and yanked him back towards him. The man smiled down at her as he aligned himself.

“I’ll be gentle… just hold onto my back.” Kaoru pressed kisses to her knuckles, his hands placed her on his back. “I love you.”

And he pushed in, his bulbous tip pushed past her tight muscles to enter her warmth. His eyes rolled back in his head from the sensation.

“So tight… you’re so tight.” Kaoru hissed, his body shook as he slowly eased himself into her. His eyes softened at her tears. “It’s okay. It will only hurt for a bit. I promise.”

Kaoru kissed away the tears in her cheeks until he was all the way in. His hands affectionately rubbed the bulge on her stomach. His eyes held so much love, (your name) swore she was drowning in it.

Kaoru gave an experimental thrust, his eyes studied her expression in awe. Her cute little gasp only egged him on.

(Your name) clutched onto Kaoru as he began to thrust. Her body slowly was being pounded into the mattress by this massive man.

“You’re too big.” (Your name) cried, her body shifted from under him. She could feel him all the way in her guts. She could feel his tip forcefully kissing her cervix in a way she didn’t think possible. He was all she could feel. All she could smell. And now she was all his.

“You’ll get used to me as time goes on. You’re taking me so well.” Kaoru grunts from above her. He made sure not to be too rough with his thrusts despite the temptation to pound her into oblivion. “You feel so good… like a dream. You were made for me.”

Kaoru smirked when she let out a loud moan at a particular spot he thrusted. He found her special spot. He quickly angled her hips up and began to hit that spot repeatedly.

(Your name) whined when she felt that coil start to build up. Kaoru’s palm pressed down on her stomach to help her reach her high.

“It’s too much! Too much!” (Your name) felt her body be brought to the edge of yet another orgasm. Her toes curled and her body stiffened.

“I love you.” Kaoru whispered into her ear, his body trembled from above her. “I’m so close… I’m so fucking close. Please say you love me…”

“I…” She knew she wouldn’t mean it but she was currently lost in pleasure. She only wanted this to be over so she didn’t care about the consequences. “I love you too.”

“Cum for me.” Kaoru smiled down at her, his body trembled from above hers, his thumb rubbed lazy circles on her neglected clit. The sensation of her scratching his back and tightening around him was too much. “We’ll cum together.”

(Your name) came with a cry, her body convulsed and her fingernails dug deeply into Kaoru’s skin. And she felt something hot fill her. Without a doubt she knew he had came inside of her but she was so tired… she didn’t want to think about the consequences of this tryst.

Kaoru’s breathing was heavy, his cheeks a bit rosy from the ordeal. He never felt so fulfilled… so loved.

Poor (your name) was so exhausted. Her body sunk into the plush mattress. Kaoru pulled out, their fluids spilling out of her in a small stream of white. Kaoru marveled at his work for a second, his fingers pushed some of his cum back into her to prevent too much of a mess.

Kaoru plopped his body beside hers, his arms caged her in to stay with him. He placed tender kisses all over the top of her head.

“You did so good. You took me so well.” Kaoru grabbed the sheets and pulled them over her. He cuddled his large from into her smaller one. “I love you so much.”

(Your name) felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. And she had no desire to fight off her body’s desire to sleep.

Kaoru smiled down at her sleeping form, his fingers plays with a few of her silky strands of hair.

“I love you.” Kaoru whispered in her ear. “I’m so happy you love me too.”

Kaoru ran his fingers through her scalp while she slept. How could someone be so beautiful? So perfect? He was so happy he was able to please her. To show her pleasure and his love for her.

Tomorrow he would scoop her up and take a bath with her if she wanted. And then he’d get them breakfast in bed before he had to leave for work. He wondered if she wanted to get married soon since they’ve taken this big step together.

Hanayama Kaoru would do everything in his powers to make her dreams come true. Kaoru would keep her safe from the world outside until his final breath. He would do his best to be her Prince Charming like the ones in those fairy tale books she loved so much.

Sadly he failed to realize that he was no Prince. He was the dragon that kept the princess locked in a tower.

“We’re going to be together forever.”

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