#you can see some peeking up from the neckline of her top

[drghostwrite]

Hey !! the Regina mills request was so jaw dropping that its gotten me back into my evil queen obsession because you works are incredible. Please I beg could you write another in that style? That request has made me see Regina as a power bottom now omg 🫣🫣🫣

<3

Of course!!… She’s literally my fave to write for, I’m obsessed…. Also I am so sorry it took so long to write, I had some health issues going on and had to take some time off. But I worked pretty hard and I hope you enjoy. ;) <3

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Power Plays

Summary: Combining my previous poll idea and the request above, imagine reader and Regina are together but also no one really knows yet. After a very seductive date she takes you home and you spend the night, later that morning you get caught. This does start out very steamy but has a very fluff ending.

Pairing: Regina Mills x reader

Warning: Smut, MINORS DNI!!

******************************************************** 4 months…

Four very long months since you had caught Regina’s eye and what started as professional had quickly turned into seductive whispers and stolen glances. You and Regina had agreed to keep things quiet with her being mayor and you a detective, not wanting to make your relationship completely public to the prying eyes of Storybrooke, so far as she would spend nights at your place as to spare Henry and not risk him finding out.

Tonight though you decided to risk it all, you had asked Regina out to dinner for your first official debut as a couple. You pulled up in your car a sleek black Mustang. You walked up to her front door the streets glistening with a fresh rainfall. You knocked on her door and stood waiting, the door swung open and you both paused as your eyes raked over each other.

Every inch of Regina's gaze seemed to linger a little longer than normal. You were dressed in a fitted black suit paired with a black button-up, the open buttons leaving a low cut hinting subtly at the tattoos peeking out from between your breasts. The suit hugged you perfectly, sharp lines giving way to your smooth curves and Regina found herself breathless.

"You look... incredible." she murmured, her eyebrow raised, a spark of something dark flashing through her eyes.

"And you look like pure sin," you replied in a sultry tone, smirking as your gaze traced over her. She wore a satin, dark maroon dress with a plunging neckline and high slit, leaving little to your imagination as the satin hugged every perfect curve. "How is anyone supposed to keep their focus on dinner with you looking like this?"

She chuckled lowly, a smirk pulling at her perfectly painted lips. "Who says I want you to keep your focus on dinner?"

You smirked as a small laugh escaped you lips and you extended her your hand, "Well then, shall we give the town something to talk about?" She let a small laugh escape her lips before she happily interlaced her fingers with yours.

The date passed in a whirl of flirtatious teasing and stolen glances. Every time you reached for her hand or leaned in just a little closer than necessary, you could feel the electricity and tension between you building. After a few glasses of wine and uncertain glances from people in town you got the check and made you way outside.

“You know that suit and top combo should be illegal.” Regina started, walking beside you her fingers interlaced with yours.

“Is that so?” You chuckled.

“Yep,” she said slightly popping the p with her plump lips.

“hm.” You chuckled walking her around to help her into your car, “and what’s to say you should be allowed to wear this dress.”

She smirked as your eyes raked her body, your fingertips brushed against the exposed skin of her thigh from the slit in the side.

“I can take it off… if you’d like.” She said grabbing your lapels and pulling you closer, your lips lingering for a moment before her soft plump lips met yours. Your hand caressed her side as she leaned back against your car, her hands coming to brush up your sides pulling you closer.

“I would love that.” You left a smug chuckle escape your lips…she knew not being able to tear the dress off right there was driving you feral.

“My place?” She suggested.

“Henry?” You asked.

“Emma’s… she has him this weekend.”

“Perfect.” You said opening the door and helping her in, you quickly got in the drivers seat and started the engine. Whipping the car out and possibly breaking a few Storybrooke speed limits to get to her house. By the time you reached her home your patience was at its breaking point.

The second her front door closed, Regina pulled you close, capturing your lips in a kiss full of pent-up passion. Your hands found her waist, pulling her flush against you as she tangled her fingers in your hair, her nails scraping your scalp and deepening the kiss.

"You know… black is my color, but I so enjoy seeing you in it." she whispered breathlessly, her eyes dark and intense.

“Just letting everyone know who I belong to…” you teased.

“You’re driving me mad, darling.” She kissed you again.

You grinned against her lips pressing a kiss to her neck. "That was the plan."

She chuckled, and you felt her hands leave your hair, letting out a small whine against her neck before you felt her pull away, something falling to your feet. Looking down, you saw deep red satin pooling as Regina walked away, the black lingerie beautifully contrasting against her skin. Her hips swayed as you grabbed the dress and followed after her. She guided you to her bedroom, the two of you laughing in between kisses, she closed the door pushing you up against it, peeling your suit jacket off your shoulders and tossing it aside. Her hands ran over your arms and shoulders, your lips tangled in a heated kiss, a wave of her hand left you standing there in black lingerie.

"The things I want to do to you..." you whispered in her ear.

"So do them..." she said, her eyes looking up into yours, you pulled her into another kiss. Your hands found the backs of her thighs lifting her, she draped her arms over your shoulders and wrapped her legs around your waist as you carried her to the bed, climbing on and laying her down.

You climbed on top of her straddling her waist, her hands ran dangerously up your sides in a way that would make anyone else come completely undone.

You kissed along her jaw and down her neck, leaving a small nip on her pulse point. You moved so your leg was pressed against her aching center and grinned when you heard a soft gasp escape her lips, but instead a devious smirk pulled at her lips. She moved to press her thigh to your clothed but aching pussy, her hands finding your hips and pushing you flush against her.

“So needy just for me...” She whispered as you bit your lip eyes fluttering closed as she forced you to grind against her thigh. Your orgasm drawing closer and closer but instead you pulled away, opening you eyes to meet her dark orbs, pupils blown with lust.

You snickered before moving down her body, placing open mouthed kisses from her neck. You unhooked her lace bra and tossed it somewhere to be found later, placing kisses between her breast licking over her hardened nipples just enough to tease. You continued your kisses over her stomach, then hips before you grabbed the band of her lace panties between your teeth, sliding them off her legs and tossing them aside, all while keeping eye contact.

“Darling?”

“Yes my love?” You asked placing kisses and bites all over he inner thighs as her legs spread for you.

“You know what teasing gets you…” she said reaching down, her hand brushing hair out of your face as you looked up into her eyes mischievously.

Your tongue slow and teasing met her aching core, “I’ll take my chances...” You whispered against her, her eyes darkening as you latched onto her clit, watching her head fall back onto plush pillows.

You watched her chest heave, small gasps escaping her lips and you added two fingers, at first slowly pulling in and out, drawing her orgasm closer and closer. Using your spare hand you ran it over her stomach up between her breasts and let your fingers play around her neck, she grabbed your wrist and you moved it to play with hardened nipples.

“Y/N, I-I’m gonna…” she whispered her hand followed down your wrist her nails deliciously scratching up your bicep. You sucked her clit harshly curling you fingers to hit the spongy spot that she craved and felt her release, dripping down your hand, her walls still clenching around you.

“How I love hearing my name fall from your lips…” you said, moving back up her body and kissing her deeply, letting her taste herself on your tongue.

“You’re cute… but don’t think you’re getting away with your little stunt.” She said kissing you, pulling your bottom lip between her teeth biting softly to let you know who was in charge here.

“if you say so…” you trailed, tempting her, testing her dominance… but nevertheless she had something planned, her devilish smirk and dark eyes telling you that you were in for it.

She sat up with you still straddling her lap, with a wave of her hand you were no longer in your lingerie and felt a bulge against your core, you looked down and saw she had conjured her favorite strap on, a notable size, deep purple with very realistic ridges and bumps, the sight making your lips part as you practically drooled over her.

“My eyes are up here…” she whispered, her hand coming to lift your chin. She placed teasing kisses on your lips, you let out a small moan, almost a whine.

“Did you want something, sweetheart?” She played dumb knowing exactly what you wanted, you wanted her to rail you into oblivion.

“Damn you, Regina.” You whispered as her fingers traveled to your dripping pussy, slowly teasing you. Her lips found your breast and pulled one into her mouth, her tongue swirling as her fingers teased your entrance.

“Baby, I-I’m gonna cum…” you let out a breathy moan as your hips bucked against her, you could feel your body so close and yet the release never came.

“Are you?” She teased, her eyes darkening, that’s when the realization hit, she was using her magic to stop you from cumming, her fingers still teasing you.

You let a whine escape your throat as she bit into the skin of your shoulder. “I told you there would be hell to pay…” she whispered, her breath hot against your skin. She teased you some more, sliding two fingers inside of you, her palm brushing your clit, you chased your high but still found no release.

“please, please…” you begged, tears falling down your cheeks out of frustration.

“So pretty when you beg,” she kissed the tears that were falling down the cheeks before finding your lips and you could taste the salt.

“Lift your hips for me darling…” she said her hands fixing your waist and guiding you, one hand gasped the appendage and guarded it to your aching pussy.

“Shit, Regina…” you hissed as you lowered yourself, but instead she rammed into you, giving you no time to adjust, the stretch burned at first, but slowly turned into pleasure as she slid in and out of you. You eyes fluttering closed as you hoped that she would let you cum soon.

You felt her lay back against the pillows, watching as your hips moved in harmony with her thrusts. Your hand going back to grip her thigh as your hips swirled giving her a full view of you riding her.

“That’s it… show mommy how good she makes you feel,” you let out a low moan as the dick hit your sweet spot, “you feel so good wrapped around me sweetheart.”

Your eyes snapped open to look at her blissed out face, “Y-you can feel it?”

“Mm,” she moaned deliciously, “I can feel everything.”

“h-how?”

“I know a few… tricks.” She trailed.

“but… oh god.” You felt her thrust up into you roughly.

“Show me what a good girl you are and ride my dick till I say stop.” With that you ground down against her harder.

You let out a breathy gasp, watching as her eyes fluttered, seeing her dick slide in and out of you, your movements bringing her to the edge. You felt so close and begged again, but still no orgasm for you, hearing her get closer and closer.

“So warm and tight… I think I’m gonna…” you felt her tap your hip, telling you to get off, “we didn’t use protection.” she panicked as she tried to push you off but instead you leaned forward, one hand on her chest and the other gripped the headboard, keeping your body in place.

“I don’t care…” with that you could feel her release inside of you. Her breath ragged as you slowed your hips, but you didn’t stop, still chasing your high.

“Dammit, Regina please… please let me come.” You cried out, tears burning in the corners of you eyes.

“Have you learned your lesson?” She asked, watching you squirm against her.

“yes…” you trailed.

“yes what?”

“yes mommy.” You gasped.

“That’s my girl…” she kissed your lips hungrily before thrusting up into you rapidly. It didn’t take long for either of you as you have been so on edge and her being so sensitive, you could feel her hips beginning to get sloppy and her breathing heavier as she got close.

“Mommy I’m gonna…”

“Cum with me darling…” she whispered in your ear and that was enough to make you come undone. Your body trembling as you fell forward against her, both of your movements coming to a halt, both of you almost painfully sensitive.

You stayed like that for a moment before she helped you lift off of her, you winced slightly at your muscles now sore and exhausted, laying down beside her as a wave of her hand made member disappear and cleaned you both up.

She pulled you close her hand on you waist as she looked into your tired eyes.

“You know a move like that could get you pregnant, right?”

“Are you saying you wouldn’t be proud to know I’m carrying your baby?” You teased.

“There are better ways of letting everyone know you belong to me…” she retorted.

“Whatever you say Madame Mayor.” You said sleepily, turning in her arms so she was flush against your back, the cool sheets enveloping your bodies until you fall asleep.

“Stubborn as ever, Detective.” She says placing a kiss to your shoulder before settling against you.

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The next morning soft light crept in through the curtains, you heard soft breathing and felt as the gorgeous raven haired woman shifted next to you. Soft thighs met your hips and Regina straddled your waist, her dark hair slightly disheveled, her skin warm against yours as she leaned down to press soft, lingering kisses on your lips.

"Mmm... morning beautiful," you murmured your hands finding her hips as she moved against you, her lips claiming yours in another heated kiss.

"Good morning, Detective." she whispered with a playful glint in her eyes, her finger tracing your jawline before she bent down to trail kisses along your jaw, burying her lips against your neck.

“You going to behave today, or will I have to remind you?”

“a reminder wouldn’t hurt.” You teased feeling as she sucked on your pulse point.

Just then you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps break through the quiet. Regina's eyes widened, but before either of you hand time to react, her bedroom door flung open and Henry bounded in with an excited smile on his face.

"Mom! Emma and I..." He stopped quickly his eyes darting between you and Regina as he looked between you with confusion.

"Henry!" Regina gasped yanking the sheets up over you both to cover your exposed bodies before he could see anything, her face flushing.

Emma was right on his heels, taking one look and quickly shielding his eyes, "Oh boy..." she said before sighing dramatically, "Alright kid, let's give your mom some privacy."

Henry blinked, utterly confused as Emma steered him towards the door. "But... Isn't that Y/N... what's going on?"

Emma shot a very embarrassed Regina an amused, knowing look, "Nothing you need to worry about. Come on, let's go."

“Bye mom! Bye Y/N!” Henry called as Emma escorted him out.

You both waited holding your breath until you heard the front door close. You felt as a very flustered Regina fell forward burying her face in your neck, letting out a small groan.

"Guess the secret's out," you teased brushing soft fingertips up her side.

"This is so embarrassing," Regina mumbled, her face still covered.

You couldn't resist leaning in to whisper in her ear, "If it makes you feel any better, you look adorable being all flustered."

She swatted your arm, letting out a small chuckle, before climbing off your lap, getting off the bed she picked up your shirt that was crumpled on the floor and pulled it around her body, with a wave of your hand you were clad in a tank top and soft pajama pants, her phone buzzed on the night stand next to you. she carefully picked it up, her hair falling around her face before she swipes some of it behind her ear. Her eyes scanned the screen and she let out a small huff of laughter.

"It's from Emma," she read, unable to keep the smirk off her face, "Nice to see you and Y/N has fun last night, Henry is excited to know that you two are official. ;)"

You chuckled, getting up you wrapped your arms around her waist from behind, placing a kiss on her neck, "So does that mean it's okay to be out in the open?"

Regina turned to look back at you, biting her lip. "It... it might be. but I want you to know, it's not easy... to love me." She glanced down, her expression softening to something almost vulnerable, "I've had... trust issues in the past. I've kept my heart guarded for so long, but you..." she paused, smiling up at you, "You're different, I want to try... with you."

You pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead as you felt her relax against you, her head settling on your shoulder, your hand squeezing her waist. "I want that too, Regina... I will be by your side, as long as you want me… especially considering I could be pregnant with your baby.” You teased and she playfully squeezed your arm.

“You did that to yourself, I tried to warn you.” She smirked, moving to kiss your lips, before she tucked her head back into the crook of your neck.

“Not my fault you turned me into a whining mess above you… you’re very persuasive Madame Mayor.”

"Hmm..." she hummed softly against your skin before pulling back to look into your eyes. "Well Detective, I'd be lying if I said that badge and gun weren't part of the appeal."

"Oh really?" you replied, a playful glint in your eyes as you leaned in your lips dangerously close. "Because my office is just down the road... and it comes with handcuffs."

Her laugh was low and warm, and she pulled you into another deep kiss, her arms hands gripping your hips, nails digging into the skin. "Don't tempt me."

[fairlyang]

Distraction🏹

distracting kate with a maid outfit (request)

w/c: 2.4K

pairing: kate bishop x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut. keeping her distracted, established relationship, teasing, groping, strap usage, ejaculating strap, fucking, edging

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imagine feeling bad for your girlfriend Kate who has spent almost every night the past week on back to back missions. Clint came back to the city because apparently Kingpin came back with all his men.

He escaped once again and you knew Kate desperately needed to keep her mind off her superhero duties or she'll end up on a wild goose chase to try to track him down. Again.

So you decided to help her yourself in a way you knew she'd appreciate and not turn down.

So you ordered a cute little maid outfit and paid for the fastest shipping because you wanted to put your plan in action as soon as possible.

It came in the next day and right on time, before Kate's usual time she'd come home.

So you slipped it on and fixed the ruffles at the bottom of the dress. You then propped your tits up and made sure the top looked as tight as possible just for extra measure.

You then slipped on some cute little thigh highs that you knew Kate adored.

The countdown was killing you and you were growing very impatient until finally you heard the familiar jingle of keys at the front door.

You jumped up from your messy bed and started fixing it.

Of course you made the bed in the morning but thought messing the bed up and then doing it in front of her would be the perfect tease.

"Baby?" She called out and you felt your nerves grow in your stomach.

"I'm in the room!" You yelled back and pulled the cover up to the top left corner before stuffing it in.

You heard her close the door then her footsteps were approaching making your heart beat.

You were always one to wear pretty sets for her but it's never been anything like this, something that was not necessarily sexual.

You heard a loud gasp as you reach down to make sure the duvet was tucked in. You straightened up and turned to the door to see an open mouthed and wide eyed Kate.

"Like it baby?" You asked with a wide grin.

You gave her a little spin, making the ruffles fly and slightly expose your panties from underneath the dress. Just a little peek to get her to hopefully have the need to take it off.

She gulped and nodded feverishly, her eyes not leaving your thighs then your cleavage. "Thought you needed a distraction..." you say softly, walking up to her.

She clears her throat and nods, "I- I-I do."

"Poor baby just so overworked.." you say and purposely squeeze your cleavage together with your arms right in front of her.

She lets out a shaky breath and nods her again. "Aren't you just so sweet mama..." she chuckled before quickly wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you close to her.

You gasp and she doesn't waste any time. The first thing she did was bring her hands down to your ass, groping it through your dress before smacking it. "So pretty." She mumbles then smacks your ass harder.

A whimper escapes your lips and you already felt your arousal grow with every smack. "Missed you so much." She whispers and brings her lips down to your neck.

Her hands came back up and trailed along the edge of the neckline of the dress, teasing you. "Look so pretty for me mama." She murmurs sending a shiver down your spine.

"Decompress Katie." You mumble and she hums.

"Is that really what you want me to do?" She asks and you shrug as her fingers are gently caressing your cleavage.

"You can do whatever you want Katie." You breathe out making her hum once again.

"Take your bra and panties off for me." She says as she pulls away from you and starts taking off her clothes.

"Do it slowly while I strap on." She says and you do so, ignoring her sly joke.

You pull the bra straps down then pull your arm out of the hole before doing the same to the other arm. You then move your hands behind your back to undo it before bringing them back to the front and slipping the bra right off.

You take it off and throw it on the floor while watching her take her pants off. She was doing it as fast as she could and nearly stumbling on her own feet but she steadied herself.

She then slipped her boxers off and ran to the chest by the end of the bed where she kept her harnesses. She chose one that already had a dildo on it, closed the chest, and she carefully stepped inside her harness.

You realized it was the one that had a strip that'll go directly on her pussy and was a thong on the other side. You bit your lip and squeezed your thighs together while she fixed the straps on her hips.

The realization that it was actually one of the ejaculating straps she recently bought made your arousal seep through your panties.

Was there anything hotter than that?

Probably not besides the fact that it was your girlfriend who was wearing it.

You brought your hands under the dress and quickly pull down the already drenched panties. You step out of them and fix your dress while Kate walked over to you and quickly pulled you down to your knees.

You looked up at her and took her cock in your mouth, first licking the tip and the small hole where the cum were come out. You then kissed the tip which made her groan and buck her hips forward. "Just suck on it a little for me mama, I need to be inside you already." She groans making you whimper.

You did as you were told and spat from the top and watched as it slipped down the entire shaft and its realistic veins. You then started stroking it before taking it in your mouth and looking up at her while slowly taking more of it.

"That's my good girl. Take my fucking cock in your mouth like the dirty girl you are." She moans and bucks her hips forward again making you take more of her.

"Take this fucking cock baby." She grunts and holds your head steady before thrusting into your mouth.

You closed your eyes and took it, letting her use your mouth while you obediently let her. You started to feel yourself gagging on it and drool started to drip out of the sides of your mouth when she suddenly stops.

She lets go and pulls away before grabbing your arms and pulling you up. She then pushed you against the bed and positioned you to her liking. Your legs were straight while you laid on your stomach with the bottom of your dress barely even covering your ass.

"Just gonna slide right in because I just know you're fucking soaked." She snickers making you groan.

She pulls your dress up and over your ass and lines the tip of her cock to your entrance but then slides it up and down your slit, collecting your slick. "Well would you look at that...." She teases making you roll your eyes.

"So predictable pretty girl." She purrs and you feel your legs shake as she continues with her teasing.

"Katie please-" you whine and she clicks her tongue.

"Patience is a virtue my love." She mumbles before thrusting inside you without warning.

You whimpered as she let out a moan. Her hands went straight to your hips and you already felt yourself clench onto it. "Luckily for you, I don't have any patience." She groans before pulling back then slamming back in.

"Fuck-!" You moan and feel your eyes rolls back.

"Katie- fuck- your cock is so thick." You whine and feel your legs slightly shake.

"You can take it mama, I know you can." She murmurs sweetly.

She pulls back then back in before repeating her thrusts at a decent pace for you to get use to her cock. Her fingers dug into your skin while you gripped the sheets.

A melody of moans and mewls left your lips which only drove Kate crazy and have no choice but to start fucking you harder. Thrusting her hips into yours and making sure you get every inch of her cock.

It felt so realistic. You could almost swear it was the real deal.

It might even be better because it was purple and had a hot girl attached to it.

And tits. That was a plus that you loved.

Kate lowered herself down so your back was pressed against her chest and stomach, slowing down a bit. Sensual thrusts while her lips made their way to your ear. "So fucking pretty." She grunted then slammed herself into you.

"Fuck-!"

"Feel good mama? Love how my cock feels?" She murmurs and starts pounding into you as you were a writhing mess beneath her.

You tried to move around but it was no use. She was directly on top of you and it didn't matter how much squirming you did because her body was holding you in place.

"Answer me baby." She grunts and moves her hand up to your neck, lightly wrapping her hand around it.

"Yes- god yes it feels good." You whimper and she hums.

The sounds of skin to skin and heavy panting filled the room along with the sounds of your sopping cunt. There was nothing more Kate loved hearing than how wet you'd get for her.

"Good girl. Always taking it so well for me." She groans and left a kiss on your cheek while letting go of your neck.

"Only for you Katie." You whine and turn your head to look at her behind you.

She leans in and softly kissed you, slowing down her pace because she didn't want you to cum so fast. You kissed her back and moaned into her mouth when she started thrusting fast again.

"Good fucking girl." She purrs against your mouth making you whimper and clench against her cock.

You laid your head against your arms, whining while she started ramming into you relentlessly. She leaned in and kissed your neck then lightly sucked on your skin.

You were a needy mess, desperately wanting to cum already. Somehow feeling your orgasm coming but Kate made sure to put a stop to it.

She pulled out then pulled your legs up onto the bed before positioning you with your ass up. She then positioned her tip to your entrance and slipped right in. "Oh fuck baby." She moans and makes you arch your back.

You hold your position and her hands grip on to your hips once again making you throw your ass back into her. You did it by yourself and small whined escaped your lips. "So fucking perfect." She grunts and smacks your ass, alternating between each cheek, leaving them stinging.

You let out whimpers and her hands went back to your hips, helping you. She thought it was one of the hottest sights, to see you fuck yourself on her cock.

Your cute little dress only added to her immersion and she might just cum through the strap. She also happened to be very needy as well.

Finally she decided you deserved to get fucked properly again and thrusts into you as you bounced your ass into her. "Fuck-!" You cry out making her moan.

She was pounding into you again and her own wetness was seeping through the fabric of her strap. The created friction was just enough for it to feel good for her after every thrust.

"Oh god- P-Please don't stop Katie- please." You whined and her breath hitched in her throat.

You sounded so pretty.

She started fucking you harder which resulted in the silicone balls attached to the dildo to hit your ass with every thrust. Kate's cunt was practically humping against the thin strip of the strap and it was able to rub against her clit.

She was already feeling that all too familiar feeling in her lower abdomen but she wanted to drag it out just a tiny bit more.

She pulled out, earning herself plenty of whimpers before she quickly grabbed you and flipped you over. You were now on your back so you spread your legs as wide as you could while she brought you to the edge of the bed.

She slipped back in and without a second to waste, started to mercilessly pound into you. Your pussy was now oozing out a mixture of cream and juices around her cock and dripping down.

Kate was intently looking down at the dildo getting covered in white in between thrusts. She was starting to breathe heavily and moan along with you because of how much she drenched the strap. Her clit was getting all the friction it needed and it felt so good.

She was starting to feel closer to the edge again and felt it was finally time for you both to cum.

Her hips were moving back and forth but now she was making sure she went in as deep as she could while continuing her relentless pace.

"Rub your clit for me baby." She murmurs and you quickly do so.

Your right hand went down and immediately started rubbing circles on your clit. You moaned and laid your head back, feeling overwhelmed by all the pleasure, and also feeling your orgasm coming in. "K-Katie- I'm so-" you mumble, feeling your eyes start to flutter.

"Cum for me mama, I'm about to-" Kate murmurs, slowly down, and reaches her hand down to squeeze the balls right as both orgasms hit.

Your body was shaking and your walls gripped her cock while it poured lube like cum inside you. You let out cries as Kate tried to blubber sweet nonsense.

Kate's legs were shaking and she shut her eyes as she also came on her strap. She stayed inside you while you both were heavily panting and trying to catch your breath.

She went down then laid on top of you, not with her fully body weight but enough for it to feel comforting. "Thank you for being the best distraction baby." She murmurs and plants a kiss on your cheek.

"Always." You mumbles and close your eyes, chest still heaving.

Kate then gets back up and slowly pulls out, then with just the tip in, she pulls out and sighs. Then the heart eyes came in as the cum came out and dripped down to your asshole.

"Perfect distraction ever." She sighs and tries to quickly take off her strap so she can take care of you.

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 3.7k

chapter summary: you have your first girls' night out with Olivia and of course, Joel is at the same bar— waiting for his date.

warnings: alcohol consumption, piv sex (between joel and ofc!asha sorry y'all but don't worry reader and joel are gonna get there... eventually), a bit of hurt/comfort vibes, sex for comfort

Chapter Three || Chapter Five

The bar is much more crowded than you expect, but then again, you haven't been going out much so you wouldn't really know. Despite the sweaty crowd, the fans do a good job of circulating the air and it smells nice, like strawberries.

Olivia is sitting across from you. There’s a small wooden bowl of unshelled peanuts on the table, she reaches over and takes one. You’re a bit nervous. You're barely paying attention as you absentmindedly shove the nail of your thumb into the pad of your forefinger, lost in thought. Your eyes lift to Olivia just in time to see her dark brows furrow with concentration as she deftly peels the thick shell off the nut, a bit of tongue peeking out above her glossy bottom lip.

She looks nice, you observe. Her white knitted tank top accentuates her breasts, and the mustard yellow ring around her waistline draws your eye to her curves. You can see a shimmer to her dark skin, little specks of gold that catch the light. You assume it must be the body spray she's wearing. Meanwhile, she pushes a successfully deshelled peanut between her lips. You suddenly feel uncomfortable with your own outfit. 

You had made an effort, mostly because Tommy had insisted, but you couldn't imagine going out in sweatpants anyway. You're wearing a burgundy dress, the sleeves going all the way to your elbows and the neckline delightfully deep. The dress is a bit too short for your comfort, and you find yourself tugging it down whenever you stand up, but it elicited a whistle from Olivia when she first saw you, so you decide the trouble is worth it.

When Olivia throws the remains of the peanut shell to the floor, you frown. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to litter.” 

“Look around babe,” she answers, taking another peanut. “It’s the concept.” 

Suddenly you’re abundantly aware of the peanut shells on the floor acting as decor, your lips form a simple oh. Before you turn back to Olivia, you see multiple people throwing their shells to the floor. The waiter appears before you can get the words out.

“What can I get you, ladies, on this fine evening?” 

“I want a long island ice tea,” Olivia smiles, her green eyes flitting to you. 

In contrast to Olivia's effortless smile, yours is awkward and forced, the corners of your lips trembling slightly.

“A greyhound please,” 

“Anything else?” 

Olivia throws more shells to the floor, “Are you hungry?” 

“A bit.” 

She proceeds to order a mixed plate of deep-fried everything, which your stomach has no objections to. When the waiter leaves, you finally reach out and grab a peanut for yourself. 

“I see you every day, can you relax?” 

“Sorry, it’s just…” you swallow. “It’s been a while since I went out. I’m just a bit excited. I’ll return to normal, promise.” 

“I bet you’ll feel much better after we get some alcohol in your system,” she leans closer, and so do you, your nail ferociously battles the salty shell of the peanut. “You don’t go out much with the boys?” 

“Boys?” 

“Duh, the brothers,” she grins, tapping her nails against the table's surface. “Tommy and Joel, don’t they ever take you out?” 

“Not really. I mean Joel is mostly busy with work and Sarah. Tommy comes by to fix up the room.” 

“Ohhh, that’s right, you two were working on that little project of yours,” the waiter comes back with their drinks, leaves them, and moves to the next table. “How is it like spending time with him?” 

A soft chuckle falls from your lips, “He actually wanted to come tonight, but I said no,” when Olivia shoots you a confused glance you grin. “Girls only.” 

“Hell yeah it is!” she exclaims which is followed by a cheerful woo, she lifts the cold glass to her lips and takes two gulps. Her red lipgloss stains the rim. “How is the room going by the way? Have you managed to paint anything yet?”

“We barely started, last night we cleared out the room,” you rub the side of the glass with your thumb. “And no. But that’s enough of me, what about you?”

Olivia’s face lights up at that. Her parents recently came to visit from Boston and she was quite excited for them to meet Pyrrha. The two had been dating for two months but their chemistry was instant. Olivia had described it as love at first sight when she came to work the next day— she never even believed in love before, her words not yours, and it took her by surprise.

But Pyrrha, she said that day, They’re different. 

You’re confused as to why the memory makes you think of Joel but it does. The heat of alcohol burns your cheeks. You force yourself to smile at what Olivia is saying. You catch her train of thought mid-sentence. The meeting with the parents had gone without a hitch. You’re happy for them. Olivia is one of those rare people that genuinely deserves to be happy. And you’re just about to say that. Your lips part, and at the same time you reach for a peanut, with the corner of your eyes you notice the waiter coming to your table with a large plate—

Then you see him. 

Joel fucking Miller. 

At the bar. 

Alone. 

His eyes are glued to the door, his leg bobbing up and down. When the waiter lays the plate in front of you both, you can’t even look to thank him. Olivia does it for you and follows your gaze. Her eyes go wide, bringing her half-full glass to her lips. 

“Holy shit is that the Joel?” she lets out a soft whistle. “I wasn’t aware he was the type to wear a leather jacket, it suits him.” 

“Yeah that’s new,” you mutter, balking. “Why is he even here? Should I say hi?” you ask frantically, eyes moving back to Olivia. 

“Only if you want to,” she clicks her tongue, looking amused. “And it looks like you really do,”

“Do you think he’s waiting for someone?”

“Well he’s alone now so go on, he won’t bite—unless that’s your thing, I bet he has some nice chompers,” 

“Ha ha very funny—” 

He catches your eye over the shoulders of a group of people moving past, and for a moment, time stands still. His eyebrows slowly raise, his gaze intense. Your heart pounds in your chest, every muscle in your body taut.

You blame your reaction on the two sips of the cocktail you had. Joel’s eyes flit to the entrance one last time before turning to you again and smiling, a slow nod made as a greeting. 

It’s supposed to be left at just that. You’ll smile back and the whole interaction will be over. 

However, you forgot about Olivia. 

She turns towards him, arm casually draped over the back of the booth, and waves in an animated manner, “Hey, Joel!” she calls out, you nearly laugh at the way he jolts, confusion etched between his brows. “Why don’t you come over?” 

Seeing no other choice, Joel grabs his beer and walks over. You’re left in slight surprise when he sits next to you, the close proximity forcing your legs to press together. He has a kind smile when he looks at Olivia. 

“Hi, I’m Joel,” he says, offering his hand. Olivia takes it with a grin. “But I guess you already know that.” 

“I do,” she coos. “I’m Olivia, the designated best friend.” 

“So I’ve heard.” 

Olivia winks at you, her wide smile providing comfort, “Nice to know she talks about me.” 

“Only good things,” Joel chuckles. “You two havin’ a girls' night out?” 

“You know it!” she laughs, fingers moving around the rim of the glass. “Also, this poor girl tells me you guys never go out? Is there a reason for that or are you guys just hermits living under a bridge?”

“Olivia!” 

She waves you off, bottom lip pushed out. “I’m only kidding, he knows that. You don’t mind, do you Joel?” 

You’re surprised at how relaxed he is. You've forgotten that he's actually a pleasant person, capable of engaging in a conversation. It's not that you ever thought of him as unpleasant, but he just never seemed to be that way with you. His booming laughter rattles through the air, and the familiar lines of his face that you've come to admire smooth out in the presence of Olivia. You can't help but admire the power she holds - the power to make anyone feel at home, as if the world is nothing but a playground for them to enjoy. The only time you've seen Joel act differently was during the moment you shared on the porch, a moment that has never been repeated.

You realize you never really saw him after that. 

“I don’t mind at all, darlin’,” he tuts, throwing an arm over the back of the booth. The heat his arm radiates makes you straighten, little needles prick into your skin. “Why didn’t you tell us you wanted to go out?” 

It takes you a second to notice the question is directed at you. You lick your lips before meeting his gaze to answer. 

“I don’t know actually. I guess I never thought about it. Besides, you two are busy.”

You don’t expect to see his eyes soften, you shiver at the feeling of the tips of his fingers brushing alongside the back of your neck, “We would’ve made time.” 

“We should all do something together one day,” Olivia chimes in. “Like we should have a dinner party or something. Anyway—” she suddenly slaps her hands over the table and pushes herself up from the comfort of the booth. “Need to use the little ladies' room. BRB.” 

You watch helplessly as Olivia leaves, the air around you two grow uncomfortable, like cold air filing a hot room from a window crack. Joel’s fingers are still moving over your skin, a feather-light touch. A soft sigh parts your lips and you close your eyes. 

You don’t know what to think. 

“Seems like you’re in good company.” he hums, tilting the beer bottle to his lips. 

You’re disoriented by the remark, you assumed he felt the awkward energy too, but maybe it’s just you making up things that just aren’t true. 

“She’s the best,” you answer as you force your body language to relax. You lean into the back of the booth, allowing his palm to loosely cup the back of your neck. “I think she likes you, which is good. I want her to like you.” 

“You do?” 

“Of course I do,” you finally turn to him, his dark gaze bores into yours, a soft expression of surprise painted over his face. “I mean, who doesn’t want their friends to get along? That’s pretty much a universal want, isn’t it?” 

“It is.” 

“So why are you here? Your schedule is so packed that I’m surprised you give yourself the time to breathe.” 

“Tommy complains a lot about it, huh?” 

You grin behind your glass, cold condescension smooths over your lips. A chill settles at the base of your spine. “Maybe.” 

There’s an awkward pause after that, you can’t quite place why. He takes two long sips from his beer as if waiting for the ground to swallow him. He only speaks when you start to shift in your seat, not really knowing what else to do. 

“He set me up on a blind date,” he blurts out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’s why I’m here,” 

“Tommy…set you up with someone?” 

“Well him and Isaac,” he swallows. “Is that bad?” 

You turn to him, eyes widening momentarily, your heart sinks into your stomach, “No, of course not. Why would that be bad?” 

Joel starts to peel the sticker of the beer bottle with his nail, a hum echoing from the back of his throat. A chuckle drops from your lips. 

“I think it might be good, yeah? To have some fun, to meet someone? Tommy and this Isaac might be on to something,” 

“Yeah, I guess…” he clears his throat. “It’s been so long, I don’t think I’m any good at flirtin’” 

“You’ll do just fine, Miller. You’re quite charming when you want to be.” 

You playfully slap him on the back—which in hindsight probably didn’t look as playful as you thought in your head. He stiffens at the gesture, and you quickly pull back your hand, wrapping your fingers around your glass. 

You don’t expect him to stare at you, which forces your gaze back to him. 

“You think I’m charmin’?” 

His question lingers in the air when you notice a woman walking in. She’s mesmerizing, your eyes following her like a moth to a flame. It’s downright impossible for your to tear your gaze away from where they had fallen. Her dark skin glows under the bar light, and her wild, curly hair frames her sharp, angular face. A nose ring glints in the light, catching your eye. You can't help but notice that she's incredibly tall, even taller than Joel and Tommy. With pinched brows, she looks around frantically. Joel’s gaze is still glued to you and your cheeks heat up. 

“I think your date arrived,” you murmur and he finally follows your gaze. “She seems nice. And for the record, I don’t think you need to worry about the flirting part,” 

Joel swallows his body somewhere in between getting up and wanting to continue to sit. You finally nudge him in the shoulder, giving him the last incentive to get up and go before she leaves. 

“Go,” you smile. “I’ll see you later.” 

He leans in and your heart stops beating—the moment is a pocket in time, a memory you’ll always remember until your bones mix with the earth. His lips touch your cheek, warm, slightly wet from the beer. Your lips part with a gasp, mustache tickling your skin. There’s a brief moment where he pulls away and holds your gaze, only an inch away from your lips, his gaze drops to them momentarily. 

“See you later, neighbor.” 

Joel was against it, simple as that. 

But when Tommy and Isaac basically cornered him, saying that he needed to relax and let out some steam—whatever the hell that meant—he didn’t really find it in him to say no. He did need a distraction. From you, mainly, but that was beside the point. He felt tense, his knees ached, and a night out didn’t seem too bad when he put two and two together. 

So he begrudgingly accepted to go out. And rolled his eyes when Tommy and Isaac high-fived each other. 

What he wasn’t expecting, however, was for you to be there. With his luck, he shouldn’t have even been surprised, of course you would be there, life loved making a mockery of him.

You were with a friend—Olivia, he recalled from Tommy’s stories—and opted to just nod as a greeting. That was what normal people did right? Just briefly greet each other and move on. 

A minute later he found himself sitting next to you and officially meeting Olivia. He was sweating through his damn leather jacket. 

When Olivia left to use the restroom, you asked him why he was there. He didn’t want to answer. In fact, he didn’t even want to go on the date anymore. He wanted to stay with you, spend the night drinking and laughing.

At that point in time he didn’t care that he was placing himself between a rock and a hard place. He just wanted to spend more time with you, get to know you. Because frankly, he didn’t know much. 

It was mostly his fault, he distanced himself. But he had to when Tommy’s pupils were forming literal hearts whenever he talked about you. Joel could see it. He wasn’t stupid. 

He had to go on the date. No matter how warm your skin felt under his fingers tips, he had to. For his young brother’s sake, he couldn’t allow himself to succumb to whatever he was feeling. It wasn’t right. 

The kiss had happened unexpectedly. You looked so soft under the dim lights, so kind, he couldn’t help it. He saw disappointment lingering in your eyes. It made him fear something he never allowed himself to think about. A kiss to the cheek among friends, it was normal, it was nothing. 

He was only imagining the way you gasped when his lips touched your cheek. 

But if that’s the case, why is he still thinking about it? 

Asha has her arm wrapped around his, the leather jacket he heard so much shit about draped over her rounded shoulders. Her sharp rings dig into his arm, a welcomed sting to pull him away from his thoughts. She’s a nice person, a bit stubborn, independent. He learned that she was a journalist, and loved her job, but it meant that it was hard to find good dates. And one day as she was browsing through the hardware store she bumped into Tommy, they became fast friends. 

Honestly, he can’t even blame Tommy for wanting to set him up with Asha. By all means, she’s a great woman. 

“You didn’t have to walk me home by the way,” she says with a charming grin. “But I do appreciate it.” 

Her steps slow and Joel mirrors the speed. Asha squeezes his biceps before pointing towards her home, “This is me,” she wets her lips, and he noticed her shoulders going stiff. “Would you like to come in? I can show you my vintage turntable?” 

Joel finds himself nodding, allowing him to get dragged by the hand into her home. The first thing he smells is wood, a familiar scent that makes him feel at home. It smells fresh. And when he looks around he can see why; the living room is littered with wooden furniture, some of which looked handmade rather than store-bought—which impresses him almost immediately. There are multiple large green-leafed plants, a couple he recognizes because Sarah would point at them whenever they visited Ikea, asking for one. He often said no. 

There’s a divan pushed against the wall, soft looking pillows thrown haphazardly on top. Asha reaches for the light, a soft yellow brightening up the interior. 

“Sorry for the mess,” she says, though she sounds unbothered. “Would you like anything to drink?” 

“Do you have beer?” 

She smiles, “I have beer.” 

Apparently, the turntable was in her bedroom. 

Neither of them spends much time talking about it—not that there is much to talk about a turntable. It’s nice, it looks cool, and that’s pretty much all Joel’s vocabulary and come up with. Asha scans her collection of vinyl records until her gaze rests on Nina Simone's "I Put a Spell on You." She grasps the record and slides it out of its sleeve, placing it gently on the platter.

The plaque glints in the dim light of the room, casting an ethereal glow that seems to complement the sultry, bewitching notes of the song now filling the air. Asha closes her eyes and lets the music wash over her, feeling the haunting vocals of Nina Simone wrap around her like a warm embrace. Joel watches with amazement as she starts to sway with the music. She takes his hand and guides him into a slow dance. 

Looking up, Joel’s eyes linger on her glossy lips. She smiles fondly, brushing a lock of hair away from his face. His hands feeling too sweaty for comfort, Joel grabs her hips, squeezing tenderly as the dance leads them to the bed. They strip each other slowly, eager kisses being traded in between. Her lips find his collarbone, sucking a bruise into his skin and dragging her tongue up his neck. A shudder rolls up his spine. 

It’s been long since he’s been intimate with someone. Very long. 

He feels a mixture of guilt and pleasure, he can’t stop thinking about the way you gasped when he kissed your cheek, but at the same time, Asha’s fingers around his cock are a beautiful sin. He needs to stay away from you anyway— and let Tommy navigate through the relationship how he sees fit.

Her strokes are fast and hard, eager. Joel lets out a groan before crashing their lips together, he licks into her mouth, swallowing her moans and thrusting into her palm. It’s a much different kiss from the dreams he had with his neighbor, dreams he didn’t allow himself to think about when awake. 

She gasps when he buries himself into her, she’s tight, warm. His body melts into her, sloppy kisses pressed into the swell of her breasts. She answers him beautifully, a symphony of delicate moans, she doesn’t talk much, in fact, she doesn’t speak at all, not even when Joel asks if it feels good—she only moans and whimpers. 

Asha wraps her legs tightly around him, pushing him as he thrust forward. He moves faster, his strokes deeper. Her back arched beautifully, her nails digging into the slope of his shoulders. Beads of sweat gather at his tailbone. His built-up tension from the past years bleeds into her, all his frustrations, anger, all of it pushes him to move his hips faster—harder. 

The skin above his stomach grows taut, Asha quivers underneath him, legs trembling against his back. She squeezes him dry, cunt pulsing around his dripping cock and holding him there. Joel grunts into her skin, his teeth sinks into her spasming flesh. 

Only then she whispers the first she’s spoken since they stumbled into the bed, “Come on my face,” she breathes heavily. 

He’s never been asked that before, it lights something inside of him, something primitive and animalistic. With his cock in his hand, he straddles her chest, stroking himself until he stains those soft lips and pretty face with his spend. He squeezes his eyes shut, nostrils flaring as he stifles the pleasure that rakes painfully across his back. 

When Joel opens his eyes, it feels like someone has poured cold water on him, all he sees is you.

[cosmos-coma]

Blood and Vengeance - Part 6

A/N: Part 6 is here! I hope you like it! I know I was getting chills as I wrote it haha

Pairing: Dettlaff x Reader

Words: 1697

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4| Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 (Final)

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Voices floated around you unintelligibly, dancing on the edge of your waking mind. Though they were still fuzzy at best you began taking in bits and pieces of what was going on. Regis and Dettlaff’s voices- you now came to realize- were the ones floating around you as they argued in the hallway in hushed but urgent tones.

“... Blood… bandits…” 

“... Monsters…tell her…. we are…” 

“.. can’t… Not yet…”

The softest groan vibrated from your chest as you tried to open your eyes and all semblance of conversation quickly ceased. Swift, almost silent feet approached you before a heavy weight dipped the bed. Cool and loving fingers caressed your cheek, urging you to wake further from your slumber.

As the light finally eased its assault on your eyes Dettlaff’s worried expression came into view, his face now clear of blood stains and its bat-like features. 

Perhaps the fangs and claws were all another delirious dream?

“My moth…” his low voice rumbled with relief as his eyes swept over you in a cursory glance. 

“What happened..? Where..?” you asked. Your body was cradled in unusual softness and warmth that your basement dwelling just did not have. You tried to sit up to get a better look, but pain ripped its way through your stomach in a humbling memory of the evening's events. A yell tore away at your throat and your grip on Dettlaff's hand tightened like a living vice.

“Ahhh! FUCK!” you screamed as you laid back, your breath lost from the simple effort and your face contorted with pain.

“Please do be careful or you’ll tear your stitches…” Regis advised from his place in the doorway, right behind a very concerned-looking Amelia. 

“How are you doin’, girly…?” Worry painted her face like a picture as her hands wrung together in front of her, “can we get you anything? How about some soup? I have just the soup for you, it’ll heal you right up…!”  she nodded as she rushed off toward the kitchen to get you some food-based medicine.

A faint smile played on Regis’s lips as Amelia hurried off in a way that only the redhead could, “And I’ll get you something for the pain…” He said, nodding at Dettlaff before taking his leave to give you two some time alone. 

You looked down to examine yourself, lifting the neckline of the clean, loose dress you now wore to see bandages wrapped securely around your midsection. Blood just peeked through the top layer, old, brown, and dry, but nothing fresh so far.

You nodded a bit as you turned to look about the room, noting the familiarity of it. 

“I brought you to my room…” Dettlaff admitted in answer to your unspoken question, “I couldn’t stand the thought of you recovering in that ice box of a basement.” 

“But… how did you?” You started, but Dettlaff seemed to already know what questions plagued you. 

“Regis has a knack for making medicinal items,” he explained, “And we had Amelia change you from your blood-soaked clothes…” 

You nodded slowly, taking in all of his answers as your hands idly touched the soft sheets below you. Your lips had just parted to speak when the higher vampire beat you to the punch. 

“I thought I’d lost you…” His voice was a somber whisper as a hint of grief laced his words. Though he turned his gaze away from yours, you could see the storm of his irises had slowed their perpetual storm to dark, suffocating clouds.

“I should have been here to protect you,” you could hear the trace of a self-loathing growl building in his voice, “Instead, I was traveling needlessly. I should have heard them coming. I should have-”

“Dettlaff…” your voice was gentle like the nighttime breeze, yet still pulled his spiraling attention to you in an instant. “It’s okay, I promise. I’m still here… and I’m safe now, thanks to you…,” You assured as your fingertips grazed his cheek, nimble fingers tucking away a few spare hairs.

He nodded, his eyes fluttering closed as your touch left a trail of loving warmth across his cheek. His heart slowed its rapid beat as he listened to the breath fill your lungs. The light sigh from your lips tingled his senses as he turned into your palm, his lips tenderly brushing over your skin.

You were still here. 

Still with him.

That's what mattered.

“Y/n? Oh-! Sorry to interrupt…” Amelia said bashfully as she entered, but the moment was already broken. 

His chest ached as your hand fell away from his face, far too fleeting of a touch to satisfy him and a territorial rumbling threatened to spill from his chest, but he knew better. “You should eat… “ He urged.

You nodded in agreement and strained to sit up, grunting as you gradually pulled yourself upright. 

Amelia, always the wonderful friend, stayed by your side the entire time as you ate, entertaining you by regaling the epic tale of her beating the living shit out of that bandit. 

You chuckled at her bubbling enthusiasm, holding your stomach as each laugh pulled at your crude stitches. “Ow, oh, ah… too much, you're too much…,” you said through dwindling laughter.

“Well, laughter seems like as good a sign as any…” came Regis’s voice as he stepped in from the hallway with a small container. “Let’s get your bandages changed and then I think we all should get some sleep. It’s been… an incredibly long day.”

----

Darkness surrounded you when you woke, stirring the residual fear from your most recent nightmare. Only the sliver of moonlight coming past the curtains and the cooling embers of the fireplace broke up the monotonous black and gave your mind some relief. 

A sigh escaped you as you rolled over slowly into the empty space beside you, the cool sheets chilling your skin uncomfortably.

Something was missing.

The sheets crinkled beneath you as you sat up and looked blindly into the dark room, “Dettlaff? Are you there…?”

Silence. 

“I’m here, moth…”, finally came the familiar rumble of his voice from the far corner where he attempted in vain to sleep. Footsteps creaked the floorboards as he came closer until he finally stepped into the sliver of moonlight darting across the floor. 

Your breath escaped you as pale light illuminated the graying strands at his temples and highlighted the silver that flecked across his blue irises. His fair skin sang a siren song, beckoning for your touch under the magical light. He seemed somehow both otherworldly and right at home in the light of the night and it made a different kind of chill run through your limbs, one that couldn’t be solved with the warmth of a fire. 

“I’m cold…”  You explained through a yawn, a testament to your body's exhaustion, “Would you lay with me?”

His body froze for a moment in surprise as your imploring tone rattled a part of him he had long since set aside, but he could never deny you. “... Of course, my dear…” 

Your hand reached out as you heard him come closer, your eyes finally seeing him in the dark of the room as he peeled away his heavy outer clothes. 

A small flame of desire flickered to life in him as your hand ran down his bare arm, the thrum of his heart at your fingertips as your alluring touch stilled. He propped his back up against the headboard and let his hand find its home in the soft strands of your hair.

But you were still cold.

“Hold me…?” 

Oh, you were going to be the death of him.

Wordlessly, one strong arm wrapped around your waist as the other moved under your legs. 

Your nose tucked away into his neck as he lifted you to his side with little effort. Dull pain radiated from your wound, even more so as you were moved, and caused you to let out a shaky breath as you winced. 

Your shuddering breath danced like mist over his sensitive neck and made blossoms of fire bloom beneath his skin in its wake. His fingers pressed into your soft flesh as he fought back the inklings of desire, its flame now licking at what would surely be pure gasoline. 

Surprisingly strong arms held you safe and secure against his chest as your legs draped over his lap. You looked up into those silvery-blue eyes as you settled into his warmth, their storms dancing just inches away from your own.  Your gaze flowed along the fine lines and features of his face; the tiny imperfections that gave him character, the painted beauty marks that freckled his skin, all the way down to the gentle slope of his lips.

“Dett…” you whispered, afraid to shatter the moment in the already quiet night. Your fingers answered the relentless siren call of his skin, your fingerpads smoothing over his jaw as your thumb traced the curve of his bottom lip. 

An intoxicating buzz ran like static across his lips, and he could feel that swelling flame inside his chest finally catch the gas-soaked wick alight. 

“May I…” You started, your thoughts struggling to stay coherent as his warm breath puffed against your skin, “may I kiss you…?” Your lips parted of their own volition, your head tilting to the side in an open invitation. 

“Please…” his words came out as a desperate plea. He watched your eyes flutter closed as he leaned in slowly, still trying to stave the growing fire in his chest from the fuel you so readily supplied. 

He leaned in, the heat of your breath gracing his face as your lips came excruciatingly close…

Before you’re head lolled away from him, and your divine touch fell away from his face. 

“Moth…?” 

Your sleeping form let out even breaths through your still-parted lips, waiting for their promised kiss. Your entire being radiated pure peace for the first time since you had been so grievously injured, and Dettlaff would not be the one to wake you from it. 

A shallow sigh filled the air between you but didn’t diminish the lingering smile on the vampire’s lips. 

“I love you too, my dear….”

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[guardiandae]

Some rare descriptive moments from 5+7 chapter 10

That does it, making Genos grin despite himself. He turns his face away, but his hand stays in Saitama's and squeezes lightly. Saitama squeezes back, feeling weirdly protective of Genos. That's his real role, isn't it? S-Class hero Genos, top of all the rankings, and Saitama is the one lucky enough to be his emotional support idiot for the most stressful night of the year. Well, only the second most stressful. He can do that. The windows are so darkly tinted, Saitama can barely see outside of the vehicle, but he can tell that they've arrived somewhere. The limo stops, and then creeps forward slowly. He can hear some of that chaos Genos mentioned, and the warm metal hand he's holding tightens, pinching his fingers a little.

x

The smile on Saitama's face seems more subdued, almost wistful compared to the devious sort of flashes of grins that he'd shared before. It's confusing, all of it, and even more so because Genos had never really thought this far ahead.  He'd planned it out, definitely. He'd tried to pin every detail in place before he'd even posted that listing online. Find someone. Anyone. Exchange enough information to claim they truly knew each other, and then bring them to the gala. It didn't really matter who, so long as he trusted that they'd have enough incentive to keep everything discreet. Even the conversations, he'd scripted out in his head in advance.  But Saitama is a factor he hadn't been able to prepare for. Every time they met, his scripts went out the window. The only thing about Saitama that he can predict, every time, was the way he feels when Genos holds him in his arms. The heat of his body, the scent of his skin, the circular patterns Saitama's fingers always take when he cards them through Genos' hair. Those things are all familiar to him now in ways that have been entirely unexpected, and unexpectedly welcome. He never could've imagined himself being so comfortable with anyone. Now he can't imagine himself being so comfortable with anyone else.

x

Genos doesn't sense how close Fubuki is until it's too late to put any distance between them. To his credit, he doesn't visibly startle when a delicate hand slips around his arm in an overly familiar way, stiletto nails gripping his sleeve like claws. And despite the fact that they have no physical effect on him, Genos is nevertheless just as snared. "What do you want?" Genos asks, just mindful enough not to sound too annoyed or bothered by her sudden appearance. It occurs to him that she was probably watching for a long time before she saw the opportunity to have him alone, and took it. Fubuki lets out a soft 'tsk', pressing herself against Genos' side. She's poured into a velvety black dress that hugs every curve, featuring a high slit up one side which allows a stock-covered thigh to peek out. A cool silver necklace glints at her throat, drawing the eye to an attractive neckline and her half-bare chest. It's elegant, and overtly sexual. Someone who didn't know her well might almost consider her carefully groomed appearance to be manipulative – and it absolutely is – but she's just as alluring on any other day of the week. "Please, Genos," she murmurs through a placid smile, always conscientious of appearances. "At least pretend to be civilized, like the rest of us have to."

[worldcatlas]

DS9: Emissary (Part 2)

Read part 1 here. This is the last article wrapping up two-part episodes, which will be in a single article from here on out. Thank you for reading!

Part two of Deep Space 9’s pilot episode opens in Ops, giving us several lovely close-ups of Major Kira’s uniform, including her Bajoran-style comm badge and belt. The badge appears to be made of a brassy metal material, and is in the shape of the Bajoran logo, much like its Starfleet counterpart. The belt, in a deep burgundy colour that matches her uniform, has a texture that suggests reptilian leather (or, perhaps, a replicated substitute). We can also see in this early episode that Kira’s makeup originally included a slight brow ridge, like Ensign Ro.

I guess they still have cosmetic surgery in the 24th century.

Odo beams into Ops to join the team, briefly giving us a full head-to-toe view of the goo he has shaped into a brownish-beige Bajoran uniform. My favourite part are the Uggs boots. Do all the Bajoran uniforms come with little booties? They’re not particularly intimidating for the Chief of Security, although they do look like they’d be great for someone on their feet all day.

Fighting crime in comfort.

We can also see in this scene that the costume department has decided to flare out the lapels on the Starfleet uniforms; I actually don’t remember if this trend continues into future episodes of DS9, but the same uniforms lay flat on Voyager (which hadn’t yet premiered at this point), so we’ll check back in on that. It’s an interesting styling choice, and kind of makes Bashir and O’Brien look like they’re hitting the club after work.

I mean, I guess I don’t know that they aren’t…

Inside the wormhole, Sisko converses with the locals through his memories, and we see the aliens speak to him through various characters. Among them are Locutus in his full Borg makeup and Kai Opaka in elaborate Bajoran religious garb. We saw Opaka in this outfit in part 1, although it looks like they may have draped the outermost layer differently here.

It’s hard to tell what’s changed through the Memory Haze™.

The aliens also take on the appearance of the Chicago Cubs in old-timey uniforms – worn by fictional holodeck characters – and Sisko’s former crew in a TNG-era look. The baseball uniforms will show up again in Deep Space 9, but I suspect the Starfleet uniforms are recycled directly from The Next Generation, giving them a nice on-screen send-off before retirement.

These are all core memories for Sisko.

Back on the station, we get a better look at Major Kira’s Bajoran earring as she jumps on a subspace call with her #1 fan, Gul Dukat. The jewelry is made of a silver metal, with lower and upper pieces connected by a fine chain.

It channels her pagh, as well as six stations of FM radio.

Dukat, of course, shows up wearing the same thing Cardassians always wear, made out of old recycled tires.

It’s actually very eco-friendly.

Going back to Benjamin, we finally get some new costumes as Sisko finds himself snuggling his dead wife. Well, one of the aliens inhabiting the memory of his dead wife. They’re dressed for a lovely picnic in the park, Ben in a striped jewel tone shirt, Jennifer in an elegant pink dress.

Does this human look good on me?

We can see that the fabric on the top section of Sisko’s shirt has been pleated and pressed flat before being sewn, a trick that seems to be used a lot in Star Trek to create more exotic and visually interesting looks from regular Earth textiles. In this case, it complements the fabric’s vertical stripes nicely. The shirt also has a geometric neckline with a notch in front, giving just a little flirty peek of chest. As we zoom out, we can see it has been paired with an extremely high-waisted pair of olive green pants. From this angle, we can also see that Jennifer’s silky-looking dress tapers at the waist, and has been paired with matching tights and shoes. It’s an adorable look somewhere between “prom queen” and “dance recital.”

This is what it looks like when you can just beam to a picnic site instead of hiking.

In a scene that’s no doubt just as pleasing to our Commander, we next see him in the memory of a holodeck baseball game, wearing a baseball mitt and cap, while an alien inhabits the image of his son (dressed in a catcher’s uniform) nearby.

Is this going to become a theme, Dad?

In an incredible bit of attention to detail, even the background actors in this scene appear to be dressed in period-appropriate suits and hats. Then again, it’s very possible Paramount already had these costumes in the back, and they were among the few outfits they DIDN’T need to make custom for this episode.

Look, son: normies.

Back on the station, Cardassians have begun to attack, meaning we get to see a crowd of evacuating civilians in one-colour co-ords. Among them is the real Jake Sisko, who isn’t sure about all the monochrome matching.

It just doesn’t feel appropriate for the season.

Also present is– what the? What the heck is this guy?! I don’t even know what this alien is, but it has a cute hooded blue dress. If anyone recognizes this species, please leave a comment with the ID!

Is it visiting from the Star Wars universe?

We finish out the episode – at least in terms of costumes – with a fantastic showing from Quark. He hasn’t changed since part 1, but we do get a better view of the details of his outfit, including the giant, spherical, shiny buttons on his jacket, which may actually be small doorknobs. The jacket also features sparkly black bands around both arms and wide lapels that flare open dramatically. Like Sisko earlier, he finishes the outfit with olive green pants pulled up as high as they’ll go.

The Ferengi who invents belts will be drowning in latinum.

—

The Costume Designer for this episode was Robert Blackman. The Wardrobe Supervisor was Carol Kunz. Key Costumers include Maurice Palinski, Phyllis Corcoran-Woods, Jerry Bono, and Patti Borggrebe-Taylor.

[thatonemarvelchick]

Peter - Twelve

Peter led Apricity outside, looking up at the cloud-covered sky. The sun hung low, already setting even though it was only seven. He glanced over at the girl, her small form swallowed almost whole by one of his hoodies. He’d insisted she change, wear something warmer. He almost made her take a pair of his boots if they wouldn’t have tripped her up so badly. 

She had her hands shoved into the pockets, the neckline pulled up to her nose. Peter smiled softly at the sight, the way her big hazel eyes peeked over the collar of his hoodie. It made something in his heart flutter. He tried to ignore the feeling. 

“Where are we going again?” Apricity asked, looking over at Peter. The two trudged along down the streets of Boston, towards one of the main roads. 

“We’re getting a rental car, and we’re going to drive to Brooklyn. That’s where Mr. Barnes lives.” Peter had been keeping tabs on all of the Avengers, even if none of them knew him anymore. He knew Bucky would would recognize Spider-Man. 

Apricity stopped short, looking up at him. “You want to drive all the way to Brooklyn? Peter that's a four-hour drive on a good day, with this weather we’ll be lucky to make it there by morning.” She shook her head. “Plus, I don’t know about you but I don’t really have the money for a rental car.”

Peter shrugged. “Don’t worry about the money, I’ve got it covered.” He and May had money stashed away for emergencies almost his whole life. When everything went sideways, he took all of it before he left. It was one of the few things he had left of her. “I just want to figure out what’s going on, see what Bucky knows. Sooner we get this whole mess cleaned up…” He let the words hang in the air. 

“The sooner you can go back to pretending I don’t exist.” She finished for him, keeping her eyes on the sidewalk ahead of them now. 

Peter’s throat got tight. He tried not to think of that moment in the bathroom. Of how delicate her touch was on his face. Of how much he’d wanted to pull her in and never let go. He’d even thought about kissing her. 

But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t get too close, because in doing so he was only putting her in danger. This was bad enough. 

Apricity didn’t say anything else the rest of the walk, and neither did he. When the man renting out cars heard they were looking to get one to take overnight, he looked at the two skeptically. 

“You’re gonna make a drive to New York in this weather?” He asked, eyebrow raised. He was an older man, with graying hair and a beer gut that hung low over his belt. Peter didn’t like the way he looked at Apricity. 

“Yeah.” He said simply, taking a step closer to her and setting the cash down on the counter. “It’s all right here, including the extra for insurance. Can I get the keys, please?” His tone was no-nonsense. It was clear he would not be argued out of this. He saw Apricity staring up at him from the corner of his eye, but didn’t look down. 

Soon enough, they were sitting in the seats of a comfortable blue Kia Spectra, with a working heater and a running engine. That was really all Peter could ask for. 

“Alright, ready?” He looked over at Apricity, who had stripped off one of the coats he’d given her and was now only wearing the hoodie. She was tying her hair up into a knot on the top of her head. 

“Yeah.” She mumbled around the hair tie in her mouth. It was the most she’d said to him since their conversation on the walk over. Peter sighed, turning on the radio. He couldn’t be upset that she didn’t want to talk to him, he’d essentially told her he was planning to abandon her as soon as they’d figured everything out. 

But she had to understand, right? On some level, she had to understand why he was doing what he was doing. Why he was keeping himself apart from her, why it was safer for her to be away from him? She was smart, incredibly so, she had to have understood. 

“Apricity, I’m sorry.” He surprised himself with the words. 

She frowned, turning to look over at him fully. “What?” Clearly, he’d surprised her with the apology too. 

Peter swallowed, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly. “I just… You have to understand why I want to- Why I don’t want you around me.” 

She sighed, realizing what it was about, and turned away. She was shutting him out. “It’s fine, Peter.”

Peter shook his head. “No, no because I can’t stand it. I don’t want to do this to you. I just- Everyone in my life, at some point or another, has gotten hurt. Everyone. And after the Statue of Liberty…” He shook his head and swallowed, trying to shake the memories of the Goblin out of his head. How badly he’d wanted to kill Norman Osborne. How badly he’d wanted to shove past the other Peter Parker and kill him. “Stuff happened. I got May- my aunt-” He felt his throat closing up and his words came out choked now. “I got her killed. She died and it was my fault. And in order to save the rest of… well, everyone, I had to make them all forget.”

Apricity was looking back at him now, those wide hazel eyes full of confusion and care. “What do you mean forget?” She whispered. Her voice was soothing to Peter, he found. It drifted through the car and caressed him, urging him to continue. 

“The problem was, that I had messed up one of Dr. Stranges spells. I made everyone who knew that Peter Parker was Spider-Man, from every universe, start spilling into this one. And in order to reverse what I did… I had to make everyone forget Peter Parker.” He swallowed, ecstatic that he’d actually managed to get the words out. He hadn’t talked about it with anyone, hadn’t had anyone to talk to about it. 

Apricity was silent for a moment, and this made Peter’s heart sink. Maybe she was seeing him for what he really was now. A fuck up, a murderer, an idiot. A catastrophic kid who ruined everything he touched. 

What she said next surprised him. 

“I’m so, so sorry, Peter.” Her voice was so genuine, it felt like a punch to the gut. He didn’t deserve sympathy, he didn’t deserve understanding. He didn’t deserve someone sitting here, consoling him about the worst things he’d ever done. 

Peter’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel now, and he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before reopening them to see the road. 

His decision was final. He would not allow Apricity any closer than she’d gotten. When this was over, he would cut her out completely. Delete her number, change his classes, hell, maybe he’d even change schools. He would no longer be around her anymore. He couldn’t let her past any more of the precious, delicate walls he’d put up. 

He would do what he couldn’t do for Ben, Tony, May, MJ, Ned, and Happy. 

He would keep her safe. 

“You shouldn’t be sorry for me. You should be sorry you ever ran into me that day.”

Next Chapter

[brassybrablog]

Boob Tape Mistakes and How to Fix Them

You got the boob tape and the smokin’ outfit. Now, you just cross your fingers and hope it all works out. Okay, now, wait—you can totally make sure your boob tape does exactly what you want it to do for you. Even if you tried it before with less-than-stellar results, you can learn from those little mishaps and move forward with the perfect adhesive bra application. The following situations are common boob tape mishaps, but they never have to happen again.

It Didn’t Stick Oops! That’s a big deal. When your boob tape doesn’t stick, it basically defeats the purpose of an adhesive bra. Make sure you choose a high-quality tape bra with medical-grade adhesive. Before applying your bra, your skin should be completely clean—no oil, lotion, or moisture for at least 30 minutes before the bra goes on. After smoothing the bra over your skin (with the nipple cover in place), you need to rub it into your skin for at least a minute until it feels warm. Then, let it set for about 30 minutes before getting dressed so another material doesn’t mess with the process. There Are Lots of Wrinkles Yikes—nobody wants to see big wrinkles in their boob tape. Unfortunately, it’s quite the challenge to get things perfectly smooth, so the trick is to find boob tape with a flexible, breathable material that moves with your body. It will look more natural. When you apply the bra, don’t slap it down too quickly. You need to be slow and smooth as you go so it adheres to your skin. It Doesn’t Stay Inside My Outfit If your adhesive bra starts peeking out of your outfit, you need to trim it down after it sets. Yes, you should be able to trim your boob tape without compromising the support and lift. After the bra fully sets, trim the bra down by about an inch on the sides and/or top to keep things under wraps. You Sweat Too Much A high-quality bra tape doesn’t come off when you sweat. Once again, you need to make sure the bra sets in place, and you should be able to dance the night away, sit in your office, or go to a summer party without worrying about sweat. If that still doesn’t work, you need to find a better adhesive bra, like one with medical-grade adhesive. You Can’t Get Your Boob Tape Off A strong boob tape requires oil to remove it from your skin. It won’t simply peel off your skin, especially if it has that highly desired medical-grade adhesive. You can use a removal oil formulated to safely remove the bra and nourish your skin. Saturate the adhesive bra with the oil (so the bra is not reusable). The original boob tape brand, Brassybra, for example, has recently started offering a removal oil with lavender oil, an ultra-soothing aroma. You Never Have Another Bra Available If you own a lot of outfits with unique necklines, like off-the-shoulder pieces, backless dresses, tops with plunging necklines, or strapless sun dresses, you need a supply of boob tape. You should at least be able to rely on a boob tape delivery service or something. That might have sounded like a joke, but some brands have a bra subscription that ensures you have adhesive bras whenever you need them. You can choose the frequency of delivery, which determines the discount. Regardless of whether you experienced any of the above situations, you can avoid them in the future. Boob tape is one of those super handy inventions that make it easy to wear whatever you want without straps, gores, and bands compromising your look. About Brassybra Brassybra is the first brand ever to offer a high-quality tape bra with medical-grade adhesive. Their product is super-strong, flexible, and comfortable so every woman can get the perfect fit for her girls. Plus, Brassybra’s adhesive bra can support up to a European G, which is a DDDD in the U.S. These bras are available in a variety of shades, so you can find a color suitable for your outfit or for a chic invisible look with a shade closest to your skin tone. In addition to inclusive boob tape, Brassybra offers aromatherapeutic oils to help remove the tape and nourish the skin. From the moment you take Brassybra out of the box to when it comes off, you experience what it’s like to enjoy wearing an adhesive bra. Resolve all your boob tape troubles with Brassybra, and visit https://www.brassybra.com/ Original Source: https://bit.ly/3Uv26dZ

[quill-pen]

@rom-e-o Bess probably sends him a pic of her in posess lot like these.🤭

I can just hear Connie's dialogue:

"All right, let's drape the skirt like this, so he can see just how high that slit goes. Oh, you picked a wonderful piece, Darling! It hugs your curves so well and this slit was positivey made to frame and show off these glorious hips of yours. Wolf won't be able to stop himself from drooling over this one!"

"Ooh! Let's get a silhouette shot of you arching up off the floor. Tease him a little with how flexible you are, hmm? No man worth his salt can resist a lovely back-arch."

"Let's give him a little peek down your neckline. Oh, hush! You have plenty to show off with there! If I could tell you the number of times I've caught Wolf sneaking peek down your top then quickly looking away with a guilty, goofy little smirk and a twinkle in his eye. It's about the quality of the breasts, Bess, not the size."

"All right, let's try another shot like this. I'll go a little more to the side--turn your face to me? Perfect! Now, I want you to give me your best bedroom eyes. Of course you have bedroom eyes--everyone has them! Honey, yes you do--believe me, I've seen you use them during your performances when Wolf is there. You look right at him with them the whole time. I honestly don't know how the man hasn't stormed the stage and taken you on top of the piano yet. Oh, don't be embarrassed! They add to your stage persona so well! After all, lounge-singer Bess Moonrock is supposed to be a sultry, smoky, glamorous fox is she not?"

"Ooh, this window is perfect for a moody shot. We'll let him see how beautiful your curves look in his satin! And again we'll drape the skirt just so, just so he can get a cheeky little sneak peek at you. Oh, you should see how powerful those shoulders and arms of yours look in this pose! So strong and glorious! Am I taking pictures of a woman or a goddess? I honestly can't tell!"

"Let's try a cuter more innocent one, now. Kneel on the bed? Yes, just like that. Now arch your back some. And can you push your chest out and shrug your shoulders forward? Yes, just like that! Oh, you're a dream to direct, Dear! And look at how prettily your girls pop out like this! Give me that cheeky little smile of yours, like when you make a pun and Wolf groans about it? Oh, Wolf is going to hit his knees!"

Connie taking Bess lingerie shopping when Wolf and Bess finally start taking steps in their sexual relationship. Bess really only wants one other person with her because she's not comfortable with more people than that seeing her body up close yet and Connie is who she trusts most and knows she will understand best about... things.

Them getting a few sets and trying them on and Connie being a positive doll about everything but Bess just breaking down in tears when she finally tries on the last set. This is the first time she's actually looked at her body in reference to sensuality and sex since Oliver. Needless to say, over the handful of years, her body has definitely changed in some ways:

She's thickened up, with muscle and body fat; there's a little more pudge going on in some places than ever before--some indentations are happening and love handles are spilling over the waistband of the knickers or pooching out in openings. She has some cellulite going on. It looks like she has some stretchmarks and her old ones seem even bigger and more noticeable. She's kept the length of them trimmed down but has let the range of her pubes go a bit wild, which Oliver never would have gone for (he liked little, shaved designs at the very top, but nothing else). Oliver liked her tanner too, so she used to do spray-on tans, but she hasn't done that since leaving him either, so she's gone all "Snow White" and her scars and freckles stand out even more now.

"None of them look good! I look ugly in all of them--I make everything hideous! I'm too scarred! I'm too fat! I'm too hairy! I'm too big here and too small there! And I have too many freckles! I can't send pictures to Wolf looking like this--he'll be so disgusted and never want anything to do with me when he actually sees what I look like! No wonder Oliver wasn't aching to touch me--I'm a complete joke!"

NOOOO BESS, ANGELLLL.

I imagine Connie hears her crying and (after asking permission from Bess, of course) slips into the dressing room. Upon seeing her, she eyes soften. Not because she agrees with Bess; no, she thinks Bess is positively beautiful.

But she knows what Bess is going through. she's been through it.

She lets Bess cry it out, hugs her and makes sure to give her tissues from her purse. After a few minutes, she speaks up;

"You know, this experience of trying on lingerie or swimsuits in a dressing room is one so many people dread. The lights are too bright, the mirrors are weird. You have to stand awkwardly and straight up. It's unnatural, this place. You look beautiful to me, but when you're staring at you ... it's a different feeling. We never gaze upon ourselves with the love others have for us.

"Try this - imagine the lights are different, and not these dreadful LEDs. Imagine warmer light - maybe candlelight. Imagine you're not standing in this cramped room - you're laying down, or sitting, or sashaying toward him. Imagine he sees you dressed down for him, lounging in his desk chair with a cheeky grin on your face, your body adorned in the prettiest fabrics, offering him just little tempting peeks at what awaits. Imagine his gaze going molten, and his hands clenching just to stop himself from reaching out. That's the real you in lingerie. And I'm imagining her, and she looks like - excuse my British vernacular - a bloody FINE knockout.

"If you really don't like how these pieces look, then we'll keep looking until we find a set you love, okay? I promise."

I imagine she then JETS around the store, grabbing black lace pieces, different cuts of bras/bottoms, finding some cute rose-accented pieces. She finds colors that compliment her complexion, and grabs different materials - no cutting elastic, just soft and comfortable lace and cloth. She also grabs her accessories and shoes to try on with the lingerie!

"Let's take it slow. Even finding one piece is great!"

[ageless-soul-au]

Here's Sun!!

We've been holding onto her for a little while too, same as Hyrule. You may recognize her outfit from the sksw concept art! (just slightly different in design and color) She wears boots and leggings underneath!

[moonchildstyles]

malvasia

prosecco part four: dating y/n was different now that he knew how she felt, especially the things that happen when he takes her home

wordcount: 10.5k+

—————

Harry felt a moment of deja-vu lingering around him as he waited outside (Y/N)'s front door. The familiar weight of a bouquet of flowers was held in his hands, the blooms acting as an unmatched rival to the bright smile on his face. He could hear the shuffling on the other side of the door, (Y/N)'s voice muttering out an obscenity before following with something she apparently forgot to grab. A moment later the wood swung open to reveal her in a similar state to the first time he had come to pick her up for a date.

"Hi!" she chirped out, irises melted and soft as she took in the sight of him. She almost entirely bypassed the sight of the flowers, instead looking him over as if he were the gift for the night

"Hi," he greeted her, voice smooth and quiet for just the two of them.

His presence served as a welcome distraction, momentarily causing (Y/N) to forget about whatever she had been muttering complaints about just before opening the door. She bit at the full of her lip, backing away from the threshold in an invitation for Harry to enter, "Do you want to come in for a minute? I'm sorry, I still need to do a couple more things before we can go; I feel like I'm never ready when you come over."

"Don't be sorry, you know I don't mind," he hummed, stepping onto the small white place rug that outlined the space she made for him, "Y'look pretty enough, anyway, can't imagine what's left."

While Harry meant his soft compliment to her, he couldn't lie and say he wasn't saying it to see what kind of reaction his open affection to her would draw out. He watched on as she looked up at him with moony eyes, her hands moving on their own accord as she closed the front door behind him without moving her gaze. She seemed to flounder over her words, unsure of what to say as a glow radiated from under her skin and added to the dew of her makeup. Harry raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for some kind of response from her though he rather enjoyed the dazed silence he seemed to through her into.

The shift in his expression was enough to pull her back into her head, getting her to move her eyes from him towards her fumbling hands twisting the lock. Though he couldn't see the full of her face from the angle she stood, he could still imagine the sheepish curl of her lips and the fluttering of her lashes as she spoke, "Sure, as if you didn't see my 'shoes' for the night."

Her words were meant to be a joke, Harry knew that, but he still took it as an invitation to drag his eyes over her body while they stood in her cramped version of an apartment foyer. His gaze trailed down her form, finding her clad in another dress he was going to have a hard time getting out of his head.

It was a long, summer dress, the fabric light and bright with a pattern of tiny, baby pink flowers covering the expanse. Pops of soft green to make up the leaves and peeking vines worked to relax the pattern as it fell towards the ground. It stopped just by her feet that were still clad in a pair of fuzzy socks that brought a smile to Harry's already sore cheeks. A high slit cut through one side of the fabric, showing off the bare of her leg with every step she made. Her collarbones and décolletage were left on display with the help of the off-the-shoulder puffed sleeves that hung over her biceps. The neckline was kept simple, ruching going down the middle of the bodice to create a heart shape to the hem before the bodice tightened around her ribs. Harry seemed to be slowly figuring out her style as he found the familiar shape of a headband adorning the top of her head—this one a pearly green color that reflected pink in the light, shaped into a string of leaves that acted like a crown on her head.

An easy smile covered his features, aware of the obvious time he took to look her over. He tipped his head to the side and shrugged his shoulder in nonchalance, "Looks fine to me—gorgeous, really, but, you know."

It seemed Harry wasn't giving her much of a break between those moments that threw her into a tailspin. A familiar sheepish tint took her features, the curl of her lips wavering as she looked up at him with melted irises and something like adoration swimming in the pool of them. Yeah, Harry could get used to these kinds of reactions, definitely.

"Thank you," she finally peeped out, dropping her eyes from his own gaze as a form of self-defense at this point, right to the flowers still held against his chest, "Are those for me?"

"Of course," Harry smiled, following her eyes to the brightest bloom in the bunch—a blush-pink lily with a buttery yellow center at the forefront of the bouquet, "'S a proper date, of course 'm bringing y'flowers."

She graciously took the bundle from him, examining the arrangement just as she had the first time he had brought her something like this. "I love them," she beamed up at him, delicately holding the stems between her fingers as she slowly inched out of her doorway, "Thank you."

"Anytime, sweetheart."

Just like that, another shy reaction was drawn from (Y/N), enough to get Harry smiling with a curl of pride to his lips. It was that easy, was it? Just a sweet petname and she was giving him puppy eyes? He was going to remember that.

"I'm going to go put these in water and everything, then finish getting ready," she mapped out, almost as if her agenda was a reminder to herself more than a notice for Harry.

A soft smile took her features before she began moving towards the entrance to her kitchen, but he wasn't about to let her go that easy. "Where do y'think you're going, hm?"

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks, a genuine bite of confusion downturning her features and pinching her brow. "I'm putting these in water rem—"

"I think you're forgetting something," Harry crooned, taking a slow step towards her as the heels of his boots clicked over the hardwood floor. He watched her reaction, noting the twist of her features though she didn't make any moves to step away from him as he drew closer.

"Y'haven't given me a kiss yet, sweetheart."

Harry's smile only widened as she immediately perked up at the mention of a kiss. Her grip around the strong stems in her hands only increased as her eyes widened. "You still wanted to?! I wasn't sure, so I didn't want to assume!"

As his shoulders dropped and muscles halfway liquified, Harry swore that, if she asked, he would drop to his knees right that second to worship every bit of her existence. She was too cute for her own good, telling him she wasn't sure if he would still want to kiss her, as if that hasn't been what he's been craving and missing since the night in Tawny's bathroom (and before that really, but he didn't want to be weird and detail out just how long he'd been thinking about kissing her).

"Of course, I still want to kiss you," he told her, voice low now that they were stood right in front of one another, stray petals from her bouquet brushing against his tummy, "Do you want to kiss me?"

"Yes, yes, of course I do!"

There was something so innocent about the way she perked up and parroted his own sentiment that of course she wanted to kiss him. The baby hairs framing her face swayed around her features as she bounced in her spot, rolling on the balls of her feet with an added inch to her height from the extension of the tiptoes.

"Then, c'mere," he cooed to her, "Give me a kiss."

She practically melted into his hands as Harry cradled her cheeks in his palms. Though he wanted to keep her flowers intact, he couldn't help but close the space between them as much as he could before he dipped his head down and smoothed his lips over her own puckered ones. The contact was soft and sweet, her lips warm and plush against his as he gave a round of soft pecks to her mouth. He was mindful of the fact they had reservations across town (finally fulfilling that promise they made of revisiting that restaurant), but that didn't mean that he didn't want to spend as much time as possible lingering with her kiss on his lips. He cradled her face delicately in his hands and took his time learning the difference between the fruity taste of her lipgloss and the sweet taste she seemed to carry naturally.

After planting a few more tender kisses against her pout, Harry reluctantly pulled away. A final press of his lips was granted to the very corner of her mouth, a hum sounding from (Y/N) at the contact. When he drew away, he caught sight of the way she seemed to lag after him, only just barely fluttering her eyes open as he scanned over her face. A tiny bit of her gloss was smudged outside the lines of her lips, enough for Harry to clean up with a gentle swipe of his thumb just under her bottom lip. She watched his face with rapt attention, her moony eyes visible from his peripherals.

When he was satisfied with his minimal cleanup job, Harry dropped his hands from her face and positioned them on the curve of her waist. He gently urged her towards her kitchen, setting her up to finish the tasks she had started on before he distracted her.

"Go ahead, sweetheart, finish up. I'll wait here for you," he crooned, speaking through the smile on his lips. He nudged her down the hallway, reveling in the way she seemed more than dazed at this point.

After a moment, the lag in her brain caught up and she practically stumbled through her first step towards her kitchen. "O-Okay," she stuttered, nodding her head more for her benefit he was sure, "I'll be right back."

It only made Harry's heart that much fuller when he caught how many times she looked over her shoulder to him, checking if he was going to wait for her just as promised. It wasn't until she had her bouquet all squared away and she disappeared to her bedroom—not without one final look in his direction, of course—did Harry let out his own breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

He felt warm now in the presence of all her things, something like a shot of novocaine working to relax and liquify his muscles as he breathed in her scent and threw his gaze around to her now familiar apartment. Now that he knew her feelings towards him, Harry had all the confidence in the world to do the things that made him happy. And, making her flustered with such shy reactions and sweet smiles was what made him happy. He couldn't wait to see how far she was going to allow him to take it.

—————

"Are you sure you can't stay with me a little while longer?"

(Y/N)'s pouted lips were just a pucker away from getting Harry to bend to any of her wishes. She fluttered her lashes at him as she pled for him to stay just a minute longer at her apartment, the flourishing of her curled lashes being something he didn't think she was even aware she was doing. Really, if she looked at him like that for just another thirty-seconds he was going to set up camp at her apartment and move in if that's what she wanted.

He'd been at her place for the better part of two hours at this point, having taken her up on the offer to come up when he had dropped her off. Since then, they'd been bundled up on her couch, shoes left by her front door with a forgotten movie playing on the television before them. Tonight had been a wonderful replay with added scenes and special, pink-tinted bonuses of their first date, the air of openness and comfortability between them making it that much better. He was more than grateful to get more time to spend with her before he had to go back home, not having gotten enough of her throughout dinner. But, as the hours ticked by and the impending plans of the following morning loomed closer, Harry couldn't draw his time out with her any longer.

"'M sorry, sweetheart, I can't. I've got some 'business brunch' meeting in the morning with a bunch of other executives for team building." Harry rolled his eyes at the stupid event that was in the way of him staying with (Y/N) any longer. He had already dodged this team building thing for months and he was out of excuses this time.

"Okay," she settled, visibly deflated at his denial, leaning into the doorframe she was guarding as if she could physically stop him from leaving. She had camped out in front of the door when he had finally convinced her to walk him out, having stopped before letting him go to try her hand at another round of pleas and avenues of conversation to distract him from leaving. "But you'll text me when you get home?"

"You know I will," he promised, dimples denting his cheeks at her sweet request, "Can text y'when I get to m'car even, if you'd like."

"Oh, no, you don't need to do that," she waved off, turning to unlock the front door for him, "I'm already walking you down."

Harry's brows cinched at her offer. "You're not walking me down, love, stay inside. I'll be okay."

"No, I want to go with you." The look she shot him over her shoulder was filled with sincerity, a final effort to spend a few more moments with him.

And, who was he to say no to her?

"Alright," he sighed, reaching for his keys he had left on the table by her door, "Put your shoes on and y'can walk me down."

She immediately perked up at his compliance, slipping on a pair of fluffy pink slippers that almost matched her dress. Once her shoes were on, she looked to him for approval, letting him see that she had done what he asked and was ready whenever he was.

"Those are cute," he prattled, taking her hand in his before opening the door, "They match your dress."

"That's what I was thinking! If it didn't look stupid, I would have worn them to dinner tonight," she laughed, her fingers fit snug between his as he escorted her down the flights of stairs to his car.

An easy silence settled between them, Harry reveling in the lingering sound of her laugh and the way it felt to be under the moonlight with her. He was hyperaware of her hand in his as they reached the visitors' set of parking spaces; he didn't want to feel the cold ghost of her hold when he had to let go.

"Thank you for taking me out tonight," (Y/N) sighed as they approached the space he was parked, a reluctant undercurrent to her tone.

"Thank you for agreeing to come out with me," he countered, squeezing her hand in his.

As they stopped on the driver's side of his car, he pulled her to stand in front of him, between the door and his chest. The angling was perfect, allowing the cool, violet tones of the moon to shine over her in shimmering rays. Her eyes mimicked that of the craters in the sky with the way she looked to him with a moony gaze, both of her hands wrapping around his one in an encompassing hold.

"Would it be too much to say I'm going to miss you?" she whispered, voice sheepish to match the shy curl of her lips.

"Definitely not. I know 'm gonna miss you the second y'let go of m'hand."

Harry watched for her tender reaction. She shyly tore her gaze from his, fixing her eyes onto their joined hands with a sweetened smile curling over her lips.

"Me too," she peeped, voice almost quiet enough to get swallowed by the pounding of Harry's racing heart. After a moment of her distracted gaze, she shifted to look up at him through the frame of her lashes, "Will we see each other again soon?"

"Jus' tell me when and I'll be there," Harry promised.

"Even if it's tomorrow?"

"Especially if 's tomorrow."

(Y/N) breathed out a laugh at his quick-witted response, cradling his hand that much closer to her chest. "Drive safe, okay?" she requested, the sound of her slippers shuffling against the pavement as she moved closer to him.

"Of course. I've got to be in one piece so I can see you tomorrow, right?" Harry teased, a softened set running under his words despite his joking.

A beat passed before she chirped out her own question: "Can I kiss you before you go?"

Harry shook his head affectionately, dropping her hand from his to cradle her cheeks between his warmed palms. "Y'don't even have to ask, sweetheart."

She managed to pucker her lips through the smile on her mouth, allowing Harry to pull her in for the long kiss she had craved at the beginning of the night. He fit her bottom lip between his two, guiding her through the growing familiarity of the contact. While his hands affectionately held her cheeks, the pads of his thumbs brushing over the heigh of her cheekbones with green painted nails, her own were tucked against his chest. He wouldn't be surprised if she pulled away worried about his pulse with the way his heart was hammering against his ribcage. The gloss that had lingered over her lips had long faded, leaving just the taste of her to carry him through until he saw her again (he was beginning to secretly hope that she wasn't kidding about asking him over tomorrow).

If not for the fact they were outside with the time ticking closer and closer to midnight, Harry would have kept going. But, he wasn't going to make (Y/N) stand outside in her thin dress and house shoes for any longer just because he was feeling greedy. He was the first to reluctantly pull away, leaving a lingering kiss to the full of her bottom lip before giving her space to breathe.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he whispered, the words just for her in the middle of the moonlight.

"Goodnight, Harry," she gazed up at him, irises melted and fingers flexing against his chest as if she wanted to cling to him, "Don't forget to text me."

"Promise," he smiled, stepping away from her with his hands lingering on her form as he brushed them down her shoulders and the length of her arms, "Now, get inside before y'freeze. 'M not leaving till I see y'get up those stairs."

Though Harry hated when she had to go, he loved to watch her leave with the lingering glances she cast him over her shoulder. This time, he was granted with a small wave of her fingers to him before she was out of sight, following the curve of the stairs that took her to her floor. Once he was sure she was safe inside, he made his own exit.

The drive home was filled with thoughts of her, his body warm in the same places she had touched—his hands were blazing with the phantom hold on them with the imprints of her hands on his chest glowing through his skin. He was undressing when he got home, reaching for his phone to send the text he had promised her when another notification caught his eye.

It was from instagram. He was tagged in a new post, the accompanying thumbnail on the grey bar doing little to reveal what photo he was mentioned in. Once he swiped over, the points where he felt (Y/N)'s contact the most seemed to go up another degree in temperature.

Lighting up his screen was a photo he didn't recall her taking at their table for dinner, the centerpiece of a glowing candle serving as a partition between her plate and the main view of his side of the table. His hand with the tattooed cross was laid on the table while it seemed his other was holding his wine glass. His face wasn't in the picture, but with the tag placed just over the sliver of his exposed chest that was captured in the frame gave him away (though, it wasn't like he had much posted to his own account anyway). The filtering and angling of the photo gave enough of a romantic air to it that Harry felt pride puff at his chest for the fact he was being posted to her social media in a way that made it clear he was more than just a friend.

Her caption was left simple:

even better than the first time

He couldn't agree more.

—————

(Y/N) 🎀

I can skip my 11:30 class on Friday if u wanted to get lunch!!! I'll just have one of my friends send me the notes!!

Harry knew that it was more than a little rude to be giving majority of his attention to his phone while Mitch was trying to talk to him, but he couldn't find it in himself to really care. The sound of his friend's voice was becoming something of a background monologue as he nodded along to whatever story was being told, though his eyes never left the screen of his phone. His lips were spread into a tender smile as he read over her text, the added punctuation looking especially sweet knowing that it was because she was excited to see him.

You shouldn't be skipping class, love. We'll get dinner, instead, on Friday.

Aren't you in class right now, even?

The welcome sight of the three grey dots popped up on the bottom corner of the screen, holding Harry's attention as he awaited her response.

A new blue bubble had just popped up when Mitch's voice called out his name, "Right, H?"

"Mhm, yeah," Harry answered, quickly making a point to pull his eyes from his phone to look at Mitch across from him.

He had a raised brow that could be seen over the frames of his dark sunglasses, the rays of sunlight that filtered through the shaded pergola above them emphasized his unimpressed features. The restaurant's patio furniture suddenly became uncomfortable as Harry could only imagine what he had just agreed to with the way Mitch was looking at him.

"Yeah, you agree? You think Sarah and I should break up and I'll move to Poland?"

Harry breathed a laugh at Mitch's words, sounding less humored by the situation than embarrassed to be caught. "Sorry?" he offered, knowing there wasn't much he could say to get out of his inattention.

"Sure," Mitch drawled, leaning his forearms on the glass patio table, "I know you've been a little distracted lately, but that was a bit much."

A small curve of his friend's lips let him know he wasn't in any real trouble, but he still felt a bit bad for his lack of attention. Especially since he was itching to check (Y/N)'s message, even after he was called out.

"Who are you even talking to anyway?" Mitch prompted after a moment, the shade of his glasses shielding the intensity of his gaze.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head, "No one important, it was jus' work stuff."

He and (Y/N) hadn't quite defined what they were doing with one another other than the shared feelings they held, so he didn't really want to spill any details in case she wasn't ready for the others to know. Once one of them knew, the news would spread through the group like wildfire, along with a slew of questions and nosy spectators whenever they were together. So, despite the way he was closest to Mitch out of all the friends of the group, he was going to wait it out, even if it meant telling shit lies that were several levels below believable.

Even under the shade of his sunglasses, Mitch was able to get across exactly what he was thinking under the lenses. "Really? You were smiling like that at a work email?"

"Well, it was—" Harry floundered over his response, thankful when he saw their waitress approaching with a pair of dishes in her hands.

He was granted a small reprieve while she—their waitress with a name tag spelling out Vicky—ran through her script, telling them to enjoy their meal and she would be right back to check on them. Mitch let the subject go for the moment, instead focusing his attention on the plate in front of him.

Harry ran his knuckle under the tip of his nose, clearing his throat as he flicked his gaze across the table. "It—The email, it was jus' good news about some numbers, so—"

"It's okay, H," Mitch laughed, pausing the cutting of his burger to focus his attention on his friend, "You don't have to tell me. Or lie."

A heavy breath left Harry's lungs, "'M sorry, I jus'... I don't—"

"Don't worry about it—really. I'm happy you got a good work email, and that's all I need to know." An easy smile covered Mitch's features, using the cover of the work email to tell his support.

"Me too." Harry smiled, "Thank you."

Though the air was now cleared, Harry still wasn't able to shake the urge to check his messages. Would it be really rude to take a look after all of this?

Mitch must have noticed his squirming and the twitching of his hand that refused to reach for his phone, "You can check, I don't mind."

A sheepish smile was shot across the table before Harry picked up his phone, the screen coming to life with the thread of (Y/N)'s messages across the screen. Two new blue bubbles popped up in the time that he was distracted.

(Y/N)🎀

yeah but its just a review day im not missing anything, dad

but fine I won't skip for you but only if I can pick where we go for dinner

Harry was aware of eyes on him as an easy smile bloomed across his face.

—————

"Can we go to your house?"

(Y/N)'s bubbled request only deepened the dimples dipping into Harry's cheeks. "If that's what y'want," he agreed, his hand on the back of her seat with his body twisted to get a look out the rearview as he backed out.

"I feel like I never go over there, but I like your house. It's nice." Her smile was audible in her tone, Harry not even needing to look at her to picture the bloom of her lips.

"You know you're more than welcome to come over, whenever y'want," Harry offered, sliding his hand over the back of her seat as he righted his position. As soon as he shifted into drive, (Y/N) was quick to grab his hand, fitting her palm against his and filling the gaps between his fingers with her own.

"Don't say that unless you're ready for me to bother you all the time," (Y/N) joked, bundling her other hand atop his.

"Could never bother me, you know that," Harry countered, his tone much more tender than the teasing she'd given him, "I can never get enough of you."

From the corner of his eye, Harry caught the way she dropped her head with a smile facing their joined hands. "You mean that?" she said, voice soft. Her fingertips tenderly traced designs over the back of his hand, Harry swearing that he could feel something like heart shapes over the skin.

He was more than grateful for the stop sign he pulled up to. With the lack of cars piling behind him, Harry took his time reaching his free hand over the center console and fitting his palm around the curve of (Y/N)'s neck. The glow of the dashboard lit up her features as he tugged her to him, her hair tangling between his fingers.

"Of course, I mean it, love," he crooned to her, leaning into her space. Though his hand on the side of her neck worked as a steady weight, she was free to pull back if she wanted to. Harry's heart stuttered in his chest as he felt no resistance, instead noticing her warmth nod into his hold. "You know that, right? You've been listening to me, right?"

Her lashes fluttered over the wide of her eyes as her gaze was fixed on his own. "I-I am, I'm listening," she let out, a dreamy look passing over her irises.

A tender curl of his lips softened his features, his pupils dilating as he took in every detail of her face. Gone was the sparkling gloss she started off the night with on her lips, the curl of her lashes having fallen over the course of the date, but she hadn't lost the glow he had caught radiating from her skin the second he picked her up. God, was he lucky that no one was behind them.

The hand on the back of her neck pulled her that much closer to him as Harry tipped his chin to smooth his lips over her's. The kiss was simple, an indulgent moment that couldn't wait until they got to his home. (Y/N) melted into his grip, his hand on her neck serving as a steadying hold that held her to him.

Harry drew away first, finding the same dreamy expression on (Y/N)'s face when he got a look at her features. Though he wouldn't have minded to stay in that moment, parked in front of a four-way stop, he needed to get her safe and home. And, he figured, they could do more of this at his house without the warning of others around them.

He brushed his thumb over the hinge of her jaw, dotting one more kiss on the corner of her mouth. "I know y'are, lovie," he cooed, giving her a once over before settling back in his seat.

Letting her keep his hand bundled in her's, Harry started them off in the direction of his house. He could feel her eyes still on him as he did so, a small smile quirking the corner of his lips as he took note.

"Are we going to do anything when we get to your house?" (Y/N) asked after a beat, settling in her spot with a deep breath. Her tone was a tick higher than before he had pulled her in for that kiss, a sheepish edge flowing under her words.

"We can do whatever y'want, sweetheart," Harry offered simply, taking note of her wobbly fingertips resuming the shapes on the back of his hand.

"Okay." (Y/N)'s small chirp of an answer didn't give anything away as to what she was thinking; no explanation for that shy tint to her words.

He peeked at her from the corner of his eye, finding her gaze still fixed on their joined hands. "Y'alright, love? You're being really quiet."

"Yeah," she peeped, nodding her head and looking to him with a tender smile on her lips, "I just want to get to your house."

Harry pretended not to notice the extra five he started going over the speed limit.

—————

(Y/N)'s shoes were left in a cluttered mess by the front door as she pranced straight towards Harry's kitchen. He didn't even think about it before he picked up her small mess, kicking his own shoes off to sit beside the pair of heels she had worn for the night.

"Harry!" she called, voice filtering from the kitchen, "Can I have some water?"

He let out a laugh at her line of questioning, "Go for it, lovie. Grab a glass, I'll be there in a second."

She chirped out a small okay! followed by the sound of her rifling though the cabinets for a cup. He found her reaching to the tips of her toes for a violet-tinted glass perched on the top shelf. Without the help of her heels, Harry couldn't help but linger for a moment in the threshold, watching as she extended her fingers towards the shelf just out of her reach.

"Why don't y'get one from a lower shelf?" Harry asked, amusement tinting his words. He watched on as she jumped at the sound of his voice, spinning on her heel with her hand fluttering to her chest.

"You scared me," she bleated, wide eyes looking to him before settling on the pads of her feet, "What did you ask me?"

The smile on Harry's lips was wide, dimples denting into his cheeks as moved across the kitchen tiles to where she was waiting for him, "I asked why you're not grabbing one from the lower shelves, instead."

"Oh," she sounded, looking over her shoulder up towards her purple glass she was reaching for, "I just want that one."

"Do y'want help then?" Harry closed the distance between them, planting both of his hands on either side of her waist with a crooked smile on his lips.

She hesitated reaching out to touch him, her hands bundled against her chest, "If you don't mind?"

Harry didn't answer, instead widening his smile before reaching for the top shelf she had struggled to touch. He kept his one hand firm on her side, the warmth of her body being felt against his chest with the way he inched closer to her form through his reach. From the very edge of his peripherals, he could see the way she tipped her head up to lock her eyes on his jawline. He easily grabbed the chosen purple cup she had set her eyes on, the advantage of his height mocking her as he settled the glass on the countertop behind her.

"Need help with anything else, love?" he asked, feeling a bit too proud of himself for helping her do such a simple task. She gave a simple shake of her head, a sheepish smile on her face as she locked her gaze on the planes of his face. A single dimple dented his cheek as she made no move to leave his hold. "Are y'sure?" he prompted, only to be answered with a minute nod of her head, spurring him on to press further, "Then why are y'looking at me like that?"

Her eyes widened a fraction of a centimeter as if she were surprised she was caught though he had been looking right at her, "I'm—I'm not looking at you in any way, just—I don't know, thank you."

His heart swelled at the stuttering of her words. "Okay," he relented with a small quirk of his lips, "'M gonna go set up a movie then, 'kay? Is there anything y'wanted to watch?"

Another small shake of her head, "No, you pick."

Harry gifted her with a small kiss to the top of her head before he left her to finish her mission for water. He could feel her eyes following after him as he turned on his heel and left her be in the kitchen, moving towards his living room. Something a little smug and self-satisfied sunk in his chest at her attention—he had craved this for so long, and it felt really good to finally have it.

Settled into the cushions of his couch as he scrolled through Netflix, Harry kept an ear out for the sound of (Y/N)'s footsteps that lingered just on the edge of the living space. Looking over his shoulder, he found her with both hands wrapped around the lavender glass, her eyes fixed on the titles he was flicking through.

"Did y'want to get comfortable at all before we start, love? I finally got makeup wipes after the last time y'were over."

A beat passed as she contemplated her answer, fluttering her lashes as if testing how much longer she could stand the weight of her mascara and the thin, pink sheen that covered her eyelids. "You got wipes?" she prodded, "Do you still have that wash I used last time?"

"Mhm," Harry hummed, already standing from his spot on the couch to lead her up to his bedroom, "C'mon."

She was quick to step after him, pausing for just a second to place her water on the small side table saddling the couch. He offered her his hand, reaching behind him as he started up the stairs. Her smaller palm slipped against his, fingers wrapping around the width of his hand. A slow smile spread over his features, his cheeks holding somewhat of an ache from how often he was repeating this expression in her presence.

He led her across the hardwood flooring, the sound of her socks sliding against the polish giving away her position as he brought her to his room. Once he crossed the threshold to his bedroom, he swung her around to stand in front of him, nudging her towards the bathroom. He reached around her and flicked on the lights before urging her over the tiles.

"I wasn't sure if these were any good, but the woman at the store said these were really popular, so I hope y'like them," he mused, bending to reach under the sink for the blue packet of wipes stowed away for her, "And I've still got that wash in that drawer if y'wanted to use it."

Her irises were melted and soft as she gazed up at him, something dreamy passing over her gaze as Harry matched her look. "Thank you, Harry," she settled on, tone tender.

He took a small step back, planning on leaving her be as she worked through her routine. "'M gonna finish setting up downstairs, but jus' come down when yo—"

"You're not staying?"

Harry stopped in his tracks at her line of questioning, glancing over his shoulder to where she was standing with a furrowed brow in the threshold of the bathroom. She held the packet of wipes in her hands, fingers playing with the metallic flap as her eyes fixed on him.

"What was that, love?" he paused.

"I just thought you were going to stay with me. But, I can meet you downstairs if that's what you wanted to do." She wiped away her pouted expression as she finished, bouncing on the balls of her feet as if it were her suggestion.

"No, no," Harry shook his head, already backtracking on his socked feet, "I'll stay with you, love. Wasn't sure if y'wanted me to, that's all."

(Y/N) seemed content now that he was opting to stay with her, her shoulders loosening as she gestured for him to join her in the bathroom. He took the cue easily, taking a spot on the closed toilet lid to sit beside her station in front of the mirror.

"Thank you," she chirped, looking to him through the reflection in the mirror.

Harry shot her a sweet smile, a garden of affectionate flowers blooming in his chest at the fact she was wanting him close. Balancing his elbow on the muscle of his thigh, he propped his chin in the palm of his hand. His positioning gave him a perfect view of (Y/N)'s profile as she started swiping at her skin with the damp cloth. An easy silence settled between them as more and more of her natural features was revealed in streaks of clean skin. If Harry hadn't been watching her so intently, he swears he would have missed the small look she tossed in his direction with how quick it was.

Catching the sheepish glance she flicked in his direction, Harry kicked his foot out to nudge at her ankle. "What was that look for?"

She gave a half-shrug of her shoulders, fixing her eyes on her reflection instead. "Sometimes I forget you've seen me without makeup on—I'm not used to that," she answered, her voice muffled as she passed the wipe over her glossed lips.

It was Harry's turn to let a pinch pull at his brows, "What do y'mean?"

Her eyes flitted to his with the help of the mirror, nonchalance painting her tone, "Usually, guys I like don't see me without any makeup on."

The answer rolled around in Harry's head for a moment. Was he one of the lucky few that got to see her in what she considered her vulnerable state? The roses that had bloomed in his chest acted as if they were going to claw their way out to get closer to her, her presence acting as the sun that birthed them.

"Until?"

"I'm not sure," she started, chirping out her easy answer, "I've never gotten comfortable enough with any of them to find out."

The roses in his chest wilted a moment as he processed her answer. He felt sad, even leaning into something tinted with anger that she had never been treated right; the sweetest girl he'd ever known was never made to feel comfortable in her own skin around people she deemed worthy of her attention. While the blue moment pinged in his chest for a second, it was quickly replaced with a vivid unfurling of pride that painted the blossoms red again. He wasn't one of the lucky few, he was the lucky one.

"Are you comfortable with me, then?"

He watched as she tossed out the wipe that was now covered in the traces of her makeup. Her eyes were clear and bright, rid of the mascara that had fanned out her lashes with the pink sheen on her eyelids now replaced with the natural glow of her skin. She looked just as beautiful now as she did when they started the night, and he had been the only one allowed such a view.

Lucky him.

A shy smile took (Y/N)'s features, curling her lips into a softened smile that beckoned him closer. Harry couldn't resist the draw of her, following that small cue and standing from his spot on the toilet lid. Her eyes followed him as he stood to the full of his height, a raised brow prompting her to answer his question.

"I think so, yeah," she murmured, tipping her chin up to look at him as he stepped closer in the limited space, "You make me feel safe—I think that's the best word for it."

Something like pride filled his chest at her words. He couldn't deny the roll of protector he had taken up when it came to her; he enjoyed the rewarding feeling that came with caring for her, especially when she had asked him to in the first place. Mimicking their position from the kitchen, his hands landed on either side of her softened waist.

"Do y'feel safe, right now? Here with me?" His voice was kept soft, a sweet secret just for her.

A soft fluttering of her fingers was felt against his chest, her grip curling into the fabric of his shirt. She softly tugged at him, the motion seemingly happening out of her own volition. With each pull of his shirt, Harry couldn't fight the beckoning of her touch. He dipped his head down and placed a delicate kiss to the soft of her cheek, the tip of his nose skimming over her skin. The fingers in his top flexed, the fabric bunched in her fist and pulled him that much closer.

"Hm?" he prompted, still looking for her answer though his lips trailed down to cover the line of her jaw.

"I-I do—I do feel safe," she stuttered, voice turning breathy.

He let out a soft hum, his trail of kisses moving across her skin in gentle presses. (Y/N) shuffled forward, pressing the length of her body against his as she melted into his hold. The bathroom was left silent aside from the soft sound of his kiss against her skin, inching closer and closer to her ear before dropping down to the curve of her neck. His hold on her hips tightened as he backed her up, pressing the curve of her spine into the countertop behind her. Her body was kept firm against him, her own hands sliding a shaky trail from the bottom of his chest to the tops of his shoulders.

His lips clung to her skin, never lifting and instead skimming over the expanse in affectionate kisses. A soft breath was exhaled through (Y/N)'s nose as he hit a particularly tender spot at the base of her throat, her hands sliding up farther from his shoulder to wrap around his neck. Her fingers locked at the nape of his neck. With her new hold, Harry felt subtle nudges of her pulling him from the map he was marking over the soft of her neck to her mouth.

A smug smile curled his lips as he followed her tugging direction. Pulling back just far enough to catch her eyes, he found (Y/N) with a familiar dreamy haze over her eyes, now at full force and swimming through her irises. Something akin to a whine was exhaled through her pouted lips as she pulled him with a firm tug around his neck.

Harry's smile only broadened at the sound, a satisfied puff filling his chest. He scanned over her features, skimming the planes of her face and noting the warm glow that emanated from her skin.

"H," she breathed, nudging to the tip of her toes in an effort to pull him back.

He resisted her attempts, his smile stretching just a hair further. He couldn't turn down an opportunity to play with her.

"Ask me for what y'want, love," he prompted, a sultry undertone wrapping around his words. In an encouraging move, he ducked his head and gave her a small kiss to the space before her ear, "Go on, sweetheart, tell me."

A beat passed with a shaky breath leaving (Y/N)'s lungs. Her linked fingers broke apart as she dug her fingertips through the baby hairs on the back of his neck. "Can we—I want to kiss," she whispered, "Please?"

His smile was pressed into her skin as he skimmed over the line of her jaw. Looping his arms around her middle, his hands spanning over the planes of her back, Harry pulled her from where she had been pressed against the counter.

"Is that what y'want?" he mumbled against her skin, "Want me to kiss you?"

A shaky nod of her head was given in response.

"C'mon then," he prompted, drawing away from the affection he was spreading over her skin, "'M not kissing y'in another bathroom."

Finally, he was able to crack the haze that tinted her features and fixed her moony gaze onto him, a small smile ticking over her lips. "I wouldn't complain."

Standing to the full of his height, with (Y/N)'s body still bundled against his chest, he gave her a challenging looking and a raise of his brow. "I know, but you're coming with me anyway."

Though he was reluctant to let her go, Harry dropped his arms around her waist and settled for taking her hand in his. Despite her playful teasing, (Y/N) was quick to fall into line and follow after him as he led her through the soft lighting of his bedroom. He pulled her along until he hit the edge of his bed, the mattress taking out his knees and bouncing under his weight as he fell into it.

He sat on his bed with his legs spread wide and his free hand laid flat behind him, waiting for her. She stood at an arm's length away, her hand still protected in his own, though she looked to him with wide eyes.

"C'mere, lovie," he murmured, a soft smile spreading over his lips. With the help of his tugging hand, (Y/N) inched closer. The hem of her dress moved like something of a dream behind her as it fluttered, delicate like a cloud that chased after her.

Once she was close enough, Harry didn't hesitate to pull her to his chest, fitting her between his muscled thighs. She was much less hesitant than when she had approached him, settling her palms along the line of his jaw. Craning his neck, he caught her lips in a warming kiss.

It was familiar by now, Harry felt grounded to the moment with her. He slotted his mouth against her's, the full of her bottom lip tucked between his two. The soft sounds of their lips coming together and pulling apart filtered through the room. It was under Harry's control that deepened the kiss, tipping his head under the warmth of her hands and drawing her deeper to him. His own hands were fixed on the thick of her thighs from where she stood between his own, her dress bunching under the flexing of his fingers.

He could do this for hours, Harry decided. He could sit here for hours, his (Y/N) tucked against him with her lips smoothed over his own with nothing other than pink-tinted thoughts racing around his head with butterfly's wings beating through his stomach. His head felt like it was up in the clouds, stuffed full with a rosy haze while the rest of him was too hyperaware of her touch, the warmth of (Y/N)'s body, and the soft noises she was making against his mouth to be anywhere than completely grounded in the moment.

Warmth bloomed throughout his body, his stomach tightening and chest glowing the more she melted into his hold. Harry inched his hands around the full of her thighs, hooking his palms around the back just under the crease of her bottom. He eased her to him with the hold on her legs, drawing away for just a second though he could still feel her mouth brushing against the full of his lips. He waited for any kind of protest as he brought her closer, any small indication of rejection that she was ready to draw that line for the night.

One never came, only a small whine leaking from between her lips as he nudged his nose against her's. With the help of her hands on his cheeks, she pulled him back to her kiss on her own accord. Harry was more than willing to take that invitation, planting his lips against her's in an adoring kiss as he pulled her that last inch to his lap. She fell into him, chest pressed to his. His hands moved from the thick of her thighs to wrap around her waist in a tight loop as she adjusted her legs to sit on either side of his hips. A rumbling worked through Harry's chest as he dropped back to lay flat on the bed with (Y/N) atop him.

(Y/N)'s breathing stuttered, the skipping of her chest felt against Harry's own just before a breathless whine fell from her lips. The noise was smothered by his kiss, the taste echoing that of the sweetness he had come to associate with her. All the while, their kissing never ceased, only small breaks granted for air before diving back in.

Harry noticed just how breathless she was becoming as he slicked his tongue over the full of her bottom lip, prompting him to draw away from her and allow a moment of reprieve. Still, he couldn't resist from planting a garden of kisses over her features. Her breath fanned out against his jaw as he dotted his lips over her cheek and across her cheekbone.

"Can we stay up here?" she asked, voice a breathless murmur that traveled to his ear.

Though he was inclined to nurture her skin with the garden of kisses layered over her features, Harry drew back with a raised brow, "Don't want to watch a movie anymore, love? I thought that's what y'came over for."

His tone was teasing, softly mocking her request though he was more than willing to indulge her. He watched on as a blink of her eyes fanned her lashes across the tops of her cheekbones, dreamy eyes never swaying from his own despite the sheepish tint that moulded her features. Her pupils were blown wide, a sliver of her melted irises remaining in a ring around the black. She looked like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, embarrassed for getting caught but not enough to take back her want of the sweet.

"I-... I don't know, we can stop if y—"

Harry was quick to shake his head, a smug smile quirking up one corner of his lips. "'M jus' teasing, sweetheart. We'll stay in here, don't worry. I don't even think I remember the film I picked anyway."

Before she could tailor any kind of reply to his words, Harry tugged (Y/N) down to button his mouth to hers again. She was distracted with the nature of his lips as Harry wrapped a firm arm around the curve of her waist and hooked his hand around the back of one of her plush thighs. She melted further into his hold, making it easy for Harry to roll them over, replacing each other's previous positioning. He maneuvered them to lay with (Y/N)'s head resting against his pillows, the silken nature of his dark green bedding acting as a glimmering background. With her thighs still hugging his hips, he fit himself between her legs. A gasp was felt against his kiss-slicked lips though the noise was muffled into his lips

"This okay?" he breathed out between the long pulls of her lips. His hand on her thigh slipped over the length until he landed just at the back of her knee. He hitched her leg over his thigh, her hips pressed flush against his own in a move that made his stomach tense and flutter from the contact. He was more than sure she could feel his length against her core, their kissing having formed a pleasurable spiral in his stomach that caused tension between his legs.

"Uh-huh," she hummed. Her hands that had been on the back of his neck made their own warming trail as they worked their way under the neck of his shirt and skated over the bare planes of his back she could reach.

It could have been hours that Harry had her laid out under him as he kissed over her already swollen lips and reveled in the sweet chirps and sighs that fell from her lips. His own contented noises slipped out for her to sample, the tip of her tongue delicately dipping into his mouth before teasingly pulling back, stealing his chance to taste. He could never be in any position to complain over what she was willing to give him, especially as it seemed she was giving him a taste of his own teasing medicine he had been so inclined to dole out through his soft mocks and teasing remarks. It only spurred him on knowing that she was willing to play his game.

His hand had been serving as a grounding weight, grip tight around the thick of her thigh with flexed fingers and a tensed palm. Now, the weight was shifting over the length of her leg, moving and twisting until he had it splayed against her hip with his fingers working to brush over her core. Her breathing hitched to the point Harry swore she didn't breathe for a few seconds, her chest lagging behind as he worked over her.

Drawing back in search of her reaction, Harry caught her eyes that were still shuttered behind her eyelids. He could see her eyes dancing underneath, mimicking that of the butterflies fluttering through his tummy that urged him closer to her. After a beat, (Y/N) blinked her eyes open, her gaze wide and scanning over his features in quick darts as if to take each detail in before he disappeared.

"Is this okay?" Harry parroted, flexing his fingers from where he had them stationed over the bone of her hip. She hesitated for a moment under the heat of his gaze, her kiss-swollen mouth gaping like a fish. He gave her another second, waiting to see if she was going to offer any kind of response before dipping his head down and nudging his nose to her's in a puppy's kiss. "'S okay, sweetheart, y'can tell me."

Her hands under his shirt slid up the planes of his back before linking her fingers together behind his neck. He could feel the brush of her fingertips against the sensitive skin, a layer of goosebumps rising over his heated skin. With eyes mimicking that of a doe, wide and seeking approval, she asked him, "Can we just kiss tonight? I'm sorry, I know I kind of started this an—"

"Hey, hey," he cut her off with a tender smile, his hand on her hip drifting to cradle the full of her cheek in his palm, "Don't be sorry, 'kay? We don't have to do anything y'don't want, that's why I asked. 'M not mad, especially not since I get to spend the rest of the night kissing you."

"Are you sure?" (Y/N) pressed, something like guilt floating through her irises.

"'M more than sure," he cemented, ducking his head to touch his forehead to her's, "Don't feel bad for changing your mind—I only want to do the things y'want. I mean it."

(Y/N) blinked up at him, Harry thinking their lashes would tangle together with how close he kept himself to her. "Thank you," she murmured, the full of her lips brushing against his.

He caressed his thumb over the height of her cheekbone, adoration swimming in his gaze. Her words took a pick to his heart, chipping another shard off in her honor. She shouldn't have to thank him for doing the bare minimum and listening to her and what she was comfortable with; what kind of people had she been with before and what had they put in her head that made his actions deserving of such gratitude?

"Don't thank me," he said, the words coming out like a cliche though sincerity colored his tone, "Not for this, 'kay? All 'm doing is listening to you."

With her fingers linked at the back of his neck, (Y/N) pulled him to her, tipping his chin and craning her own neck to make their lips meet. Nothing was frantic about the contact, desperation left simmering far in the background. Though they couldn't get enough of one another, the slow, languid kisses that were shared between their lips were more than satisfying. His arm that had been sandwiched between the mattress and her back grabbed at her form, fisting the fabric of her dress and tugging her tightly to his chest, though his hold wasn't desperate and dominating. All he wanted was to take in every bit of her form that he could; to learn her body in whatever way she was comfortable in letting him.

Soft sighs were breathed between them, Harry fighting to keep his own noises of contentment down in favor of listening to (Y/N). Every time she murmured his name, tugged at the baby hairs on the nape of his neck, and tightened her thigh around his hip, something in his heart swelled at the small display of her vulnerabilities, feeling more raw now that she was comfortable with the direction they were heading for the night. If he hadn't had his arm around her, he swears she would have melted into the mattress.

Aside from small breaks when breathing was hard to come by, when Harry checked the time, he found they had been holed up in his bedroom kissing for a little over an hour. He had shifted over her, moving to lay beside her on the pillows with her thigh thrown over his hip and his own leg tucked between her two. Peering over her shoulder as she snuggled into his chest, face nudged against his neck, Harry's read the time on his phone as 10:32 p.m.; they had made it to his house a little after nine, with (Y/N) having told him she was planning on heading home around ten. A smug smile took Harry's kiss-swollen lips. He'd convinced her to stay.

"What time is it?" (Y/N) whispered, the length of her lashes tickling his skin.

"Ten-thirty," he murmured, voice hoarse from disuse. He hugged her tighter to his chest, arms wrapped around her in a hug with his palms spanning over her back in soothing circles.

"Oh," she breathed, sinking further into his hold with her own arms looped around his middle, "I don't want to leave, though."

Harry exhaled a breathy laugh, drawing away from where he had tucked her shoulder under his chin. Though he felt like his lips should be completely sore from the amount of use for the night, he still rested a string of kisses along her hairline, never lifting his lips from her skin before dragging over to the next spot.

"Y'don't have to, lovie, y'know that. Stay for as long as y'want," he murmured, voice soft like a secret between them.

A beat passed with Harry keeping her hugged to his chest.

"Even if I wanted to stay the night?"

He smiled against her skin, eyes fluttering closed at the thought of getting to cuddle into her again like the last time she had laid in his bed. "Especially if y'wanted to stay the night."

(Y/N) shifted in his arms, pulling away to give him a proper view of her sleep softened features and kiss-swollen lips. A soft smile moulded her features, eyes tender with irises swimming, "Am I allowed to borrow your clothes again?"

Harry reached up and tugged on a messy strand of hair that had been mussed by his hands and the silken pillows cushioning her head. "Anything specific y'wanted for the night?"

The way her eyes brightened at his counter question filled his heart almost as much as her kiss had. He couldn't help but slip his fingers through the strands of her hair, brushing against her roots and pulling her down. He pressed an affectionate kiss to her tired lips. A dreamy look settled into her gaze when he caught sight of her features through his hooded gaze. And, he was going to get to spend the night with her.

Tonight had been a good night.

—————

malvasia is a dessert wine, rich and amber colored with clinging notes of toffee; bright points of acidity leave you wanting more.

thank u sm for reading!! sorry if theres any mistakes and please send me a message if u had any ideas ab the next part or wanted to talk about this piece!!

[vendetta-if]

Hey guys 👋 This is the second part of the Patreon exclusive content update post. This one will contain the Spicy Side Stories and the Q&A sneak peeks 😄 For the non-spicy side stories sneak peeks, click here.

If you guys are interested in supporting me and getting access to all of these exclusive side contents, please check out my Patreon page 🥰💖 I currently have a monthly-subscription-based payment set, so you don't have to worry about getting charged twice when subscribing near the end of the month.

Other than weekly progress update posts, here are currently all the exclusive spicy side stories and Q&A sessions that are up by the end of November 2022:

November Spicy Story (Male Santana x Heir Female MC)

The very first explicit spicy side story that I ever wrote. It's about Heir Female MC visiting Male Santana in his office and helping relieve some... stress 😏 3.1K words.

Deciding to help him relieve some stress, you settle your hands onto his broad shoulders and start giving him a shoulder massage. You feel his tense muscles unwinding bit by bit under your palms and he groans quietly.

After a few minutes, you bend down and embrace him from behind, trailing your hands down and tracing the contours of his torso underneath the white shirt. “Let me help you blow off some steam, hm, darling?” you whisper sultrily right into his right ear. He shivers under your touch.

You lean in and pepper kisses on his cheek before trailing downwards to his neck and throat, nibbling lightly, the very light stubble tickling your lips and you can still smell a hint of his aftershave.

Feeling annoyed by the back of the chair getting in the way, you move to the front and slide onto his lap, separating him from his paperwork on the desk. He leans back to give you more space before bringing his hand behind your head and pulling you in for a passionate kiss that soon devolves into a make-out session.

While both of your lips are preoccupied, Santana’s hands are also busy roaming all over your body, paying special attention to your chest area. His bare fingertips and palms dip under the plunging neckline of your chiffon dress.

October Spicy Story (Female Ash x Male MC)

A more suggestive spicy side story, really toeing into the explicit area focusing on Female Ash and Male MC whose sparring session turns more... heated than first expected 😉 Around 1.3K words.

Your eyes involuntarily trail over her athletic figure; she’s wearing a tank top, showing off the snake tattoo slithering around her left biceps which ripple along with the movement of her muscle. Every time she touches your bare skin, you can’t stop your mind from going a bit haywire from the warm contact, slowing down your reflexes enough for her to land a couple of hits.

You are in the middle of wondering about whether Ash also feels the same and as distracted as you are right now when she manages to sweep you off your feet… literally. You feel your breath getting knocked out of you as your back hits the padded floor roughly; it doesn’t really hurt but it does take you by surprise.

Before you can get back on your feet, you feel a weight pressing down on you and you glance up to see Ash straddling over you—or more like sitting on you; her hands are on your chest.

October Q&A Session (Part 1 & Part 2)

October Q&A session is done with me, the author. There are a lot of interesting questions answered, starting from questions about the writing process of the story itself, to characters reactions to scenarios, more info about the characters and lore, and NSFW questions 😂

Here are a couple of questions from one part of the session:

"Is Mayor Moore related to Skylar or is it just a case of unrelated people having the same last name?"

Yes! To this day, you’re still the only one who noticed and asked me about it 😆 Mayor Moore is Skylar’s father. You’ll learn more about their relationship with their father on their route 😉

"Random facts about Rin's family? Do they have abilities? If so what are they?"

If you ever wonder where Rin gets their more dignified and elegant disposition (especially since Takashi is so easygoing, boisterous, playful, and can such be a lovable himbo sometimes 😂), it is from their mother, Azami.

Rin has little twin siblings, Nariko (the female and older twin by a few minutes) and Kaito (the male and younger twin), both around 10 years old. Nariko is more similar to Takashi (energetic, mischievous, can be a bit impulsive, gregarious) while Kaito is more similar to Azami (calm, reserved, collected, and is also most of his twin sister's impulse control 😆, but can still be mischievous as well like his twin).

They do have abilities, and I actually haven't thought too many details into it before you asked the question. But, after giving it some thought, right now, I would say:

Azami: Hypnotic Music - Able to affect and shift moods, and hypnotize a person (to a certain degree) by playing songs on musical instruments Nariko: Electrokinesis - Electricity manipulation Kaito: Hydrokinesis - Water manipulation

November Q&A Session (Part 1 & Part 2)

November Q&A session is done with the characters. It's written in the interview-like format and the characters are divided into groups for the interviews. Part 1 will focus on Luka & Jackal and Viktor & Takashi meanwhile Part 2 will focus solely on all the 4 ROs.

I had a blast writing interactions between the characters and how they respond to each other's answers (especially Rin and Ash 😂). There are a lot of interesting and NSFW-ish questions answered as well 😳

Here is a really small tidbit of the interview section with Luka and Jackal:

Luka and Jackal are sitting side by side on the plush sofa in the designated interview room when the door clicks open and MC steps in.

Luka: “MC? You are going to be our interviewer?”

MC: “Well… no. I just ask permission to ask some of my own questions for a few minutes before handing the rest to the Interviewer.” [sits down on the armchair to the sofa’s left and steeples their fingers]

Luka: “Ah, I see. So, what questions do you have in mind?”

MC: [smirks and waggles eyebrows] “So… Jackal, huh. How did you two first meet?”

Luka: “How we first met, huh?” [smiles wistfully] “Well, almost two years ago, this… madman infiltrated one of the fancy parties I was invited to, posed as a server, and approached me.”

Jackal: [snickers] “Yeah, it was one of those pretentious masquerade parties where everyone wears those creepy masks. Worked in my favor though. Couldn’t complain.”

Luka: “He offered me a deal: I would extend my protection to him, and he’d be at my beck and call for various high-profile hit jobs.” [shrugs]

Jackal: “Yeah… I really needed it. I’ve been running away and moving from one place to another for almost a decade at that point. I pissed off important and dangerous people back in my country of birth.” [sighs]

Luka: “Well, the protection worked, right? The attacks started to lessen and they were more wary now because they don’t want to piss my family off. Am I not your knight in shining armor, hm?” [smirk]

Jackal: “Yeah, yeah… You self-congratulating bastard…” [blush lightly, looking away]

MC: “You guys should definitely tell me the full story sometime later. I want all the juicy details! But for now, back to my next question… Jackal! What are your intentions with my uncle, huh?” [subtly cracks knuckles and glares]

Patreon Link

Patreon Side Stories Sneak Peek Post

[free-pool-trash]

dancing with our hands tied - peter maximoff

here it is you guys... the ✨very spicy✨ sequel to delicate which can be read here <3 (had to keep the rep song title theme going here)

please for the love of god let me know how this is I’ve never written smut before so please go crazy with the asks/comments/reblogs on this one I’d really appreciate it😩😓

word count: 4k 😳 (it’s not all smut dont get too excited)

warnings: +18 content, sexy times, unprotected wrap it before you tap it, swearing, i tried to keep vulgarity on a low level but i decided to just commit towards the end lmao, insinuation to sex from the beginning , some fluff and a tiny bit of angst sprinkled in there too, wandavision spoilers

You can definitely read this as a stand alone but it’ll make more sense if you read delicate first !! enjoy <3

masterlist

The days you spent in WestView had been tiring. Wanda seemed to be losing her composure with each day that passed, you watched how she became more and more skeptical of Peter and found yourself growing all the more anxious with the situation you’d run head first into. But, you were with Peter, your mind and his mind were free of Wanda’s influence and she’d been kind enough to appoint the pair of you your own house in the neighbourhood, a few doors down from her own, so, you couldn’t complain too much.

Today was a relatively quiet day, but you had a feeling that just meant you were in the calm before the storm. Tonight was, apparently, Halloween. Despite the fact that it was nowhere near October, you were more than happy to play along with Wanda’s over the top festivities.

Peter and Tommy had just zoomed into your and Peter’s bedroom, sporting matching outfits and excited expressions as they looked at you expectantly, “Well? What’d ya think?” Peter asked, motioning between himself and Tommy. The littlest speedster awaited your answer with wide, hopeful eyes, wanting validation from his cool uncle’s even cooler ‘friend’.

Yeah, you’d made out on Wanda’s couch but you still hadn’t addressed the question of where exactly your relationship stood. It felt as though the pair of you were both actively avoiding the awkward conversation, opting instead to simply fall into bed together every single night and completely disregard the boundaries of friendship in favour of hearing each other moaning until the early hours of the morning.

With a smile you let out a low whistle, “Looking good boys. I gotta say, Tommy, I think you’re outshining your uncle right now.”

You had to laugh when Tommy smirked triumphantly at Peter, “I told you she liked me more than you.” He boasted proudly and your laughs grew louder when Peter huffed angrily. He crossed his arms over his chest and jutted his bottom lip out childishly.

“Y/n, tell him you like me more.” Peter demanded, again, childishly.

You only grinned, “No comment.” You told him airily, making your way to your closet and hesitantly pulling out the latex costume Wanda created for you off of the rail, holding it by the hanger skeptically.

It was Peter’s turn to let out a whistle when his eyes scanned the skimpy looking leotard suspended by the hanger. The fabric mimicked the design of Peter and Tommy’s outfits although it seemed Wanda had gone out of her way to make yours ever so slightly sexier. The leotard was strapless with a sweetheart neckline and a silver lightning bolt ran through the light blue material. The only saving grace was the silver tights that hung from the hanger as well, at least you’d have some kind coverage. With one last peek into the closet, your eyes landed on a pair of white, knee high gogo boots.

“Christ…” You muttered, eyebrows furrowing at the thought of wearing the ensemble out in public, if it was cold tonight Wanda would be in for an aggressive telling off. With a deep sigh you turned to the two speedsters who were both staring at you, waiting for you to say something. “I guess we’re all gonna be matching tonight.”

“Sweet!” Tommy exclaimed while Peter only smirked. Peter, with a lot of effort, moved his attention from your costume to his nephew.

“Why don’t you go hang out with your brother for a while? I gotta talk to Y/n for a sec.” Tommy welcomed the suggestion, only nodding his head before he had sped out of your house and back to his own.

A gust of wind hit your face as Peter sped himself in front of you, the man didn’t hide his intentions as he gripped your hips and pulled you flush against him. Swaying his body against yours and bringing his lips to the exposed skin of your neck. He trailed his lips up your neck, sucking and nipping, smirking when you let out small noises of approval. When his lips reached the spot behind your ear, he gave a final, harsh suck which had your breath hitching and whining when he pulled away.

To be honest, you’d love to be able to call him your boyfriend and be certain that he thought of you as his girlfriend, but at the moment you were perfectly happy with whatever the fuck the two of you had going on if it meant you could keep feeling him against you like this.

“I cannot wait to see you wearing that.” He all but groaned against your ear, his voice deep and gravelly. The butterflies in your stomach went feral at his words and you had to pull your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from letting out a moan from his tone of voice alone, not to mention the fact that his crotch was pressed up against yours, he was excited to say the least.

Your hands slid up his chest and settled on either side of Peter’s neck, you gently pulled his head out from the crook of your nape and teasingly raised an eyebrow at him, “Maybe later I’ll let you help me get out of it.”

A wicked grin spread across his lips, he squeezed your hips in response, tugging you into him even further for some kind of relief then pressed his lips to yours briefly, murmuring against them, “That’s definitely a plan I can get behind.”

Giving him one last kiss, you pried his hands from your hips and pushed him away, “Alright, get lost I need to get ready.”

“Meet me at Wanda’s?” You nodded at his question, letting out a deep sigh you hadn’t noticed you’d been holding when he finally sped out of the room.

After a second of cooling down, you pulled on the outfit and you’d be the first to admit; Wanda knew what she was doing with this one. You looked incredible, albeit a little stupid in the costume, but still incredible.

When you made your way over to Wanda’s to meet up with the others, you let out a laugh seeing as Wanda was essentially wearing the same outfit as you, only with the added extras of a cape and gloves.

“Hey! Why are you dressed the same as Uncle P and Tommy?” Billy asked you curiously, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he glanced between you and Peter for answers. The speedster in question was smirking proudly, his arm finding a spot wrapped around your shoulder.

“Because she’s totally obsessed with me.” He lied with an over dramatic sigh, causing Tommy to laugh.

You rolled your eyes, elbowing him in the ribs playfully before focusing your attention onto Wanda, “I think it’s safe to say that Wanda and I will be winning best couples costume.” Wanda gave you a knowing grin and a not at all subtle wink in response to your statement.

“Only the best for the best.” She replied, walking forward and linking her arm with yours, stealing you away from Peter who whined in protest, “Oh hush, you can have her back later.”

Telepathy definitely had its perks, one of those perks being you could tell there was more to Wanda than just being an evil puppeteer. The two of you got along extremely well, you were actually growing to see her as a friend. It helped that you knew her story, though. You sympathised with her, knowing full well that if you lost the love of your life you’d probably create a false reality to be with him too. You’d already followed him into a fake reality so you supposed it wasn’t really too much of a stretch to imagine yourself in Wanda’s position.

As the night went on, yourself, Wanda and Peter were sitting around in town square, the twins having run off somewhere. Tensions were high between the interreality siblings at the minute, Peter seemed to be having the time of his life getting on Wanda’s last nerve, poking and prodding at her lifestyle choices.

“Lay off, Pete.” You warned quietly, your stare serious as you felt Wanda becoming impatient with the mutant. Your breathing stopped for a moment and you let put a horrified gasp, your hand clapped over your mouth as you stared at the image in front of you.

Peter’s skin was grey, his eyes were milky and he was littered in what you could only assume to be bullet holes- he was dead- no, you realised as you caught Wanda’s pained expression, he was Pietro.

Wanda regained her composure after a few seconds but the sight of Peter dead was enough to shake you to your very core and you found yourself shaking where you stood.

You didn’t even have a chance to regain your composure before shit had hit the fan. It had happened in a blur, Billy and Tommy were frantic and worried about Vision being in trouble and next thing you knew Wanda was sending Peter flying with a ball of energy after he made a smartass comment about Vision not dying twice.

Quickly, you ran to Peter’s side, he was groaning in pain and looking up at you through squinted eyes, “What the hell was that all about?” He grumbled, hiding his head in your lap when you got down on your knees beside him.

With a sigh you let your body fold against his, wrapping your arms around him and letting your head rest against his shoulder, the image of him bleeding out still too fresh and real in your mind. You could berate him for his brash behaviour another time, for now though; you just needed him close.

“Come on, dumbass. Let’s get you home before you decide to cause more trouble.” You mumbled, pulling him up with you. Ignoring his whining while you led him home, your arm remained firmly around his waist the whole way despite the fact he’d recovered from the blast Wanda dealt him after only a few minutes.

When you got back to the house that Wanda had deemed yours upon your arrival, you finally allowed yourself to breathe. Peter was staring at you with a guilty expression as you released a heavy breath through your nose and shuffled into the kitchen, the heels of your boots scraping on the hardwood as you walked.

Like a lost puppy, Peter followed you. Once he reached you lent against the sink he wrapped his arms around you from behind. He knew you weren’t angry at him by the way your arms immediately moved to grip his and tug them tighter around you.

“You know, her real twin- Pietro… he died,” Peter’s face contorted in confusion when you began to speak, he listened with concern as he could already hear your voice beginning to shake, absentmindedly he caught himself tucking you closer against his chest. “For a second… you must have said something that hit a nerve but for a few seconds…” Your voice hitched and you shook your head in an attempt to knock the image out of your mind, though you had a feeling it would haunt you for as long as you lived. When Peter noticed you’d started chewing at your bottom lip, as you always did when something was causing you anxiety, he gently turned you around in his arms so that he could look at you, his arms remaining firmly around you, yours finding a place resting against his chest.

“What happened, sweetheart?” He cooed, his eyes very much alive and staring into yours.

Swallowing thickly you answered, “You looked like him. You were dead.” You told him quietly and he was sure the look of grief on your face, brought on by the thought of him dying, would haunt him for a lifetime.

Your eyes watered as you took in his face. Scanning every part of it, his brown eyes that made you melt, the dimples that could still be faintly seen even when he wasn’t smiling, the lips that took up the vast majority of your thoughts and that tiny furrow between his brows as he looked down at you with worry.

You loved him.

Of course, you’d known this for years. But you needed him to know, and even though you were already well aware the overwhelming feeling is mutual, you needed to hear him say it.

His thumb running under your eye pulled you from your thoughts, “I’m not going anywhere, baby.” He whispered softly, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb ran back and forth over your cheek bone. Your stomach flipped at the pet name and you nuzzled against his touch.

“Good. I don’t want to lose you ever again.” You confessed, looking up at him through your lashes fondly as his lips formed an almost sad smile.

Gently, he brought his lips down to meet yours, pouring his heart into the kiss, hoping it would make up for the turmoil he felt responsible for causing you. Too soon, he pulled away.

“Believe me, I’m never leaving your side. I mean come on, I’m without you for like three days and I end up being mind controlled by my sister who isn’t even my sister.” He chuckled out, a grin growing on his face as you began to smile too. He let his eyes close blissfully when you brushed your nose against his, a toothy smile on your face.

“You, Peter Maximoff, are completely hopeless.” You whispered through your smile as he opened his eyes to look at you. His own face sporting an adoring smile.

Your heart skipped a beat the second his next words passed through his smiling lips, “Without you, Y/n L/n, yes I am.” Within a second your arms were around his shoulders and your lips were moving frantically against his. Peter’s hands wasted no time in sliding down to your thighs, gripping them and propping you up onto the kitchen counter.

Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist and your hands got lost in his hair, keeping him as close as humanly possible while his lips migrated to your jaw.

An appreciative hum left your throat as he lapped at the underside of your jaw, leaving a mark before trailing his lips back to your mouth. His tongue licked at your bottom lip as he kissed you, moving it into your mouth the first chance he got. Peter moaned into your mouth when you gave his tongue a light suck.

You grinned at the sound and leaned your weight forward so you were primarily resting against his body, your arms and legs wrapped tightly around his body, your ass barely resting on the counter by that point. Welcoming your movements, Peter’s hands glided up from your thighs to grip your ass and pull you from the counter completely.

He carried you clumsily through the halls of the house, bumping into furniture and pausing to press your body against walls, his eyes closed and lips never separating from yours. You were about a foot away from the stairs when you felt your back make contact with the plaster behind you, your chest heaving when Peter abandoned your lips in favour of littering wet kisses across your chest, no doubt leaving a trail of hickeys in his wake.

You let your head fall back against the wall, enjoying the sensation of Peter nipping and licking at your skin, the man diving back to your neck as soon as he realised that your head thrown back made it entirely exposed to him. You released a breathy moan when his lips ghosted over a sensitive patch of skin, he moved his tongue frantically and you shuddered at the feeling of his hot breath hitting your bruised skin.

“Peter…” You whined when he pushed his crotch up against yours, pressing you further into the wall smirking against your neck when you called his name.

“Yes?” He asked teasingly, rutting his hips against yours once more, deliberately attempting to pull another moan from you, he obviously succeeded. His smirk broadened when you let out a huff and tugged his hair so he’d look at you.

Peter swore he was in heaven when his eyes met yours again, your face was red and your eyes were half-lidded, pupils blown wide with lust as your chest heaved. He could’ve exploded on the spot when you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth and looked at him innocently, all the while grinding your hips slowly and firmly against his. Peter clenched his jaw and let his eyes fall shut, his hands gripping your hips so tightly that you were pretty certain the area would have bruises come tomorrow. You were struggling to care about that though, focusing your energy on the man who had you pinned against the wall.

You brought your lips to Peter’s neck, repaying the favour, not detaching until you left a dark, albeit small, purple bruise on the underside of his jaw. Deciding to prolong the teasing for a little while longer you moved your lips up and let them hover by his ear and you began to let out soft little moans in response to his grinding, the action caused Peter’s movements to become more frantic and your lips to form in a smirk as you felt him hardening against you.

His breath was laboured when he murmured, “Let’s take this upstairs, yeah?” Before you could even answer he had sped the pair of you to the bedroom and you let your feet return to the floor.

As he stood in front of you, you took him in, swollen lips and Halloween hair completely tossed, not to mention the tent in his trousers that was very visible despite the layers of his costume. When your bodies collided again, it was a frenzy of hands, the both of you practically tearing the fabric off the other until you were in nothing but your underwear, kissing sloppily and stumbling towards the bed.

Peter’s lips attached to your chest again the second your back hit the mattress. He groped at your right breast while his tongue sucked on the other, swapping over before you pulled him back up to you.

The way he slotted between your legs and how his forehead rested on yours felt so perfect, you couldn’t help but grin.

“You’re gorgeous, sweetheart.” He muttered between kisses against your lips, his hands kneading your breasts as he did.

You were practically dripping by the time his hand slid down your stomach and under the band of your underwear. For someone with super speed he was moving agonisingly slow at the moment, his hand rubbing languidly over your wet core while he swallowed your moans.

“Fuck- God, Peter please.” You whined, your hips bucking into his hand, desperate for more friction than he was giving you.

The sound of your voice, so needy for him, was all he needed before he was pulling your underwear off, tossing the thin material over his shoulder haphazardly and shimmying out of his own boxers, clumsily kicking them away from his ankles, earning a giggle from you.

When he kneeled on the bed between your bent and separated knees you sat yourself up, sliding one hand up his bare chest and resting it against his shoulder while the other slid downward, only stopping once it was wrapped around his shaft. Peter sucked in a harsh breath when your began pumping him softly, the man completely losing it when your thumb swiped over his tip collecting the precum that had gathered and using it to wet the length of his dick as you continued to fuck him with your hand.

As much as Peter was loving the image and feeling of you jacking him off, he knew if you carried on he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. Still, he didn’t have the heart to pull your hand away when you were making him feel so good. His head found it’s favourite spot in the crook of your neck and he groaned out against the skin that was littered with little purple and red marks from his earlier work, which he’d be sure to admire later, “Shit, Y/n-“ He croaked through a moan, hands gripping your hips as he fought the urge he had to thrust into your hand, “M’not gonna last much longer if you keep doing that.” He groaned out, almost reluctantly, not truly wanting you to stop while simultaneously craving more.

You stopped your motions at his statement, giggling when he let out a strangled noise of disappointment at the sudden lack of pleasure. Doing the honours, you lined him up with your entrance, letting him take over when his lips connected with yours.

Peter gently pushed you back until your head was resting against your pillow and your back was flush with the mattress. His lips continued to mesh with yours as he pushed into you inch by inch until he bottomed out. The deep groan he released was music to your ears and your hands gripped his biceps when he began to thrust in and out.

A symphony of moans filled the room as Peter had managed to set a steady pace, trying his best not to let his mutation get the best of him, as much as he wanted to just go to town he was determined to make you feel as good as you made him feel and judging by the way your head was thrown back and his name fell from your lips like a prayer; he guessed he was doing an okay job.

In only a few minutes Peter had you gasping and clutching onto him like your life depended on it as he picked up speed, one of his hands reaching down between your bodies to rub your clit, his hips snapping against yours. Soon enough, you felt the pressure in your stomach release, your walls clenching around Peter’s dick as your back arched and you released around him. After only a few more staggered strokes, Peter moaned your name against your lips, finishing inside of you and thrusting lazily, riding out his high and subsequently helping you ride out yours.

You let out a blissful sigh when Peter pulled out and rolled over to lay on his back beside you, his chest heavy and his blonde hair sticking slightly against his forehead.

“That- that was awesome.” He mumbled, intertwining his fingers with yours, holding your hand by his side.

Over the last couple of nights you and Peter had, admittedly, ended up in a similar position but neither of you intended for it to happen. It’d usually start off innocently enough, with cuddling or just talking and then one of you would move in just that little bit closer and things would escalate. But there was something about this time that felt a lot more emotional than the few times before. “It was.” You agreed with an airy giggle, squeezing his hand affectionately.

A gust of air shook you from your haze. Peter had taken it upon himself to clean up the mess the pair of you had left between your legs, a pair of his boxers and one of his t-shirts now adorned your body matching him as he wore the same.

He was on his side facing you, his arms holding you against his chest securely the same way they had the night you’d shown up in WestView and urged him to kiss you. When he took you in, he kicked himself for missing out on so much of you for so long.

He was certain, one of these days he’d actually speak the three words that followed him around whenever he thought about you, but as he watched your eyes flutter closed, he decided the words would be best spoken some other time. He was well aware you already knew, just as he was well aware that you loved him, it needed to be said. Eventually, but not quite yet.

[cafeacademic]

omg congrats on your milestone!!!! here’s to many more *clink clink*,,, anyways i loVED YOUR ‘off the record’ with fox, and i’m a s1ut for him sOOO maybe prompt 31? f/gn!reader is cool!!

Fox sluts unite I love that man so much. here is some pure smut for our man because he deserves some time off and a bunch of smooches. hope you enjoy my lovely thank you for all your support <33

also i saw that you were working on a new fox thing as well very excited for that👀👀

On Background

click above for AO3 link

Pairing: Fox x Reader

Rating: Explicit (You know the drill)

Warnings: PiV sex, oral sex (m receiving), orgasm denial, teasing, semi-public sex, some objectification of reader (but it's pretty tame)

Word Count: 2.2k

When Fox stumbled into your apartment one night, the first thing he saw was you slamming the door to your closet closed.

“You alright, princess?” he asked warily. He rolled his neck as he removed his bucket, trying to ease some of the tension of the day.

“Yep!” you said a little too eagerly. Fox closed the gap between the two of you, lifting your chin with his forefinger. You looked up at him innocently.

“What are you hiding?” he teased. Leaning into his touch, you smirked.

“Oh, just work stuff. Wouldn’t want to bore you,” you said. Fox narrowed his eyes but didn’t press you further. “Are you working the Chancellor’s speech tomorrow?”

“Don’t remind me,” Fox groaned. The Chancellor’s annual speech was never a fun night for the Guard; they often had to arrive early to help set up, listening to Palpatine fuss for several hours before the actual main event. If that wasn’t already draining, they often had to hear faux praise from the various elites that attended the event, though they knew that most considered them less than human. Sensing that Fox was getting lost in his thoughts, you reached up to plant a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“I’ll make sure to stop by then,” you said, snuggling into his hold. Fox rested his chin on the top of your head, enjoying the feeling of being held.

~~~

The next day, Fox was running around, trying to ensure that everything was set up for the Chancellor’s speech, at least security-wise. In between pretending to listen to the demands of Palpatine and downing cups of caf from the break room, he would respond to the silly comms you would send him. On typical days, you would complain about your coworkers or send him pictures of cute lothcats you saw on the holonet. Today, however, your messages were suspiciously short.

“Miss you xoxo,” your last message read. That had been nearly two hours ago, and Fox hadn’t heard from you since. It was probably for the best, considering how much work he had to do, but it still hurt a bit.

“Are you stopping by?” he tapped out a message to you. A few minutes later, his commlink buzzed.

“Something came up. Have to take the time to get ready for a work thing tonight,” you replied. Normally, Fox would have sulked at the fact that you couldn’t visit, but he was instead intrigued by the fact that you had followed up your message with a photo attachment.

He nearly dropped the comm when he opened the picture. You were laid out on your bed, crisp white blouse unbuttoned and falling off your shoulder. A thin, lacy bra covered your chest, the material a perfect Corrie Guard red. At the very bottom of the photo, Fox could see that your skirt was hiked up over your hips, allowing just a glimpse of the matching panties.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he typed back. He could imagine you smirking down at your comm as you tapped out a response, the image only making his half-hard cock press even tighter against his codpiece. A soft buzz alerted him to your response.

“Is it a good look? I’ve been told that we’re supposed to dress nicely for the Chancellor’s speech. Wouldn’t want to make a poor impression on my first time covering the event,”

Fox nearly groaned out loud; there would be no way he could concentrate if you were going to be at the speech tonight. All he would be able to think about would be how badly he needed to see you in the pretty lingerie you were wearing.

“You better behave tonight,” Fox responded. It was only a few seconds before your reply came.

“But where’s the fun in that, Commander?”

This time, Fox did groan out loud.

By two minutes into the Chancellor’s speech, Fox was already bored out of his mind. Instead of being on alert for attempted assassinations as Palpatine had requested, his eyes were scanning the crowd for you. The general comm chatter from his brothers had become a background hum as he searched for your telltale white blouse.

When he finally found you, he was almost embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed you sooner. You were sitting in the press box near the front, near enough that you could pick up all the details of the speech but out of the way enough that the Chancellor couldn’t see you. As if you could feel his gaze, your eyes immediately snapped to Fox’s visor. You bit your lip teasingly as you toyed with the top button of your blouse. Fox straightened his posture, hoping to convey as much warning as he could with just his body language. You either didn’t notice or didn’t care; likely the latter, seeing as you popped the button with ease and pulled your neckline open slightly, revealing just the top of the lace covering your breasts.

“Hey Fox, you see that girl in the press pit?” Thire’s voice cut through the comm chatter that Fox had blocked out. Thire’s comment, however, snapped him right back to his senses.

“What about her?” Fox snapped back a little too defensively.

“She’s cute, isn’t she? Keeps toying with the hem of her skirt,” Thire commented. Fox bit his tongue to keep from snapping at his brother.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind tearing that skirt off of her!” Hound added with a snort. Thire hummed in agreement. Before Fox could start yelling at his brothers, Thorn cut into the conversation.

“Hey, vod? I think that’s the Commander’s girl,” he said warily. Thorn was the only one Fox had confided in about his newfound relationship, and that was mostly because he had heard the two of you going at it in Fox’s office. A number of curses poured over the comm, and Fox smirked at the panicked apologies his brothers gave.

Turning his attention back to you, Fox noted that the second button on your blouse had also come undone. The crimson lace was now peeking prominently through your neckline, and you had a smirk plastered on your face. With a wink, you spread your legs in your chair slightly, allowing Fox a glimpse of your panties.

Faking an important message, Fox pulled out his comm and quickly tapped out a warning: “Keep that up and you’re not going to like your punishment,”

You checked your comm and responded quickly, still smirking. “Aww, can’t handle a little teasing?”

Fox growled quietly under his helmet. Just as he was about to type out a message back, he was roused from his thoughts by thunderous applause, signaling that the Chancellor had finished speaking. Mentally, Fox made a note to thank Palpatine for keeping it short this year. As soon as he was off the stage, he sent you a quick message. “My office. Now.”

You were already sitting on his desk when Fox entered his office, swinging your legs innocently.

“Fucking finally! I’ve been trying to get you alone all night!” you said, hopping off the desk and reaching for your lover. Before you could get to him, however, Fox scooped you up in his arms and pressed your back against the wall.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” he growled, voice still modulated by his helmet. You smirked up at him.

“What, you didn’t like my little show? I got all dressed up for you and everything!” you pouted, reaching to take off Fox’s helmet. His hand shot out and gripped your wrist before you could touch him.

“No way, sweetheart,” he said, grinding against you. “You’re not getting away with teasing me that easily,”

Holding you steady against the wall with his hips, he ripped your shirt in two, the remaining buttons flying around the room. He could still feel the heat of your breasts, even through his gloves. You squealed as he pinched your nipple through your bra, admiring how the bud peaked through the red lace. In the back of his mind, Fox worried that he was being too rough with you, that you might not like how he was touching you. His worries were calmed, however, when he saw the absolutely delighted look on your face as you squirmed out of his grasp and sank to your knees.

“Can I please suck your cock, Commander?” you batted your eyelashes. Fox nodded and you launched for his codpiece, getting the armor off in record time. You grinned devilishly at him as you pulled his cock out of his blacks, the tip already flushed a rosy brown and a bead of precum leaking from the tip. When you licked teasingly up the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock, Fox reached out to roughly tangle his fingers in your hair.

“Don’t tease. You’re in enough trouble as it is,” he warned. You obliged, taking him all the way down your throat in one motion. Fox swore loudly, trying to keep from bucking into your mouth. You worked what you couldn’t reach with your hand, twisting your wrist to spread the saliva that was slicking his cock. When Fox’s grip on your hair tightened, you pulled off of him with a pop.

“Was that what you wanted, sir?” you teased. Before Fox could scold you, his words caught in his chest as you began pumping him again, this time slowly working down him with your mouth. The modulated groans of the clone above you made you rub your thighs together for some sort of relief. When you thought he was distracted enough by your tongue, you slid a hand down between your legs.

“Oh, sweetheart. You just keep testing me, don’t you?” Fox growled, tugging you off of his cock by the hair. You looked down sheepishly, not having expected to get caught. Fox quickly discarded his helmet before yanking you back to your feet.

“‘M sorry, sir,” you said. Fox looked like he was going to fall victim to your puppy dog eyes, but he shook his head and adjusted you so he could have access to your clothed cunt. With two fingers, he slid the scrap of fabric to the side, inhaling sharply when he noticed how wet you were.

“Does putting on a show like that get you this wet?” Fox said, lining himself up with your entrance. “You know all my brothers could see you?”

“Really-- fuck!” your words were interrupted by the stretch of Fox sliding into you with one movement. Normally, you would’ve been upset that he didn’t touch you first, but you were so turned on that he slid in with little resistance.

“They were all drooling over you, sweetheart,” Fox said through gritted teeth as he fucked you. The slight jealousy he felt was obvious not just in his voice, but in the rough way he was fucking you, almost as if he was worried you’d disappear out from under him. You grabbed his chin and kissed him passionately.

“Mhmm, but you’re the only one who gets to fuck me, Commander,” you said when you pulled away from the kiss. “I’m all yours, Fox,”

That seemed to unlock something in Fox’s head, because he began fucking you with even more force, trying to get as deep inside you as he could with every thrust. He began to mouth at your collarbone, teeth grazing over the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, that’s right. Mine,” he repeated into your neck. You scrambled for purchase on the plastoid armor he was still wearing as he ruined you, moans pouring out of you too loudly for the only semi-private office. Neither of you seemed to care, though.

“Fuck, Fox, I wanna come,” you whined, shivering from when his groin rubbed against your clit with a well-angled thrust. Fox seemed to contemplate for a moment before grinning into your collarbone.

“No,”

“What do you mean no? Shit, Fox!” you cried out. Fox’s thrusts were getting sloppy, and you knew he was close.

“I mean no. I’m gonna fill up this pussy, and then we’re going to go home, and if you’re good, maybe I’ll let you come then,” Fox said, voice shaking slightly.

“Shit, you can’t be serious. Come on, I’m so close,” you said breathlessly as Fox’s hips snapped into yours with such force that you slid up the wall you were pressed against.

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before teasing me all night,” Fox growled, breathing heavily. You whined in protest, but he had made up his mind. “Fuck, you’re all mine. I’m the only one who should get to see you like this,”

“All yours, Fox. Only yours,” you moaned, and that sent Fox over the edge. He bit down harshly on your shoulder to muffle his loud groan as he emptied himself inside you. Fox slumped against the wall, leaning into your body, and you pressed gentle kisses to his temple as he recovered.

“You know, I love you and everything, but I need you to get me home so you can fuck me properly,” you said, the serene smile on your face in sharp contrast to how needy you felt. Fox pulled back, leaving one last kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Are you ever going to learn to behave?” he said with mock exasperation.

“No, you like me better this way,” you teased back, making yourself presentable before pulling a lovestruck Fox out of his office, the two of you too enamored with each other to register the catcalls from the other guardsmen.

[djarinsbeskar]

Dorne - Boxer!Din AU

A/N: I have no excuses. This is for @asta-lily who claimed she wouldn't know peace until she had this after our many 7some chats so... enjoy??? Consider this a taster of such, since I've never written something like it eheh. Idk if this will be part of the main AU, I just needed to get it out of my head. Really making use of that relaxed fit model, guys. No edits/beta, stream of thought ramblings that I'm just clicking post on. Check out The Prince of Dorne, a modern!Oberyn fic set in the same universe as the boxer!

Word Count: 1.2k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! MFF oral sex (male receiving).

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

He felt like a king.

No, even a king worshipped something, money, power, connections.

He felt like a god.

“Fuck—”

Din groaned lowly, his head falling against the plush back of the luxurious chesterfield sofa that decorated one of the private back rooms at Dorne, a casino owned by his most generous and hands on sponsor. Dual heat from two wet tongues lapped indulgently along his cock, soaking him in saliva as small noises of pleasure were mixed with the wet sounds of kissing when tongues met over his leaking tip.

Whiskey eyes, darkened to obsidian under the low lights opened enough to watch you. Pink tongue dragging between painted lips up along the swollen shaft while your eyes – sunlight beneath clouded lust – met his mischievously.

Fucking hell. You were a damned siren. His lips parted on a strained exhale as you curled your tongue beneath the head, the raven haired beauty you had seduced earlier in the evening circling her tongue furtively around the fat head.

You broke the hold you held over him with your eyes when you turned to the woman on her knees beside you. Abby – Ally? – he couldn’t remember her name. You kissed her slowly, every movement of your tongue into her mouth catching the tip of his cock that wept in pearly beads of desperate need.

One of your hands – skilled and strong from the hours you spent a day working with them – stroked him, the wet lash of your palm along his thick girth as your guest ran her hands down your neck—wet tongue disappearing into your molten mouth he was suddenly ravenous to feel on his own. She worshipped your body gently, all soft caresses and delicate grazes of slim fingers, the complete opposite to his own form of worship; devouring, consuming, defiling you with his desire. She worshipped you like one would at a temple, an altar. He worshipped you like a primal sacrifice to ancient, wrathful gods.

You released his cock just long enough to take one of hers from where she was exploring your body, wrapping her fingers back around the base of his cock to continue stroking while her other hand worked on pushing the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders. Din twitched at the sound of your mewl when the woman’s hand found the soft swell of a breast, kneading it hard as your kiss grew sloppy.

You broke it with a gasp, turning to lap at his head, dragging the tip of your tongue to gather his precum, the single contact a frisson of electricity across open water—all his nerves heightened to the combination of pleasure from both your mouths as Abby – Ally? – latched her lips to his shaft, kissing up and down it feverishly as she jerked her hand up the length.

“Fuck, baby—so good,” he moaned, the heavy crease between his brow furrowing further as the tendons in his neck strained – humming – with the tension he held in his muscles. You hummed around his tip, licking it like a damned lollipop you couldn’t get enough of before sucking the head with a dexterous swirl of your tongue.

Your dress pooled lower, just enough for the lace of the lingerie you had worn – his favourite – to be seen peeking out from the collapsed neckline. It slid down further when you turned to caress the back of your guest’s hair, raven locks passing through your fingers when she parted swollen lips from his shaft to kiss you again. But you shook your head.

“Open,” you purred.

Fucking hell, you were so hot—the way your free hand gripped her jaw in a delicate hold to encourage her lips to part, a languid kiss to her cheek—her mouth opening obediently for you to lead her down so she could engulf his sensitive head. Her eyes fluttered, your lips parted—guiding her down further, taking more of him. It was a hedonistic vision. You, guiding her head up and down on his cock – strings of saliva and drool dribbling from her lips and his cock while you murmured soft praise.

He moaned.

You mewled with a kiss to his navel at the sound—a sliver of toned muscle and tawny skin exposed from where you had unbuttoned his shirt in a rush earlier.

A flare of intoxicating arousal, a primordial pride at seeing you with another woman to pleasure him—no combative jealousy or distain present, but an equally wild desire to pleasure one another that had his mind spinning.

“Are you enjoying your birthday, baby?” you questioned as you led the woman’s head down to take in more of him, his cock stretching her lips and throat convulsing as she gagged around his size. You cooed gently, kissing her temple, and running a finger through the tears that gathered at the corner of her eyes—ruining her makeup,

“I know he’s so big… you can take a little more though, can’t you?”

She nodded with a moan, bobbing up and down his cock while he gravelled your name, his hand dropping to card through once perfectly styled hair as you sucked one of his balls – heavy and full with a need to empty inside you – into your mouth, the gentle suck and massage of your tongue over the sensitive sac making him pant, his chest heaving more than it would be even after three rounds in the ring.

“Come here, sweetheart— fuck," he snarled, a warning steel to his voice and the hand that tightened in your hair. He wanted to taste you himself, needed it—needed to regain some control.

You released his balls with a wet smack, climbing up his large frame as he bade to settle half on top of him as your mouth met his. His tongue licked into your mouth with a growl, your fingers massaging his balls in place of your mouth where it was preoccupied with the invasion of his tongue. The taste of champagne and a distinct saltiness mixed on his tongue as you gave into his domination, whimpering your desire for him into his mouth as you released him to tangle both hands in his hair.

“Good choice, baby—she’s almost as greedy for my cock as you are.”

His words were rasped teasingly against your lips, caught on a hitch when she took as much of him down her throat once more—his heavy lids falling to half mast as you watched the pleasure play out on his features,

“Almost,” you growled, and he smirked at the undercurrent of possessiveness in your tone, “but I wanna see if she’s as greedy for pussy too, baby—”

His chest exploded with a snarl of lust, pressing a hard kiss to your mouth, a blind hand roaming down your exposed back to the fabric of your dress, bunching his fingers in the material to drag it up over your ass. A swift slap to your exposed cheek before he kneaded the flesh roughly, spreading it—manipulating the softness to his will, and he grinned,

“Mm, you’re just full of good ideas today, sweetheart.”

Taglist:

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[silksaddle]

The Traveler 2

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x f!reader Western AU

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

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

Word count: 14k (leave me alone)

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

Read Chapter One ~ Series Masterlist

Chapter Two: Six Shooter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

“How about that Mr. Daniels?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, cruel woman.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why—”

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

“That’s why.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jack, you’re…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you tryin’ for me, sugar?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hidin’ it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jack, I really don’t know about—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jack, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need you, Jack— I need you!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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