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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year

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IX ║ Warmblood

Jack Daniels x f!reader

{ Part 8: Silver Pony | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Summary: The hardest goodbye you'll ever say.

Warnings: Mentions of food and cooking, angst, feelings, flirting, sexual innuendoes, semi-pubic sex, oral sex (F receiving), risky unprotected sex (wrap it up, kids!), dirty talk, language, no use of Y/N

Word count: 7.6k

Notes: Here we are, at the end of the longest packtrip ever, and we did it with only one (1) little meltdown last night 😜 More notes at the end, but I just want to say - this has been a once-in-a-lifetime story for me. If a fic can be a soulmate, Palomino is mine.

Thank you for coming on this journey with me, I love every single one of you ❤️ Last thing, I never do this, but I must insist that you play this song when you get there. You'll know when 🥹

Warmblood: An athletic, agile horse that is noted for its trainability and usually calm temperament, is commonly used in equestrian competition, and typically possesses Thoroughbred, Arabian, and draft horse bloodlines.

Your awakening is gentle, soft and blurry around the edges, as if you’re looking through the lens of a Polaroid camera, tinted in sepia. The morning hour creeps across the ceiling of Jack’s bedroom in equal parts light and shadow, the curtains having been left undrawn last night. A crack in the window lets in the faintest breeze, but mutes all the sounds you’ve grown used to seeking out first thing in the morning, when your eyelids are too heavy to lift.

The hum of flying things, feathered or otherwise, charting their flight paths in your head by the buzz of their wings. The brush of the wind like a hand combing through grass and meadow. Even the sun speaks in the morning, raw energy strumming between constantly shifting air particles.

This stillness comes off as almost - unnatural. Even when straddling the divide between sleep and wake, you feel yourself making tiny adjustments to the physicality of being indoors again. Regret stains the corners of your consciousness, knowing it won’t take you long to recalibrate. Your body will return to what it knows, shedding your once-upon-a-time existence in the mountains like a coat discarded at the turn of the season.

When the mattress dips behind you, sensation floods your veins like a shock to the system, flushing out the pins and needles in your limbs that you haven’t even noticed. Jack is warm and solid behind you, where he belongs. One leg nudged between yours, his sun-kissed arm across your waist, the only thing keeping you from tumbling off the edge. His breath whistles sweetly over the shell of your ear, and you smile. You don’t have to look over your shoulder to know that his mouth is parted in slumber.

The next time you come to, it’s the rude buzz of metal on wood that jolts you out of sleep. You squeak when Jack follows, almost inadvertently shoving you off the bed as he startles awake. But thankfully, his instincts are fully intact, and he catches you squarely in the stomach, biceps flexing as he pulls you back into his chest with an easy strength.

‘Sorry, darlin’,’ he rasps groggily, burying his face in your neck in an apology. You uncoil in a languid stretch, opening up your throat to the rough scratch of his moustache, wanting to feel the burn.

‘Phone, cowboy,’ you gripe when the vibration doesn’t stop.

With a heave-ho, Jack reaches over you to grab it, before falling back onto the mattress so heavily that the bedframe shakes. Rubbing his thumb and index finger over his eyes, he grouses into the receiver, ‘What?’

Teak’s voice on the other line is clear as day even though he’s not on speaker. ‘Where are you, man?’

You burrow into Jack’s side, and the wide span of his palm on your hip holds you to him possessively. ‘Where do you think I am?’

‘Listen. Poppy made sausage gravy and buttermilk pancakes. Y’all know what that means.’

You venture a peek at Jack, whose lips are pursed thoughtfully. You prompt, ‘What does it mean?’

He smiles down at you. ‘She really likes you, darlin’.’

Teak interrupts with a scoff. ‘Like her? She’s basically adopting you, sunshine!’

Your lips wobble - if you soften any further, you might melt into the mattress. ‘Oh, Poppy.’

‘Look, I’ve been stallin’ them, but they’re fixin’ to break down her door. You lovebirds best get here quick!’

Tossing away his phone without a goodbye, Jack drops a kiss to your forehead. ‘Listen, we don’t have to go anywhere, you stay here and I’ll make you - cereal in bed?’ He pauses with a wince. ‘Actually, I’m outta milk. And cereal.’

You chuckle, reaching up to run your fingers through his endearingly askew bed hair. ‘It’s ok, cowboy, we should go. I need to pack anyway.’

Your tummy takes the inopportune moment to rumble audibly, and he pins you with a knowing look. ‘And you want that sausage gravy, don’t you?’

‘Shut up,’ you laugh, pushing him off the bed.

When you step out of Jack’s bedroom in last night’s clothes after a quick refresh in his neat ensuite, he’s already outside, warming up the Silver Pony.

The house is even cosier in the morning. Facing east, daylight fills every corner of every room, bringing out the patterns in the wooden panels. Your gaze lingers where you can’t. You want to study the cracked spines of the paperbacks on his bookshelf one by one, you want to press your nose into the shirts hanging in his closet, you want to peer around the door to a second room that is temptingly ajar -

‘Darlin’?’

You look up, and Christ on a cracker - it’s downright unfair that even after a week of spending every waking minute together, this damn cowboy can still make your heart skip a beat just by standing.

Jack is on the doorstep, in what you assume is his ‘off-duty’ uniform. Instead of a plaid shirt, he’s wearing a simple white tshirt with a round neck that is decidedly not sweat- nor dirt-friendly, tucked loosely into the waistband of dark jeans that look a bit more polished, and if you would believe it, even tighter than the pair he wears in the saddle. While it’s business as usual with the Stetson and work boots, something unfamiliar hangs from the neckline of his top.

Plucking the gold-rimmed aviators from his tshirt, you slide them onto your face, winking at him through the tinted lens. ‘Nice shades. Gotta say, I didn’t peg you for such a snazzy dresser off the trail.’

He grins, all tidy teeth with a deliberately libertine edge, clearly enjoying the attention. Scooping you into his broad frame, he drawls, ‘Gotta look good for the ladies in town, y’know. They’re famished ‘cause you been hoardin’ me all week, darlin’.’

With an exaggerated huff, you elbow past him. ‘I don’t know how you manage to zip your ego into those tightass pants, cowboy!’

‘With lots of practice,’ he retorts, smacking you firmly on the backside.

‘Do you need your sunnies?’ you ask as you climb onto the Silver Pony behind him, pushing the aviators a bit higher on your nose where they’ve slid down.

He shrugs. ‘Keep ‘em. Gives you a reason to come back.’

You smile into his broad shoulders, palms sliding to interlock over his soft belly. The bike revs, startling a flock of birds into flight from a nearby tree, and you realise those six little words are the first to breach the subject of what comes after - which will come to be in a matter of hours, with your flight in the early afternoon, a prospect suddenly so frighteningly real.

But in the same breath, it becomes blindingly clear that you don’t even need to hear the words.

Because you know there is a space for you in his bed, tucked into his body, curled around you. A spot for you under his arm resting on the back of his couch in the living room, in front of a woodfire when it snows outside. A seat for you at the back of his motorcycle, where you are now, breezing effortlessly downhill towards the ranch, the white fences and red roofs winking at you between the gaps in the trees that line the winding country roads.

When you dream in the months to come, you will always smell pine, white cotton, and well-worn leather as the Silver Pony carries you home.

It’s a shorter drive than you remember. Jack’s watch reads just past half eight when you pull into the parking lot. He kills the engine as you dismount, passing him your star-spangled helmet to be returned to its place in the little cabinet for next time. You’ve turned on your heel towards the ranch when a hand on your wrist grounds you to the spot.

Hands that have made you feel safe, protected, wanted in turn over the past week.

There’s no fanfare, no declarations, as you watch Jack lace his fingers with yours, filling the gaps and the tips curling into the valleys between your knuckles. Palm to weathered palm, calloused from ropework and heavy lifting, you look up to meet his eyes.

He peers at you, almost shyly, an incomprehensible notion after all that he’s done to you, and what you’ve done to him, across the expanse of the Wyoming wilderness. But there’s a chastity to this simple action, and you find your throat tight when he asks, ‘Is this ok, darlin’?’

Your heart swells, as if it’s going to grow claws and tear itself right out of your chest cavity. Bringing up your tangled hands, you brush a kiss across his knuckles, and his whole countenance lifts with the upward curl of his mouth.

‘Yes, cowboy.’

The Statesman is putting on a show for your last morning. The sun is out, climbing high into the cloudless sky, with Jack’s aviators bearing the brunt of the harsh glare. It’s déjà vu when you retrace the path you took on the day of your arrival, the same crunch of gravel under your boots, the familiar scent of hay and horse on the breeze.

The bird’s eye view of the ranch has your breath stuttering just like that first time you cast your gaze on the green pastures and the red roofs. And beyond, like a perfectly painted stage set piece, the Bighorns loom tall and majestic. You’ve seen the mountains in all their incarnations over the past week - they change colour as the sun and clouds move during the day, and sometimes, you swear they morph in shape too.

It strikes you suddenly that just yesterday, you were but three specks moving across the vast landscape, the realisation almost bowling you over.

Before all this, it wouldn’t have taken much to convince yourself that you don’t deserve it. That it was the horses doing all the legwork and Jack the navigating, that you haven’t really done anything but sit in the saddle. But something’s shifted, it’s been a baptism by long summer days and the great outdoors - and damn it all, you’re proud of yourself.

You came on this trip alone, with nothing but a broken relationship behind you, a suitcase full of anxieties and riding gear covered in years of dust and neglect. You said yes, perhaps recklessly, when offered the chance to spend a week alone in the mountains with a complete stranger and the glamour of sleeping bags and portable showers, when it would’ve been easier (and certainly more comfortable) to turn it down.

Somehow, you’ve come out the other end, long gallops over untouched grassland and starry campfire nights piecing you back together, only to fall so damn hard for this cowboy that you’re sure to break again when you get on that plane this afternoon -

An unexpected tug on your arm has you tumbling clumsily. ‘Jack!’

He arches an eyebrow and remarks, ‘Ain’t heard those cogs in your pretty head grind that loud since the first coupl'a days, darlin’.’

You shrug and, not wanting to sour the mood, deflect his attention with a lighthearted fib. ‘Just realised that I didn’t even come close to falling off once the entire week.��

When he chuckles, the thought comes to you that you’ll miss the way he laughs with his whole body.

‘You did real good for your first rodeo,’ he pauses, then flashes you a lascivious smirk. ‘You ain’t bad at ridin’ bareback either.’

A rebuke of his crude quip is on the tip of your tongue, but then your nose picks up on the scent of bitter coffee and maple syrup, which is quickly followed by the sighting of the al fresco table set up not far from the grill last night, the singe of smoke and whiskey still hanging in the air.

From a distance, you can see Poppy and Champ engaged in what looks like a heated debate, both gesticulating wildly with fork and knife. On the opposite side of the table, an unbothered Teak mows down his breakfast as if he’s heard it all before, and Ginger is feeding Jameson pancakes under the table.

It’s the younger cowboy who spots you two first. He freezes, brows disappearing under the brim of his Stetson when his eyes flit downwards to your interlocked hands. A huge grin would’ve split his handsome face in two if his mouth wasn’t stuffed full of half-chewed pancakes. The beans are well and truly spilled when Jameson comes bounding over, barking his demands for morning cuddles.

Champ looks up, his argument with Poppy promptly dropped. ‘Aha! There she is! Howdy young lady, we were just wonderin’ where you -’

He halts mid-sentence, his head whipping towards his right where the guest lodges are situated beyond the stables, decidedly not the direction you’re coming from. The penny drops as he takes in your hand in Jack’s, eyes wide, and all the occupants of the table seem to inhale a collective breath that stops you in your tracks.

But not Jack. He ignores the gawking with a practised air of been there, done that, and ushers you into the empty seat next to Teak without skipping a beat. Planting a sweet peck on your cheek, he settles to your left and unfolds his starched napkin with a flourished flick of his wrist, which he tucks into the neckline of his tshirt.

‘Mornin’,’ he addresses the silent table in an exaggerated southern drawl. ‘If y’all would be so kind to shut your mouths, you’re embarrassin’ me in front of my lady. Now, pass the coffee if you please, Teak.’

Fittingly, it’s Champ who breaks the silence with a rip-roaring howl of laughter, palms hitting the table so hard you’re convinced everything on it jumps a foot from the surface, the ruckus sending Jameson scampering for cover. ‘Well, well, well! Butter my butt and call it a biscuit!’

Poppy leaps to her feet, halfway to the kitchen before shouting over her shoulder. ‘We’re celebrating! This calls for strawberry milkshake!’

Teak elbows you in the side. ‘Just so y’know, Poppy ain’t the type to make strawberry milkshake for just anybody.’ He salutes you with a crooked grin. ‘Welcome to the family, sweetheart.’

It’s a brand of chaos that is distinctly Statesman. Ginger and Champ are fighting each other to load up your plate with far too much food over your protests, Teak pours coffee into your glass and orange juice in the mug, and Jameson is probing your knees under the table for scraps. You meet Jack’s eyes, and he grins back at you with a wink over the rim of his cup.

There’s no reason why you should be this hungry after the barbeque last night, but you don’t stop until you’ve polished off the sausage gravy and biscuits, the welcome richness settling in the pit of your stomach and making you second guess if you have any room left for pancakes.

‘Young lady, I hope this means you forgive me for the strings I pulled to set you two up,’ pipes up Champ around a mouthful of bacon, washed down by black coffee.

‘You’ll hear no complaints from me, sir,’ you reassure him.

He raises a fist in a pantomime of indignation. ‘You wouldn’t believe the grief Jack and Ginger put me through for playin’ matchmaker! I demand a retraction from y’all!’

Ginger raises both hands in surrender. ‘Fine, I take it all back, even if it means you’ll be downright insufferable about it! But I’ll happily live with that!'

Jack slings an arm around your shoulder. ‘It kills me to say it, but you have damn good taste, boss.’

‘Well, y’all know what they say - ain’t a pot too crooked that a lid won’t fit!’ needles Teak.

‘Hey!’ You reach across to slap him on the arm as Jack chuckles behind you. ‘I don’t see you with a lid, you loud-mouthed kettle!’

Teak sasses back, ‘Fine, fine, how ‘bout - there ain’t a man that can’t be thrown, or a cowboy that can’t be rode -’

Right on cue, Poppy’s distant shout interrupts, ‘Tequila!’

Jumping onto his feet, the cowboy winks at you. ‘Hold that thought, sunshine - right away, ma’am!’

Unperturbed by the double entendres, Champ brings the conversation right back around. ‘Well, I do declare, this nosy old man gets it right -’

‘For once!’ heckles Ginger.

‘Joke’s on you, m’dear. I only need to be right once!’

There are oohs and ahhs when Poppy and Teak reappear with the decadent milkshakes in retro fountain glasses, topped with whipped cream and strawberry slices, distributed around the table.

‘So, what are we drinking to?’ asks Poppy.

You turn to Jack, holding up your milkshake. ‘To crooked pots.’

There are cheers and laughs up and down the table, and Jack clinks your glass with a grin as he adds, ‘And cowboys that can be rode.’

You think about the cassette tapes that you used to watch when you were young. How at the end of a film, the black tape is all rolled up in the right window, and you were always the one to press the rewind button on the VCR. You still remember the whirr of the film as it went backwards, round and round, right back to the beginning.

When the coffee has gone cold and the morning chores come calling, the breakfast table empties, and you hear the click of that button when Jack offers you his upturned palm to walk you back to your cabin.

The tape rewinds as you pack. The outfit you agonised over that first day or your introductory ride with the cowboy has been laundered, and you slowly fold up each piece - the jodhpurs, the plaid shirt, the socks - and put them into your open suitcase.

The tape rewinds as you close the door to the cabin, and Jack carries your luggage across the yard in one hand, yours nestled snugly in his other.

The tape rewinds as you walk by the stables - you nip in quickly to say goodbye to Whiskey and Bourbon - past the main lodge, and the grazing field next to the parking lot.

Putting your suitcase down, Jack whistles with his fingers, the sound carrying in the wind. You see a familiar golden head pop up from across the field, and your nose prickles with the threat of tears as you watch Scotch canter towards you, ears forward and tail swishing with an attitude you can spot from a mile away. Climbing onto the first rung of the fence, you throw your arms around his neck and bury your face into his snowy mane as he snoops around your pockets, always looking for treats.

You pull an apple out of your travel bag, neatly cut in two. Scotch nickers, his velvety nuzzle tickles as he carefully plucks each half from your palm.

Combing through his forelock, you coo at him, ‘I’m gonna miss you, boy. You behave with your rider next week, you hear me?’

The key is already in the ignition of your rental pickup when Champ puts your suitcase and tote bag on the backseat floor, while Teak and Jack load the Silver Pony onto the back.

Your arm almost falls out of its socket when Poppy passes you the promised takeaway lunch, packed into a chiller bag.

‘You’re flying Delta right?’ she asks. ‘I’ll call them up with instructions on how to heat up the food. It’ll be good as fresh off the barbeque.’

‘Thank you so, so much Poppy,’ you say as she pulls you into a warm hug. ‘I hope you know you’ve ruined food for me. Nothing will ever come close to being good enough.’

She winks. ‘You’re welcome, honey. Come back soon, ok? There’s more where it came from!’

Ginger is next, and emotion clutches at your chest as you squeeze her slender frame in a tight embrace. ‘Just so you know, I was furious that you wouldn’t give me a refund when I called you up all those months ago.’

‘What can I say? I’m a tough cookie,’ she giggles, and hangs onto you for just a moment longer. ‘I’m so glad you didn’t cancel on us.’

Champ surprises you, forgoing your outstretched hand and giving you a hug for the first time. His tweed suit is softer than expected under your cheek, and smells like pipeweed and leather.

‘It’s been an absolute pleasure, young lady. I’m sure we’ll see you again very soon,’ he winks. ‘And I’ll be in touch about the social media.’

Three steps away, Teak is waiting with his arms crossed, and he pushes off the truck to bundle you into his embrace, the hug as big and as bear-like as him, which makes you chuckle.

‘Anything parting Southern wisdom for me?’ you quip.

‘I’m all out, sweetheart,’ he says, giving you a pat on the back. ‘’Cept, y’know, that cowboy’s been grinnin’ like a possum eatin’ a sweet ‘tater all week, and it’s damn annoyin’.’

Jack rolls his eyes, one palm on your back as he herds you towards the truck. ‘C’mon, darlin’, we should make a move.’

Saving himself for last, Jameson trots up to you with a bark, tail wagging. The grass is warm and tickles your bare knees when you crouch down to give him one last hug, giggling at the wet kiss he leaves on your cheek.

The leather of the passenger seat is soft as you sink down into it, while Jack closes the door behind you and crosses to the driver’s side. Inhaling deeply as the engine starts with a rusty rumble, you look up when he gives your hand a grounding squeeze.

‘Ready, darlin’?’

You nod, though not entirely convincingly. ‘Let’s go, cowboy.’

The Statesman gets smaller and smaller behind you as the truck eases down the driveway, and the four figures waving in the rearview mirror blur into tiny shadows through the mist of your tears. The metal frame of the vehicle squeaks with the movement as it rolls over bumps on the long dirt track, at the end of which, Jack takes a right with a one-handed turn of the steering wheel onto the main road, and the ranch slips out of sight.

The midday sun streams through the windshield, hot on your skin. You’re glad you changed out of the jeans from last night into a lightweight dress, a slightly frivolous last-minute addition to your luggage that’s paid off.

Staring out of the open window at the rolling landscape, it takes you right back to exactly eight days ago when you were driving down the dusty road - except this time, the Bighorn Mountains are behind you, and next to you is a cowboy instead of an empty seat.

Unabashedly, you watch him drive. His right hand is woven in yours, disengaging only to shift gears every now and then. Under the brim of his hat, his eyes are on the road, occasionally darting sideways to find himself on the receiving end of your attention.

It’s certainly an adjustment to see him in the driver’s seat after a week in the saddle - Whiskey’s, then the Silver Pony’s. But it doesn’t matter, there’s no mistaking the competence behind his every movement, be it to ease his horse to a slower gait with the lightest closing of his fingers on the leather reins, or to redirect the truck with an effortless palm on the steering wheel -

‘Take a picture, it’ll last longer,’ he drawls, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

‘Not long enough,’ you grumble, shuffling in close.

He half-turns, moustache brushing your temple as he murmurs, ‘Have I told you that you look beautiful in that dress?’

You press a secret smile into his shoulder. ‘You sure you don’t prefer me in jodhpurs?’

Untangling his fingers to slide blunt nails under the hem of your dress and up the inside of your leg, he replies diplomatically, ‘I can see pros and cons to both.’

Your breath hitches with a warning, but the instinctive parting of your thighs gives you away. ‘Cowboy -’

You startle at what sounds like a sudden crack of thunder, but it turns out to be an enormous interstate truck charging down the opposite lane. In a panic, your knees snap shut, trapping Jack’s wandering hand between the soft cushion of your legs. To your chagrin, he makes a point of waving to the driver as he passes by.

‘Jack, he definitely saw your hand up my dress!’ you chide.

He flashes you a knowing smirk, and you shudder when he digs into the meat of your thigh with a firm squeeze. ‘Somethin’ tells me you enjoyed that, darlin’.’

Your mouth opens, ready to object, but a familiar heat warms the back of your neck the same time your throat goes dry. It’s the same thrill from last night, in the cellar, not knowing if you’ll get caught bent over a whiskey cask, jeans pulled down just enough so that this cowboy could bury his cock deep inside you.

Despite yourself, you shift in your seat, and Jack’s knuckles scrape the fast dampening seat of your panties. Choking on a strangled noise, he turns his wrist so that he can rub the outline of your folds through the thin fabric, his knuckles going white on the steering wheel. ‘Fuck. I feel that, darlin’.’

Another car comes down the opposite lane, a smaller sedan this time, and you’re bold enough to spread your thighs, letting him slip under your panties.

The car swerves sharply as hisses at the wetness he finds, fingertip gliding slickly between the lips of your pussy, smearing the mess all over as your hips rock into the contact.

Through gritted teeth, Jack groans, ‘Darlin’, you’re soaked for me.’

‘Pull over. Now.’

He does - parking haphazardly behind a tree, barely a couple of yards off the main road before killing the ignition.

You mount him immediately, throwing your right leg over his lap as if pulling yourself into the saddle, the pain an afterthought when your knee jams into the control panel on the door in your haste. Jack grunts as your hips slot flush against his, his usual composure nowhere to be found as he’s caught between undoing his seatbelt, pushing your dress up and scrabbling down the sides of the driver’s seat for the adjustment lever.

The sudden recline of the seatback pulls a squeak from you while knocking Jack’s hat clean off, and you follow to claim his lips in a messy kiss as he palms the swell of your ass.

‘Jesus Christ,’ he bites out, rocking up against your pussy, head thrown back. ‘You’re so fuckin’ sexy.’

He doesn't question you when you climb over him, taking the chance to scrape open-mouthed kisses down your neck instead - and when you sit back down on your haunches, his pupils blow wide at the sight of you wearing his hat and a flirtatious grin.

‘How about now, cowboy?’ you tease.

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing hard as his eyes darken. ‘You’ll look even better sittin’ on my face, darlin’.’

Your jaw goes slack. ‘Jack -’

‘I want to taste you one more time. Need to. Please.’

Something breaks loose inside you, unhinges, and you crawl over the length of his lean body to steal a bruising kiss that has him hot in pursuit when you pull back. The hem of the dress brushes his face when your knees make landing on the backseat, on either side of the headrest he’s lying on. Reaching for the grab handle above, you pull yourself upright, bracing the roof of the truck while you hover over his beautiful nose.

Calloused fingers bunch up your dress to the waist, and Jack hums at the display of your drenched panties, before hooking one thumb around the seams and pulling it unceremoniously to one side.

‘Look at that pussy,’ he groans brokenly. ‘Always fuckin’ soakin’ for me. Just beggin’ for me to taste it, hmm?’

‘Jaaaack,’ you whine on an exhale. Looking down at how he’s so wantonly eyeing you, your back arches with a confidence you didn’t know you have. Thighs splaying wider, you know he hears the slick parting of your folds when he stutters a pained moan.

‘C’mere and let me eat that pretty pussy, darlin’.’

From the moment his lips close around your clit in a sloppy suckle, you know this is a different beast from that first time he took you apart with his mouth, deep in the mountains, under the secret cloak of night. The afternoon sun casts shadows where his brow is creased in studious concentration, his keen gaze flitting from where he delicately holds you open with his fingertips, to your cleavage, to your face, and all the way down again. Every twitch of muscle, every whimper caught in the web of his determination to relish all of you.

In no mood to tease, each measured lick and curl of his tongue hits its mark, your physical reflexes compounded by this show of devastating competence. He draws desperate sounds that you don't even register as your own, your needy cunt leaking all over his face and chin.

‘Cowboy,’ you mewl, reaching down to coil your fingers into his hair, the strands beaded with sweat and sticking to his forehead as he doubles down. Your squirming only makes him tighten his grip on your hips to hold you still, the bite of his fingers bordering on painful. ‘I’m so close -’

The insides of your thighs are cool and slippery, a sensation you’re well used to now, his spit and your slick completely soaking through your panties. His three-day stubble rubs your sensitive skin raw, and the top of his Stetson bumps against the ceiling as you angle your hips to catch his puckered lips where you need him most, chasing friction.

‘Jack,’ you whimper when you feel the first spark of orgasm deep inside you, the spiral instant and relentless. ‘Jack, Jack, oh fuck, - I’m there, that’s it - I’m cumming, don’tstopdon’tstopdon’t -’

Somewhere on the fringes of your scattered mind, you’re aware that the windows are down, not that you can do anything about it now - you thrash and wail and sob his name, all the while he laps at the mouth of your throbbing cunt. The sounds are obscene as he slurps and wrings every last drop of you until you’re pushing him away, nerves firing blindly from overstimulation, choking hoarsely when you catch your breath.

Watching you in a drunken daze, Jack finally draws back with a lewd pop, wiping his thoroughly soaked chin on your knee, which narrowly misses his nose as a violent, full-body shudder ripples through you.

‘Relax, darlin’,’ he cooes. All your joints have capitulated, so Jack has to bodily rearrange you, dislodging your shaky knees from his shoulders down to his sides to pull you in for a kiss. You moan at the sticky release his moustache smears all over your face, the taste of yourself thick and heavy on his tongue.

His brown eyes snap open when you sneak between your bodies to palm his erection through his jeans, voice strained. ‘Darlin’, we ain’t got the time -’

Deftly undoing his belt, that damned flask-shaped buckle that looks as ridiculous as the first time you laid eyes on it, you assure him, ‘Don’t worry, it won’t take long.’

He arches an eyebrow, taking in your face shadowed by his cowboy hat, but stays put otherwise, almost docile as he lets you take the reins. ‘Is that so? And you’re so confident, how?’

Shoving down his boxers and jeans, his cock springs free, hard and ready. With a brazen grin, you sit up and line yourself up to the swollen tip, declaring, ‘Because I want you to cum inside me, cowboy.’

You’re not sure if it’s you sinking down on him, or him snapping his hips upwards. All you know is that by the time your head catches up, he’s driven to the hilt inside you.

‘What are you - fuck you’re so tight -’ he wheezes against your lips, giving you no pause as he ruts into you recklessly, the crude slap of skin on skin filling every space the truck. ‘Whatcha mean by cummin’ inside you?’

‘I don’t know how I can be more clear, cowboy,’ you sass, when a particularly deep thrust almost jolts you off his lap.

‘But you’re not on birth control, darlin’ -’ he tries to reason.

‘I’ll take the morning after pill as soon as I land,’ you promise, holding his unfocused gaze. ‘Do you trust me?’

The wind is knocked out of you when his strong arms pull you flush to his front, his answer immediate and irrevocable. ‘With everythin’.’

There’s too much going on. The coarse scratch of denim on the inside of your thighs, his nails scraping down your ass, the desperate whimpers he leaves in the secret place behind your ear. The air grows humid and thick as Jack feels himself slipping, your pussy gripping him so tightly that his eyes threaten to roll back into his skull.

He gasps in a breathless warning. ‘Darlin' -’

‘It’s ok, cowboy,’ you croon, fingers carding through his dark hair. ‘I want to feel you deep inside me. All of you.’

His bones rattle with a vicious shudder at your words. Snarling, he bucks into you at a pace so unrelenting that you cry out with each snap of his hips.

‘Gonna stuff you so fuckin’ full,’ he vows in between slippery kisses. ‘Been wantin’ to since the first time. Gonna fill your pussy with my cum, darlin’, you’ll be drippin’ with me for days -’

‘Yes yes yes do it cowboy, please -’ you beg, voice cracking.

‘Look at me,’ he orders, nostrils flaring as you knock foreheads. ‘Look at me while I fuck you full, darlin’.’

Choking on a whine, you feel him swell inside you until he teeters right on the brink. The raw need in his eyes robs you of your breath, and you grow faint on empty lungs as you sway with him -

And then his neck strains, his hips jerk, and you feel his abdomen cave in on itself when he lets go with your name on his lips, and his on yours. A primal roar fills your ears as he pumps you full of him, spilling into you again and again until all you feel is his cum hot and deep inside you, flooding your cunt, his whole body spasming as he pants raggedly for air.

A carnal musk hangs ripe and sweltering in the confines of the truck. Floating on a lazy stupor, you draw soothing circles on his quickly rising and falling chest through the aftershocks, his tshirt clammy with sweat, heart pounding under your palm.

Jack reaches up to push off his hat so that he can see all of you before pulling you in for a lingering kiss. When he softens, his spend dribbling slow and hot out of you, two thick fingers nudge between your thighs, and your back arches when he tenderly pushes it back inside.

His plea is a hoarse mumble into the side of your neck. ‘Keep me in you, darlin’. Take me with you.’

You nod, and smile, ‘Always.’

The airport is tiny, and Jack seems to know everyone you cross paths with. From the security guard at the carpark (previously a groom at the Statesman) to the staffer at the car rental counter (Champ’s nephew), he’s busy tipping his hat and dispatching howdy’s left, right and centre.

‘Small town, huh?’ you quip.

He hums, ‘Welcome to cowboy country.’

And he definitely knows the brunette checking you in at the airline counter, all the while glowering at you over the top of your driving licence.

‘Ain’t seen you 'round town much lately, Jack,’ she says, affixing you with a none too subtle glare.

‘Y’know how it is in the summer, always busy,’ he replies a touch too politely. As soon as he drops your suitcase onto the baggage belt, he wraps one even less subtle arm around your waist and pulls you pointedly into his side.

You bite your lip as the woman’s eyes narrow and she aggressively punches your details into the computer system, surprised that the keyboard doesn’t break. Once your suitcase is on its merry way, Jack wastes no time spiriting you away from the counter without so much of a fare-thee-well.

You burst into laughter, elbowing him in the ribs. ‘Brrrrrr. That was cold!’

Jack pinches the bridge of his nose, admitting, ‘To be fair to her, she didn’t catch me at my finest moment.’

‘Do I want to know?’

‘Let’s just say there ain’t enough of this ol’ cowboy to go ‘round for the ladies in town,’ he winks.

‘Well, I hope they know there’s about to be even less of you going forward,’ you sniff primly.

Preening at the possessiveness in your tone, Jack ribs, ‘A tragedy, some might say.’

You huff, but can’t help a smile. ‘Well, aren’t I lucky to have roped you in, cowboy.’

‘And she can’t even lasso!’ he teases, leaning down to steal a kiss.

Feeling eyes on you, you duck your head, protesting, ‘Jack, people are looking.’

‘Let ‘em,’ he counters, prompting a gasp from you when he brazenly squeezes your ass through your dress. ‘I’m stakin’ my claim, darlin’.’

‘You already did in the truck, cowboy,’ you remind him, instinctively rubbing your thighs together, feeling the weight of his cum wet in your panties.

He hums, as if he knows, the sound deep and satisfied. His lips linger at the crown of your head, and he holds you close with his whole body, wrapping himself around your soul.

All too soon, the old-fashioned Solari board you’re sitting under whirrs into action. The retro split-flap display spins and flips with a mechanical staccato to spell out ‘final boarding call’ next to your flight number, one of five scheduled for that afternoon.

Stubbornly, you turn your face into Jack’s shoulder, inhaling him. He smells like horses and dappled sun filtered through leaves in a tree - you wish you could distil it into a bottle and take it with you.

You’re in denial, that much you know. You’ve warded off the thought of leaving too well, compartmentalised it and pushed it down somewhere it wouldn't be able to resurface.

But that’s the irony - even if you can keep it buried, it doesn’t change the fact that your suitcase is in the belly of the plane parked on the runway, that you’re about to leave Wyoming behind and put thousands of miles between you and this cowboy, who has gone uncharacteristically quiet as the minutes tick down.

Eventually, he murmurs slowly into your hair, as if the words are physically weighing him down. ‘C’mon, darlin.’

Your feet are heavy, dragging, and Jack has to practically strong-arm you out of the airport terminal and onto the tarmac. He holds you as you loiter at the back of the queue, until the crowd disperses, and the stewardess at the top of the boarding stairs gives you both a knowing but firm look.

That’s when the tears spill over the seams of your lashes where they’ve been teetering, held back by sheer willpower and clenched teeth. Ugly sobs bubble out of your throat, and Jack pulls you into him, his own voice thick as he rocks you soothingly. ‘It’s ok, darlin’. I’ll see you before you know it.’

‘But when?’ you wail, almost petulantly.

He answers with no hesitation, and it’s obvious to you that he isn’t just thinking on his feet, that he’s been making plans, but kept it close to his chest.

‘We have back-to-back pack trips the next three weeks, so I can’t get away. But next month, after the Kingsman’s rescheduled bookin’, I’ll take a whole week off.’

‘That’s an entire month away,’ you grumble into the soaked front of his tshirt.

‘I know, but you’ll need time to plan all the things we’re gonna see,’ he jokes, recalling your fireside conversation. ‘You’re gonna take this country mouse to all the museums and art galleries and all kinds of big city adventures, ain’t that right?’

You give him a watery smile. ‘I stand by the sex and Thai takeaway in bed plan.’

‘Even better,’ he answers, and you hold onto the way the crease of his smile lines bring out the soul in his eyes. ‘I’ll call you, darlin’, ok?’

Somehow, you muster the good humour to tease, ‘The cool kids FaceTime nowadays, and I hear your phone doesn’t have a working camera.’

He laughs, and you can’t quite tell if it’s tears clinging to his lashes, or if it’s a trick of the light. He thumbs away the wet streaks from your cheeks, nose brushing yours in a solemn promise. ‘I’ll get a new one.’

‘Just for me?’

And then he’s kissing you, plush lips slanting across yours, dragging slow like honey. When he pulls back, he breathes, ‘Anythin’ for you, darlin’.’

Jack has to physically unclench his fingers to let you step back. When your hand slides out of his, it takes him everything not to pull you back, or run after you up the stairs. He grasps the railing so hard his knuckles go bone-white as you turn back to him one last time at the aircraft door.

You blow him a kiss, your smile brave but wobbly. ‘Goodbye, cowboy.’

He swallows hard, wanting to be strong for you, but still, his voice wavers. ‘I’ll see you, darlin’. So soon.’

You nod, your tears catching the afternoon light as the stewardess ushers you into the cabin.

Then it hits him.

You’re not going to be in his arms when he wakes up tomorrow. You’re not going to be there when he reaches around for you - your face, your neck, your voice.

You’re not going to be there.

Jack watches your tear-streaked face appear at one of the windows, and he tries to smile at you, wishing he’d insisted on one last kiss. The heat from the jet engines and the sun is bouncing off the tarmac, but he’s cold, so cold, that his fingers have gone stiff. Nothing feels real, as if he’s been wrapped in cling film and dunked underwater, and he almost doesn’t hear the voice to his left.

The air traffic controller says apologetically, ‘’Mfraid we gotta clear the runway, sir.’

He fumbles over his words. ‘’Course. Sorry.’

Pressing his index and middle fingers to his lips, he waves the kiss at you, which you catch with your palm against the glass. Determined not to miss one single second, he slowly walks backwards with the controller beside him as he waves the batons.

He says sympathetically, ‘It’s always hard, but it gets easier.’

Jack glances at him with a questioning look.

He chuckles good-naturedly. ‘You ain’t the first lovelorn cowboy I seen on this runway sayin’ ‘bye to his city girl.’

His lips quirk despite himself, eyes still on you even as the plane slowly taxis away. He says, ‘I sure hope you’re right, man.’

With one last wave, the plane pivots, and you disappear around the bend.

Empty. He feels empty.

The sadness is helium in his chest, inflating between the gaps of his ribs, and he feels himself drift even with each footfall of his heavy boots on the concrete, while a dull ache ricochets in the hollow spaces of his skull.

Grappling for an anchor, Jack forces himself to focus, one thing at a time. Key in the ignition, twist, the whirr of the engine. Switching on the radio, it cackles between the frequencies as he straps his Stetson to the backseat, then swings one leg over the saddle and puts on his helmet.

The static starts taking on shape, lyrics and guitar riffs cutting through the white noise and catching his attention just as he wraps his fingers around the rubber grip of the handlebars.

I want to ride off on a palomino

Feel the fire in my breath and the breeze in my hair as I go

Why the hell am I even looking back for?

For I know, where you go my love goes

He misses the ghost of your arms around his waist, the slope of your nose tucked into his nape. He misses you. He wants to see your face the minute you get off that plane on the other side of the country. He wants to hear your voice before he goes to bed tonight. He wants to tell you mornin’ first thing tomorrow when he gets up.

As the 737 roars overhead, the shadow passing over him, he wonders if you can spot him from the clouds.

He’d better crack on and get to the shop in town before it closes.

Steering smoothly out of the parking lot, Jack takes a left, the Silver Pony kicking up dust with a purr as she cruises down the country roads -

The same country roads that brought you to him.

Fin

More notes: I've been writing fanfiction on and off for the past 17 years. Corny as it sounds, it feels like everything I've ever written has been leading up to this fic. I put my heart and soul into Palomino, and it's repaid me tenfold. It gave me the chance to write about my love for horses, to fall in love not only with cowboy Jack, but with Darlin', Teak, the entire cast and the horses, this whole universe that I built in my head. And it gave me all of you - the most wonderful, supportive friends and readers I've had the pleasure of writing for.

I hope I will have the chance to revisit the Palomino universe one day. But for now, I'm ridiculously proud for finishing this series and for giving it the ending it deserves. I don't think I will ever write a fic that I love so deeply again. Palomino was it for me, and I'm forever grateful that I got to share this incredible journey with all of you.

There are some special people I need to thank, please forgive me if I leave anyone out, I appreciate each and everyone of you ❤️

LJ @prolix-yuy: The wonderful friend and writer who made me fall in love with cowboy Jack in first place with her epic Westworld Whiskey series, which is also coming to an end next week. I've said this many times and I'll never stop saying it - there would've been no Palomino if not for LJ. Thank you for being my inspiration bestie, you are the literal best.

Ash @mandoblowmybackout: My OG bestie and fellow cat mum, one of the first people I screeched about cowboy Jack to, I treasure our friendship so much, thank you for your support.

Maddie @imaswellkid: Maddie, thank you for being in my corner throughout Palomino and for holding my hand when I need it (which is often). Talking to you about Palomino in person - well, talking about anything and everything to you in person - was one of the most surreal moments of last year, and I'm hoping it won't be long before I see you again.

Sil @psychedelic-ink: Sil, light of my life, thank you for always being there for me, for listening and talking me down from the ledge many times. I'm so lucky to have you, and to have you love cowboy Jack as much as I do. Talking to you is always the highlight of my day!

Peaches @ohsomightypeaches: Screaming at you/being screamed at by you about anything cowboy Jack is always so much fun, and not just Jack, but also Teak, Champ, etc.. Your love for this series is beyond infectious, thank you for your support and for always making me smile!

Skye @iamskyereads: Skye my love, I believe I was admiring you from afar when you popped up in my notifs with a reblog of the first chapter, and I remember how excited I was! So grateful that Palomino brought you into my life.

Heidi @wildemaven: Thank you for gifting Palomino with not one beautiful video edit, but also a gorgeous moodboard! You are an angel!

Jules @julesonrecord: My fellow cowboy aficionado, your enthusiasm for s'mores and Jack always makes me smile. Thank you for your support, truly.

Jo @mvtthewmurdvck: Thank you for listening to me rant and rave and holding my hand during my meltdown. I'm so grateful for you!

Snowsuit anon: It's always a joy to hear from you, and I will hold you forever responsible for sparking the snowsuit craze (affectionate) 💙 Thank you for your support my lovely!

A special shoutout to my lovely readers who have followed Palomino from the very beginning. Thank you for sticking with me, I really feel like we went on this trip together, all of us: @lola-lola-lola, @harriedandharassed, @witchisenpai, @miss-mandalorian, @fireproofmarta, @dreamymyrrh, @inkededucatednnerdy, @toomanystoriessolittletime, @freakrenaissance, @axshadows, @damnyoupedro, @thosewickedlovelies, @peridotsparadox, @radiowallet, @sherala007, @shirks-all-responsibilities

And needless to say, thank you for every single one of you (I wish I could tag everyone but we'll be here all day!), every comment, reblog, ask, tag for Palomino. You have been an absolutely joy to write for, your love and encouragement kept me going, I really don't know how I've been so lucky, y'all have my heart forever ❤️

Last but not least, thank you @saradika for these adorable dividers!

#palomino series #jack daniels fanfiction #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x f!reader #agent whiskey fanfiction #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x reader #Spotify

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id-element0 · 5 months

Text

Adele's Ramsay Living for TS3

2 years ago, on a fateful evening, I decided to convert this set to TS3. Although this had already been converted, I had my reasons to do my own conversion. Long story short, there were things that I didn't like and things that I liked.

One thing that I liked in the previous conversion was the effort to make the table tops glass. So I experimented with the Basic Shower which is supposed to have frosted glass. I don't know why EA use horrible textures; when you replace the NormalMap with a proper frosted glass texture it looks amazing.

So, using this knowledge as a base, I worked on the frosted glass table tops and after countless failures, I finally managed to have the effect I wanted. The key is having the right values for UVSelector parameters in the shader.

I also changed the textures for the bottle; tried to recreate it as a multiplier. Then made another version. Bottles are semi-transparent glass and recolourable. Don't ask me how I made them - I don't remember. But I if have to guess, there is this tutorial that I know of. The first part is about recolourable glass.

I wasn't feeling Adele's art for the painting. So, I used the recolours made by @timeparadoxsims. The artist is @len-yan and the art is amazing. If any of them want me to remove the painting from my downloads, I will do so but cry inwardly. 😢

I know people hate reading and just want to download but THIS IS IMPORTANT: Several items share textures. So you need to have the 'masters' in your game for the 'slaves' to work. I will group them and explain further.

The Loveseat is the master for the following objects: Armchair, Sofa, End Table (Solid Top), Coffee Table (Solid Top).

Loveseat, Armchair, Sofa -> 4 Channels - 2 presets with second being Adele's black overlay & metal and wood parts still CAStable.

Loveseat Polycount -> HLOD: 1746 MLOD: 702

Armchair Polycount -> HLOD: 1578 MLOD: 726

Sofa Polycount -> HLOD: 1962 MLOD: 1096

End Table, Coffee Table -> 3 Channels - 1 Preset

End Table Polycount -> HLOD: 710 MLOD: 444

Coffee Table Polycount -> HLOD: 1322 MLOD: 720

The Cushions for Loveseat is the master for following objects: The Cushion for Armchair, The Cushions for Sofa.

All Cushions -> 1 channel, 3 different multipliers - 5 Presets with 2 of them being overlays. You don't need moveobjects on to place them on their appropriate seating. If you use alt to place the seating you need to use alt to place the cushions as well.

Loveseat & Sofa Cushions Polycount -> HLOD: 160 MLOD: 80

Armchair Cushions Polycount -> HLOD: 80 MLOD: 40

The Glass Top End Table is the master for The Glass Top Coffee Table.

Both tables have 1 Channel & 1 Preset. Polys are same as the solid tops.

Decorative Bottles

Both have 1 Channel & 1 Preset.

Polycount -> HLOD: 242 MLOD: 119

Decorative Vase

3 Channels - 2 Presets

Polycount -> HLOD: 446 MLOD: 344

Large Frame Painting

1 Channel - 18 Presets

Polycount -> HLOD: 82 MLOD: 64

I've also included the collection file which comes with its own icon for easy recognition. As always, I might have missed something; if you find anything weird don't hesitate to tell me so I can try and fix it. I hope you'll enjoy this beautiful set by talented Adele. Happy simming.

- Credits -

Adele for the meshes and textures.

@len-yan for the art.

@timeparadoxsims for the ts2 recolours

Google Fonts Montez, Kurale

Made with: SimPE, GIMP, s3oc, s3pe, Blender, Texture Tweaker 3, and TSRW

@pis3update @kpccfinds @xto3conversionsfinds

- DOWNLOAD -

:: MEDIAFIRE | SFS ::

#ts3 #ts3cc #gg #download: buy #buy: comfort #buy: surfaces #buy: decor #buy: set #creator: adele

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jujutsutrash · 2 years

Text

bare desires

This is just exactly PWP, no semblance of a plot in miles, but that's cause the plot is in the fic I've been writing, "The four times Noritoshi loses you and the one he doesn't". This is actually set in the 4th chapter (and for a hot second I did plan to write the smut scene in there before deciding it was breaking the flow), but you can read it as a standalone thing just fine. Pairing: Noritoshi Kamo x reader Word count: 3573 Warnings: it’s smut, just pure smut

When you woke up Noritoshi was still asleep, body tangled in your own in a tight embrace. He had a leg thrown over yours as one of his arms locked you in place by the waist. In the closeness you could smell the rain on his hair, sense the warmth of his body heating yours and feel the solid bulge in his pants pressing against your hips. It was big and hard and felt hot on your skin even through his clothes. Suddenly you were hyper aware of how your shirt had rope up during the night, exposing the skin of your hips and your sand colored panties.

Twitching in his sleep, Noritoshi brought your bodies closer, pulling your head to the crook of his neck as one of your thighs slipped between his. He tightened his hold on your form, unconsciously thrusting his hips against you, rubbing his fat bulge over your soft skin. From your position you could see the outline of his cock pressed to your skin, his pants riding low and exposing his underwear and the dark patch of hair that led to it.

He had you intoxicated, his smell of leather and oakmoss blurring your thoughts, the warmth of his body making you feel uncomfortably hot. You had one hand pressed tight against his firm chest and the other exploring the expanse of his back, feeling the inviting softness of his skin against your fingers. Noritoshi had his face pressed against your hair, sighing softly as your hand brushed against his side, dipping low, close to his hips.

Tentatively, you moved the thigh that rested between his legs. That had him shuddering again, a low rumble reverberating through his chest as he bucked his hips into you once more. You could feel your body responding, a soft silent whimper escaping your lips as a low and sleepy growl escaped Noritoshi.

You fought to move under his forceful embrace, struggling to look up at him. When you finally did, the sight before your eyes had your breath caught in your throat. The soft light from the window bathed Noritoshi in its warmth as you watched his eyelids flutter. Long lashes protecting his eyes from the dawn as he slowly came to. When his pupils finally managed to focus he held your gaze in silence for a few minutes.

“Good morning,” his voice was rough and deep, a low grumble, almost inaudible, and it betrayed his current state of semi consciousness way more than his blue irises could.

Noritoshi blinked his heavy eyes a couple of times, one hand caressing your waist as he finally woke up. His whole body tensed and instinctively brought you even closer. That was when he felt your hips pressed against his hard cock, a twitch of his erection telling him just how sensitive he was.

His eyes widened in shock, looking back to you, your deep pupils still locked on him. He swallowed hard and tried to pull away from you, but your hand on his back didn’t let him get very far. Noritoshi watched in a mix of fear and anticipation as you approached your face to his, resting your forehead on his own and closing your eyes.

“Good morning,” your voice was strained from sleep but it still sounded like music to his ears.

For a moment he was paralyzed, frozen in place as the smell of your skin took over his senses. Even after the rain, it was still coffee and wood. He never wanted to forget it. Noritoshi closed his eyes, whispering your words back to you as his lips approached yours. The kiss was gentle at first, a lazy dance of lips and tongues as you melted into each other.

You pulled him in, closing the space he had put between you but he was too drunk in the taste of your lips to care. Too drunk in the way your mouth fit perfectly against his hungry one to mind how crass it was to have a noticeable bulge rubbing against your skin. He was drunk in the pleasure of having you in his arms like he always thought he’d only fantasize about. Inebriated in the touch he knew he desired the most even when he laid in bed with someone else.

When Noritoshi breaks his lips from yours you gasp for air. His hot mouth trails to the space behind your ears and he breathes in your smell, groaning low and heavy. The hand on your waist digs into your soft flesh, so hard it’s sure to leave a bruise. It brings you closer yet, closing any remaining space between you and accidentally brushing your body against the bulge in his pants, causing him to instinctively jerk his hips into you.

You whimper in his ear and he grunts, an untamed sound like nothing you’d ever heard from him. Keeping you pinned against him, his free hand coming to cradle the back of your head, Noritoshi peppers kisses along your neck. They are filled with the same devotion he’d dried your body with the day before.

The muscles in his back move with power and passion as he melts his body into yours. You feel every shift they make with intensity as your fingertips dig into the warm skin of his shoulder. You gasp and Noritoshi licks a stripe along your neck. His shaky, uneven breath brushes lightly against you and his lips tease your senses as they hover so close but never touching. When he finally reaches your collar bone and leaves a wet kiss to your feverish skin, you can't help but to moan.

Your eyes lock with Noritoshi’s, the blue all but gone from his beautiful irises. In the inky darkness of his dilated pupils you can see burning passion and the shadow of something primal and animalistic. Something far distanced from the usual stoic coolness he carries himself with. It’s just a glimpse, however, a mere moment before he dives back into the crook of your neck.

Noritoshi nips and sucks at the junction of your shoulder, relinquishing the feeling of your nails dragging across his back. Your labored breaths feeding the fire deep within him. His skin feels like it’s melting where it touches yours, like it wants to fuse with you until even your bones are melded together.

He moves the hand from your waist to your hip, feeling the soft touch of your panties as it slips under your shirt and up your sides. You feel tender in his hands and something inside him desperately wants to take advantage of that. To leave dark marks in his wake. But Noritoshi pushes the voice to the back of his mind, fully aware of the bruises and cuts from the previous fight against the curse you’d been hunting.

The feeling of your hand grasping at his hair is too much for his self control, however. His teeth digs into your shoulder as he growls. His hips buck in instinct against yours, seeking the friction he needs even as his rational mind tries to deny it. You mewl on his ear and by this point he throws caution to the wind. Rationality be fucked. He rolls his hips against yours again and it’s his turn to whine as his sensitive cock throbs at the touch.

You feel the sting of his teeth on your skin but it’s quickly forgotten as his hand reaches your breasts. He is groping you passionately as his tongue soothes the spot where his teeth dug into your flesh. When he comes face to face with you again it’s a flurry of lips and tongue and the intense rolling of his hips against your core.

Before you realize Noritoshi pushes you on your back, legs straddling your hips as his tight sweatpants struggle to contain his bulging cock. The sunlight touches his skin and you can’t help but feel breathless as it bathes the pale vastness of his skin in an almost supernatural warmth. He is a sight to behold, bare chest and tousled hair breaking the controlled facade he so often holds. His pants hug close to his thighs but hang low from his hips, exposing his black underwear and the clear outline of his cock on it. He is looking at you with the eyes of a wild animal.

Noritoshi drinks the sight of you for a second, all wide eyes and bruised lips, before he is pulling at your shirt. His shirt. The sight of you wearing his clothes is one he wished he could see everyday but right now he needs you to take it off. He couldn’t tell you how many times he had dreamt of this but the dreams couldn’t come anywhere close to the real thing. His eyes linger on the sight of your bare chest for a second. One hand moving from your navel to between your breasts until it reaches your neck, calloused fingers caressing your soft skin as he resists the call to close his fist around it.

His lips meet yours again as he dives down, one hand holding his body above you while the other finds your breasts. His mouth is hot and his tongue is hungry as he sucks on your bottom lip, groping your soft flesh, rough fingers taking everything they can have. When they find your sensitive nipple you moan and he slips his tongue into your mouth, drinking the sound straight from your throat. Your muffled cries find only his wet tongue as an audience.

When he feels satisfied with your mouth Noritoshi trails down your neck to your breast, lips so close but never touching your body. You feel his hot breath on your skin, tingling and enticing you with an almost touch. You squirm under him, hips thrusting into his clothed cock. He grunts but remains unmoved in his teasing. His mouth hoovers over the sensitive skin of your chest for a second before he finally takes your nipple between his lips. You have to fight the need to scream as his hot tongue teases you.

One of your hands tangles in the silky black strands of his hair, the other crawls over his shoulders and across the muscles on his back. He growls, a deep rumble that resonates through his core and into your body as his lips part from your nipple. They are quick to find the other however, sucking and licking like a starving man.

You feel his fingers travel down your side, finding your inner thigh as he digs them into your flesh. They creep up to the place where your leg meets your hip, slithering under the fabric of your panties, just barely stroking the sensitive skin. You buck in his hands, seeking the satisfaction you so desperately need. His palm presses hard against you for a second before his fingers finally slip between your folds.

The fingers in his head tug at his hair as you try to pull his body ever closer to yours, a moan escaping you. Noritoshi takes the chance to return his lips to your exposed throat, teeth nipping at your skin. You feel so deliciously wet around his fingers as he rubs them around your clit, a raspy groan sounding from deep inside his throat. He is rolling his hips into yours, slowly teasing himself.

Noritoshi presses his thumb against your clitoris as his fingers dip into your dripping pussy. You are so soft and warm and he has to stop bucking into you for a moment to control himself. The mix of your wetness and the fingers now pulling at his hair are becoming too much to his mind. He finds that sweet spot within you and your body shakes, legs coming around his waist to pull him down. Your fingers sink deep into his back and he grunts, a shudder running down his body.

He keeps the movements of his digits as his mouth assaults your neck. He is whispering sweet secrets into your skin. Words muttered in a way you can’t understand but you can feel. They seem like prayers and they burn your skin. It doesn’t take too long for the feeling of his fingers moving inside of you to become too much and not enough at the same time. Your hips thrust into his hand and it’s almost shameful how desperate you are. You don’t wanna think about how much you want this. How you’ve wanted this even before. Despite whoever else you’d shared intimacy with. Thankfully, you don’t have to think for long.

The sound you make as you see stars is wild and vulnerable, filthy and godly all at the same time. Noritoshi is sure he will remember it forever. As your pussy quivers around his fingers he makes sure you ride through your orgasm. He peppers kisses on your face, whispering breathless words of praise on your heated skin. His darkened eyes are waiting for you as your eyelids open, the kiss you share is equal parts erotic and romantic.

You reach one hand down, caressing his chest and abs before it reaches his bulge. Noritoshi bucks into your palm and you can feel the precum that has soaked through his underwear. He watches as you pull them down and release his cock. It’s not so thick that it would hurt but it’s long enough to be impressive. You will take it in whole, you want it, but it will be a stretch. He bucks into your hand again and you can see a bead of precum tickling from the swollen head down the hard shaft.

His lips meet yours, soft and yet desperate as he slowly rocks his hips back and forth. The feeling of your fingers gripping around his needy cock has him groaning into the kiss. You start tugging his length before lining it with your pussy. Noritoshi feels the wetness coat his swollen head as he slides smoothly over your sensitive clit. He is breathing hard as he lets your juices coat his cock, just the promise of what is to come already feeling like bliss to his desperate nerves.

He parts his soft lips from yours as you let out a moan, a thin strand of saliva connecting the two of you. One of Noritoshi’s hands finds the inside of your thigh, gripping hard at the skin before pushing your leg against your chest. You only have a moment to gasp before he starts sliding his cock inside of you. The intensity of the feeling has you both moaning out, a symphony unrehearsed and yet in tune. He can feel his cock throb as your walls wrap around it, so warm and wet it has him forgetting to breathe.

The feeling of his length pushing into you has your pussy stretched in the most delicious way. He is moving slowly against your sensitive walls drawing out whimpers and mewls from your lips. Noritoshi makes it past half of his shaft before he starts pulling back and ever so slowly pushing in again. He wants this to last forever, even though he knows it won’t.

You can feel every movement, every vein on his cock dragging against your pussy. His head pushing into your walls in ways that have your legs shaking around his waist. You are pretty sure he is gonna drive you crazy as he pulls back again. But this time he pushes all the way, sinking his cock balls deep into your pussy. There is no preparing for how full you feel, he stretches you to your limits and the sensation is like something you’d never thought possible.

Crying out his name - an almost delirious sound that tests Noritoshi’s strength - you throw your arms around his neck. You can feel your pussy tightening around him and his thick length twitch in response. He is grunting and roaring again, making sounds that feel primal. Sweat has started pooling on his brow, his fluttering eyelids hide dark eyes that hold almost nothing of their natural blue. His hair curtains his face from the sun, messy locks framing his beautiful features. He is much more gorgeous this way, when he is crying your name like a prayer.

Noritoshi starts speeding up, hips slamming down hard into your pussy. You feel so good around him, perfect for his cock. He can feel it throb and twitch as he draws out his pleasure. The hand on your thigh pushes your leg further into you, letting him go deeper. There is sure to be deep purple bruises where his fingers are once you are done. And as his mouth meets the skin just behind your knee he makes sure there are bruises there too.

Every low moan he pulls from your throat makes his hard length twitch. Every time his swollen head pushes against the spot that has you convulsing around his cock he can feel something raging within. A pleasure that borders on agony building up inside of him. He keeps the pace, fucking you hard and fast as he sinks his entire length down before pulling out again. Pressing your sweaty bodies together like wild animals, a storm of desire and emotion. But when Noritoshi presses against that one spot in you once more and your hands pull hard on his hair, his hips falter and he can feel his resistance break.

The growl you elicit from him is savage and desperate, you can sense the faltering of his hips before he speeds up again. He can feel the coil in his core tightening dangerously. The sloppy sound of his length slamming into your dripping pussy only drives him further as it fills the small room. His cock is twitching with abandon now. His thrusts grow faster and faster as he seeks his release, balls feeling tight and heavy. Noritoshi sinks his teeth into your skin, biting and sucking so hard he very nearly draws blood. You whimper out in response as your hips buck into his. He hears you call for him in a needy plea and that’s more than he can handle.

Noritoshi’s thrusts lose their rhythm as he moans out your name, slamming as deep down as he physically can. You can feel his thick cock spasming violently inside your pussy as he pushes your hips against his, making sure he is completely buried. He senses all his muscles contract as he hits his orgasm, shooting rope after thick rope of cum inside of you in a torrent that almost seems never ending. Painting your insides white was a fantasy he never thought would come true, and yet here he was. Noritoshi rocks his hips again, making sure to drain every last drop. He cums so much, just the movement is enough to make it start spilling from your pussy and down your ass.

When he finally stops his body almost comes crashing down on yours. Noritoshi lets go of your leg, pulling himself up as he slips his cock out of your abused pussy. He watches the cum dripping down for a moment - enamored with the mess he’d made of you - before closing his eyes. His free hand comes to cradle your face as he rests his forehead against your own, thumb softly caressing your skin. You watch him intently, eyes screwed shut as he breaths rough and fast, chest rising and falling in shallow motions. You can feel his breath on your face, taste his mouth on it.

Slowly he calms his breathing, face softening before his eyelids flutter open, eyes meeting your own. The blue has returned to them, inviting like the calming ocean, but you can see a flicker of fear poisoning the sea. Noritoshi tries to say something, you can feel his voice stuck in his chest and for a moment you feel afraid of what he will say. You bring one hand to his jaw, softly caressing the side of his face as the other pulls his body closer.

There is no need for words - you don’t want them and he can’t find his own - not right now, there is nothing good they could add. The kiss you pull him into is gentle and full of emotion. It speaks of a devotion you two could never truly grasp, but neither of you ever wants to let go of. A curse that words can’t really explain. It’s a deep and desperate kiss, but not in an erotic way. It’s desperate in the manner of a deer as it runs from a lion. There is something you both want to run from, even though you know you can’t out run it. But you’ll take this moment anyways.

In this place, far from Kyoto. Far from the prying eyes of the Kamo clan. Far from either of the Sister Schools. In this forgotten place, far from the cruel rules of your life you don’t need to think about what reality is like. You can both pretend, even if just for one mission, even if just for one day. Play at something that’s good and right and perfect. Something not marred by Jujutsu society, by your status at birth, by the cowardice that fills his soul. You can bare your desires to the sunlight with the knowledge that they won’t be burnt.

Even if not for long.

And you both know it’s not for long.

#noritoshi x reader #noritoshi kamo x reader #noritoshi kamo #kamo noritoshi #kamo noritoshi x reader

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bandgie · 1 year

Text

Predator & Prey

a/n: 6th and FINAL chapter omg

warnings: somno, fire, biting, blood, dark thoughts from Nyryx, one degrading word said (whore), uhh I think that's it

6.8k words gyyaattttt

Maybe it was your nerves, but you wake up just as the birds start chirping. You could fell Nyryx solid beneath you, his chest softly heaving as he slept. You laid on top of him, your own personal bed. You felt bad that he slept on the cold ground, but his calm, neutral expression showed that he didn't care much. His wings were wrapped around you, keeping the heat in. You smiled.

You gently picked your head up, looking at the early morning sky. There was faint pinkish color against the blueish heavens. It had been so long since you woke up so early. You rarely admire the beauty in the waking sun, but against the snowflakes and cold, white powder makes you cherish the sight.

Though you could easily fall back to sleep, especially with Nyryx under you, you don't. It's your first time being awake before Nyryx. When you traveled in the woods, he would be the one to wake you. It's a weird gift you've been granted on your last morning with him, and you're going to take advantage of it.

You looked back at him, loving how soft his features looked. Nyryx usually had a frown, or contemplating look, but there are no traces of hard lines. Instead his eyebrows are relaxed, mouth slightly open, and eyes closed with long lashes to compliment him. He sleeps peacefully, as though neither of you had sent a village ablaze only hours ago.

Your fingers reach up to trace his details. His skin was a little rough in your fingertips, but you still smiled as you felt him. Nyryx didn't stir in his sleep when you played his with lips, but his nose did twitch. You help back a laugh at the cute movement, instead trailing your hand to his cheeks. You decided to travel a little more down and place your hand on the side of his neck.

You rubbed your hand up and down, and without meaning to, your hips followed the movement. You really didn't mean to touch him with any sexual intent, but you just adore the way he feels under you; How still and compliant his is, another gift you've been given this morning.

You slowly adjust so your knees are on the cold ice below you, straddling him. You shiver when you make contact with the ground, the snow almost burning on your skin. Ignoring it, you shuffle so that you scoot down just barely, face lined with his chest. His wings move unconsciously, allowing you more movement. You kiss his chest in gratitude.

Nyryx doesn't move while you trail your kisses downward, hands holding his sides for balance. You would think such a killer would be on high alert even when asleep. Instead it's you that moves in a predatory way, stalking and slyly moving down his body.

Is this how he feels? You wonder as you take advantage of his unconscious state. Nyryx is the one who's supposed to take you like this, asleep and unaware. You're filled with excitement as you think of your reversal of roles. He must feel a power trip as he hovers over his prey, similar how he is to you right now.

When you reach his trousers, you stop. You're shaking, most likely from the cold, but also from the adrenaline in your veins. If he wakes, you don't know how he'll react. Would he be upset? Mad that you succumbed to your horny feelings? That you bested him in a game he plays most well? Or would he be happy? Would he like that surprise you woke him up with?

After all, this is like breakfast in bed for him.

Coming to your conclusion, you carefully free him of his pants. Pulling down just enough for his semi-hard dick to come out. It's less intimidating seeing him softer than usual. You have a lot more confidence this time when you take the tip of him into your mouth. He's salty, it makes your mouth water on instinct to dilute the taste. After what seems like forever, he moved. Legs opening a little wider to give you more access.

You stick your tongue out in the underside of his dick, tongue messily licking while you sucked on him. It didn't take much effort for Nyryx to grow exponentially, hardening in your mouth with a soft groan. You pull away and stroke him a few times, ignoring how cold your body is getting from being away from him.

You fear for a moment if the wetness between your legs can freeze, but you'll make sure to fix that before you have the chance to find out. Though the outside of your body is burning cold, your insides are burning hot. You swear your arousal alone could warm your entire body, but you'd rather have some of Nyryx's help.

You engulf him in your mouth again, bobbing your head to get some action going. Your hands aren't gentle anymore, they grip at his waist almost possessively. Your rough touch must wake him up at some point, but instead he continues to lie there. His body jolting when you suck his tip harshly, how you move your tongue down to lick his balls, the way your throat closes around him when you gag.

You can feel the spit dribbling down your chin, the saliva that coats your hand when your stroke when you can't fit in your mouth. You can't help but move your whole body when you take him, hips grinding on nothing but cold air. You pop him our of your mouth and you swear you hear him whine when you do.

You shiver as you sit up, discarding your pants and underwear when you do. Before you take your place back on his lap, you place your clothes on a rock near the almost dead fire. You don't want to be sticky having to put cold, wet underwear back on.

Once you finish, you scramble to sit on his lap. The morning cold is almost unbearable, but you're glad there's no wind at least. You take a good look at Nyryx's sleeping face, how it's not contort in what seems like impatience. You grab his hardness again, this time lining it up with you pussy.

You know it would be painful to take him in one sit. Nyryx always made sure to get your cunt doodling before you took him, but now that's all up for you do to yourself. So, despite the want and need you ache for, you grind on his cock. It's weird at first, how his hands are limp besides him, wings fluttering besides you as you hump his dick. Still, you find some disgusting satisfaction with you in control, with you on top.

Maybe you aren't as much of prey Nyryx thinks you are.

You hear the slickness of your pussy as you grind on him, looking down to the strings of essence that connects your bodies. You moan at the sight, giving you motivation to keep using him. After all, you are supposed to be teaching him self control. Who knows? Maybe this is the perfect way for him to get his meal.

You rub your clit on his tip, gasping at the feeling. You could feel every vein and even the crown of his head as you grind on him. You bite your lower lip to keep from moaning loudly, but it's more difficult that you originally thought. You're panting, legs starting to get sore from rutting against him. Still, the heat in your stomach encourages you further.

Your legs tremble as you approach your release, wet sounds emulating from beneath you. You find the strength to look at him, unbelievable seeing his eyes still closed. He has to be faking it at this point. He can't still be sleeping with your wetness on his thighs, his dick. How aggressively you're humping and even smacking your pussy on him.

Your body tenses, your orgasm threatening to spill out of you just before you decide to sit up, pulling away from his dick. You shake and tremble from your self edging, almost curing yourself for not finishing. It doesn't matter though, you would much rather cum with him inside you.

You wobbly adjust so you're actually hovering over him, his tip already leaking from the edging. Nyryx's fists ball up and and relax, body trembling as he fights to keep from thrusting into you in his sleep. Though you're now 100% sure he's not really sleeping. You're quick to catch him briefly open his eyes before he shuts them again. You laugh.

"Nyrryyyxx..." you teasingly sing his voice softly. He pretends not to hear you though, instead keeping his eyes closed and lifting his hips to let you know that you should get back to business. It only makes you laugh more at his eagerness. You reach down and grab the base of his dick, shoving his tip in.

You purposely do it slow, feeling every crevasse and vessel his dick as to offer. You love his irritated face, how he looks at you between his lashes. Though you're completely aware of his consciousness, he maintains his sleep like state. Staying (kind of) still and moaning softly as you push him halfway through inside you.

"I know you're awake, you don't have to pretend," you tell him. Despite being this close to his body, you're freezing. The sun is finally over the horizon, but it's far too early in the day for it to give any actual warmth. "I'm cold," you comment to him. You think it will make him break. Have him wrap his arms or wings around you to shield you.

Instead, he smiles, fangs poking out, "Sit on my cock properly and I'll reward you." You're stunned by his morning voice, how deep and gravely is sounds. Perhaps it's also because you're teasing him with the one thing that gives him life, but that's just a theory.

You push him deeper as you exhale, eyes rolling back at the painful stretch. You can feel yourself fully sit on him, ass to his thigh before he finally lift his wings up. Nyryx quickly wraps then around you, forcing you down on his chest for more heat. You moan at his warmth, inside and outside of you. He lets you adjust to the new position before he thrusts upwards gently.

You whimper, burying your head into his neck from the deep angle. In this position, you're also able to rub your clit on his pelvis. Nyryx also uses his hands to snake around your waist, using is was leverage to fuck up into you.

You bite down in his neck, desperate to not make any noise, but Nyryx is displeased with this. "Louder prey, I wish for the birds to sing your moans." His voice holds authority, and you obey. You had been forced to keep quiet with Nyryx in the spare room, but now there is no one to stop that. Only the trees and morning animals will keep your secret.

You let yourself moan with no restraint when he resumes. Nyryx is loud with his grunt, but they're drowned by the slapping of his skin on yours. All you can do is take it as you entire body is jolted by his movements. Drool pours from your lips when you feel him kiss your cervix, so so deep inside you.

Nyryx doesn't hold back in any aspect. You think he was treating you gently compared to now. He doesn't let the snow under him affect his fucking, not the early morning you woke him up at, not your loud moaning in his ear, nothing. Nyryx is still careful to not accidentally stab you with his talons, they're dangerously close to your stomach and trapped under his wings.

He could easily nick you, tear your pretty flesh open and watch you paint the snow red. Hurting you never gives him pleasure, he hates your sorrowful cries from his doings. It doesn't stop him from taking pleasure in the danger though. Your life is in his hands, literally. He could easily take everything from you. Nyryx could keep you from your world, your family. He could have you every second of the day just by threatening you with his power. He could consume your lust, fear, hatred, every emotion your body has to offer.

Nyryx hates how his thoughts turn wicked, how easy it is to make his delusions a reality. Your pleasureful moans though, pull him out. Goosebumps cross his skin as you cry, waking up every animals that still slumbers. He can feel you twitching, gushing out more lubrication when he reaches down to grasp your ass. He shoves you even harder on his cock. you swear you see stars from the deep penetration.

You're supposed to be teaching him control, but instead he's using you like a cocksleeve. You don't think he noticed that he was also drooling, his eyes turning scary wild as he keep his eyes past you, looking at your bouncing hips. He was mumble something, your name occasionally leaving his lips. You thought he was moaning or praising you, but he almost seemed in a trance.

You grew curious and slightly worried, but all you could was whine when he pushed you deeper on him, gushing your cream all over his cock. His dick must be painted white like the snow that surrounds you, but neither of you will ever know. Not when he keeps fucking into you and spreading your essence between you both.

Your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back, the noises that leave you are inhumane. Probably even a turn off, but Nyryx takes pride in your moans. You can feel the coil in your stomach, the tingling sensation near your thighs. Nyryx and his creamy cock are quick to notice your closeness, holding you tighter against him so that you could fully feel your clit being rubbed.

You're a babbling mess, not even bothering to properly kiss Nyryx back. All there is between your lips are spit, drool, and clashing teeth. The heat in your stomach builds, almost unbearably before you come crashing down. You sob loudly, feeling your orgasm drip down out of your pussy onto his cock again. Nyryx still beneath you, letting your twitching body come down from your high.

Your cunt is clutching him so tightly, Nyryx couldn't move even if he wanted to. It's not until you go limp against him he decides to move again. It's long before he hears your protests, your whines for him to wait. "Please Nyryx," you gasp. "I-fuucckkkk-you slow down please." Nyryx is riddled with guilt, but your pleas are so beautiful. He wants to keep ignoring you just to hear them more.

Against his primal desires he stops, almost cursing himself. "Just a little longer, prey," he whispers in your ear. "Let me have you." You moan at his words, your sensitive pussy aching for you to listen to him despite the one being abused. You bite your lower lip, eyes meeting his.

Nyryx looks so desperate, so fucked out. You forget that he also goes insane when you fuck, it's unfair for you to use him like you did earlier while not letting him get the same. You nod, eyes dropping to his lips you want to taste so bad. "Okay, but kiss me please," you agree.

Nyryx accepts your terms and condition immediately, tongue slipping in the same time his dick pounds into you. You cry into his mouth, moans unconfined. You can feel how the same pussy that was crying for him ram into it also cry for him to take it out. You don't know how you can take it, the feeling of his cock was too much to bear. Maybe you can't in a way, Maybe it's why you can't help the salty tears you taste on your own lips, the way your hips try to escape his deathly grip.

It doesn't take long for him to resume his violent thrusts, his tip touching the deepest parts of you. Nyryx doesn't stop kissing you, even opting to lick your tears and consume you in anyway he can. He snarls against your lips, a clear indiction of how close he's getting. He's sloppy now, uncaring of how hard he bounces you on him to meet his thrusts. You can taste the sweat on his skin, how it drips and mangles with your kiss, if you can call it that.

Your body trembles from overstimulation. You can feel how your stickiness has completely coated your lower body parts, including his. "Nyryx come, please please I need it," you beg. You do want to feel him come inside, but you also want it to end. You don't want to spray your essence all over the place again. You can't stand the thought.

"Shit, please. Baby I need it so bad, don't stop don't stop," you let a pet name slip you. You're not even sure if he understands the term of endearment, but Nyryx seems to enjoy your dirty talk regardless. "Is that so?" He taunts. "Want my seed deep inside. You are a lucky whore, I don't give it to just anyone."

Nyryx uses you like a rag doll, your body a mere vessel for him to use as he cums. His moan in so animalistic, the bids near by take flight. His warm ropes find their way deep inside you, it fills you to the brim. You moan with him, matching his heavy breathing. Your chests rise and fall together, your bodies in harmony.

Riding out his orgasm, Nyryx gives you a few more thrusts. They're much softer this time, almost lovingly in how he caresses your body. Rather than pulling out, Nyryx let's his cock stay inside you to soften. You're more than happy to comply, feeling your walls envelope him in a wet, warm blanket for him to snuggle in.

Though you both had woken up not too long ago, you were drained. The previous night was cruel, both in sleep and wakefulness. You yawned against Nyryx chest, ignoring the voice that screamed at you to stay awake. To spend every waking moment with Nyryx before night fall came. Your body had different plans though, his seemed to as well. He moved his hand from your ass to tilt your head up, looking at your sleepy eyes.

He placed a tender kiss on your lips, pulling away before either of you could deepen it further. "Rest now prey, you have a journey ahead of you."

The remaining day is spent with Nyryx inside you the moment you woke up again. It didn't matter the position, the location, or the weather. He loved being in your mouth, he learned. The feeling of you gagging around him, your dull nails digging into his thighs when he pushed too far 'accidentally.' The best part, however, was when you cried. The silent tears mixing with your spit and his arousal in your mouth. Despite the blissful, almost eager look in your face you still wept.

Not that he cared of course, Nyryx would pull you up to him by your neck. He would kiss you harshly, moaning into your mouth from all the liquids mixed together. He didn't even have to cum from you sucking him off of fucking you, he could lick your sobs away and finish in his trousers.

Though you also loved choking around his cock, you preferred riding him. Sure it was a lot more work (and he would do most of the thrusting anyway), but it was a great way to act like you were in control. The feeling of sinking all the way down on it, being able to maneuver your body so that you could hit all the right parts, the brutal grip on your ass, it was euphoric.

Not to mention how he realized his tail could wrap around your body, giving your clit harsh or soft rubs while his hands stayed on your hips. It was a great way to not only keep balance, but multitask on pleasing you in every way possible. You both loved the view as well. How Nyryx's face would twist in pleasure, his sharp teeth being revealed behind his lips, his dark eyes eating you up in the most vile way.

Nyryx's eyes couldn't leave your body, not when you bounced on him like that. As though you were chasing your own pleasure, that it was the only way you could live despite him being the incubus. Not to mention your tits, how they bounced and pebbled at the cold air around you. It was a fortunate circumstance that Nyryx could produce inhuman heat, and keep his wings around your body so you would stay sick-free.

You didn't feel hungry, completely satisfied with the amount of cum Nyryx poured into your belly. Maybe it was because you just simply didn't have an appetite, you didn't want to waste your time with Nyryx by eating. That didn't seem important to you, not when the demonic being was on top, hips driving into you roughly. You could feel the cold snow on your back, but it was actually soothing on your hot skin.

You were gasping for air, moans spilling out of your mouth when he grabbed your hips to wrap around his waist. With your ass off the ground, it gave Nyryx a better angle to drive into you, dick practically pushing through your cervix. He was going to bruise you for sure, but Nyryx was determined to leave you full of marks. I want you to remember these, he told you. His hips slowed for a second, fingers trailing your purpling skin. Even when you will have left me, these will stay.

Nyryx knows he shouldn't, he knows he should send you back without any suspicion of where you've been. The aftermath of two worlds colliding would be far worse than the humans hunting him, far worse than anything both of your worlds have endured. Still, he can't help himself. Not when you seem more than willing to let him claim you, inside and out.

Nyryx's dipped one of his hands down to your pussy, fingers playing and rubbing on your sopping folds. You arched your back even more, clamping down on his dick. You cried out at this over stimulation, body shaking from the painful gratification he gave you. Nyryx groaned at your tightness, his torso leaning down to place hot kisses on your face. He didn't care if he got your mouth multiple times, only that he got his lips on your flesh.

It was disgusting really, the horrifying way you were crying. Like you were being murdered, like the incubus above you was taking advantage of you as he's supposed to. It didn't help that your hips instinctively tried to get away from him, jolting and pulling away from his own. You gave thanks for the snow and trees drowning out your sound, eating the way you sobbed and the way Nyryx ate you.

When Nyryx came, it was anything but devilish. He looked angelic, his loud moans in your ear, his dominating grip, the convulsing of his body. You took him all, your pussy drinking his release happily. You quivered beneath him, whispering his name like a chant. Nyryx kissed your neck sloppily, ignoring the way you cried when he clamped his teeth harshly on your sensitive skin.

You were tired, so tried that you didn't notice Nyryx laying you down down on the snow. You couldn't feel the burning cold, but you could see Nyryx rushing to grab clothes, your clothes. Wordlessly, he began dressing you. Each leg, one by one through the warm pants. Then to your arm, carefully placing them into the long sleeves before pulling it down your stomach. He reach for your shoes, struggling on the laces before he gave up.

By the time he was done, you realized why he was dressing you. The sun had began going down. The moon was beginning to shine, not to its fullest, but a reminder of the power it was grant Nyryx. A part of you felt like you wasted the day, fucking into oblivion. You should have spoken with him instead, telling him how much you'll miss him, his world, what could have been.

Yet, when Nyryc picked you up, carrying you in the way he liked most, you realized you did communicate to him, and he to you. How his body moved against yours, how you met his thrusts restlessly, the way you kissed, the feeling of not being close enough despite him being in the deepest parts of you. Maybe you didn't talk through words, but you've always been told that the sword is mightier than the pen.

In this case, the sword was very mighty.

You let him walk through the woods, going deeper than what you expected. The trees once beautiful in white became eerily close, as if they were whispering when you walked by. They became tangled within each other, not even the birds dared to rest of their branches. "Where are we going?" you didn't bother hiding the fear in your voice as you asked.

Nyryx kissed your forehead soothingly, taking notice of the quiver in your voice and the increase in your heat beat. "We should be out of sight, no where near humans. If they see what I can conjure, there will be no stopping in the hunt for me. For the others of my kind," Nyryx speaks slowly, as if he's carefully you understand that he doesn't intend on scaring you. It's for both of your safety.

You nod, releasing a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Nyryx walked for a long time, filing the silence with questions you didn't expect him to ask. He ranged from asking about your family, if you also worked at a bar back at your world, what Easter was and why boiled eggs was so important. Despite being with Nyryx for over 2 weeks, it was one of the first (and last) times he asked you about your personal life.

It was cute of him, being curious about your life. You answered him happily, occasionally complaining about your troubles that he couldn't help but laugh at. Nyryz wasn't necessarily the talkative type, opting to listen and only really talk when it was naughty. This however, made you recognize that he was nervous. He was just as anxious as you. Nyryx didn't want you to leave, didn't want to say goodbye and never see him again.

Despite being satanically bred, he had obvious human emotions.

The stars were bright in the sky, and you recalled the night in the bathtub, how bright they shone there too. When Nyryx found a spot he deemed worthy, he set you down gently. You sat on a near by rock, dusting off the snow. Just a few feet in front of you, stood two trees. Their roots wrapped around each other as did their branches. The only opening was between their trunks, like a passage way. You knew that on the other side was more snow and more trees, you could see it under the starry sky.

Still, you felt the chill on your spine, the tremble of your legs. It was ghostly, almost, the way the trees ominously intertwined with each other. You looked away, rubbing your neck to feel some type of warmth and settle your uneasiness.

"Is this the portal?" You asked as you kept your eyes down at the snow. Nyryx was clearing the fallen sticks and branches from the ground, seemingly unaffected by the sinister atmosphere. "Yes, it's quite the eye catcher, no?" He smiled. Nyryx could taste your fear, and it was tempting to play into, but he held back. He wouldn't want you leaving pissed off at him.

Instead, Nyryx busied himself with work. He stomped on the uneven snow, attempting to make a steady runway for you to walk on. He gathered his found sticks into 3 piles, small enough to fit into his large hands. You picked your head up, curious at what he was doing. Nyryx paid no attention to your stare, instead taking deep breaths to hone into his energy.

He stood at a distance from his piles, his long fingers creating a shape you couldn't quite see from your place. The silence was deafening, you could practically hear the blood rushing in you veins. "You said there is no magic in your world?" Nyryx voice makes you jump. "Y-Yeah," you compose yourself quickly. "Not real magic at least."

Nyryx looks in your direction, and you shiver. Every fiber in your body is screaming run despite you knowing he is the only person you're safe with. His eyes are full blown black, new red orbs staring into your eyes. His horns are protruding at a length you've never seen before, curving inward at the tip. His wings, even have seemed to grow larger, his wingspan stretching out from him. He gives you a wicked smile, fangs reaching down to his chin, "Then, I suppose it's up to me to show you real magic, prey."

With a loud inhale from his chest, Nyryx turns his head to focus on the sticks. He whispers softly, so lowly you thought it was the wind tickling your ear. Nyryx exhales, strings of fire coming from his mouth that whirlpools into the piles, bringing them to flame. You don't dare to make a noise, not even to gasp when he steps close to the fire. He breaks the formation in his hands to slit his palm with his talons, blood oozing from the wound.

He drips his blood onto the fire, and they seem to grow bigger. Each fire gets so big, that they reach beyond Nyryx's height. They wrap around each other similar to the trees that's your portal, thinning out as they grow taller before bending downwards. The flames start to form a circle around you, Nyryx, and the trees. Your hair whips in your face from the force, the heat so strong, your chest begins hurting from breathing.

"Bleed," Nyryx commands, his voice almost unrecognizable. It takes a second to register that he's talking to you. With a shaky breath you stand, walking to the wall of fire behind you. Your eyes scan for something to prick yourself with, trying to stab your fingernails into your palm to no avail. You don't notice Nyryx's silent steps toward you, you don't notice him until he grabs your wrist. You gasp when he turns you around, taking your wrist into his mouth until he bites down, hard.

You scream when his teeth dig into your flesh, blood pooling from his lips onto the snow. Tears welt up into your eyes, arm aggressively pulling away from his as you slap his chest with the other. Nyryx releases you, but you don't miss the way he cruelly smiles with your blood on his teeth.

He spits into the fire, and it roars in response. You hold your injured arms into your chest, tears spilling while you violently sob. You're scared, you're cold and hot at the same time, your wrist is burning from pain. You're experiencing fear, fear at it's rawest form once again. Nyryx hates himself for taking pleasure in it, your pitiful form practically begging him to soothe you. He can't though, not yet.

The moon brightly shines above you, and it's really the only thing you can find comfort in. Not matter the world, the moon and sun rise and set just the same. The fire travels in circles until it finds its way between the portal of trees, red sticking onto the trunks. You think for a moment that it'll catch ablaze, but instead the fire start turning into a solid. The flames continue to pour into the center of the opening, turning it a blue color.

Nyryx is still besides you, eyes rolled back to his head as he chants softly. Blood starts dripping down his nose, his ears, and you swear you could see it starts seeping through his eyes. With your good hand, you wrap your fingers around his. He grasps your hand desperately, squeezing comfortingly before the final bits of fire create the portal. Now you see why he needed so much energy, animal blood wasn't going to cut it.

It feels like an eternity before silence falls in the woods once again. The roaring fire stops abruptly, leaving you gasping and choking your weeps. Nyryx stumbles backwards, finding balance in your enveloped hands. "Nyryx! Sit down," you voice is laced with concern. He listens though, plopping down on the rock you were sitting on. He still look deadly, even more so with blood all over his face. Though, his horns had shrunk in size, his eyes no longer blood red, but still pitch black.

Nyryx doesn't let go of your hand, holding it close to his face as he leans forward. While you tell him words of comfort and ease at his level, he gathers snow. He tenderly takes your wounded wrist and places the snow on it. You hiss at the pain, but quickly find solace in the numbness. Nyryx kisses you passionately, ignoring your groans of protest from tasing your own blood.

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead on your forehead, breathing heavily. Before you can start talking again, he places another kiss on your lips.

"Would you believe me if I said that was my first time opening a portal?"

You both stood before the portal, it was hazy and blue, giving the impression of the beach you were at. You almost cried when you heard the waves crashing, hand tightening around Nyryx's. It was here, it was real. Home is on the other side, your family is on the other side. You could taste the salt on your tongue already, feel the wind in your face. Nyryx could smell it too, his nose flaring at the sour aroma of the beach.

"Holy shit," you breathed. "I can't believe it's really here." The temperature had drop significantly in the night, your breath fogging as you spoke. You couldn't even tell though, too entranced at the sight. Nyryx nodded, "It is."

You turned to face him, and he to you. Your eyes locked, and before you could get any words out, your cried. Babbling incoherent words while he laughed, bringing you in for a hug. It was awkward as first, his stiff body against your weeping one, but Nyryx quickly found solace against your body as he molded into it.

You didn't want to pull away, but Nyryx did. He held his arms on your shoulders, "You cry so easily. I think that will be what I miss most." You laughed and sobbed at the same time, throat scratching at the mix. You took shuddering breaths, your hands clapping over his, "Will you really be okay? You don't need anything?"

Nyryx hummed thoughtfully at your question, "I would rather you somehow keep you...essence here, but I suppose I'll have to go back to eating pig's blood." You rolled your eyes at him, no longer feeling sorry for the demon. When you released him from your grip to turn to the portal, he called your name.

"Yeah?"

Nyryx held is hand out, a large, black feather in it. His own feather, you don't have to ask to know. You carefully picked it up, holding it up in the moonlight to inspect it. You smiled thoughtfully, holding it tightly in your fingers, "What's this for?" Nyryx thought for a moment, as if he was careful on what he was going to say next. "So you don't forget me," he concluded.

You wiped your tears and cocked your head to the side, "What do you mean? How could I forget you? Or anything that's happened?" You started to laugh, but seeing his serious, solemn expression made you stop. You eyes him cautiously, breath stuttering in your chest. "Nyryx," you started, "I'm not gonna forget anything, right?"

"You should hurry," he ignores your question, "The moon will lose its power. The portal won't hold forever." Nyryx pushes you closer to the portal. You wriggle out of his grasp, whirling to him. "Am I really going to forget everything? This world? The bar? Meredith? You?" Your voice was breaking again, but you tried to not let any tears fall.

Nyryx tensed, and for the first time, he was noticeable scared. "Truthfully, prey...do not have high hopes that you will remember. Not many do, it's what happens when you cross the border between worlds. It's what maintains the balance between us and other worlds." Nyryx wipes the tears that betray your wishes and fall, keeping his hand at your face. His thumb rubs soothingly on your cheek.

"So," you hiccup, "You'll forget me?" Nyryx shakes his head, his lip jutting out into a pout. "No," he confirms. "If I were a human, maybe. But I am already a supernatural being, this will not affect my memory." You nod against his head, trying to find some comfort in his words, at least one of you will remember.

For the last time in your life, in either of your lives, you kiss him. It's gentle, careful. You kiss like he'll break, like he's the purest thing on Earth. He kisses you the same, shivering as he wraps his arms around your torso. You pull away slowly, not missing how his lips chase yours just for a second.

"Thank you," you whisper, not ready to see goodbye. Nyryx gives you a sad smile, his eyes darkening for a second like he's going to cry. "Of course prey. Should we be born again, I hope to spend that life with you. Without being hunted." You laugh at his joke, tears halting from spilling. "Reincarnation? You really believe in that?" You ask.

"Well," Nyryx contemplates, "If it is possible to travel between worlds, I suppose reincarnation is not inconceivable." You tilt your head side to side, also thinking about the thought of being reborn. "Yeah I guess you're right. I also, would spend that life with you, if it exists."

He smiles as you, releasing you from his grip. It takes a second to adjust to the cold again. You ignore how lonely you feel, you step closer to the portal. To the gentle breeze that calls you, begs you to come home.

You take a last look at Nyryx, "So, see you later alligator?"

He looks puzzled at your words, but nods nonetheless, "Yes, but I am not an alligator."

You stumble out of the cave disorientated. Your dress stickily clings to you, it's so humid. Your heels find balance on rocks, the sand. It doesn't help that the sun is beating do harshly on you. When did it get so hot?

You can hear your name being yelled in the distance, coming closer. You look up to see your younger sibling running to you, dressed in nice attire like yourself. They have an annoyed look in their face, obviously not as disorientated like you.

"There you are!" They yell, panting. "Mom and dad have been waiting forever! We still have to take pictures come o- what's in your hand?" You quirk an eyebrow, eyes following where your sibling is looking until you see your hand. Between your fingers is a black, gigantic, feather. It swallows light, as if it doesn't want to be seen.

"I dunno," you shrug, eyes still on the feather. When your sibling reaches for it, you pull away, almost protectively. "Hey!" they complain. "I want to see it!" You raise the feather well above your head, a place they can't reach at all. "It's mine, go away," you brush them off.

Your sibling continues to complain, but gives up soon. "Whatever! Hurry up!" They run to your parents without another word. You roll your eyes at them, but you can't shake how you reacted to the feather. You didn't care much about feathers, you didn't even like touching them. So why this one?

You shove the feather into a pocket, deciding not to wonder about your feelings. You made your way to your family, their hands waving you down and shouting for you to hurry up. Surprisingly, you find yourself walking faster, almost fully running to them. Your chest aches, your throat bubbles like you're going to cry. You don't know why, but you're actually happy to take pictures with them.

Despite the overwhelming happiness you feel, a shadow of longing also fills you. You reach in your pocket you squeeze the feather, oddly comforted by it. A weird part of you thinks this mere feather is a gift. From what? You have no idea. Mother Nature perhaps.

You decide that you should keep it. Maybe it's a good luck charm.

a/n: holy shit and thats it. did I check for typos? no! if you see them, no you didn't. thank you for being with my on this journey! I'm pretty rusty from writing, and I feel like I could do a lot better in the future with dialogue and shit, but still, thank you everyone!!!!! I'm thinking about writing like a second part where reader and Nyryx meet in a different life, but I'm debating on different scenarios, I might put out a poll???? anywho yeah, that's that and im totally gonna work on my dead dove I need more gore >:(

taglist: @whatamidoing89, @panda-wolf, @fatgumsbby

update: second part is here

#smut #chapter update #dark fic #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #demon oc #demon smut #monster fic #monster fun #tw monsterfucking #monster fucker #monster #tw #chapter 6 #last chapter #angst #teleportedintoanewworld #predator & prey #somno fantasy

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watatsumiis · 1 year

Text

'Friends in Unexpected Places' a Yae Miko x Reader drabble!

Dunno if I'd say this is Miko x reader, more so a Miko and reader interaction, but it can be read either way!

Gender neutral reader (one who is a little silly and chaotic), a few pet names used by Miko (little one, dear, darling). Generic mischievous Miko shenanigans!

The trek up to the Grand Narukami Shrine is long and arduous, as it always is. Despite being lauded as one of the most important shrines in Inazuma, the stairs aren’t exactly in great shape.

Not for the first time, you wonder if there’s some kind of secret elevator shaft somewhere that Yae Miko simply never bothered to tell you about - you wouldn’t be surprised, considering how difficult it is to get up here individually, let alone carrying the heavy supply crates that regularly get delivered to the shrine.

You wipe some sweat from your brow as you emerge onto the mountaintop plateau and look out over the railing at the sprawling landscape, so far below that you feel a little dizzy. If you narrow your eyes, you can just make out the dark smudge of Ritou in the far, far distance, and a cursory glance a ways off to the left presents Inazuma City in all its glory, though it’s so far away that the details are nigh on impossible to make out

After taking a few minutes to regain your composure, you approach the temizuya and perform the cleansing ritual that Yae Miko had shown you upon your first visit to the shrine, making sure to perform the steps in the right order before setting the ladle back down.

You were here today at the Guuji Yae’s behest - she’d sent you a letter inviting you for afternoon tea, but by the looks of things, she’s not here at the moment. You can’t help but feel a little disappointed, but you come to terms with it quickly. The head shrine maiden is a busy woman, the fact that this is the first time she’s ever been late to one of your catch-ups is a miracle in and of itself.

Your shoes tap softly on the wood beneath your feet as you pass by a shrine maiden, who leans forward in the small booth she’s situated in and smiles politely at you. “Would you like to draw a fortune slip?” She asks, gesturing towards a small bamboo container in front of you.

You pause for a few seconds, mulling it over. Well, you’ve got to try and fill your time with something. “Sure.” You offer a small smile to the woman, who returns it wholeheartedly.

“All you have to do is pick up this cylinder, and shake it until a bamboo slip comes out.” You do as she asks until the slip falls out into your open palm. “Now pass it here, and I’ll give you your fortune.” You offer the slip, and she exchanges it for a carefully rolled up piece of paper.

You delicately unfurl it and take in the words written there. ‘Friends can be found at the most unexpected times and places.’ You furrow your brow at the vagueness of it.

“If it’s a bad fortune,” The shrine maiden tells you, a slight frown pulling at her features. “You can tie it up over there, that may help change your luck.”

“It’s not a bad fortune, don’t worry.” You look up at her. “Thank you, though.”

“Of course.” She smiles and dips her head, and you turn to walk away, rolling up the slip of paper and putting it in your pocket.

You walk back the way you came, hoping that perhaps you’ll be able to spot Lady Yae coming up the stairs (though you’re not particularly inclined to believe she’d ever do such a tiring thing without good enough reason).

You’re brought to an abrupt stop as your foot collides with something semi-solid, and a sharp yap comes from below. Quickly, you look down to see a fluffy little creature giving you a most offended look.

It’s bright pink, but other than that, it looks just like almost any other juvenile fox. “I’m so sorry!” You exclaim, and it gives you a pointed look before turning away.

You kneel down and reach a hand out tentatively, trying to see if it’s injured, but it coolly side-steps away with a flick of its tail.

“What are you doing up here, anyways?” You’ve seen foxes roaming in the areas surrounding the mountain, and on the plains not far from Inazuma City, but never in the shrine itself. You figured it had something to do with Miko’s aura being so intimidating. “Come on, you must be lost.” You give it an encouraging wave and straighten back up.

You’re almost positive that it can’t understand you, but the look on its face seems to border on amused as it plods along beside you, tail wagging back and forth slowly. Before you know it, you’re back at the entrance to the shrine, with a small fox at your heels.

“There you go, I’m sure you can find your way from here.” You gesture to the stairs, barely a stone's throw away. The fox sits down, resting its fluffy tail over its paws and yawning widely, showing off small, sharp fangs and blinking slowly.

“Right. Well.” You turn on your heel. “Bye.” You’re not sure exactly why you’re talking to a fox, but it’s not really the strangest thing you’ve done, you don’t think.

From the corner of your eye, you see the fox stand, and watch its fur shift as it stretches languidly and flicks its fluffy tail. It pauses for a few moments before turning and padding after you once more.

You stop in your tracks, and the fox stops with you, staring expectantly at you and tilting its head to the side.

“I don’t have any treats for you.” You turn to face it and hold your hands out to show that they’re empty. “I don’t even know what foxes eat.” It’s not an entirely untrue statement - though you know what Lady Yae likes, you feel like actual foxes probably don’t enjoy fried tofu as much as she does. Actually, you don’t know if anyone enjoys fried tofu as much as Miko does.

You’re momentarily distracted as a shrine maiden walks by and casts her gaze over you, then the fox. Something close to amusement passes over her face, but she continues on her way without a word.

“Go on. Shoo.” You wave your hand towards the exit, but the fox just stares at you unblinkingly. “You can’t stay here. You’re going to get stepped on.”

The look it’s giving you almost feels like one of amusement, though you don’t know if foxes can even feel amusement, much less express it so openly. It takes a few steps closer to you and sits down, lifting one front paw to nudge at your foot insistently before giving a soft yip.

“If I carry you down part of the way,” you bargain, as if this ridiculously coloured creature can possibly understand you. “Will you go the rest of the way on your own?”

The fox cocks its chin up and lets out a little huff that you take to be an affirmative answer.

You kneel down and hold your hands out, but the fox just stands there, watching on with judgemental eyes.

“Come on.” You twitch your fingers at it, and one of its ears flicks down for a brief moment. You try making a few little kissy noises, as if calling for a cat. The fox just shifts its weight and wraps its tail around itself, watching you expectantly. “Pspsps.”

It noses into its chest fur for a moment, nudging a tuft that was sticking out back into place. You take the opportunity to shuffle forward a little closer, wondering if this might just be an absolutely absurd idea. The fox leans towards you, and you awkwardly wrap your arms around it.

It’s like a strange, uncomfortable mix of lifting a dog and lifting a cat, mixed in with handling a ferret. The fox seems to suddenly be all lanky limbs and fur so silky soft that it’s hard to keep a good grip.

The fox lets out an aggrieved puff and adjusts itself, giving you a little warning nip as you try to steady it by placing a hand on its haunch. It takes a few awkward moments until the fox is settled in your arms, curled up close to your chest with its tail dangling off of your arm. It tilts its head up towards the entrance, and you begin walking, taking it a little slower so that the fox you’ve found yourself taking care of won’t get jostled about too much. It’s heavier than it looks, like its body is denser than most animals. It’s a bit of an odd feeling.

“You know, I didn’t think foxes would be this soft.” You observe aloud, rubbing a little tuft of fur between your forefinger and thumb.

The fox turns its nose up, seeming affronted.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You say, as if the fox can actually understand you. “I just thought maybe foxes would feel more like dogs.”

Suddenly, the fox shifts its weight, and you pause on the steps, worried about it accidentally falling. You grimace as it presses its paw down on a particularly tender spot on your arm, pushing all its weight down until you flinch slightly. “Ow!” You complain.

The fox then stops abruptly, curling back close to your chest with a sniff of disdain. You can’t help but feel like it was trying to punish you.

You walk down the stairs in silence until you come to a small plateau of grass. You kneel down to set the fox back on the ground, but it doesn’t seem to want to. You try to awkwardly get it to roll out of your arms and deposit it on the ground, but it moves with a slinky, lazy sort of elegance that makes it impossible.

“Come on, it’s time to go.” You complain. “I’m meeting with someone, and she will never let me hear the end of it if I’m somehow even later than she is because I was babysitting a pink puffball.”

Even as you straighten your arms out, the fox rolls and contorts in a way that almost definitely should not be possible while keeping its spine intact.

“Are you Miko’s pet or something?” You ask, beginning to become frustrated with the increasingly difficult behaviour the fox is exhibiting. “You’re just as difficult.” This statement is met with a sharp nip to your fingertips, and you suck in a pained breath through your teeth. “Are you made of her fur sheddings? The way you’re sticking to me, I wouldn’t be surprised. Come on, shoo!”

You feel worry begin to patter in your chest at the idea of being late for your afternoon tea, but you still can’t seem to manage to untangle yourself from the little fox that has become so attached to you. “Fine then, you can come to afternoon tea with me. And I won’t say anything to defend you when Miko bullies you for being a scrawny little kit.” This statement is met with another bite to your upper arm, sharp little teeth sinking into your clothing.

“Stop that!” You exclaim, standing up and walking over to sit on the stairs. The fox drops into your lap, showing no trace of its previous determination to stay wrapped up in your arms. It curls up on your thighs, stepping on just about every sensitive spot you have with its full weight before it finally settles and looks up at you with big, dark purple eyes.

“You must be Miko’s pet.” You observe. “Only she would get her hands on a fox that looks just like her.” You shake your head and sigh. The fox continues to stare at you. “But even so, that won’t stop me from pulling your tail.” You wrap your fingers tentatively around the bundle of fluff, though you don’t have any real intention of pulling on it at all. That just feels too mean.

You stop in your tracks as you hear a noise on the wind - a faint chuckle, one that you recognise all too well. Every muscle in your body stiffens as you look around, searching for the source. “L-Lady Yae?” You call hesitantly, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Oh, little one.” Her voice is a little clearer now, and you feel the weight in your lap shift and disappear. Oh, now you go running off. You roll your eyes. Her laughter comes again, and with it, a heavier weight dropping in your lap.

You jump in surprise as, in a blur of pink, red and white, Miko herself all but appears in your lap, her arms wrapped around your neck and legs thrown off to one side.

You hold yourself tensely, a little unsure of what the appropriate way to react would be. “It’s…uh…nice to see you?” You hazard tentatively, casting your gaze around the small landing you’re on.

“And you, dear.” She coos, twirling loose parts of your clothing around her fingers.

“Did you…uh…see where that fox got to?” Despite the squabble, you can’t help but feel a little worried for the small creature you’d briefly taken under your care. “Is it a pet of yours?”

Miko throws her head back and laughs, a high and breathy laugh, more open and expressive than she ever allows herself to be normally. “The fox.” She echoes, shaking her head and focusing her intense violet gaze upon you. “Darling, you wouldn’t recognise a youkai if one haunted your house.” She traces her fingers down your cheek in a playful manner. “Or if it bit you. Quite literally, might I add.” She moves her hand from your cheek to your upper arm, then to your fingertips, where the fox nipped at you.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Despite feigning ignorance, you feel the apprehension dawning as clear as day. “You…that wasn’t…You’re not…?”

Miko gives you a fangy grin. “Oh, did I neglect to show you my fox form?” She teases, the symmetrical dimples beside her eyes deepening as her grin just grows at your shocked reaction. “Silly me.”

You sputter for a few moments, unable to get together the words to express how you’re feeling or what to do to rectify the fact that you had just babied fox-form Miko, and talked badly about her to her face. “I-I…” You begin, only for Miko to interrupt you as she presses one perfectly manicured finger against your nose.

“I’ll admit, your reactions were quite amusing.” She informs you. “I think you’d make quite an interesting light novel protagonist.”

“Did you do all of that just to…to prank me?” You ask, feeling a little taken aback at her behaviour, though it’s far from unexpected at this point.

Miko crinkles her face up in amusement. You feel a tug on one of your pockets, and before you know it, she’s unravelling the fortune you pulled earlier. “Friends can be found at the most unexpected times and places.” She recites with a sly wink and a mischievous grin on her face.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagiarise my writing! I do not consent for my works to be translated and posted elsewhere, or used to teach bots!

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin self insert #my writing #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #platonic genshin x reader #yae miko #genshin yae miko #yae miko x reader #yae miko x you #miko x reader #yae miko x y/n #yae miko fluff #platonic x reader

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magewolf-the-artist · 6 months

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Ahh, Charles Brook my beloved

1. Me when I first started drawing this doodle dump: Oh golly gee brain, what should we draw first? My brain: Charles on a toddler leash with Susan holding it and looking tired Me: Wowie sounds fun! Yeah this doodle pretty much summarizes their dynamic in the Domestic K-9 AU

2. There's a graphic description of somebody being killed in the next paragraph so feel free to skip over it

To make a long-ish story short, Charles was snooping around the backstage area as his daughter, Lily's, birthday was wrapping up, he found Susan on death's door inside the Banny animatronic and freaks tf out, Bon finds him and they play a terrifying little game of hide and seek, and just as Charles thinks he's fine, WHAM! His faces gets smashed into the floor by Bon, turning his skull into a fine mush and killing him pretty much instantly. Ironically in this AU at least, his death was the most merciful because he at least got the insta-kill treatment rather than suffering through hours or days of agony. I imagine in death, his face kinda sags forward. Kinda like a bag of sand taped to a wood plank.

3. So semi-recently I think, Charles was confirmed to have ADHD, and I saw some doodles by @xzbat-loverzx about one of him stims being clicking a pen and I thought, "Ah yes, perfect". Not really a ton else to this doodle, except I can imagine BSI employees constantly leaving pens and pencils behind whenever they stay at the K-9 Facility

4. This one is my favorite and the one I'm the most excited to explain!

So the first few weeks or so at the K-9 facility was, to put it lightly, a fucking nightmare for Charles (and Rosemary but I'll cover that another time). He was constantly eaten away by guilt, shame, anger, fear, and sadness and generally he was an incoherent, delusional wreck, even on his good days. At some point he managed to get it into his head that he could break out of the facility by body slamming the walls which, A, they are made of solid concrete, and B, even if he did break them, he'd be greeted by an avalanche of dirt. But again, he wasn't really in his right mind at the time

Susan was kind of in a hell of her own during that time considering she'd have to be the one to repair him afterwards. Those episodes are actually the reason the plastic casing on the Boozoo animatronic's upper right arm and the left hand is missing, because at some point they sustained so damage that they just fell off. Susan didn't exactly have a ton of patience for this, and his incoherent babblings whenever she would pull him away would only make her more pissed off. This isn't entire fair to him of course, as he is not at all in his right mind, but in fairness to her, the idiot would slam himself into the walls whenever she took her eyes off of him for even a SECOND, even if it was just to retrieve tools or spare parts from the tool closet.

Eventually what happens is that Susan convinces Bon to hold him down while she goes over to the tool closet and retrieve whatever thing she needs, idk man, I'm not into robotics. When she gets back, Charles is unusually quiet and Bon is trying not to laugh his ass off. Oddly enough, he doesn't take the opportunity to make some snide comment or mock either of them while she works, he stares at the both of them silently.

Once that's done, Susan very begrudgingly thanks him for the help and, with possibly the most shit eating, Cheshire cat, smug as fuck grin, Bon replies, "That's what friends are for." And then she smacks him.

#the walten files #walten files #susan woodings #twf fanart #twf banny #twf bon #charles brook #the walten files fanart #twf boozoo #twf #twf susan #twf charles #Domestic K-9

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mochilatae · 9 months

Text

Me Time (Namjoon x Yn/Reader)

Word Count: 7.23k

Pairing: Namjoon x Y/n

Rating: 18+/Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Kissing (french and other), oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, clit/pussy sucking, orgasms (multiple, yours and his), flirting, seduction, semi-missionary sex, intense sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, Namjoon has money/a nice place/is a rich guy in this one. If I missed one, it is what it is.

Genre: Strangers to Lovers, PWP

AUs: None

Summary: You head to the woods for a Me Day. When you encounter a handsome stranger more than once, it becomes an ‘Us’ day that you could get used to.

Author’s Note: Glad to be back and I’m happy to have my comeback be a Namjoon adventure. This was requested by @worldwideseal a bit ago and I've been trying hard to finish it.

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed it, let me know in a comment.

Tag list: @askkrisachan @kiestrokes

It was a solid battle. A contemplation in the drinks aisle, door open and chilled air rolling over your sun warmed skin. If you were accused of debating too long, it wasn’t something you’d deny. The cool air felt nice on the sting of what had clearly proved a bit too long in the midday sun.

A wonderful way to start your weekend: an unexpectedly challenging hike that was supposed to take less than 30 minutes from the parking lot. But that proved to be for those initiated types–the ones who made a hike with a considerable grade look like a jaunt.

For you it was a bit more like a gauntlet of misery. So you’d more than justified it to yourself, leaning against the drinks cooler door frame, letting your profile crush against the frosted surface.

You hadn’t heard the footsteps approaching but the voice came through. Clear. Amused. No need to look because a grin stretched the distance between the few words over your shoulder.

“Contemplating life or flavors?”

You straightened, grip finding and holding the door handle. The chilly rush over your cheeks did something to help the panic, which helped a little. You couldn’t blame that kind of tell on lack of sunscreen or an unplanned too-long-hike in the sun.

“It’s rough.” You barely replied. Eyes popping, you grabbed the brightest color visible front and center: blue ice. Lowest on your list, but it was in your hand and you stepped aside.

A large hand grazed your own as grips traded on the door handle.

The form stepping into your spot in front of the open case was just obvious enough: Big. Broad. Tanned just right. The kind of golden that said it was real deal stuff. No spray tan or tanning bed nonsense.

The man leaned forward, eyes closing as he hummed into the same cold air your pores sucked up earlier.

You swallowed, eyes lingering on the necklines. And the biceps, rounded, stressing the cuffs of his white t-shirt sleeves just enough. Suddenly you were hungry–the handful of crackers and cheese burned up long ago in the car. You’d eaten fast and should have prepared more, but now you saw something meaty.

Something in a healthy, hunky shape, grinning your way, eyes finally open and meeting your nervous stare. Your eyes widened again. At least you kept your mouth neutral–an even line.

He had a nice smile as selected the same flavor you’d chosen, nodding your way.

“Good flavor. You like it too?”

You looked down, turned the bottle over in your grip, and looked back up.

Shrugging, you waved the bottle a little. “It’s up there.”

One perfectly thick brow arched as the man offered a timid smile. He didn’t move much, but his bangs still lolled. The tips feathered his forehead, hypnotizing your senses for a moment. You’d barely noticed the world huffing up the winding trails outside the store, melting under your tank top and workout leggings.

He had the faintest sweat–something normally unappealing. He’d managed to make a biological response magical. The slickness on his skin looked good.

“Up there? Not your go-to?”

In the middle of the only store for 45 minutes in either direction, there wasn’t room to be choosy. Trade offs were made for a weekend away from your city apartment. A lot more space. A lot LESS amenities.

But sometimes there were unexpected perks—exhibit A standing just within reach.

Blue Ice traded hands as he reached into the case again. This time he selected a considerable bottle of Evian and shook it, like you’d done before. Both his cheeks developed dimples as he beamed.

Your fingers tightened on the cold plastic bottle that you now gripped for dear life. Your throat was tight enough. It wasn’t the only part suddenly unable to relax. The reason was familiar and longer overdue: Attraction. Raw and unbridled. Washing over you.

“Can’t beat water. Perfect palette cleanser.” Murmuring, his fingers wrapped both bottle necks with room to spare as they overlapped.

“You’re not local.” He added once his assessing gaze finished at your face.

A scoff dislodged the lump in your throat, allowing a breath.

“Is it that obvious?”

You boiled inside all over again–as warm inside as the surface of your skin felt outwardly when a wide, warm smile changed the entire handsome face in front of you.

If he was a local you’d eat the map you’d grabbed from the gift shop ‘section’ of the store.

“Maybe.” He added a wink, then looked beyond you, towards the clerk leaning into the counter by the register, yawning her way through the local paper with low lids. She hadn’t looked up when you came in, but she couldn’t have missed this guy.

“Are you?” It was natural to ask so you didn’t feel awkward about it.

“Yes and No.”

“I don’t live here year round. I visit now and then.”

“What’s that mean?” You watched his free hand go into a pocket, then come back out with a square of leather.

His head jerked towards the end of the aisle and you took a step, matching his as he walked and talked.

“Family?” Your eyes scanned the shelves as you moved along, trailing the man but also debating just how hungry you felt before it was too late and you were back into the hike back to your car. It seemed just a touch too far away right now and those Oreos on the upcoming end cap looked all too tempting.

“No.” He chuckled, glancing at you, then following your eyes to the Oreos. With a rakish grin, the man grabbed two packs and they joined the drinks, tucked against the inside, pinned in place by the inside of his arm.

You suddenly wondered what that arm would feel like around your neck. Maybe bent over the counter, with his lips along your ear, his hips screwing slowly against your ass. Bold and full of fire.

That kind of body heat wouldn’t be the worst thing to suffer. You were piping hot in a few places as it was.

“I own a place up the hill.” He was stopped at the aisle end. You thought about going around, but didn’t. No need to end this encounter any sooner than it was going to be over. It wasn’t getting any less hot outside either.

“Yeah?” You returned a smile.

“Mmhm. What’s your name?”

You hesitated, bringing the drink bottle to your neck and rolling it along one side. You kind of like it more than a lot that his eyes followed the motion. His patient smile didn’t falter but something flashed in his eyes.

“Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.” He said. “I’d shake your hand but—”

Your hand shot out. Until now you weren’t the type for hand shakes. How quickly that changed.

“Namjoon” He pumped your hand as he spoke again. That big palm was warm and smooth. Silky and dry. By contrast you wondered just how dewy your palm still felt. You’d spent quite a bit of time wiping palms on your thighs as you’d paused all too often on every hill during the hike. But he didn’t have to know that.

Namjoon gave no indication he minded, if anything was amiss. “Nice to meet you.”

Finally he moved again and you watched his back as he stopped at the counter. The employee barely looked up, coming away from the counter to situate herself mostly behind the register. The beep of each scan started. In between Namjoon made more conversation, which was a relief because you couldn’t keep your focus on talking with the way your eyes feasted on his ass and calves.

Everything from his hips down looked impossibly tight in his light gray workout pants.

“You hiked up here then?”

Leaning around him, you stole a look at your chosen drink still on the counter, then sighed.

“Yeah.”

Namjoon moved your bottle towards his selections. The girl was efficient, scanning so fast you had no time to protest. With a single blink you pointed.

“...That’s mine.”

He had to forget. That was it. Best to remind him. Just like him, you’d queued up to pay. Reasonable for how you expected things to go. Even if you hadn’t expected to meet someone in the middle of choosing. But that was life sometimes: unplanned, bringing pleasant surprise on the back of undesired situations.

“I know.” Namjoon opened his wallet.

You noted several cards in various colors. Even black—you knew enough about people who owned a black card. It took a certain level of financial security and comfort to get one of those.

He’d already paid and turned towards you again with your drink held out in offering. You took it. When he passed a pack of Oreos along after, you sputtered. It wasn’t an insult to injury for the extra sugar, or the worst thing. The cheap energy would help your dreaded trip back down the hill.

Still… How he’d decided to be so kind. To a stranger.

“Why?” You inquired, low and confused. Feeling all kinds of knotted up inside at his kindness and that flame still going inside your chest.

Namjoon stepped around you and started for the door, taking your focus with him as you turned, and paced him with your stare. Looking back, he held the door open and spoke.

“I wanted to. Be careful out there.”

---------------------------------------

You kept replaying things in your head, carefully shuffling sideways down the steep hill. There hadn’t seemed to be so many on the way up, but the grade felt a lot more intense going the other direction, towards the store.

Now, having some distance from the store, you felt a little sheepish over quietly cursing your decision to come up here. It was a lovely day outside, instead of the boiling, sun soaked hell you’d sworn it had become earlier.

Unscrewing your drink cap you took another healthy swallow and swatted at the tinny whine of a mosquito hovering near your ear. You slapped another away from your shoulder and marched down the hill again, taking more cautious steps.

As you came around a corner, you noticed a form and barely glanced further beyond, where the hill sloped down again, into the shadows of forest canopy. Darkness and coolness was promised and you couldn’t wait.

You made your way by with measured steps, almost shuffling to keep from tumbling down the trail, treading on the loose gravel and natural divots of long dislodged rocks.

It wouldn’t be attractive to go the rest of the way down on your backside.

“Y/n?” A curious voice, tinged in muted surprise.

You looked towards the voice as your pace slowed and the figure turned to greet your approach. Clear as day: the tall frame with white t-shirt impressively stretched over a broad front.

Namjoon’s face, still fresh as it’d been meeting him a bit ago, beamed.

His sunglasses were off, resting on his head and he wiped a hand on his thigh, then extended it. You tried wiping a hand too, missing a good amount of the dirt kissed palm. Namjoon shook hands anyway.

As he glanced where you’d been heading, you stole a once over. Namjoon didn’t look any more sweat soaked than he’d been. The hill grades weren’t a challenge for him. If he’d hiked to get to that store too, he was in MUCH better shape. You’d never have guessed he’d just come up these hills, looking unflagged in front of the drink cooler.

“So you didn’t drive to the store.” You voiced the determination, earning a raised brow.

“Is that bad?”

“No.”

“I DID drive to the parking lot down there.” Namjoon motioned in that direction. “The road is too long and winding through the woods to get up there safely. From the parking lot it’s an easier walk.”

An easier walk. You scoffed softly and wiped the back of a hand across your brow.

“You parked down there too?” He continued, casually wiping trail dust off his shirt.

“Not quite.” When he looked up again, both brows rose. The least you could do was a little more explanation. Lamely you added “..My friend dropped me off. I have to meet her back down there in a little bit.”

“That’s nice of her.” He murmured with a smile. His cheekbones had a brief glimmer. Even the overhead sun couldn’t do a thing to dim his appeal. Sweaty or dry as a bone. Rain soaked. Something told you that Namjoon was all-weather handsome.

“Yeah.” You agreed.

You watched your sneaker toe bully through the dirt in an uneven line. Your muscles protested menacingly from this tiny action. Much too much. Burning and twitching had found a nice home there. The croissant and half a coffee you’d wolfed down for morning fuel hadn’t left a single ounce of energy by now. You were paying for it now, even with half a sports drink down.

“You should walk down there with me.”

You were equally surprised and thankful he asked. The company was welcoming and you needed to see his car. Having several cards in his wallet and looking so good even after a moderately intense hike? Namjoon wasn’t driving a beater.

“Sure..” You responded, waiting just long enough to look like it’d been a little debate.

Namjoon pushed upright from the leaning he’d been doing against a tree just off the trail and stepped towards you. Turning to face downhill, he strode forward and you followed, falling into pace. His strides were long, but he went slow enough. It was like he sussed your flagging energy and mounting fatigue. You weren’t exactly projecting boundless energy.

However long the hike felt going uphill, time bent again and it seemed over all too soon as you paced Namjoon to the parking lot’s asphalt edge after coming around the last trail bend a short time later.

As you stood next to him, looking at the few cars in spaces scattered across the lot, Namjoon turned his face up to the sun and let his head fall back.

You slid your pack straps off both shoulders and brought it around to your front. Namjoon rifled through his pocket, doing the same to free himself from his mid-size backpack. The keys jingled as he looked away from you, to a far corner of the lot.

“Your friend here yet?” He inquired, squinting.

You scanned. Nowhere did you see the familiar rust nibbled Isuzu. An antique by some measure but it served her father well in college and he’d maintained the interior parts enough to keep it going even now. The car got you up here and you were fairly confident it’d get you back to town.

“Not yet.” You thought about calling but didn’t go for your cell phone, setting your pack at your feet instead. Namjoon noticed, double taking.

“Well..” He began, leaning down and grabbing a strap, then lifting the pack like it was empty. It certainly hadn’t felt that way going up OR down the trail. “..Let me drive you? Where are we headed?”

“You don’t have to–” A tut cut you off toot suite.

“I want to, Y/n. Where are we going?”

Inhaling, you almost choked on trail dust still lingering at the lot edge. The dread of the trip back home in a car without AC was pulling you down into despair. In spite of your friend's optimism, all the windows down had not helped nearly as promised and it wouldn’t be better now, sweaty and tired.

You glanced at Namjoon after a moment.

“...Well.. Where are you going?”

Namjoon’s smile was cheeky. “Me? I have a place about 20 minutes drive from here. You’re welcome to hang out there and wait for your friend.”

“I could do that.” You should, not wanting to go all the way back up that hellish trail, to the store. No way you’d make it. No need to even delude yourself. The Isuzu and the trail would not see YOU again, for now.

“Yeah? I know it’s cliche. Stranger danger..”

“Maybe but.. What the hell. It’ll be nice to see your place and find out there’s more than a few damp cabins out here. So long as it’s not a rotting shack in the pines, we’re golden.” Your mind supplied endless visions of bugs, bears and poison oak. It was anybody’s guess what you’d encounter but there was 1 of those 3, minimum.

“Hmm.” A playful glare leveled your way. “There’s not much land value in a moss covered single level dwelling these days. The market wouldn’t bear it and I’m not into that kind of ambiance.”

“Thank goodness.”

Namjoon reached where he’d been looking: the lot corner, and a cobalt blue sedan parked there. It was dusty but otherwise in great shape. MUCH better than no-AC and AM radio only.

You followed, keeping within a step or two. As you both made your way, Namjoon spoke again.

“You can call your friend when we get to my place and hang out until they get there. Deal?”

You nodded.

He opened the passenger door first and watched you climb in, then moved to that back passenger door and opened it. A gentle lob had both your packs situated across the back seat.

As Namjoon settled into the driver’s seat, you buckled your seatbelt,then let your legs stretch out. The footwell was roomy too. This was proving to be a good decision the more time went on. You wouldn’t have bet on this kind of luck turn hours ago.

Namjoon was smiling, watching you get comfortable. The car came to life. He adjusted the rearview mirror.

“I wouldn’t object to some food too.” You suggested, watching him study the mirror’s reflection, then glance back as he reversed out of the parking spot. He shifted to drive, jaw muscles briefly flexing before he spoke.

“I can take care of that.”

---------------------------------------

You finished the last bite of apple and chewed, staring out the picture window.

Namjoon had more than a ramshackle place with walls, windows and a few doors. It was like something out of Mountain Living magazine–of which you were sure you’d seen a few issues neatly stacked on the coffee table in the living room when he’d led you through.

This kitchen was spacious. More than any other cabin you’d spent time in.Even if that number wasn’t high, THIS place was impressive. It shouldn’t have been a shock, spotting all the cards in his wallet. That was plenty of foreshadowing.

Even if assumptions weren’t fair.

You swallowed and turned away from the view, setting the remains of the apple on the kitchen table and headed for the living room. You took a loop around the perimeter, studying the bookshelf, paying close attention to the single shelf dedicated to what looked like photo albums.

You were tempted to pull one off and go through it. But you didn’t, turning your attention to the photos on the nearby wall: lots of candid photos of nature. Namjoon’s selfies tended to be unique: his form standing in the distance of the shot, back to the camera.

Or in silhouette barely at the edges. You liked a particularly vibrant one of his bare back to the camera, shorts soaked to the skin with water, flesh glistening in the sun against the expanse of a sky so blue it hardly seemed real.

It looked like some kind of lake. You wondered where this body of water was, hopeful it wasn’t far, then went to work pondering how it would have been behind the lens, taking the shot.

...And what would happen after, when the picture was done and Namjoon turned around with that smile.

A smile you’d grown to really like A LOT since the store.

Hearing a door close, you turned towards the dark hall where the sound had come from. There was a little motion under the door at the far end, shadows moving across a sliver of light at the bottom.

A moment later the door came open and Namjoon’s form filled the newly made space. Not long after his footsteps came towards you. When he came through from the dark into light, your senses reeled.

Namjoon was flushed and smiling, hair wet and slicked back, cheeks plumped in a shy grin. He’d changed shirts. This one was thinner and more ivory than optic white. You knew that shape at the front of his chest and the tiny perking points.

You blinked away the stun and smiled back.

“You reach your friend?” He asked, walking towards, then around you, heading for the couch.

You turned. “Yeah.” You’d hit voicemail. It wasn’t your best message and you probably sounded breathless, describing what had happened on your hike and trying to summarize Namjoon in the space of 30 seconds.

Lord knows how your friend would take it.

“I…” You paused and Namjoon’s head turned your way.

“Hmm?” He’d paused arranging the couch cushions, even though they looked perfect to you. “What is it?”

God you felt…dumb admitting this but it was best to spit the truth out. Time would betray you eventually.

“I wasn’t sure of your address so I couldn’t leave one on the voicemail.”

Namjoon chuckled warm and slow. You wanted to grab a throw pillow nearby and stuff your face into it, to swallow up the responsive squeal aching to escape your throat.

“I guess I hadn’t thought about that.” He motioned to the magazines. “You could have done it the sneaky way.. That’s got my address.”

“I’m not a sneaky type.” You replied. Namjoon nodded.

“Appreciate that. Well.. “ He inhaled and picked up one of the smaller pillows, then lobbed it at the far end of the couch. “...If you want to call them back, I’ll give you my address–officially.”

Did you REALLY want to call your friend right now? This place was pretty damned nice and so was the company. Mulling it over, you finally shrugged.

“In a little bit.” Namjoon’s brows dropped. You fumbled, continuing. “...If that’s okay? I mean…I can—”

“It’s fine.” His brows were soft arches over dark, comforting eyes again. “I like the company.”

“Me too.” It was exciting how the confession sent heat through you. Rubbing at your neck, you realized how sweaty and icky you still felt. Namjoon’s head cocked as he walked closer to you.

“I’m really glad we met today, Y/n. I like the isolation here but…Having another person around is even better, when I’m in the mood.”

“Is it?” You croaked, swallowing a lump. Your nod was almost a twitch. “..You’re in the mood to have someone around today?”

“I wasn’t at first.” Namjoon’s pause dragged on until you met his stare, gazing into the depths of his eyes right there, just above you. “..That changed…” He snickered and softly murmured “...for some reason.”

You could tell he was being cheeky and it was delightful. You couldn’t help giggling too.

“I wonder why..” You sighed.

After a minute, Namjoon looked around. “Let’s get a little more comfortable then. You want to go clean up? My shower’s back there..”

He indicated where he’d come from, with a nod. As if you hadn’t watched him go there prior, the apple pressed to your lips and heart pounding as you drank in this entire place.

“Thanks..” Was all you managed, head bowing a little. You slipped past him. Namjoon’s turn to watch you go briefly clear in your peripherals.

“Just pick whatever out of my dresser. Plenty to choose from. See you soon.”

“You have a beautiful bathroom.” You confided, watching Namjoon standing next to you. It was getting to a really nice addiction: you and he, just sharing this space. It’d only been a few hours but it was like a lifetime away from the rest of the world.

Namjoon looked away from the living room window and smiled at you. “Thanks.”

What you’d WANTED to say was ‘This whole place is amazing.’, but you weren’t psychic or brave enough to voice that–just yet.

Combing wet strands back, you shook your hair out again. It was still a little damp from the shower, but you felt so much better with the grime and sweat washed away.

You hadn’t realized just how much you’d collected tromping up and down the hills out there. Not until you’d felt the rivulets of perfectly hot water winding down your body under the massive shower head, did you really conceive how messy you’d gotten.

The whole shower experience here left your skin humming and nicely warm. A far cry from your apartment’s modest water pressure and scalding or ice cold temperature poles. If you were honest, you could get used to this.

“I appreciate the compliment.” Namjoon finally said. “I wasn’t sure about the head but it’s got your approval. Think I’ll keep it.”

When you locked eyes, he winked, grin wider than before. He was more handsome with dimples.

“What else do you do out here, alone?” You voiced your curiosity this time. Maybe it was the inhibitions washed away with the sudsy heat or something else at play, but it was out before you could regret.

Namjoon took it well.

“Alone? Hmmm. Sometimes I sit out on the back deck or soak in the hot tub outback and stare at the sky. Listen to nature. Ponder the big questions in life..”

It all sounded pretty damned good. Beat the hell out of your couch and the usual television fare.

“Hmm.” You stared at him again. Another question slipped out as quickly as it had popped into your mind. “...And when you’re not alone?”

You matched the way Namjoon raised a brow. When he chuckled your chest went light.

“Bit of an intimate kind of question, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.” You retorted. “If what you do is something intimate.”

Like storm clouds rolling across a sky, darkening the beauty with impressive danger, a shadowy energy flitted through Namjoon’s eyes. But you weren’t scared. You were absolutely riveted. For once in your normally gun shy, socially conservative life.

“And if I said it was something intimate?”

He was good, dodging a direct answer just enough. He knew just how to feed your interest with words and the things between them. You licked your lips, feeling them twitch as your tongue rolled along.

“..Sounds like a good time. Care to share?”

Who were you, suddenly digging for details? Normally this was kosher for your friends. You’d earned the right, but with a basic stranger like Namjoon? You knew you had a lot of nerve. And you were taking a HUGE gamble.

“Mmm.” Namjoon stepped close again, not much space now between the front of his body and your own. You didn’t back up, lifting your chin to keep eye contact. His smile shrank.

“I do whatever I want. Or..my guest wants. I’m interested in being the best host I can, if I have company.”

“Yeah?”

Namjoon nodded. He let you take another breath, then continued.

“You’re my guest. What do you want to do? What’s your pleasure?” It was really, REALLY sexy the way Namjoon was opening his place to you. And from the energy you detected, he was willing to give himself too.

“Have you ever done it here?”

“Done ..’it’? What’s it?” He queried, teasingly. Your forehead felt hot again. You blinked and Namjoon leaned down a little.

“..You mean sex? Are you asking me if I’ve fucked here?” His breath washed across your lips. You couldn’t help nodding or the whine that escaped. Namjoon’s hungry stare burrowed into your soul. He nibbled briefly on his lip.

“I have. Plenty of times. It’s been a while, though.”

“Has it?” You squeaked as he ran fingertips along your jaw and added pressure at your chin, tipping your face up more.

“Mmnhmm.” Namjoon’s smile unfurled again. “..Has it been long for you?”

You stammered, suddenly amnesiac over the last time you’d properly fucked. Of course you had, and the experiences rated ‘okay’ by usual standards, but work and life wedged a lot of time between each session. Forgettable was too perfect a way to describe how it all seemed now.

“It’s been a minute.” You finally managed.

“Want to remedy that?”

Maybe it sounded corny coming from anyone else, in a dark, muggy club dancefloor or bar, but Namjoon’s suggesting it now came off only as unadulterated heat. And something you wanted so very much.

“Yes.” It was a gasp. Maybe a plea.

“God Y/n..” Namjoon watched your fingers circling his broad wrist. You pulled his hand closer to your lips and grazed them over a few fingertips. You tingled as his lips parted and his lids lowered.

Whatever he was trying to say you were sure it was the same feeling flooding through your entire body. Pulsing inside you, ending right between your legs as they trembled like they’d never done before. More than any hike could ever induce.

You cut him off. “..Relax me, Namjoon. Make me forget everything for a while.”

It was like the shadow darkened hallway stretched on forever as Namjoon moved, carrying you. You couldn’t wrap around him more, but you wanted to try, tightening your thighs around his waist.

He didn’t have wide hips, but they were sturdy as he walked, pacing slowly across the wood floor in a leisurely path to the bedroom. You dimly knew the space waited beyond that doorway at the far end. And you wanted time to condense again, to bring you both where nature said you should be: in Namjoon’s bed.

Doing things that nature intended for two people at the mercy of attraction were fated to do.

Namjoon didn’t pause kissing you as he opened the door, then bumped it wider with a hip. You were in the bedroom, the setting sun’s rays barely filtering through the treetops outside the nearby window.

As he paused at the bed, then leaned over it, the kiss broke. Reds and fiery orange hues outlined Namjoon’s triangular upper body as he braced a palm into the bed, finally leaned over enough that your back met the mattress.

“Let go.” He whispered.

You fell entirely into the bed, grateful for the cushioned fall. Your hair and limbs splayed. Namjoon’s eyes stayed on your, enjoying your slow wriggle as he grasped his shirt and hauled it up, then off. It met the bed nearby.

Your own hands clutched down the length of your body, finding the shirt you’d chosen from his offered selection.

“Don’t.” Namjoon growled, dropping his bottoms next. Then his briefs, unbothered at the ferocity of his erect cock springing vertical on escape. He mounted the bed on one knee, outside your hip, then the other one joined and he loomed over your again, head to toe bare of a stitch of clothes.

Sure you’d pondered how he looked in that shower when he’d taken his turn. And under those tight workout pants in the store. Now all was coming clear. All was on a platter, right in front of you—or over you, as it were.

Your body arched, breasts jostling. Namjoon cupped the outside of a breast and stroked his thumb across the nipple. It perked and he studied the shape through the t–shirt. A garment you desperately wanted to lose.

In the game of ‘naked’, he was leagues ahead of you.

“I’m…Namjoon, please–” You sputtered, then groaned loudly when he pinched that tight nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then tugged. His touch was gone in a blink and he gathered your shirt, pushing it higher, up to your neck. Head bowed, he backed down towards the foot of the bed a bit more, until his mouth stopped above your navel.

“Let me.” He purred, peeling down the boxers you’d borrowed too, and taking them to your knees. While one hand pushed them to your ankles, then off, Namjoon’s nose spiraled your mound.

You heard his inhale. The groan he let out was sinfully needy too. You bent your right knee, drawing that leg up a little more and lifting your ass off the bed. Delivering your pussy right against his wide open mouth, swooping in to latch onto your clit.

Namjoon sucked deep and tight, lips perfectly sealed. Then the pulsing started. He was quiet enough, only making a pop sound when he pulled away now and then.

It wasn’t like he needed to suck your clit or slide his tongue through your folds to open them. It already felt hot and slippery. Your flesh ached in a way that said making out had long since done the trick.

But Namjoon was enjoying himself and explored with his pointer finger, tracing it through you, stopping down at your opening. Teasing the winking muscle until it clenched again and your thighs shook.

“You’re so wet..Y/n. You like this don’t you? Are you always this ready when it’s been a while?”

You nodded. You couldn’t be sure it was true but if that’s what he wanted to hear, if felt like the truest answer you could give. He seemed to accept it diving down to lick, then stab his tongue deeper into you, pushing through your muscle.

He scooped your widening thighs up and wrapped them over his shoulders. Hugged them against the sides of his neck as he moaned, jaw dropping wider open. Pushing into you, lifting your hips higher and bringing your ass off the bed again.

A lake of heat was swirling in your belly. You wanted to tell him you were close because you felt like the edge was right there, you precariously toes over and staring down into the fall.

But you couldn’t get the words out. It was only a long, confused hiss of pleasure as fingers slid into you. Pulled out and dipped in again. Namjoon’s fingers worked to stir you up inside, drawing slick out from the depths, slathering it all over you on the outside. Making a delicious mess.

When you couldn’t take it anymore and your chest heaved, Namjoon pulled back enough and shrugged your legs off his shoulders. He joined them together and turned you onto one side, hooking them neatly over the bend of one elbow, palm planted deep into the bed with an impressive divot.

It was so much concentrated weight focused into one point, you felt the bed sink just a little. Namjoon’s face came into view over you. He groped between your bodies, finding himself and guiding the tip to nest perfectly against you.

When his bare cock slid inside you, it was done in a single, firm stroke. It wasn’t about the power of his thrust. It was the unhesitant drive in his hips, planting his cock deep and pushing a strangled gasp right out of you.

Your upper body twisted, neck and head craning away. Profile bracing into the bed, you inhaled, head spinning off the scent of clean, fresh soap, light sweat and errant traces of Namjoon’s natural scent.

You keened as he pulled back, slid a hand down your side and cupped the hip facing up, then sunk back in. The pumping was seamless. He flowed in and out of you, building speed but keeping the perfect depth. Hitting spots inside you that sent sparks across your scalp. Sent rails of fire down your spine. Curled your toes, when he circled into you and his hips snapped.

“You feel so good on my cock.. God baby..that’s it..” Over you, Namjoon’s exhale coasted along your skin, burning hot as he muttered wondrously.

You could only whimper, nails sunk into the crook of his nearer elbow, head rolling back to keep your briefly open eyes focused on the ceiling beyond Namjoon’s rocking head.

He murmured. Fucked. Pushed your knees high as he folded your twisted body up more. Condensed what little tight, wet space was inside you, more and more. There was only so much room and it was full–slick came out more and more as he pulled out and rammed back in.

It was an unmistakable wet slap loud and clear over Namjoon’s huffing. He was putting in the work and you were back at the edge, now something invisible wrapping and pulling you over. You tumbled, cumming hard. Cumming quick, seizing around his cycling cock.

Namjoon’s head lolled backwards, but he kept going, through your rippling walls. Working up a froth through the creamy mess building as you squeezed and pulsed. Your throat opened as you groaned out a “P..Please..don’t s..stop…”

Your guts seized so hard you couldn’t cry out when Namjoon heeded your request and let himself really go, fucking you deeper. Harder. Jerking your whole body up the bed as he followed. You weren’t escaping–not from him. Not from the gut wrenching orgasm ripping through you.

The world whited as your eyes rolled up entirely, leaving you sightless. Your purpose on this earth: to feel every bit of ecstasy rushing through you and sending you to the brink of human experience.

With the release of pressure a trickle followed down to your ass. Namjoon faltered. His lips dove down to your ear.

“..Inside or…o..out..”

No time to think meant no room for regret. You HAD to know.

“Inside. Fill me up, Namjoon..” Your lips joined in a deep, ravenous kiss, gobbling up his moan as he shuddered. A few rough thrusts later, he was still, plunged deep, pulsing. Your twitching pussy probably felt like heaven to him as he emptied every drop into you.

When it was over, Namjoon carefully pulled back. His cock slipped out and you felt emptier. For a moment your muscles stayed open, then closed up tight. Like they were determined to hold onto every ounce of what this man had just given.

“Holy…shit.” Namjoon wiped a forearm across his brow and laughed slowly, Adam’s apple dancing.

“You felt..so good.” You blurted out. It took a few moments to see beyond the last rays of sunset through the window. The bouquet of colors was gone, leaving a muted, reddish haze.

Namjoon’s shoulders flexed back as he rolled his neck. “..If you could understand how your pussy feels.. Fuck..” With a groan he combed his bangs back.

“Worth the wait?”

You tickled the downy trail running south, below his navel, then situated both calves on the outside of his hips. Namjoon’s hands rested loose on your hips. He wasn’t shy, eyeing your whole body and wearing the smirk of a job well done.

There was no doubt he’d smashed your previous experiences. Your insides twitched and your head had barely cleared. You’d just come back to the present, cobbling together enough focus for basic conversation.

“And then some..” Namjoon hummed, seizing your wrist and bringing that hand to his lips. He tucked a kiss into that palm. Leering down at you, he cupped that hand against the center of his chest. Right between those big, perfectly muscled pecs.

“Ready to call your friend?” There was a distant hope sparkling in his eyes. You knew as well as he did: No was acceptable, again.

“In a little bit.” You murmured, then glanced at his bedroom door. He’d left it open. His mouth shifted into a half grin.

“Something else you want—maybe somewhere else around here?”

“Well I noticed a hot tub outside.”

“That’s right.” Namjoon’s muscles shifted under your palm. Your fingers curled along his skin, lightly pressing in, trying to feel more. You wanted more of him, not just the tour of his place.

“We should try it out.”

“We can do that. A soak is good for the muscles.”

“I’ve heard that. ….Got time to give me a full tour after that?” Whatever he might have planned for the rest of his night, he didn’t flinch and his expression stayed pleasant. Welcoming, like his gaze following your legs up to your core and taking a long time to linger there.

“You’re really changing my mind about this whole cabin in the woods thing.” You added. Namjoon puffed his chest and leaned forward, releasing his hold on your hand as if he knew you’d keep that palm against him.

You didn’t prove him wrong, adding the other palm as he pressed down over you. A kiss was on the horizon and you tipped your face up. His weight felt good on you–Namjoon’s large frame trapped you in the best way.

He was warm. His cock was tacky but already semi hard as it inched across your belly.

“I’m always up for a chance to change an opinion. We can go have a soak and you can think about calling your friend after.”

You offered a faux pout. “Are you saying I have to leave?”

“That’s not even close to what I said. Definitely wasn’t thinking it..” Even being faintly chastised felt good. You couldn’t say you had the same take away back at work, in front of your boss or direct report.

“Good to know.” You snuck a look down to what you could make out of your body underneath Namjoon. It was still damp enough between your thighs. You knew it wouldn’t be as bad as it had been still in the act, but you knew a wipe down was in order before you dared stick a toe in his hot tub.

Call it respect, but you also wanted a chance to explore what things looked like after you’d been daring enough to ask for and receive what had to be a healthy load inside. That hadn’t happened since your last committed relationship.

You looked up again, watching Namjoon’s face disappear as he sucked a kiss at the bottom of your neck, where it joined your shoulder. Afterwards he sat up and backed down the bed. He offered both hands to help you up.

When you stood upright face to face, the bed at your back, you felt shy. Your legs felt surprisingly weak. You swallowed, finding your mouth cottony.

“Let’s grab a drink too. You can show off your kitchen and the living room? You’re into photography I noticed.”

“What makes you say that?” He tugged you along, taking a step at a time backwards towards the bedroom doorway. If it hadn’t been his cabin, you’d wonder if he’d walked around his place in the city like this. What was that place like?

You wanted to know more about who Namjoon was beyond this big getaway spot in the woods and his generous many-card credit power.

“I saw photo albums on your bookshelf.”

“Yeah.” Namjoon’s features smothered darkness as he crossed the bedroom door threshold into the hallway. “I dabble now and then. Whenever I’m here.”

“Would love to see it.”

“We can add that to the tour. I do like to keep my guests happy.”

“And I think I like this whole day in the woods. Might be time to find out about what a weekend away would be like.”

Namjoon’s body was against you again as your travel paused midway down the hall. You didn’t have to see, only feel and you knew he was going for a kiss. You surrendered your mouth and he took his time, tongue exploring lightly.

“A little Me Time…I can support that–in more than one way.”

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