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demonicbaby666 · 10 months ago

Note

Dom Emily prentiss x intern fem reader is all i ask!! Smutty ofc, a lil bit of a humiliation kink if you’re comfortable!!! Thank yewww

Packing Heat

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 4.8k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, strap-ons (r!receiving), semi-public sex (office sex, again…), praise, degradation, mommy kink, kind of dub-con at one point, top!Emily, bottom!reader

Summary: Interning at the BAU means you don’t interact with the person in charge a lot. Of course, this doesn’t mean you haven’t seen the section chief in passing or exchanged pleasantries; it's that they’re simple, short-lived and often anti-climatic. However one evening, you find yourself in the desolate office with no chance of going home, work to be done, but no one to sit with you through the process. With only one other soul residing on the sixth floor, it seems Emily may be your best bet for company.

A/n: Listen, could she be more dom? Yes. Is there any humiliation? Not really... But I got lost while writing, so please don't be mad at me... Hope you still enjoy!

When you'd first started at the BAU, it was safe to say you hadn't seen much of the woman calling the shots. There were always updates about when the team were taken out of state, what their cases would entail, the steady progress being made, and the brief comical encounters Garcia spewed around the office. When they were back, everyone made an effort to small talk. They welcomed you well and continued to appreciate the little things you did for them daily. Emily, however, was constantly on the go, meaning every encounter you'd had with her consisted of one-way glances and hopeful smiles in the event she decided to notice her surroundings and the human lifeform less than two metres away.

She never did, though, until one uneventful evening.

Almost everyone had vacated the building. The only remaining souls left on the sixth floor were you, Emily, and a one-person cleaning crew—whom you watched exit through glass doors before approaching the brunette's office with shaky knees. Peeking through the window, you saw her attention dart to and from the bright computer screen to the mountains of bureaucratic paperwork lying atop her desk. It was easy to get lost in the little creases between her eyebrows, brought out by the deep scowl she wore, the delicate way her fingers were woven together, and the pads of her thumbs skirting against one another as she pondered in deep thought.

It was nearing eight, and you were struggling to understand how someone could appear so put together at this late hour, given that their day was most certainly jam-packed with non-stop slog.

Emily's eyes suddenly flashed up. She squinted toward her door, trying to figure out who'd be here this late other than herself. When she appeared to have worked it out, she leaned back victoriously in her chair, a smug smile on her face, when she called out, "Are you going to stand out there all night?"

You could have done two things: scurried off like a teenager caught peeping or held your chin up high and walked into the older woman's office with little to no shame. Somehow, you managed to do a mix of both, scurrying in with sagging shoulders, a guilty smile plastered on your face and trembling hands clasping your laptop over your chest.

"Well, it's eerily quiet out there, and I would go home to write this paper. It's just that my roommate and her boyfriend have an awful tendency to forget about volume control when they're—" You cut yourself off, realising it probably wasn't appropriate to talk to your boss about your roommate's over-the-top borderline pornographic soundscape. "I was wondering if I could, you know."

Emily, satirising as ever, waited with a raised eyebrow and a relaxed smile for you to continue your purposefully unfinished question.

"Sorry, I should let you work." You surrendered to your weak resolve with flushed cheeks and began to turn around.

"Sit," she ordered before you had fully turned back around to the door, nodding to the available chair on the other side of her desk. Her eyes followed your journey to the seat, watching as you placed your laptop down and opened it with shaky fingers. Satisfied, she turned her attention back to her work. "I could do with some company."

The following silence, starting as unsettling and stagnant, blossomed into something warm and comfortable. There were occasional glances thrown your way and vice versa. Their acknowledgement and appreciation were shown in the form of timid smiles on your end and double takes followed by teasing smirks on Emily's.

When half an hour had passed, your shoulders had finally relaxed, your fingers had stopped their infernal twitching, and your paper neared its completion. There was a proud smile cresting, and you were trying to prevent it from forming, knowing how dorkish it made you look. But you knew there was no hope when your cheeks ached and your jaw locked. You granted yourself the freedom to display your gloating smile.

Just as expected, Emily had a questioning look on her face when you dared to look up from the document. There was a playfulness to the upward quirk of her lips - the superiority of a predator knowing the power they have over their prey, ready to prove it at any given moment.

"I've almost finished," you timidly admitted, feeling obligated to explain as heat infiltrated your jutted-out cheeks.

Without a second thought, the ravenette stood up and made her way around the desk. She could have easily chosen to turn the laptop around. Instead, she took the far more intimate route.

Soft curves grazed your shoulder blades, causing you to shiver. The weight finally settled, soft padding pressed flat against your back as Emily read your paper, and suddenly, your stomach had worked itself into looping knots, and your heart was racing.

The struggle continued as you fought not to fidget, if only to alleviate the growing tension mounting between your thighs. This was only made worse when Emily's right hand left the back of your chair to drop down over your shoulder and land comfortably on your thigh.

"Such a smart girl," she whispered sultrily into the shell of your ear, squeezing generous flesh between her fingers.

With a scrambled brain, there was little fight to be put up against the meek whimper that crackled against the constricted lining of your throat. Subconsciously, your thighs tensed, and your pussy fluttered as you were reminded how close Emily's hand was to where you could only dream she'd touch.

You'd thought you imagined it—the subtle shift in the room from breezy and light to torrid and all-consuming, but with Emily's fingers veering off course, inching higher and higher, reality came crashing down.

"Thank you," you struggled to get the words out, and when they did come out, they were tremulous and feeble.

Turning to look at her may have, in hindsight, been a mistake because where her gaze should have been fixed on the laptop screen, it was glued to your lips. Unexpectedly, your stomach flipped, and you felt dizzy. She was still superbly perfect up close, skin smooth like silk, cheekbones sharp as a razor, and lips cut from velvet. It was too close, dangerously so, you had to look away. Outside the window, you spotted a swarm of birds barely visible against the night sky. You ignored the clanking of your heart as you focussed on their synchronicity, watching them circle each other until they became one big blur of messy movements.

The hand resting on the leather backing of your chair rose, skirting up and over your neck, until a firm grip was established around your dangling ponytail. She was gentle when she tugged, aware that though she wanted to educate you in the art of being owned, you were delicate.

"I think a pretty thing like you deserves a reward," she baited. "Don't you?"

Her grip on you may have been physical. However, a stronger pull was coming from deep within you, an unimportant piece of scrap metal drawn in by a powerful magnet. It was useless to deny her. The mesmerising glow of her chocolate eyes and the promise of being made to feel special was too powerful. So, you nodded slowly but eagerly, desire painting your eyes dark shades of lust.

"That's a good girl."

Emily didn't miss how you preened at the praise and safely stored that information away for further use. She shifted to your side, hands migrating to the small of your waist, guiding you to your feet. The act of it was far gentler than you'd expected, like a gentleman asking a maiden to dance, sweeping her off her feet to whisk her away into a fairytale land filled with magic and romance.

Certain the benign treatment would be short-lived, you granted yourself the leniency to enjoy it whilst it lasted, refusing to get too caught up in the dull ache between your legs that craved the form of savagery Emily displayed in the field.

There was nothing short of passion in how she worked. It drove you crazy. As wrong as it felt, you couldn't help but envy the dirtbag the team was working to catch because you saw how badly the brunette wanted them. The look in her eyes, gratification and disgust all at once, when she'd achieved what she set out to do and was staring the devil right in the face - it made your heart race, your palms sweat and your cunt throb.

The memory kickstarted what could only be described as a brutal attack upon the older woman's lips. To her credit, Emily indulged the outburst for a lot longer than you'd have thought. As if she'd expected it, she quickly responded, pulling you into her body and tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss. The lead was stolen promptly from your grasp when Emily wedged a leg between your thighs, backed you up against her desk and tactically slid her tongue into your gaped mouth. You would have gasped if not for the fact you were immediately indulged in the minty taste of your boss's tongue skirting over the roof of your mouth. So much so that you scarcely noticed the pressure coming from your core was no longer just a phantom need manifested but taut clothed muscle pressing you further and further into the sharp wooden edge of the desk.

"Emily," you breathily moaned, pulling back and separating your kiss-swollen lips from the brunette's. Ordinarily, you wouldn't have allowed what happened next to occur, but this was Emily, after all, the BAU section chief, and if you were to let anyone order you about, it would be her.

She backed away from you with a final nip to your bottom lip, letting it go with a pop, and you fought the urge to reach out and pull her back to you. You knew you'd already tried to take things into your own hands once, and doing so again may undermine any chances you had of keeping the ball rolling on tonight's affairs.

You could feel the tight pull of your ponytail and all the places where hair had been lead array from the confines of your hairband, and it truly dawned on you how out of sorts you must have appeared. Tracing your fingers over your lips, you could make out how swollen they were - puffy and hot, yet desperate and pouted, begging for more. Your breathing was laboured, filling the room's silence, and your shirt suddenly felt too tight as your chest expanded with each intake of oxygen. It almost came as a relief when Emily opened her mouth to finally speak until you heard what she'd said.

"Take your clothes off," she mindlessly ordered, walking around to her chair and sitting back in it. Her eager eyes trained over your body with the faintest shimmer of mirth.

Initially, it was a shock. Of course, it was. You were in an official government building, personnel still sparsely spread throughout, and a goddess of a woman was asking you to bare yourself to her.

For the longest time, revealing your body to someone always felt like giving up something. Perhaps some kind of purity. The moment you gave it up, it bred only guilt and shame that twisted and pulled at the pit of your stomach until you felt sick. You stood there, waiting for that feeling to come. It never did.

Remaining still, your body pulsed not with nerves but with exhilaration and anticipation. It took a few seconds to realise this was precisely what you wanted. You wanted to give this false sense of purity away. There was not a sudden influx of courage soaring through every living cell of your body. However, there was enough for you to put on a front and do as you were told.

"Slowly." Emily sat further back and placed her elbows neatly over the arms of her chair. She laced her fingers together, offered you an encouraging nod, and then was back to watching you raptly.

Feeling like a glutton, you followed a path of desire and heeded Emily's request, fingers increasingly fumbling over each button of your shirt.

"So obedient." And in no way was it said negatively; the adulatory smile she gave you only sought to prove that further.

The way she looked at you made you feel as though you were already naked. Maybe that was why it was so easy to get lost in the subtlety of undressing. It was art, and you were a performer. That's what you told yourself. And for the most part, it worked.

With closed eyes, you trailed your fingers over your shoulders, letting your shirt drop to the floor. The AC raised goosebumps over your chest, pebbled your nipples under your plain bra, and you smiled. You smiled because this was the most alive you had felt in months. The thrill of moving on to your slacks and deftly unclasping your belt felt like being on a rollercoaster, like missing a step and laughing fear in the face afterwards. You felt utterly fearless.

In the back of your mind, you could sense Emily's eyes still on you. You could hear her moving around but didn't think to check her reaction. You were in your element, and far be it for a look of appraisal, or lack of, to stop you. That was until your trousers hit the carpet with a soft thud, and a sharp breath was heard from across you.

Your eyes snapped open, and you found Emily's smile was absent. The brunette now had her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she looked you up and down, knuckles white from her deadly grip over the armrests.

She lifted a hand, palm facing the ceiling as her index and middle finger crooked. "Come here so I can get a proper look at you," she said, slightly breathless.

The desk had conveniently covered the lower half of Emily's body, which meant that when you circled around and came to stand next to her, you could see exactly what the earlier ruffling had been about.

"Is that?" You froze, both shocked and utterly intrigued by the thick black dildo jutting out from the older woman's opened slacks.

She didn't need you to finish the question, already nodding as she followed your line of sight. Leaning forward with an outstretched arm, Emily coiled her fingers around your wrist and pulled you forward, causing you to almost stumble over your own feet. At this closer distance, you could tell the faux cock would give you a run for your money. It was thicker than anything you had taken before, though that was not a hard trophy to earn, given that the most you had let anyone put inside you was three fingers.

"Do you want to come sit on mommy's lap?" Emily asked with a tilt of her head.

She didn't miss how your breath caught in your throat, how you seemed to stop blinking, stop moving, stop existing.

"Are you scared?" the lioness asked, sights set on her prized fawn.

You shook your head and placed one foot in front of the other, eyes downcast as you took in the size of Emily's additional appendage. The shake of your jaw gave you away.

"I don't like being lied to," she snapped, eyes dimming to an even darker shade of brown.

She pulled you in by your waist and sat you on her lap, cock brushing over the thin material of your underwear. Instinctively, you wedged your bottom lip between your teeth to quiet yourself. But Emily wasn't having any of it. Her thumb came to your captive lip, where she helped release it with a soft flick.

The smooth texture of Emily's cock through your sodden panties was a needed relief. Its head purposefully pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves evoked a flurry of shivers to run down your spine. And with nothing holding you back, you moaned in gratitude.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Emily smirked, watching you rut against her.

"Yes," you uttered, breath caught in your throat.

Happy to watch, Emily relaxed her shoulders and leaned back, enjoying the show you were putting on for her. Only when she recognised the tell-tell signs of frustration wash over your features, from your creased brow to the bite of your lip between your teeth, did a sick smirk lick the edges of her lips. With a mischievous glint shining in her eyes, the older woman shifted her position, pointedly ignoring the sound it pulled from you.

"Something wrong?" she asked with a hitch of one eyebrow, adamant to appear oblivious.

You gave no reply, only held tight to her shoulders in defiance and continually ground down on her, trying so hard to pleasure yourself to no avail that your eyes began to sting with the emergence of tears.

With sweat threatening to spill down the side of your face, the tension between your legs starting to ache, and your release nowhere near in sight, you threw your head back with a sigh and whispered a quiet 'please' to the ceiling.

"Please what?" Came the dull reply, tone bored, unamused, unimpressed.

You tried to impale yourself, failing as strong hands held you down. It was driving you crazy—pleasure being so close yet so far.

With one hand removed from your hip, Emily gripped your jaw and turned your attention solely to her stern gaze, "Are you going to stop being a brat and tell me what you want?"

When no answer came, she let go, jerking your head back as if disgusted with the lack of compliance.

"Get up."

Ice, you were made of ice. Sat still, shocked, speechless and slightly mortified.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" Emily's voice was no longer flat; it was not roaring either. Instead, it was layered, resembling the same barbed tone a teacher might use with a disobedient student. It was enough of a motivator to get you to rise to your feet.

Following you closely, the older woman, too, rose to her full height, hands meticulously reaching behind your back to expertly relieve you of your bra. Never once did she look you in the eye.

With the same callous approach, you were turned and pressed against the desk, papers sticking to your heated chest. Emily was quick to loop her fingers through the hem of your underwear and slip them down your thighs, allowing gravity to do the rest.

The full-bodied presence behind you lessened, and you took it as the opportune moment to glance back.

The brunette had let her trousers drop to the floor, allowing you to see how her porcelain skin was directly contrasted by the black leather of her strap-on. Unlike yourself, she did not appear nervous or afraid. As she kicked the tailored pants aside and met your gaze, you realised how in control she was.

Her gaze moved down your body, hands running down your back, until finally, she pressed herself against you and lowered her body atop yours.

"I can feel how wet you are," she teased, running two fingers through the mess between your legs. "Are you always this wet?"

"Emily, please," you begged.

"I asked before, please what?" She raked five fingers down your side, moving them back up till they wound tightly in your hair and gripped your neck to an uncomfortable arch. Two fingers pushed inside you but did no more than that, remaining still as stone. "If you're going to be a baby and refuse to tell me what you want, you'll get nothing."

"Fuck me!" You no longer had the sound of mind to acknowledge shouting something vulgar could attract attention. Logic had evaded you, allowing you to play right into your boss's hands. "Please just fuck me."

Sliding her slick fingers out of you, she proudly stated, "That wasn't hard, was it?"

If the older woman wanted an answer, she did not allow for one. In one fluid motion, she rose from over you and snapped her hips forward, sheathing the entire length of her cock into your cunt. Your breath caught in your throat, resulting in a strained groan tumbling out of your open mouth. The pit of your stomach dropped, and try as you might have not to clench around the toy inside you, you did precisely that.

It was new, the foreign feeling of being filled so fully that one slight move would summon pleasure that sent shivers through your whole body. It wasn't unwelcome, especially when Emily started to move, and heat engulfed your entire body. Her pace was languid, allowing you to feel each slide of her cock along your slick walls, how each push of her hips ended in the tip hitting the spot within you to cause the furling in your stomach to expand tenfold. It was all you could do not to scream when the push and pull and Emily's hips moved with more purpose, jerking your body into the edge of her desk.

"I've barely started, and you're already dripping down your thighs." Her voice was laced with mirth, finger smearing your mess as if to prove an unnecessary point that had your cheeks burning up. "How long have you been thinking about this?" Emily finished her question with an arduous thrust. "How many times have you sunk your fingers into your pussy and thought of me?"

The questions continued, each hitting the nail right on the head. Your cheeks were scorched with the embarrassment that comes with having your desires known and exposed, but it did not take hold of your conscience as the event of falling in front of a large crowd might have. It was comparable to how a blushing maiden may feel when caught by a suitor in only their undergarments. It excited that small part of you that gave in to demoralisation and encouraged you enough to meet Emily halfway as she thrust into you.

As your pleasure mounted, the need for more grew. Your clit, swollen and needy, begged for relief, and you beckoned to its call, sliding one hand from above your head to the juncture between your legs. It was when the tips of your fingers brushed against your sensitive pearl and you gained the briefest taste of the euphoria that Emily removed her hand from your thigh and snatched your hand away, halting all movement.

You could have cried, having everything, then nothing, so quickly.

"Did I say you could do that?"

Abruptly pulling out, Emily stood tall and proud, staring down at you with curiosity and disappointment lining the brown of her eyes. She heard you whimper and acknowledged your sniffle.

"There's no need to cry," she tutted, flipping you onto your back and lifting you by your shoulders. "You're going to listen to me from now on."

You nodded, and she once again lined her cock to your opening, only now she waited, taunting you with possibilities.

"Beg," she instructed.

And you heeded.

"Please. I need you."

"You can do better." She sounded bored, and this struck a nerve within you, one that begged you to impress her, show her you could be a good little girl, and beg as though your life depended on it.

You took a heaving breath and looked into Emily's eyes, sporting your best puppy eyes. "I need you. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me with your big cock, mommy. Make me scream out your name. I need it."

"There's a good pet," she cooed, mesmerising you with the bating of her lashes as she looked down to where your bodies were so close to touching.

It all happened in a blur. The next thing you knew, your nails were digging into muscled shoulders, legs wrapping around a slim waist as the brunette filled you, wasting no time in picking up a brutal tempo. You barely recognised the sound of your voice as high-pitched obscenities spilt past your lips. You felt your whole body light up, heard blood pulse in your ears, and saw in real-time just how easy it was to aid Emily in calling upon your impending orgasm.

Your vulgar mouth, luckily, seemed to amuse Emily enough for her to let you continue rutting your hips against her. The corners of her lips curled, and her smirk lasted only so long for you to see before she inched forward and kissed you with passion and hunger. It was easy, so easy, to melt into the brief moment of intimacy. The butterflies felt tangible, and the sparks crackled in your ears; it felt so fucking good you'd almost forgotten just where you were. Of course, bubbles eventually popped, and this one was demolished by rustling outside Emily's office.

What little movement Emily allowed, her hands holding you firmly against the desk by your waist, was not enough to wriggle free and glance behind to see what was happening. Instead, the possibility of being caught weighed heavier with each drawled-out second.

"Emily," You tried but were cut off by a tongue sliding into your mouth. "Emily, stop."

With a bite to your lip, the older woman backed off, confusion marking her features, "What is it?" she punctuated her question with a hard thrust.

"Someone's o-" another hard thrust. "Someone's outside."

Emily smiled, picking up her pace, forcing you to breathe so deep you felt your lungs expand.

"You'd better be quiet then."

Whatever protest you were about to give died in your throat when nails skirted up to your chest and dug painfully into your breast, and Emily pushed herself so deep within you that you felt her hitting your cervix. A strangled cry was briefly heard before you managed to clasp your hand over your lips and silence your own mewls. She was fucking you as if her life depended on getting a reaction out of you that would draw attention. Nevertheless, you held firm and stayed as quiet as your muffled sobs would allow you to be.

"Emily, please," you were pleading for release and for the brutal fucking stop because you knew there would be no chance you could keep a lid on your volume; there would also be no chance you would survive not cumming.

Taking note of this, the older woman took the route of giving you your release, dragging a thumb down over your clit and applying the right amount of pressure to have your tense legs turn into a shaky mess of tremors. She didn't stop there; with a brief slide, she ran your slick over your bundle of nerves and started to circle steadily.

"Fuck!" You screamed out, missing the way the ruffling outside suddenly stopped. "I'm cumming. I'm cumming."

"That's it," the brunette encouraged, her fingers coming up to crook and tangle through the mussed mess of your hair, nails slowly working against your scalp. "Let everyone hear what a slut you are, letting me fuck you over my desk."

She didn't stop, though, not when your clit felt raw and your pussy tender, not when you begged and not even when you reached out and tried to grab her wrist. Emily only yanked you down by your hair, relishing the thud the brutal move made. She fucked you harder till stationary fell to the floor from your thrashing arms, and by then, her lips were already wrapped around a nipple, sucking firm whilst you cried through a second orgasm.

When you finally felt empty, you didn't even try to open your eyes. You knew your vision would be blurred if not blacked out. Instead, you focussed on coming back down to earth, steading your breath and not thinking about how you strangely missed being filled by Emily despite being so fucking sore.

"Are you still alive?" a smug voice asked from above, and you pried your bleary eyes open to weakly smile.

"I think so," you whispered, peeling your sweat-slick back from the desk. That was when you remembered the unknown personnel outside and shot a look at the door.

"They're gone," Emily said, cupping your chin and turning you back to her. Again, you were greeted by that conniving smirk. "After your commentary, I think they understood we didn't want to be disturbed."

"But-"

"Uh-uh." she silenced you with a finger to your lips, the smell of yourself still narrowly fragrant. You took the digit into your mouth, patting yourself on the back as you watched Emily's eyes turn dark. "You want to make Mommy feel good now, don't you?" She knew the answer, but oh, how she loved to watch you sink to your knees and eagerly nod anyway. You helped unclasp the straps of her harness, then set to pealing the last barrier keeping you from her heat down her legs.

"My good little pet," she said, smiling down at you and happily watching you beam. Her hand cupped your jaw before moving to the back of your neck, where she pulled you to her core and began singing a melody of moans.

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punkshort · 1 month ago

Text

The Holiday in Vermont

Thank you anon for this prompt!

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: A much needed escape after a brutal breakup to Woodstock, Vermont gives you much more than you ever bargained for when you meet Dave York.

Warnings: language, smut (18+ MDNI), oral f!receiving, unprotected piv sex, one little spank, mentions of infidelity, angst, food and alcohol consumption, heartbreak

WC: 8.1K

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

A/N: inspired by the movie The Holiday - if you're a fan you'll notice some very familiar lines ❤��

"Yes, okay? I slept with her."

The words still echoed loudly inside your head.

"She's in love with me, I'm sorry!"

You couldn't remember storming down the stairs and yelling in your ex-boyfriend's face in the middle of your driveway, but you did remember clocking him square across the jaw. Twice.

He tried to blame you, tried to blame your long working hours. But you refused to accept it. He was the one who encouraged his receptionist's flirty behavior. He was the one who took her to fancy hotels when you were working late. Not you. Him.

However, he had a point. You worked a lot. Probably too much, but you loved what you did. Was it so much to ask for a partner who supported and understood your dreams and goals?

Alright. Maybe you should have planned more date nights or something.

It didn't matter. Things were over. Finished. Kaput. But you couldn't stand the thought of being by yourself during Christmas in your cold, lonely penthouse apartment in Chicago. So with a quick, spur of the moment google search, you found yourself renting an Airbnb in the quaint little town of Woodstock, Vermont.

Known for its idyllic shops and gorgeous winter landscapes, you figured, why not? A week away from the chaos of your job and pain of a failed relationship. Your boss was stunned to hear you wanted to take a vacation, the first since you had started six years ago, but he was quick to approve your time off request knowing full well the company couldn't run without you.

Five days before Christmas, you sat in a sweet little cabin just a short walk from town. You were in the woods, just you and a stack of books you promised yourself to at least try to take a crack at, in front of a cozy fireplace. You must have dozed off because you jolted upright with your heart racing when you heard a key being worked rather roughly at the front door.

"Oh, shit. Oh, fuck," you whispered, tossing the fuzzy blanket off you and racing to the fireplace. With a poker in hand, you swiveled around right as the door swung open.

You heard a man's voice grumbling under his breath and your grip on the poker tightened. When he flicked the lights on, you gave him your best scowl and tried to look as fearsome as possible.

"I've already called the police, I suggest you be on your way," you lied.

But all he did was frown and close the door behind him, leaving the blustery, snowy weather outside where it belonged.

"Who are you?" he asked with a sharpness to his voice. You scoffed, offended.

"Me? I'm renting this place from the owner, Sandy. And who should I tell the cops broke in?"

The man smirked and shrugged off his coat, completely unphased by your weapon.

"I'm Dave. Sandy's brother."

You stumbled backwards as he hurried over to the fireplace to warm his hands. It was then you got a good look at him. Strong, cut jaw. Clean shaven. Dark brown hair with eyes to match, but there was a softness to them you couldn't deny. And when he leaned forward to throw another log onto the fire, you noticed the way his broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his sweater.

"And what are you doing here, 'Dave, Sandy's brother'?"

He chuckled and sat back on his heels to look up at you, the reflection from the fire making his dark eyes sparkle.

"Well, on the rare occasion I find myself having too much fun at the local bar, Sandy lets me spend the night here. My place is a good half hour away and she worries about me driving. You know how sisters are," he said with a small smile. The iciness to his voice was gone as he slowly searched your face. "Want to tell me your name now?"

You wanted to stay rigid but the way he looked at you caused you to fold. You told him your name and explained you were staying through Christmas to get away from... things.

He nodded and leaned back into the couch you had fallen asleep on just a few hours earlier, stretching his arms wide across the back and spreading his legs while gazing up at you.

"So no husband, then?"

You swallowed and kept your eyes locked on his face. Why was he asking?

"No. No husband. Be a little strange to be attached to someone and not be with them during Christmas, don't you think?" you asked with an arched brow.

Dave smirked and let his eyes drop to stare at the fire.

"Imagine so."

Silence stretched on for another minute and you lowered yourself onto the couch.

"So you can't drive?" you asked. Dave pushed air through his lips and shook his head.

"But I can call an uber or something. I didn't know she rented out the place."

You glanced around the small cabin, weighing your options. If he wanted to kill you, he would have already, right?

"Or you could stay," you offered. His eyes snapped up to yours in surprise. "I mean, if you wanted. Since you're already here and all."

"You sure?"

You nodded and pressed your lips together.

"Mhm," you hummed as you looked around. "There's probably a spare pillow somewhere."

Dave's lips curled into a slow smile as he watched you fumble around for a pillow.

"Mind if I ask why you're here spending Christmas alone?"

You froze, scanning your brain for a lie until you realized it didn't really matter if this man knew your story, you would never see him again, anyway.

"I, uh, broke up with someone," you said, finally finding a pillow and thick blanket in a cabinet behind the television. "I wanted to get away from the city to distract myself and... well, so far it's not really working," you admitted with a wry chuckle. You turned to hand him the bedding, fingers brushing against his and sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes locked with Dave and you felt your heart flutter before you forced yourself to take a breath and snap out of it.

"Sorry to hear that," Dave said softly. Then the corner of his mouth twitched when he added, "Maybe I could help distract you?"

"Excuse me?" you snapped, crossing your arms. Dave set the bedding down next to him and waved his hands in surrender.

"Sorry. Not appropriate."

"No, it wasn't."

"Sorry," he said again. You swallowed tightly, anger and excitement battling it out inside you. Part of you wanted to kick him out in the snow and book the first flight out of there. But another much louder part of you wanted to consider his offer. What better way to move on from your ex than to hook up with an admittedly very attractive man who you would never see again?

It's not something you'd ever done before, but did that make it so wrong? Could you not just enjoy yourself for one night?

Dave had stood to spread out his blanket across the couch, ignoring your internal conflict behind him. Once he had everything set, he finally turned to look at you.

"Well... good night."

Your heart was already racing in your chest from your decision made seconds prior, but when he stepped forward to give you a peck on the cheek, an action no doubt fueled by the alcohol in his veins, your blood pumped even faster. At the last second, you turned your head and captured his lips with yours.

The kiss was a bit stiff. Both of you paused in surprise but lingered a few moments before he pulled away and looked down at you curiously.

"I thought-"

"I changed my mind," you said before grabbing his thick sweater in your fist and pulling him down for another kiss. That one was less than polite. His hands flew up to cup your face while his tongue pried open your mouth and licked past your teeth. You knew your bedroom was somewhere behind you, but Dave knew the layout of the cabin much better. He began to walk you backwards while your hands pawed desperately at his shoulders, and only once you both collapsed into bed did you even break away for air.

"I never do this," you panted while tearing off your shirt. Dave was working on his belt, ripping open the leather in a frenzy.

"That's okay," he responded while kicking off his pants.

"It's just - I caught my ex cheating on me with his receptionist," you continued, clothes falling off you one by one. "And the thought of hooking up with a guy I'll never see again is weirdly turning me on right now."

Dave laughed and tugged his sweater over his head, revealing his strong chest and thick arms.

"He sounds like an asshole."

"He is," you breathed right before Dave crawled on top of you for another deep kiss. You moaned into his mouth and wrapped your legs around his waist, jumping a little when you felt his already hard cock press between your bodies.

"Relax," he whispered, then gave you one more quick kiss before dragging his mouth down your throat. His hands greedily squeezed at your hips and his tongue darted out to lick and bite gently at your breasts as he continued his way down, not stopping until his shoulders were wedged between your thighs and his mouth was hovering over your glistening cunt.

Dave didn't waste any time teasing you. He buried his face between your legs, lapping up your seam a few times before prodding further. His tongue swirled at your entrance with a muffled groan while you squirmed and gasped in his hold. You tried to subconsciously inch away, body already too sensitive, but his arms pinned down each of your legs, holding you flat and open so he could eat at you freely.

Curses left your lips in soft whimpers as he pushed you higher and higher with his mouth. Your fingers grabbed weakly at his disheveled hair, drawing his eyes open. He was transfixed when he watched you, chest heaving and head twisting this way and that as you struggled to find your high.

Either he wasn't the kind of guy that liked to tease women or he was too eager to fuck you because his lips latched around your clit, sending your back arching off the mattress with a broken cry. With just a few flicks of his tongue, he sent you hurtling over the edge. Stars burst behind your eyelids as your orgasm rolled through you, hips rocking up to meet his mouth until your legs grew shaky and your heart felt like it might beat right out of your chest.

"Oh, fuck - oh, my god," you gasped, dragging in huge gulps of air while Dave peppered kisses over your hips and up your stomach until he was pressing his body against yours.

"Need a minute?" he asked with a cocky lilt to his voice. His lips tugged into a smile against your throat and you had a feeling he noticed the tremor in your hands as they raked through his hair.

"No, I'm fine," you replied defiantly. Dave propped himself up on his forearms, smirking down at you with his lips still wet from your climax.

"Yeah? You think you're ready to take me, baby?"

His knee nudged yours aside, opening your legs even wider so he could reach down and fist his cock. You nodded but he caught the way your breath hitched when he dragged just the tip through your folds.

"Shit," you whispered, eyes already fluttered closed.

"Hey," he said with a sharp little bite to your chin. Your eyelids popped open, slightly annoyed. "Keep 'em open. Eyes on me."

"You're bossy in bed," you told him. He just chuckled and lined himself up.

"I just know what I like."

You were about to say something back, probably something snippy to try and knock his arrogance down a peg, but at that very same moment he pushed himself inside you, every thick, hard inch in one go, and whatever words you had queued up died in your throat.

Now you understood why he wanted you to look at him. He wanted to see the way your eyes changed when he entered you. He wanted to see that initial shock followed by that rush of pleasure. He wanted to see your eyes soften when you grew used to his girth and fill with need when he took too long to move. You knew all of this because it was exactly what you saw reflected in his own eyes as he stared down at you.

"Dave," you whispered with your eyebrows still pinched together. He was so fucking thick that the stretch stung a little, but in the best way possible. "Dave... fuck me. Please fu-"

You gasped and threw your head back into your pillow when he dragged himself out a few inches just so he could slam back into you.

"Oh, god, yes!" you cried out, his hips snapping against you faster. He kept one hand tangled in your hair and the other firmly planted on your hip. Each time he pounded into you, he yanked your hips upwards, driving himself as deep as possible while you fought for breath because every devastating stroke punched the air straight from your lungs.

You had never been with a man like Dave before. He had swagger but he had the goods to back it up. He was rough with the way he fucked you, but so soft when his mouth connected with yours, muffling your cries and his grunts.

His hips suddenly slowed and your eyes popped open in surprise. Your lips were still locked with his but he was fucking you slower now and then you realized he was matching pace with the way he was kissing you. Soft and deep and with purpose. You closed your eyes and felt a sigh shake loose in your chest, then your arms wrapped around his neck and you melted into his embrace. You weren't sure what caused the sudden change but it felt good. It was sweet and intimate and lo-

No. No, this was not why you came all the way to Vermont. You refused to fall for another man who would end up breaking your heart. You told Dave you just wanted a one-night stand, but the way he was pressing his body against yours and the way his tongue was mapping your mouth like he was trying to commit you to memory had you pulling away. You gave his chest a hard shove and his eyes fluttered open in confusion.

"What are you-"

"Move," you said, pushing him once again. He frowned but did as you asked, leaning back to give you space so you could pull yourself up onto your elbows. When you squirmed away, his cock slipped out of you and you swore you heard him whimper, but you pushed it from your mind.

"Did I do something?" he asked, but then you flipped onto your hands and knees and looked at him over your shoulder with a smirk.

"Want you to fuck me like this," you said, wiggling your ass in the air. His eyes darkened and his hands greedily found your waist, and all traces of that softness he had just shown you vanished. You sighed and rested the side of your head on the bed with your arms stretched out above you while you waited.

"Such a pretty sight, baby," he murmured before cracking the palm of his hand across one cheek. You gasped and jumped forward but he quickly dragged you back, impaling you on his cock once again.

Just as you had hoped, Dave began to fuck you harder. His fingers dug into your hips, pushing and pulling you in rhythm with his thrusts. Every stroke was so deep and powerful that it had tears burning the backs of your eyes. It was absolutely perfect. Your mind was blissfully blank. Every thought and memory and worry from the past week flew out of your brain while Dave fucked you like it was his last day on earth.

As if he could read your mind, he said, "This what you needed, isn't it? Needed someone to fuck you properly for once?"

Tears leaked out of your eyes and soaked into the bedding.

"Yes," you gasped. "So good - you feel so fucking good -"

"Did he used to fuck you like this?"

For the life of you, you couldn't figure out what he was talking about. Not when his cock kept splitting you open like it was. Your legs were getting shaky and you felt that crest beginning to rapidly rise with every harsh thrust of his hips against your ass.

"W-who?"

Dave chuckled and fell forward. His palms were pressed flat on either side of your head and you wailed when somehow the shift had forced his cock even deeper inside you.

"Your ex, baby. What was his name?"

You sobbed and shook your head, hands grabbing to push against the headboard he was quickly fucking you into.

"Don't remember his name?" Dave panted in your ear. "Ouch. Poor bastard. Bet you know my name, though, don't you?"

"Yes!" you screamed out when two of his fingers reached underneath and began to press fast circles against your clit. "Dave! Dave! D - ah, fuck! - I -"

It hit you all at once. Tears streamed down your face when you came, gushing all around his cock as he continued to pummel into you. He was saying something, you were sure of it, but you couldn't hear a word. The ringing in your ears was too loud. Your muscles were jumping and spasming with every wave of your orgasm, pussy squeezing and fluttering around his shaft and pulling his own release to the surface with you.

Right when you were beginning to regain your senses, you heard him groan your name repeatedly. He grabbed at your hip again, abandoning your clit when he sensed it was too much, and yanked you back so your ass was flush against him as he spilled his seed inside of you. Every burst had him softly groaning and pulling until he exhaled shakily and collapsed, slipping out of you and knocking you off your knees to lay flat on the bed with him.

"How's that for a distraction?" he murmured. You grinned and pushed the hair away from your face.

"Not bad."

Dave huffed and rolled onto his side, facing you.

"You couldn't remember your ex's damn name. I think it was a little better than that." He reached out to gently caress your cheek and you felt that softness creeping back up again, but that time you couldn't fight it. You were too exhausted, so you closed your eyes and gave in.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow you would remind him it was a one time thing and that you were not interested in anything else. But for that one night, you let him pull you close with his bare chest pressed against your back and soundly fell asleep wrapped in his strong arms.

The next morning you had dragged yourself out of bed, fighting against every cell in your body that begged you to remain warm and cozy under the covers next to Dave. As tempting as it was to examine him while he slept so peacefully, you knew yourself. If you weren't careful, you would end up developing feelings for him and you certainly couldn't afford to be put in a position where you would be disappointed by yet another man.

That was why you found yourself an hour later fiddling with the coffee maker and cursing under your breath when the damn thing wouldn't turn on.

"Morning," his deep voice rumbled from the doorway. You whipped around and gave him a polite smile. He was wearing the same clothes as the night before but his hair was still a little unkept and his gaze was drifting appreciatively over your frame, making your smile widen against your will.

"Morning. I was trying to make you some coffee but this stupid thing-"

"-needs to be plugged in," he finished for you with a smirk. You furrowed your brow and twisted back around to examine the machine when suddenly he had sidled up behind you. "Not much of a coffee drinker, I take it?" he asked, stretching an arm around you to plug in the machine and flip the switch. You could feel his exhale on the back of your neck as memories from the night before flooded your mind.

"Uh, no, not really," you admitted while stepping to the side to create a little more distance. You picked up a glass filled with a store bought smoothie, forgoing the freshly made smoothies you were used to buying every morning back in Chicago since the small town of Woodstock didn't afford many options. Dave's face twisted into a look of disgust when he saw you take a sip.

"That looks like lawn clippings in a glass."

"It's not that bad - want to try a little?"

He shook his head and turned to open a cabinet. "I'll wait for the good stuff, but thanks," he said after placing a coffee mug on the counter.

You sat at the small kitchen table, tugging your oversized sweatshirt tighter around your neck as you sipped your smoothie and watched Dave maneuver around the room, completely comfortable and in his element while he dug around for something to eat and fixed his coffee to his liking.

It felt very domestic. Too domestic. So you cleared your throat, deciding you needed to clarify your intentions before you were pulled even further under his spell, but Dave spoke first.

"Are you busy today? I had some errands to run in town. Thought you might wanna tag along. I could show you around, maybe get some lunch-"

He had turned around with his mug clutched in his hands when you cut him off.

"Uh, I don't think that's such a good idea," you said. "I'm not really looking for anything more than, you know... what we did-"

"Just using me for a quick fuck?" he asked, but when your eyes snapped up to his in surprise, you could tell he was teasing you.

"Well..."

Dave chuckled and sat down across from you.

"Don't worry, I'm not looking for anything serious, either," he assured you. You watched his tongue dart out to lick his lip, catching a drop of coffee that hung there, and your thighs squeezed together.

"Okay, good. Glad we got that out of the way."

"So, you wanna come to town with me or what? I gotta pick up my car, I can drop you off after."

You blinked and shifted in your chair. Dave watched your gaze flicker uncomfortably out the window and he rolled his eyes.

"I'm not going to fall in love with you over a few errands," he said, tone flat. "Just thought you'd want to check out the town."

"Yeah, okay, you're right," you relented. There was no harm in killing a little time with him, right? You both were on the same page and you didn't even have a chance to explore the town yet on your own.

"Great," he said with a grin, then tipped his head back and downed the rest of his coffee. Your eyes locked onto his throat and immediately noticed the marks you had left the night before. You stood quickly and told him you were going to get ready, telling yourself the same thing over and over.

He's just a rebound, it doesn't mean anything.

Woodstock, Vermont was absolutely adorable. You could see why so many people flocked there during the holidays. Everywhere you looked you saw something straight out of a Nancy Meyers movie. Wreathes, trees, twinkle lights, and garlands covered every single house and shop along the Main Street of town. There was a dusting of snow that lingered from the night before, adding to the beauty around you. There were even covered bridges draped in garland and lights. Had you ever even seen a covered bridge in real life before? Probably not.

The further you walked into town, the more you became convinced it was a literal Christmas wonderland.

"Is this place serious? A horse drawn carriage?" you exclaimed when a wagon pulled by a massive brown and white horse with blinders on trotted on by, kicking up snow with it's hooves.

"Yeah, they do Christmas big around here," Dave chuckled.

You readjusted your scarf and wrapped your arms around yourself as you continued to walk with Dave up the sidewalk. Everyone you passed was friendly, giving you both warm smiles and murmurs of good morning. You were beginning to understand why people preferred to live in small towns. Everything moved slower and afforded you the chance to simply take a breath and enjoy the little things.

"My car's just up the street. The bar is right on the corner," Dave pointed with a gloved hand. "But you mind if we stop a couple places first? I have a Christmas present I need to pick up."

"Yeah, sure," you shrugged as you followed him into the first shop. A little bell rang above your heads when you stepped inside. As you were tapping the excess snow off your boots, you breathed in deep the scent of cinnamon and looked around. It was a boutique of some kind and looked like it was marketed primarily for women. Blouses, scarves, gloves, hair accessories, purses and makeup adorned each rack and shelf.

"I placed an order last week, just gotta pick it up at the counter," he explained, taking off his gloves and instinctually grabbing for your hand. It took you by surprise and he must have sensed it because a moment later he let your hand drop and cleared his throat.

You shook it off and shoved your hand in your coat pocket, slowly trailing after him. You lingered at a display of sunglasses and hummed softly to the Christmas carols that were playing quietly through the overhead speakers.

Dave greeted the cashier and gave his name for the order, only half listening to him as you tried on different sunglasses a few feet away.

"You got the last one, you have good taste," the older lady behind the counter told him happily as she handed over a pre-wrapped gift. "It looks like-" she glanced at the tag and smiled, "Alice will have a very lovely Christmas."

Alice? You had just assumed Dave was picking up something for Sandy. He wouldn't be taking you around town to shop for another woman, would he?

When he turned around with the bag, you noticed he avoided your eye and you couldn't help but wonder if it was out of shame.

Whatever. You both said you weren't interested in anything serious. But was that because he was already in a serious relationship? The thought hadn't occurred to you until that moment and it left you feeling unsettled.

"You ready?" he asked. You set your sunglasses down and nodded, immediately picking up on the tension radiating from him after the cashier mentioned another woman's name. And even though you were dying from curiosity, you let it go because it didn't matter. He was a rebound.

After walking another block and waiting for Dave after he popped into the post office for a quick moment, you stopped in front of a quaint looking bookshop.

"Do you mind?" you asked, pointing towards the door. Dave looked up and shrugged before stepping forward and holding open the door for you.

The smell of paper, ink, and leather hit you all at once, making you sigh and smile wide.

"Now this is what I'm talking about," you said excitedly over your shoulder. Dave grinned at the way you moved from genre to genre, picking up a book here or there and turning it over in your hands before deciding whether or not to tuck it under your arm to purchase.

"Big reader?" he asked as he watched you flip through the pages of a historical romance.

"Yeah, but I hardly have the time," you confessed. "I have a huge stack back at the cabin but I think I'm an addict, I just can't stop myself from buying more whenever I see a bookshop."

"Addict, huh? Guess there's worse things to be addicted to," he said, setting down his bag so he could look through a book of his own. He read a few paragraphs and snorted as if he wasn't impressed, but out of the corner of your eye you noticed him get drawn in and continued to read the page.

"You like that one?"

His eyes flicked up to you and he straightened his spine.

"Nah. Just caught my attention for a second..."

His eyes dropped back down to the page and you giggled, tilting the cover up so you could see the title.

"I have this book. Back at the cabin. You can have it," you told him before putting your own book back and moving on down the aisle.

"I can't take your book," he protested behind you.

"I already read it, it's fine. Besides, I like to do it. Read a book and hand it off to someone else. Books are meant to be read and enjoyed, not stared at on a shelf for all of eternity," you told him as you made your way to the counter.

"Well, at least let me buy you lunch then," he said as you cashed out three new books. You swiped your card and arched an eyebrow.

"Are you trying to take me on a date?"

"No, never," Dave replied immediately with fake disgust. You laughed and took your receipt from the cashier, offering your thanks before turning and heading back out into the cold.

"Alright, fine. Where should we have our non-date?"

Dave pointed across the street with a grin.

"How about the bar? Pick up my car right after. Two birds, one stone."

"Ah, yes. No further thought required and hyper-focused on efficiency. Exactly what every woman loves to hear from a man," you joked.

Dave laughed and threw his arm around your shoulder before leading you in the direction of the bar.

"You said this isn't a date, baby."

"And yet you just called me baby."

He laughed again and shook his head but offered no further explanation.

The inside of the, presumably, only bar in town was exactly what you would expect. Dark, the scent of stale beer, various sporting events playing on the televisions scattered above the bar itself. But just like the rest of the town, the owners still jazzed the place up with a Christmas tree in the window, garland strung along the shelves of liquor, and the bartenders all wore Santa hats.

There weren't many people when you walked in, but there were a few men bellied up to the bar with beers watching a football game, along with one or two tables dining off to the side.

"Hey, Dave. Back so soon?" a male bartender asked, then did a double take when he saw you. "Oh, you got a date."

"It isn't a date," Dave said. You immediately heard his voice change. It sounded more high pitched. Like he was nervous or jumpy. You looked at him quizzically, as did the other patrons at the bar. An older man with a long beard whistled low and the other two swiveled in their seats to give you both a once over.

"Holy shit, Dave's got a date."

"It's not-"

"Hey, Sammy! Come check this out! Dave brought a girl!" another one called out into the depths of the bar. Dave's face began to turn pink and his hand fell from your shoulders.

"Vinny, cut it out."

"She's pretty, too!" the third man yelled after Vinny.

"Oh, thank you," you said shyly.

"Jesus Christ," Dave muttered beside you before ushering you over to an empty table. But given the layout of the place, you were still only seated a short distance away from the bar itself.

"Tell us, honey. What's a nice girl like you doing with a schlub like him?" the first man with the beard asked with a lopsided grin.

"Shut up, Dick," Dave snapped over his shoulder, the embarrassment making his shoulders slump forward as if he were trying to disappear into the floor.

"Don't call him a dick," you scolded.

"I'm not. That's his name."

"Oh."

"Holy shit! Thought you were yankin' my chain!" a shorter middle aged man exclaimed when he appeared around the corner. He wiped his hands on his apron and approached your table with a shit eating grin. "Hiya, name's Sammy," he said, offering you his hand. You shook it and told him your name. One of his teeth was capped with gold and the twinkle from the Christmas lights made it sparkle.

"Where you been hidin' this one?" Sammy asked Dave. You grinned and crossed your arms on the table to lean forward, reveling in his discomfort.

"She's just staying at Sandy's cabin through Christmas. Thought I would be neighborly and show her around," Dave grumbled while scanning the menu.

"Neighborly? Ain't your place like, half an hour out?"

"Yeah, that's what he said yesterday," you told Sammy with a nod. "We met last night when he made the mistake of breaking into said cabin after having too much fun with you boys."

"I didn't break in, I have a key."

"You spent the night together, huh?" the unnamed man teased from the bar. Dave squeezed his eyes shut.

"Sounds like it, Hank," Sammy called over.

"But it ain't a date," Vinny said, poorly imitating Dave.

"You think we can eat in peace or should I take her to Cheryl's deli?" Dave snapped. The three men at the bar chuckled and finally turned around to give you some privacy.

"Sorry, honey. Just gotta razz the big guy," Sammy told you with a wink.

"Oh, by all means, I'm enjoying myself immensely," you replied, waggling your eyebrows at Dave when his eyes dragged up from the table. He sighed but you caught the smirk he was trying to hide behind his menu.

You each ordered a burger and mercifully, after Sammy dropped off your drinks, you were left with some peace and quiet.

"Come here a lot, then?" you teased over your soda.

"When I'm in town."

"Ah. Does your job require a lot of travel?" It was then you realized you hadn't ever asked him anything about his job. He seemed like a business man with his clean shaven face. Maybe a banker. But what he said next shocked you.

"Yes. I work for the C.I.A."

"What?" you exclaimed quietly. He nodded, unphased. "What do you do?"

"I'm a field agent. I go where the bad guys are. Report back in to D.C. couple times a month. Even make my way to Chicago pretty often, if you believe it. Got a field office there," he told you, leaning back in his chair.

"Oh... wow," you breathed, your mind racing a mile a minute. "But you're from here?"

"I am," he replied. He was watching you carefully now, his eyes dancing with mischief as you struggled to absorb this new information. You had a million questions and had no idea where to even start, but it didn't matter because his phone ringing on the table cut you off.

Without thinking, your eyes locked onto the screen. Molly.

"Shit," he murmured, standing and picking up his phone. "I gotta take this. Do you mind?"

"No, go right ahead," you said airily, then watched him throw his jacket over his arm and head outside. Your mouth twisted around nervously as you watched him pace back and forth through the window, smiling and laughing while he talked on the phone.

Didn't seem like a work call. So who the hell was Molly?

"Molly... Alice... popular guy," you muttered under your breath.

Didn't matter. It wasn't a date and you were not interested in seeing Dave after the day was over.

Really. You weren't.

"Sorry," he said once he breezed back inside at the exact same time your food arrived.

"Work?" you couldn't help but ask. You kept your eyes on your plate so he wouldn't see your jealousy flaring up unwillingly.

"Uh... no," he said, then quickly changed the subject. "You never told me what you do for work?"

It was a sufficient enough distraction. While you ate, you explained your job in advertising. How the long hours, endless meetings, and greasy takeout were all worth it when you pitched a perfect idea to a client and you saw that look on their face. The one where they were thrilled with your work that would then have them eagerly signing a contract. Every single one pushed you higher and higher up the corporate ladder. You already had a corner office and a penthouse downtown, but you were always looking for the next big sale. You explained to Dave that the money and promotions didn't mean much anymore. It was the thrill and the payoff that made it so rewarding.

"Uh, sorry," you cringed, "I didn't realize I had been talking for so long." Your plates were empty and Dave had been leaning forward with his hand curled in his drink, hanging on your every word.

"Don't be sorry. Sounds like you really love your job."

"I do, but I never get any time for a life," you admitted sadly. You stared down at your glass, swirling the straw around the mostly melted ice. "This was my first vacation in six years."

Dave's eyes widened in shock. "Six years? And you chose to come... here?"

"What? It's cute here!" you protested with a laugh. "I wanted the full Christmas experience."

He huffed and shook his head. "Well, you came to the right place, I guess. There's a parade tomorrow afternoon with Santa and real reindeer-"

He stopped himself short and cleared his throat awkwardly before continuing. "I mean, if you wanted to go. Everyone in town kind of goes."

"Are you asking me out on another non-date?" you teased with a grin, but Dave pressed his lips together and swallowed tightly.

"Uh, no. I can't - I - I'm busy."

"But you just said everyone in town goes," you replied, smile slipping from your face.

He sighed and bit the inside of his cheek.

"This is awkward," he began, and a heavy feeling suddenly filled your chest. "I'm going to the parade but... I'm going with someone else."

"Oh," you said softly. He's a rebound, doesn't mean anything. "That's ... fine."

It wasn't fine. It hurt, and you were doing your best to hide it.

"Listen-"

"Why don't we just get going?" you asked with a tight smile. Dave's eyes softened as he scanned your face, desperately trying to come up with the right thing to say. "Seriously, it's fine. We talked about this, remember?" you laughed, then stood up to tug your coat back on. Slowly, Dave rose from his chair to copy you.

The walk back to his car was tense. You had no idea what to say. It shouldn't matter, you made your wishes very clear, yet despite yourself, it still really fucking mattered. And in the short ride back to the cabin, you broke.

"Are you married? Tell me fast," you said completely out of the blue. His mouth fell open in shock but he kept his eyes on the road.

"No. No, I'm not married."

"Girlfriend, then? Or, girlfriends?"

"What?" he hissed, then you tossed your hands up in the air in defeat.

"Alice... Molly... how many are there?" you snapped, voice rising the angrier you got.

Dave took a deep breath and gripped the wheel tightly.

"Alice and Molly are my... daughters," he finally said, voice a little strained. You completely forgot how to breathe. You sat in a stunned silence as he drove the rest of the way down the street and pulled into the driveway of the cabin, and only once he threw the car in park did he look at you.

"Daughters?" you repeated. He nodded.

"They're ten and twelve."

"O-oh, my god," you whispered. "I'm sorry, Jesus Christ why wouldn't you tell me?"

Dave shrugged and looked through the windshield at the empty cabin. When it became apparent he wasn't going to answer, you continued.

"I told you about my ex and about my life - Dave, why wouldn't you just tell me you're divorced? I wouldn't have cared."

"I don't bring women home to them," he said suddenly. You clamped your mouth shut, falling silent and giving him a chance to speak. "And I'm not divorced. I'm... widowed," he added, choking on the last word. His gaze fell down to stare at his lap. "I just try to protect them, you know? I try to keep my private life separate unless I know it's real 'cause they've already been through too much, I can't put them through losing someone else."

He had a point. And you had repeatedly dropped hints throughout the day that you were not interested in anything further with him and nothing you did that afternoon was to be considered a date.

So why was your throat so tight and why did your heart ache so badly in your chest?

Two days passed. Forty-eight hours where you spent pacing around your rented out cabin, trying to distract yourself with books while wrestling with your feelings over Dave.

It was impossible to ignore. You liked him. You couldn't stop thinking about him; the way he held your hand, the private little smiles he reserved just for you, the way he held you close the night you spent together... your thoughts were utterly and completely absorbed with Dave. And you had a feeling he liked you, too. Why else would he have wanted to spend the day with you? You had already fucked. Most men would have hightailed it out of there at first light. And to take you to the bar where he knew his drinking buddies would see you? That must have meant something.

You almost went to the parade just to possibly catch a glimpse of him but you backed out at the last second. Dave said he didn't want to introduce his girls to any women in his life to protect them, and you had to respect that. The last thing you knew you should do was surprise him with his family at the parade. No, that certainly wouldn't have gone over well at all.

Now, it was Christmas Eve. You didn't even have his number to text him Merry Christmas. So, after too many hours overanalyzing every little thing, you came up with a plan: you would go to the bar with the book you had promised him under the guise of wanting to get it to him before you left for Chicago.

As far as plans went, it was a pretty good one. It was feasible and a realistic excuse. But wouldn't he be spending Christmas Eve with his daughters? You shook the thought from your head. You didn't even know where he lived. Short of contacting Sandy and asking, this was your only plan. It had to work. It had to.

After spending over an hour getting ready and trying to quiet your nerves, you slipped on your leather jacket and adjusted your scarf in the mirror to make it look just right. You sighed and snatched the book from the couch, marching to the front door while murmuring under your breath over and over, I can do this.

But when you swung open the door to reveal Dave standing on the other side with his fist poised to knock, all your confidence flew straight out the window.

"Oh," you breathed. He dropped his hand to the side and gave you a small smile.

"Hey."

"Hi," you whispered, still stricken with disbelief that he was standing before you out of nowhere. Then you blinked rapidly a few times and stepped back. "Want to come in?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind," he said, slipping off his shoes and coat before his gaze slid down your frame, noticing your outerwear. "You're heading out, I'm sorry. This won't take long."

"No, actually, I'm-"

What? What were you supposed to say? You were very clearly about to walk out the door. You chewed your bottom lip nervously as you shrugged off your scarf and jacket, then rolled your eyes to yourself. Fuck it.

"I was going to try to find you, actually," you blurted out. Dave's eyes shot up to meet yours from his place next to the fire.

"You were?"

You nodded and took a few steps closer. When you remembered you were still holding the book, you held it out for him.

"I promised you this," you said softly. He glanced down at the book and gingerly took it from you. "I was going to see if you were at the bar but then I thought you might be with your girls tonight."

"They're with their grandparents," Dave murmured. He placed the book down gently and looked up at you once again.

"Oh. Right."

A long silence stretched between you, each waiting for the other to speak with only the sound of a crackling fire to fill the air.

You caved first.

"Why did you come here, Dave?"

He exhaled slowly and his shoulders sagged, looking like he had just been through battle.

"I came here because-"

He stopped and took a deep breath. Propping his hands on his hips, he let out a dry laugh and shook his head, like he couldn't believe what he was about to say.

"I know you were very clear about what you wanted," he began. The smile slowly melted as his nerves took over. "And I was, too. But - goddamnit."

He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger while you shifted anxiously from foot to foot, hoping and praying he was trying to say what you wanted him to say.

"But you want something more?" you offered timidly. His hand dropped to his side and he nodded sheepishly.

"I can't get you out of my head," he confessed with a pained expression. Your pulse spiked and your fingers fidgeted at your sides. You wanted to run into his arms but you also desperately wanted to hear what he had to say.

"I can't stop thinking about you. I know it's crazy, believe me," Dave scoffed. "And I know you just got out of a relationship. I sure as hell know I have my own baggage. But - I don't know. Is this stupid?"

He looked so adorable, all distraught and standing there in front of your fire wearing dark jeans and an ugly blue sweatshirt with a massive snowflake on it. A smile tugged at your lips.

"Nice sweater."

He blinked and looked down.

"Alice got it for me for Christmas last year."

"Hm. Well, maybe next time I can take her shopping. We've got some nicer stores in Chicago. Find something a little more suited to you," you said playfully. His eyes lit up as he slowly connected the dots. "That is, if you're willing to visit with them sometime," you added quickly.

"Yeah," he breathed, then chuckled before he closed the distance and pulled you in for a deep kiss. You smiled against his lips, feeling elated and confused and still not entirely sure if you were dreaming or not.

"How will this work?" you gasped when he finally pulled away for air. Dave kept his hands firmly planted where they were; cupping your face while gazing down at you in wonder.

"I'm in Chicago a lot," he reminded you before peppering your face with kisses. You giggled and wrapped your arms tighter around his middle. "Maybe you can come here sometimes. It'll work. We'll figure it out."

You wiggled out of his grasp and took his hand. Teeth sinking into your lower lip, you began to slowly walk backwards towards your bedroom, pulling him along with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"What are you doing for New Year's?" you asked.

Dave smirked as his free hand found your waist. He slid his fingers underneath the hem of your shirt, brushing over the soft skin of your hip when he said, "I have the girls for New Year's."

You tugged him into the bedroom, both of you laughing softly at your enthusiasm. And right before his lips found yours again, you whispered, "Sounds perfect."

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

#dave york x f!reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york fic #dave york x you #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york #the equalizer 2 fanfic #the equalizer #christmas prompts

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dhobee-uae-llc · 5 months ago

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wanderlustrentals · 4 months ago

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How to Prepare Your Rental for a Last-Minute Guest Last-minute bookings are great for maximizing occupancy, but they can be stressful for hosts if the property isn’t ready. A reliable cleaning service can ensure that your property is always prepared for a quick turnaround. At Wanderlust Rentals, we offer flexible scheduling to meet the demands of short-term rentals, even for last-minute stays. 🔗 Find out more

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starkeyisthelastname · 7 months ago

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hear me out, I’ve been thinking about this idea for a while.. let me know what you guys could think of this as my first series. 🙈❤️

Ward and your father were college best friends turned owners of their own different successful companies. You and Rafe were born a week apart, as if the universe wanted you to be soulmates. The two of you grew up together, best friends since birth practically. As the two of you grew older though, feelings started to become deeper than just a friendship. The problem is the two of you won’t admit them, now in your early twenties trying to pretend that you aren’t both madly in love with each other.

The two of you are like Kook King and Queen of Kildare, both insanely rich, popular and hot. Rafe had always had girls fawning after him left and right, but had started falling for you when you were both were 15. It was only a year after that when he got hooked on cocaine, struggling with an addiction that led him to doing very violent and reckless things. His drug habit only worsened as he tried to deal with the issues with his father, his mental health issues and the fact he was too pussy to make a move on you. His feelings only grew more for you when you stood by his side in helping him get clean. Yet, even now as he worked through his behavior, trying his best to stay away the candy he use to blow up his nose, and was now working at Cameron Development, he still was afraid of you rejecting him.

So he distracted himself by being a player, and fucking around on girls he didn’t give a damn about. He was a dick, he’s cocky, and no other female would ever compare to you. That’s why girls hated you from the moment they started crushing on Rafe. They couldn’t stand that you took all of his attention, you were everything they couldn’t be and most of them knew that when it came to a serious relationship, they would never get that from him as he only had eyes for you. They would only ever be a quick fuck for him to get a nut in.

You though were having a hard time controlling your jealousy even though it was your own fault on not wanting to tell your best friend how you really felt. You weren’t sure though how much more you could take of holding in your feelings. But something just may change on a family vacation…

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #best friend!rafe #rafe cameron smut #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron blurb #obx #obx smut #outer banks

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springkleaning · 9 months ago

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captain-hawks · 8 months ago

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till one of us caves

atsumu miya x f!reader

In which Osamu asks his brother to keep you company while you're closing the shop alone one night. And it wouldn't be an issue...if Atsumu wasn't the bane of your goddamn existence ever since your stupid drunken hookup years ago.

wc: 3.7k

c: 18+, smut, enemies to lovers speed run, the complete and utter defilement of onigiri miya (sorry osamu), miscommunication, fingering, unprotected p in v, atsumu is down so bad and also he's an idiot, protective!atsumu, miya twin banter, best friend!osamu

“Absolutely not.”

Osamu pauses in the middle of counting cash at the register and glances up to follow where your narrowed gaze is focused—a head of blonde hair on its way through the front doors of Onigiri Miya.

“I didn’t want ya closin’ alone,” Osamu replies, returning his attention to the stack of bills in his hand.

“Hey dickhead, I hope yer feedin’ me for this!”

Instant headache.

Instant fucking headache.

You let out a long-suffering, exaggerated sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re only leaving an hour early. I can handle this alone, Osamu. I promise.”

Osamu closes the register, turning around to look at you with his arms crossed. “It’s a Saturday night. I don’t like you dealin’ with the drunk stragglers by yourself.”

Glancing around, you pick up the only vaguely threatening object within arm’s length—a plastic spork. “I know self defense.”

Raising an eyebrow, Osamu glances from your face to the small utensil clutched between your fingers. “Wouldn’t be the first time Tsumu’s been stabbed with a spork,” he mutters.

“Fooooooooooood,” said twin dramatically whines, plastering himself across the counter like a fainting Victorian maiden.

“Get yer sweaty ass offa there,” Osamu grunts, snapping a rag against Atsumu’s arm.

He yelps, muttering something under his breath before finding a normal sitting position on the stool.

“Alright, now get outta here so you’re not late for your date,” Atsumu chides, running a hand through his hair.

It’s obnoxious, actually—the way he still manages to look infuriatingly attractive even with his sweaty bleach-blonde hair sticking up in every direction, his face still flushed and voice a little hoarse from practice. At the very least, he had the decency to toss on a clean black tee with MSBY emblazoned in large gold letters across the back.

You hate Atsumu Miya and his stupidly perfect face.

And his calves—who the fuck has calves that nice.

You also hate Osamu, your best friend and boss, for unceremoniously dumping your least favorite Miya into your lap at 8 o’clock on a Saturday night.

“It’s not a date,” Osamu yells from the office, walking out with a jacket slung over his shoulder.

“Looks like ya showered for once today, dirtbag,” Atsumu shoots back, mouth full of rice. “Sounds like a date to me.”

“Choke,” Osamu deadpans as he heads for the door, “…but not in here. Don’t have time for all that paperwork.”

Atsumu salutes his brother as you stand in the middle of the shop with your hands wrapped around the broom.

“Can’t promise what kind of paperwork you’re gonna have to do after leaving us alone together,” you mutter.

Osamu leans in, patting the side of your face. “Just promise me you’ll mop up the blood.”

—

You’ve known the Miya twins for years now, though it was Osamu that you first became friends with after a shared class in your second year of university.

Atsumu was more like the miserable cold that you accidentally bring home from vacation.

The miserable cold who you’re instantly, stupidly attracted to from the moment his brother introduces him to you. Who you end up drunkenly making out with in bed after a party one night.

Who passes out midway through and disappears before you’re awake the next morning.

Who had a fucking girlfriend at the time, unbeknownst to you. Knowledge courtesy of Osamu, who nearly undeservingly took a textbook to the head when he told you.

Who, to this day, three years later, has never even acknowledged that it happened.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if you hadn’t been harboring a stupid crush on him for months. And if perhaps you’d been a little more drunk, enough to forget the taste of his lips, the press of his fingertips into your hips. But naturally, that little hiccup drove an irrevocable wedge between the two of you, leading you to regard the blonde Miya in a perpetually antagonistic manner until the end of time.

Such is life.

“I think you might rile ‘im up better than even I can nowadays,” Osamu had observed once, after Atsumu balked in aggravation when you returned from picking up everyone’s fast food orders and handed him a kid’s meal instead.

Atsumu, never one to back down from a challenge, met your piss poor attitude in spades, going so far as to barge in on your dates on occasion, plopping right down at the table and obnoxiously stuffing whatever appetizer was in front of him into his mouth like you’d invited him.

—

Surprisingly, despite the restaurant’s minimal square footage, the two of you manage to avoid one another for the next forty-five minutes—Atsumu quietly sits at a table watching game replays on his phone while you wipe down the counters.

You almost forget he’s there, until the bell above the door dings to announce what’ll probably be the last customer of the night.

And—fuck.

Osamu kicked this guy out last week when he wouldn’t take no for an answer after you refused to give him your number.

“Hey pretty girl,” a tipsy voice slurs as the man settles down at the counter.

“Sorry, we’re about to close,” you tell him, not looking up from the pile of receipts you’re sorting on the other side.

“S’not why I’m here,” he chuckles.

Take a hint, buddy.

“We’re closing soon,” you repeat firmly.

A hand grasps your wrist, and you yelp as he murmurs, “What’re you doing after this?”

“Get your fuckin’ hands off of her, and get the fuck out,” a cold voice interrupts.

A hand clamps down firmly on the man’s shoulder, and you watch the pain flit across his face as fingertips dig into his collarbone.

“Now,” Atsumu adds, his voice so harsh it brokers no room for argument.

You may call yourself an expert in Miya antagonization. But as you look at Atsumu’s stormy, furious expression, the tense set of his jaw, you realize that you’ve never seen him truly angry.

Not like this.

The man quickly gets up from the stool, putting his hands up in front of him as he stumbles backward and says, “I didn’t mean anything by it, man.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Atsumu replies, his voice low. “I’m sure my brother was a real nice guy when he told ya to leave last time. I ain’t nice. Don’t fuckin’ come back here.”

The silence is deafening when the front door swings shut, broken only by the sound of Atsumu twisting the lock into place and flipping the sign to CLOSED. Your heart, meanwhile, is frantically pounding in your chest.

Atsumu wasn’t even here when that happened last week, which means Osamu must have told him for whatever reason, and…

“You alright?”

Atsumu interrupts you from your thoughts, and you glance up to find a disarmingly concerned expression burrowed into his features.

“Yeah…thanks,” you exhale, quickly turning around to busy yourself with anything but staring at the downward curve of his lips.

You have all of ten seconds to yourself before Atsumu comes to stand beside you behind the counter, idly tidying a pile of napkins as he explains, “Samu was worried that creep might come back, so he was gonna cancel his plans tonight so you wouldn’t be alone if he did. I told him I’d come make sure ya were alright.”

You’re not sure why, but suddenly, you’re angry.

You’re really fucking angry.

Maybe it’s because you’re a little raw in the wake of the adrenaline rush from that uncomfortable encounter, a little shaken by the stranger’s boldness and the way Atsumu stepped in without a second thought.

Maybe you swear it looked like Atsumu was about to reach out to you afterward, his hand falling back to his side in an aborted gesture between one breath and the next.

“Since when do you care if I’m alright, Atsumu?”

Atsumu startles beside you. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you led me on years ago and nearly fucked me at a party—you probably would have, if you didn’t pass out in my bed halfway through taking off your pants. You disappeared the next morning, failed to inform me that you had a girlfriend, and then conveniently acted like it never fucking happened.”

He stares at you, mouth slightly agape. “I’m sorry, I what now?”

You turn to face him fully, crossing your arms, an incredulous look on your face. “You’re joking, right?”

“Was that…oh….” Atsumu scratches the back of his head, trailing off. “That’s the night I blacked out.”

“I mean yeah, you were kind of trashed.”

“No, like that’s the night that made me realize I had to cut back on drinking. I’ve got no memory of what happened. Zero. Haven’t drank that much since.”

“So was it not concerning that you woke up in my bed?” you ask, brows furrowed.

“I hardly knew ya back then. Didn’t even know that was your dorm room, and you were hoggin’ all the covers. Couldn’t even see yer face before I panicked and crawled my hungover, half-dead ass back to me and Samu’s.”

Well, this is certainly news to you.

“…and Osamu never told you.”

Well, why would he, after you spent two hours bitching to him about it and then threatened to never speak to him again if he made the situation even more embarrassing by telling Atsumu you were upset.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p for emphasis before sobering a bit as he says in a more serious tone, “I’m sorry. For doing that to you, and for forgetting that it happened.”

You reach out, punching Atsumu in the shoulder.

“The fuck was that for?” he exclaims.

“So why have you been such an insufferable jackass all these years?”

Atsumu raises his eyebrows, looking affronted. “You haven’t exactly been a ray of sunshine either, sweetheart.”

Well, true.

But still.

(You try to ignore what the stupid pet name does to your heart, which is currently in the midst of a traitorous backflip inside of your chest.)

“At least I didn’t barge in and ruin your dates for no reason,” you glare.

“That was like, twice,” Atsumu defends himself. “Maybe three times.”

You stare at him.

“The fourth time doesn’t count, that guy was a dickhead. Samu wanted to punch ‘im, too.”

“You ate an entire basket of breadsticks.”

Atsumu shrugs, taking a step closer to you. “They’re bottomless for a reason.”

You’re not sure when it happened, but you’re pressed up against the prep counter in the back of the shop, and one of Atsumu’s hands is resting on the cool metal surface beside your hip. Not quite touching you, but you swear you can feel the heat of him all the same.

“You ruined my dates for breadsticks?” you ask quietly, holding his gaze.

Atsumu’s thumb twitches, and you feel the featherlight touch through your jeans. “I ruined your dates because I was jealous.”

Blood rushes in your ears, your mind struggling to comprehend the rush of emotion flooding through you. Embarrassment, elation, shock, annoyance—and something else, something with a darker, richer edge.

Something that has the next words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them, “Did you think doing that was going to make me take you home and fuck you instead?”

Atsumu has the decency to flush, but he only further closes the gap between your bodies, his nose brushing against yours as he replies, “I hated how much you hated me. And I hated how much I still wanted you.”

“You’re an idiot, Miya.”

He laughs.

He laughs, and it’s a low, rich sound that dances down your spine and curls up low in your belly.

“Yeah, yer probably right,” he exhales, his breath hot against your lips. “I should probably find another tactic.”

“I’ve heard drunken hookups work wonders,” you sigh, voice tinged with sarcasm.

His free hand comes to rest on your other side, effectively caging you in. “I’d have to be a fuckin’ idiot to fumble the bag with you twice.”

“Who said I’m still interested?” you reply, putting an inch of space back between your mouths, if only for the sake of your own sanity.

Atsumu hums. “I do have eyes, ya know.”

You don’t miss a beat, “Maybe I’m secretly dating your brother, and I just objectively like the look of your face, as his twin. Like a natural, biological reaction.”

“Yer not datin’ Samu,” Atsumu replies evenly. “He couldn’t handle ya.”

You glare at him. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Atsumu smirks at your indignation. “You’re outta his league.”

“And what exactly is my league?”

“Some stupid, sweaty pro volleyball player whose got it pretty damn bad for ya, who would settle for a hate fuck at this point if that’s all ya wanna give him.”

You know Atsumu clocks the way your breath hitches in your throat, the slight widening of your pupils that you can’t disguise at the bald, shameless truth of his words.

The look on his face is so ridiculously endearing, you want to kiss it right off.

Pushing yourself upward with your palms, you sit up on the counter, and Atsumu shifts forward to stand between your legs.

“Osamu would kill us.”

His nose caresses yours again, and he rests one hand on the side of your face. “For doing something other than fightin’? He’d throw a party.”

“For turning Onigiri Miya into a house of ill repute.”

Atsumu chokes.

“But there’s just one little thing, Atsumu,” you continue.

“What’s that?” he asks carefully, each word a huff of warm air dancing across your mouth.

You exhale, shuddering at the feeling of Atsumu’s other hand idly tracing the exposed sliver of skin between your t-shirt and jeans. “Can you handle me?”

Atsumu’s thumb skirts across the bottom of your chin before he leans in, mouthing his next words against your lips, “Have I ever told you how hot it is when you’re mean to me?”

Your answering laugh is swallowed by a kiss, an all-consuming kiss that has you gasping into Atsumu’s mouth as he licks his way into yours.

There’s no preamble for the way Atsumu’s tongue dances across your own, the thorough way he tastes you—the groan that rumbles in his throat as you take his bottom lip between your teeth.

Kissing Atsumu Miya is like setting a wildfire loose in your chest, all the oxygen swallowed up by his greedy, hungry heat. Your nerves thrum, the vibration rattling to the tips of your toes, and you’re helpless to resist the urge to pull him closer.

The second one of your legs begins to hike up around Atsumu’s waist, he grabs both, urging you to wrap your thighs around him, and he groans into your mouth as you find yourself flush with the solid proof of his arousal.

“Ya have no fuckin’ clue how bad I’ve wanted you,” he murmurs, drawing a keening noise from your lips as he hotly mouths his way down the side of your neck.

On the court, Atsumu Miya is an indomitable force. He’s unwaveringly confident and effortlessly sure of himself as a setter, always in control.

The crowd falls quiet, the ball follows his trajectory.

It’s a practiced dance, and he’s the conductor.

But here, pressed up against the counter in his brother’s restaurant, with your fingers tangled in his hair and his warm, soft hands sliding up beneath your shirt to clutch your waist, there’s a lawless, frantic edge to him. For every precise, focused move—like a kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear that he somehow just knows will make you gasp, and the dizzying way he cups the back of your head when he kisses you deeper—you can feel the wild, barely-restrained desire in the unfiltered chorus of groans you’re not even sure he’s aware are falling past his lips.

It’s slipping—his control.

And you don’t want him to stop.

“Atsumu,” you whine into his mouth when he finally, finally slides a hand up under your bra, cupping your breast and teasing at your sensitive, pebbled nipple.

“Yeah?” he pants, kissing his way around the curve of your jaw, only pausing to help you in your endeavor to take off your shirt.

He wastes no time in unclipping your bra, his deft fingers making quick work of the clip, and his expression is nothing short of lustful reverence when he takes in the sight of your naked breasts before him.

“Fuck,” he murmurs quietly, taking a breast in each of his palms while he leans in to press a kiss to your sternum, and whatever you were going to say promptly exits your mind a beat later. Wet, hot heat engulfs your nipple, and you glance down, nearly choking on your own spit at the sight of Atsumu sucking on your breasts.

Rocking your hips into him, you let out a breathy whine at the feeling of his hard cock pressing into your cunt, the fabric of his athletic shorts doing nothing to hide his thick, throbbing insistence.

Atsumu moans against your tits, and the filthy, wet sound of him shamelessly lapping at them sends a fresh gush of arousal between your legs, your underwear now soaked with it. You reach between your bodies, doing your needy cunt no favors at all when you feel just how thick Atsumu is as you wrap your fingers around him.

“God, I’m gonna fuckin’ come if you keep doing that,” he lets out a low, ragged sound caught somewhere between a moan and a laugh.

“I’d rather you come somewhere else,” you tell him, pulling down his shorts and boxers to let his flushed, leaking shaft spring free.

Atsumu takes your face in both hands, kissing you hard and filthy as he unbuttons your pants, sliding them off along with your underwear and leaving both in a forgotten heap on the floor. And when you wrap your legs back around him and rub your slick folds down the length of his cock, you’re already dangerously close to coming from that alone, too.

He slides a finger into you, muttering a string of expletives under his breath when he feels the sopping squelch of how wet you already are for him. One digit soon becomes two pumping in and out of you, and while it’s still not enough to quell the greedy desperation he’s ignited, he’s barely begun rubbing circles into your aching clit when you’re already shaking in his arms and moaning in the throes of your climax.

And then he’s stroking himself, groaning softly, like he thinks this is what he has to do now to take care of his throbbing cock.

Like you’re satisfied already, as if you’ve somehow had your fill of him.

As if two fingers between your legs would ever be enough to encapsulate all that you want of Atsumu fucking Miya.

(And really, it’s a lot, quite frankly. Now that you’re finally ready to admit it to yourself.)

“Fuck me, Atsumu,” you plead.

He pauses, chest heaving, voice rough as he asks, “Are you sure?”

“Please,” you exhale against his lips, and his mouth slots against yours as he notches his shaft at your entrance and sinks his cock into you.

Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you’re reduced to moans and whimpers while he stretches you open as your entire body floods with pleasure, your mind hazy with desire. Once he bottoms out, you feel so full you want to cry. You want to keep your legs wrapped around his waist and cockwarm him all night. You want him to fuck you stupid. You want to ride his cock until you both can’t move.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, hips rocking as he thrusts in and out of you, your walls fluttering with pleasure at the rhythmic push and drag. “Wanna take you home and do this again and again.”

“Me too,” you tell him, and you can feel the way his cock throbs inside of you at your admission, his fingertips tightening around your waist.

“Good, ‘cause I’m not gonna last much longer,” he admits, grinning against your mouth.

The pleasure is rapidly building up inside of you again, the filthy slide of Atsumu’s tongue in your mouth only further fanning the flames, one hand trailing back up to tease at your hard nipples.

And you want to tell him, “Same,” because you’re dangerously close to the edge already, years of studiously ignored desire all spilling over into a crazed, insatiable need that’s making your pussy throb.

But instead what you whine is, “Harder.”

Atsumu groans, the noise nearly as lewd as the continuous sound of his cock pumping in and out of your soaking wet cunt, the only warning that he heard you before he picks you up off of the counter, plunging right back into you the moment you’re lying flat on the floor.

With the ground beneath your bodies for purchase, Atsumu begins to roughly pound into you, the fingers of one hand tangling with your own as the other trails toward your clit.

You moan his name repeatedly, like some fucked up carnal prayer on the floor of Onigiri Miya, and as he rubs circles into your swollen clit and whispers your own name just as desperately, you come so hard everything goes white, every sensation in your body drowned out by the sheer downpour of pleasure that you’re uncontrollably shaking with. Atsumu follows suit a moment later, pulling out of you and furiously fisting his cock until hot, thick spurts of cum are splattering all over your chest, groaning as he watches his seed paint your tits.

And just because you’re fairly certain what it’ll do to him, you reach down and swipe a glob off of your nipple while you both try to catch your breath, holding eye contact with him as you lick the cum off of your finger and swallow it.

Atsumu’s lips part as he stares at you, eyes widening a little bit before he looks down at his cock, which is already twitching again with interest.

–

Later, when you’re both lying tangled in Atsumu’s sheets, his phone lights up on his nightstand—

Samu: congrats Samu: there is literally a security camera in the shop Samu: also you’re disgusting you own a whole fuckin apartment to fuck in Samu: die slowly

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