Can't Wait For More🥰🥰🥰

lay down my body | raymond leon x reader

summary | after a disastrous event, you find your favorite timekeeper at your door. rating | (explicit) tags/warnings | explicit smut, light degradation, sort of toxic dynamic, power imbalance, dirty talk, oral (female receiving). word count | 2k+ a/n | not beta'd because i just wanted to write something because i haven't in a hot minute.

Raymond brackets your face between his hands, his eyes glacial, his lips pressed into an unimpressed line of dissatisfaction as he examines you. An ugly surge of desire forms in your lower belly as his calloused fingers brush against the bruised skin around your eye.

“Stupid girl,” he admonishes. The warm timbre of his voice draws a lick of want through your aching body, mean as it is. You grab onto his wrists, pushing them away from your face.

“I told you not to come tonight,” you say.

“I come when I please,” he says, indignant.

Tuesday night found you desperate, fighting as you never had before while the minutes on your arm dwindled down to seconds. An angry part of you wants to punish Raymond, to look at him with your bruised flesh and say, “What was I supposed to do, wait for you?” but you’re half afraid he’ll say something infinitely more unkind. He does that sometimes: punishes your cruelty with a form of violence you hadn’t known existed until you started to care for him. He has spent too long not looking after anyone but himself, so it is a self-preserving form of affection he administers.

This man doesn’t seem to know the totality of borrowed time—not with the way he turns your head in his hands again, looking over bits of you he’s already seen. You try not to tell him he’s wasting time, but it’s hard—you feel the full measure of a minute every time it goes by, and hate to spend it like this.

“I worked harder last week so I could have this night off,” you grumble, despite yourself. You push his hands away from you again, this time more firmly.

His jaw tenses. The irritation has begun to set in the crevices of his wearied soul.

“You don’t want me to go and I suggest you stop pretending you do. I might just do it, and then you’ll have a lot more than some common thug on the street to worry about.”

He nudges your arm pathetically, the green clock slowly ticking away on it. You despise the way he holds his favors over you. No matter how snug he’s got you under his thumb, he won’t ever receive your blind submission. In a flare of anger, you knock past him and head to the none too lavish bed. Bending over it, you look back to him expectantly.

“What are you doing?” he says.

You raise an eyebrow - a daring challenge. “Thought I better give you what you want before—“

Raymond rushes across the room like he’s forgotten the luxury of his long, sure minutes. Taking your arm in his hand, he tugs you upward with the sheer force of his anger. His fingers grip onto your chin; you watch as a dangerous fire alights within him. “Better not do that, kitten,” he huffs, voice steady even despite the evident anger etched in his features. He presses your body into his own, the grip on your arm beginning to ache.

“You’re hurting me,” you tell him softly.

He loosens his hold on you, but not his vitriol. “If you want to be fucked like a common whore, just ask for it. No need to suggest that I’m some kind of…creep when you know I’m angry because I—“

His words trail off, all that meaning floating in the air between you. Because I care. To him, that’s more dangerous than stolen time.

You soften, putting your hand on top of his. “I don’t want you to worry.”

“Who says I do? You’re nothing to me. Not really,” he responds coolly.

You run your tongue over your teeth, observing him, watching the carefully designed face of neutrality staring back at you. His indifference is a cruelty.

“We’re running out of time,” you remind.

He looks down at your arm. Two minutes. With lips pursued, he looks back at your eyes. You see the wheels turning in his head, all that careful calculating. Of all the things he is, and he is many, clever was not what you expected. But he is clever. You wish he would use it for better.

“You think I make you earn your life,” he enunciates, a tinny quality infecting his voice, “so earn it.”

There’s a sick pleasure that you derive from the lack of emotion in his eyes. You want him so badly it confuses you. There’s an ugly thing that exists inside of you and it wants, wants, wants him. He feeds it. It’s the same thing that makes you bend back over the bed, fingers gripping the comforter, your ass high. Beneath your dress, you wear a flimsy excuse for underwear.

You feel the bulk of him behind you. He smells of leather and sandalwood. If you close your eyes, you can remember what desire looks like on him. There’s heat in your belly that doesn’t simmer as you listen to him take a step closer.

He leans over and knocks your hands from beneath you, forcing you to lie on the bed. The cool of his leather ensemble against the warmth of your skin is an enthralling contrast. “Keep your wrist down,” he demands, voice low and sultry. “We’re gonna play a game, whore.”

Whore. The word causes a confusing pool of desire to gather between your legs. You want to punch him in the mouth. He’s never called you that before. But you like how the grit of the word sounded in his throat. You like how he takes charge. You always have. Every desperate person wants a God, and there’s something comforting about the way he tells you to kneel at his altar.

With your cheek pressed to the mattress, your cheap makeup rubbing off on the shoddy comforter, you await his next move like a prisoner awaits death. Anticipation courses through you as you listen to the sound of his voice, the rustle of his movements, feeling the ghost of him against you as he plots your demise.

“I’ll give you your beloved time, baby,” he coos, his fingers resting on your hips. They squeeze at your flesh there greedily, a warning for what is to come. His nose brushes against your neck, his breath hot against you as he says, “But you’re going to have to cum first. Not a second before. I think you can do that, can’t you? Because despite your pissy attitude, I know just how wet you get for me. And there’s the matter of life and death too. Everyone’s a whore when it comes down to seconds.”

He presses his lips to the back of your neck, moving down your body gradually. Eventually, you feel the ghost of his breath on your nearly exposed ass. Raymond wastes no time drawing up your dress.

“Spread your legs further,” he instructs. You do, eyebrows drawing together as his fingers grope at the flesh of your ass. There are angry imprints no doubt forming as he hums in delight.

“You’re just as wet as I thought you’d be.” His finger ghost downwards, rubbing over your clothed cunt. You can feel the desire that coats your underwear as he presses down. If you weren’t so turned on, you’d be humiliated by the way your body wants him.

Pulling aside the fabric of your flimsy underwear, he presses open mouthed kisses on your ass cheeks. His teeth glide dangerously across the skin too, until he reaches your cunt; when he reaches there, he dives in, his tongue plunging in the warmth of you while two of his fingers rub against your clit.

This is new, and would hardly be a punishment at all if not for the fact that your clock is running out and you can’t see it. Raymond eats at you like a man starved, the slick of his salvia lubricating you better than your own want. He moves his fingers furiously, grunting into you when you dare to push back into him for more.

“Stay still,” he demands gruffly, taking his mouth off of you. You comply, hard as it is to do when he’s touching you like this. “I know you’re close, baby. You’re gonna come on my tongue, aren’t you? Like the good little whore you are for me?”

His tongue swipes through your folds again, lapping up your combined fluids as his fingers press down with more intent on your clit. You fight with everything in you not to move. Your grip on the bedspread tightens and you huff quietly into the mattress, the tension boiling up inside of you. He could split you open right now and you’d thank him for it.

“Ray—” you moan. His nose edges against your cunt as his lips wrap around your clit, sucking obscenely. You can’t stop the way the orgasm takes you, nor do you want to; it’s overwhelming, a thing that happens all through you. Every sense is heightened. When he moans against your cunt, you nearly shatter against him.

He yanks you down quickly, pulling your limp body back on top of him. Before you’ve got time to figure out what he’s doing, he’s flipping over your arm. The green fluorescent numbers tick away. 55 seconds. 54 seconds. He sheds his leather jacket, exposing his forearm. You close your eyes when he holds it over yours. He cradles your jaw with his other hand, an oddly intimate act.

When he moves his arm off of you, you open your eyes. You don’t look at how much time he’s gifted you, but at him. His face of neutrality is all broken up before you, lips smooth with your slick, cheeks red from his own want. Even his eyes betray him as they glance down at you.

You’ve frightened each other. It's intoxicating. You feel the thrum of your heart beating against your chest. He struggles to catch his breath.

Raymond presses his lips to yours in a furious kiss. His hand tilts your head for easier access, and you push up, moving yourself further up his body.

“Not so tough now,” he growls. His fingers pinch at your chin.

You lick your lips, which now taste of you, rolling your eyes up at him. “Doesn’t seem like you are either.”

He grunts in displeasure, running his calloused thumb lightly against your wet lip. “You just want to be fucked dumb, don’t you?”

You turn your wrist. 2 days he’s given you, which is about 24 hours more than usual. The hunger for him makes you ravenous as you consider what he’s just said to you. You ignore it in favor of something more substantial: asking why.

“You don’t usually carry that much time with you.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “One of my little birdies told me about what happened to you.”

“So, what—you gave me some more time to be robbed of as a solution?”

He shakes his head, slightly annoyed. “No. I gave you more time so I could keep you here and show you how and where you should be spending it.” His fingers dip below the collar of your dress. “Stop being a fucking brat.”

“I never liked being told what to do,” you murmur as his thumb skirts over your nipple. He watches your eyes grow heavy as he swirls his finger over it.

“And yet,” he smirks, nodding down to your body.

You mirror his smirk, knowing he’s right. Even if you’ve got something of a paltry life, things like this can still happen, and that’s something, isn’t it? Knowing that things - people - like him, even in all the cruelty, can still rescue you.

Your fingers reach up and run over the pout of his lips. As your eyes search each other’s, you come to a silent agreement: a pledge to care. It’s a stupid, foolish flash of sentimentality you see before it’s masked again by your own respective desires and lust.

It’s almost as good as the time he’s given you—almost as good as all the time he could ever give you.

where’s the part 3?! 😭

I promise it's coming guys 😭🙏🏼

Hi! I'm a little less active now but I saw your post and thought about something.

What would Emmett do if Y/N grew... Impatient of being alone beforehand? Before they got to be together.

Let's say at the time when they were not JUST neighbours, they were interacting and KIND OF more friendly but before they started flirting, she would start going out with someone. What would Emmett do? Would he react or just give up completely?

@vervainandspritz OMG, I LOVE this ask!!!

Ooooo, if she was casually dating, like when she first started taking care of the boys?

He would NOT be happy. Even if it was subconsciously, because he didn’t fully realize how he felt about her yet, Emmett would be sooooooooo jealous.

But he’d cover it up by making fun of whoever she was dating. Like saying something like, “Did you have fun on your date last night with that mama’s boy/pretty boy/moron?” etc.

Or he’d make it sound like whatever the guy drove, wherever he took her to eat, etc. was lame. “He drives that piece of shit? He took you to that dump?”

Soooooooo jealous. 🤭🤭🤭

More people would believe if you didn't delete your account back then, you know that?

I'm aware. Around the time when the post dropped, I was already in a very dark place in life. A lot was happening and my BPD was making it all even more difficult. Because I wasn't able to stay stable enough to make ANYTHING better. I argued with Red, and began getting medicated.

While writing was my only way of coping besides smoking weed and drinking alcohol, so I didn't stop doing it. Made another account where I dropped a fic and it all continued. Soon after Red and Cas got in touch with me, and in about a week we set things straight. A post that was a "clarification" appeared later but it didn't get traction at all.

So yeah. I'm aware technically I could have handled these things better reacting immediately, but in practice I couldn't.

Now I'm here, and ain't going anywhere.

you disgusting mentally ill traumatised bitches need to make a group chat and share your RAPE FANTASIES THERE !! I do NOT want to see the result of your fucked up childhood on my screen THANK YOU!! Go wash the sin and built up sweat off of your disgusting bed rotten bodies and go get a fucking life off the internet Good fucking lord

Whatever you say stinky

A gentle reminder that everyone who uses Ai to write is an absolute fuckhead

Hey, you reblogged that AI post and I was surprised to see something so mean on your blog. "If you cant write unassisted, fuck you, youre a disgrace to the community." Is that really something you want on your blog?

Just in case this isn't a spam message:

Posting AI-generated content to a platform intended to be an archive for writers is not appropriate use of the platform. On a platform intended for human creation, it is rude and inappropriate to clog search results with AI-produced content which often plagiarizes the work of human authors.

Use of generative AI is also horrible for our environment, leading to massive waste of fossil fuel energy and water. We should not be doing damage to our planet for the sake of generating (robot-produced, often plagiarized) fiction, especially when the joy of fiction comes from the creation and emotion of real people.

Rather than giving a prompt to a generative AI, people should consider attempting to write their own work, or asking another writer from the fandom if they would be interested in writing it. Anyone who is capable of typing a prompt into ChatGPT is capable of writing a story. The first attempts may not be amazing, but that is true of any skill, and anyone can improve with time and practice - and while ChatGPT may give you big returns in your time, it doesn't give you practice, growth, or creativity, which is where the joy of writing should come from.

Lauren, that was INSANELY good! I absolutely love when Rippner is MEAN😈 The story is smooth, Y/N is spicy and everything goes together really well. Great job 👏🏻

Lesson Learned

•• Jackson Rippner x Reader ••

***!!!Warnings: mature sexual content, CNC, demeaning language, verbal abuse, condescension, harassment, mild choking, injury/harm, minors DNI, 18+ readers only!!!***

…………………………………………………………………………….

Standing back in the kitchen, Y/N turned and looked through the pass-through window as she heard the ring of the bell above the entrance.

“Oh, fuck,” she muttered under her breath as she saw him come through the door.

This was the last thing she needed right now, having to deal with him. She’d had the longest day of the longest week she could ever remember, her feet and back were killing her, and she just wanted to go home. But it was only 2:00 pm, and she still had over six hours left on her shift.

“Your favorite patron’s here,” Angie teased her as she saw Y/N trying to hide back in the kitchen.

“Please, please will you handle him this time? I’m begging you, Angie,” Y/N said. “Just this once.”

“Sorry, hun, you drew the short straw when he first started coming in here. You have to deal with him.”

“That was ages ago!” Y/N practically shrieked. “When are you guys gonna let me off the hook?!”

Angie grinned.

“Maybe when he actually starts tipping,” she said. “Which’ll be more likely the faster you get out there, you know.”

“The day he leaves a tip, or even shows the tiniest hint of being a decent human being, will be declared a modern day miracle,” Y/N replied. What she didn’t realize was that she was running her fingers through her hair and adjusting her breasts in her bra as she spoke.

Angie gave her a quizzical brow as she watched her and then responded.

“For someone who hates him so much, you’re going through an awful lot of trouble to gussy yourself up,” she said.

Y/N immediately dropped her hands from her chest.

“What?! No, I’m not!”

“Then your hair and your tits somehow just primped themselves,” Angie smirked with sarcasm.

“Whatever,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes and tightening the apron around her waist. “You and everyone else here can go to hell.”

“Admit it, you secretly like him,” said Angie.

“I like him better than I like you right now,” Y/N countered, “although it’s a pretty close call. You both can kiss my ass.”

“I think he’d probably take you up on that,” Angie smirked again. “You two just need to fuck already and get it over with.”

“I’m walking away now,” Y/N said flippantly over her shoulder as she headed out of the kitchen, Angie laughing behind her.

Walking through the swinging door, Y/N stopped behind the counter and watched him. She was still slightly hidden by the coffee pot station, and she observed with narrowed eyes as he took his wallet out of his back pocket and placed it on the table before taking a seat. He always sat in the same booth, and ever since the very first time he’d come in, she’d had to wait on him.

At first, she’d won the opportunity, having beaten all the other women at a game of rock, paper, scissors. When he’d first come in, they were all climbing over each other to serve him, everyone noticing how good looking and sexy he was. But Y/N had won, and a huge smile was plastered on her face as she made her way over to him. But by the end of his meal, however, her smile was barely hanging on.

The guy was a cocky, condescending, sexist asshole, and he’d soon revealed this within his first few visits. At first, Y/N had thought he was just trying to be funny, or maybe that he was a bit chauvinistic, but just trying to appear smooth. However, after his visits became at least twice a week frequencies, they’d all come to learn he was just an asshole.

After all the other waitresses had taken a turn serving him, they decided that another round of rock, paper, scissors would determine who’d have to deal with him from there on out, and just as fantastically as she’d won the first time around, Y/N had conversely epically lost the second time. She was convinced she was cursed.

Taking a deep breath and grabbing the coffee pot (he always had a cup of coffee), she stepped out from behind the counter and begrudgingly made her way over to his booth, her heart rate increasing slightly, which she convinced herself was because she was already annoyed with him.

Jackson was casually reclined in the booth, sitting back like he owned the place, with a bored and slightly irritated expression on his face. He didn’t have to look around or call any attention to himself; he knew she’d be there in a matter of minutes, and he drummed his fingers on the back of the booth as he waited. And then, as always, he could smell her before he saw her, the enticing, floral, feminine notes of her perfume preceding her, which he always tried to ignore but somehow never could. Unconsciously, he paused drumming his fingers to lift his hand to his head and brush his fingers through his hair before then reaching down and quickly straightening his blazer.

Taking a final deep breath, Y/N approached his table and tried to ignore how sexy he looked as she stopped in front of him. Without bothering to greet him in any way, she simply reached out and grabbed the overturned coffee mug in front of him, flipping it upright and then filling it up. After she finished, she steeled herself and then finally looked at him, raising her brows expectantly, but her expression still of exhausted irritation.

“What do you want?” she asked him with as much enthusiasm as one would have for picking up dog shit. In fact, she’d rather have been doing that right then instead of serving him.

“Paying customers deserve more courtesy than that,” Jackson said to her, his condescending smirk appearing immediately, his blue eyes shining with self-satisfaction.

“Tipping customers deserve courtesy,” Y/N countered with a challenging tilt of her head, “but you deserve something I’m not allowed to say while on the clock.”

Smirking, Jackson arched a brow at her.

“In a bad mood today, sunshine?” he said mockingly.

“I wasn’t until you walked in,” she replied.

“Then I’ve done my job,” Jackson smirked again.

She narrowed her eyes at him then, shoving the coffee mug back towards him with intentionally too much force, causing the hot brown liquid to slosh over the rim and splatter across the tabletop. He could wipe it up himself if he didn’t like the mess, she thought to herself.

“You’ve got ten seconds to tell me what you want, otherwise your plate will contain whatever shit is clogged in the grease trap behind the fryer,” she said to him.

“At least then we’d know you were actually doing your job and cleaning the kitchen. After all, it’s clear your talents are limited to diner-related tasks.” Jackson briefly looked down then and gestured to the coffee she’d spilled on the table before he continued. “Although, clearly, basic competency and coordination aren’t your strong suits, so hopefully that grease trap isn’t too complicated for you.”

At that, Y/N felt about ready to rage slap him.

“Maybe one of the other gals around here can show you how to properly handle women’s work. Then you’d be good for something.”

Her blood boiling, Y/N looked down at him and spoke through gritted teeth.

“What do you want?” she demanded again slowly.

Goddamn her boss for not allowing her to ever refuse him service. Back when Jackson had first started coming there, she’d asked Stu, the owner, if they could tell Jackson that he wasn’t welcome back again. But Stu was nearly as much of a sexist ass as Jackson was, and along with not caring how Jackson made Y/N feel, he also only saw dollar signs.

“A paying customer is a paying customer,” he’d replied, and then he’d ended the conversation.

Sure, Y/N could have made Jackson’s experiences there unfavorable in the hopes that he wouldn’t return, but she’d already done that (and continued to do it), and unfortunately, it hadn’t deterred him. It almost seemed like Jackson got some kind of sick pleasure from tormenting her, and no matter how much lip she gave back to him, how unpleasant she acted, and how much she insulted him, he still kept coming back.

Of course, there was the other resort of spitting in his food or violating it in some way, but no matter how much Jackson tormented her, Y/N couldn’t bring herself to do that. It was too disgusting, not to mention Stu would fire her on the spot if he ever caught her spitting in a customer’s food or purposefully wasting it by intentionally cooking it poorly. And although she was unaware, Jackson had been watching her for long enough to know that she never did anything like that, so he never had to worry about if she'd fucked with his food.

Still waiting for him to reply, Y/N continued to glare at Jackson, and he smirked in amusement at having done such a good job of pissing her off. And now, he thought, why not get her in a little trouble?

“You know, I’m feeling so off put and unwelcome by your attitude that I’d like to speak to your manager,” he said then. “I feel it’s only right he knows what kind of treatment you’re displaying to patrons.”

“Sorry, he’s not here; you just missed him…Jack.”

Y/N smiled to herself as she saw Jackson’s smirk immediately falter. For whatever reason, he hated being called “Jack” instead of “Jackson”, and she guessed it was from a childhood of bullying due to his last name.

She’d discovered it long ago, after his first few visits. Initially, he'd paid with cash those times, but one day, he'd handed her plastic, and when running his debit card through the register, she thanked him for his business after handing him his card, and he’d quickly corrected her.

“Well, thanks for stopping in again,” she’d said. “Have a good night, Jack.”

His face grew dark.

“It’s Jackson,” he said back to her. “Don’t ever call me Jack.”

Then he was out the door before Y/N could say anything more. Puzzled, she looked down absentmindedly at the receipt printing out of the credit card reader, and when she looked at the print, her eyes landed on his last name, and she realized she hadn't made the connection initially.

Rippner. There was her answer; she immediately caught the joke.

Ever since then, she’d occasionally call him Jack just to piss him off, but she hadn’t said it in months. And he called her every condescending pet name in the books, never having actually called her her name. In fact, she wasn’t sure if he even knew her actual name.

But he knew her name, alright. He knew everything about her. Everything.

He knew she’d been a waitress there for three years now, that she was single and lived alone in a one-bedroom apartment, that she baked chocolate chip cookies and called her parents every Sunday night, that she used strawberry scented body wash, and a million other things about her. He’d seen her do everything and knew her daily routines and all her behaviors, including the fact that she masturbated once a week, working at herself with the sexiest little pouts and expressions scrunching up her beautiful face as whiny, desperate little moans escaped her mouth.

He made it a point never to miss watching her when she did that, and he’d never gotten away without a raging hard-on. As he’d follow it up with jerking himself off to what he’d just seen, he’d always come hard with the sound of her moans still echoing in his ears and her pouty face imprinted in his vision as his cum would release with the force of a bullet leaving a gun. He always needed two tissues to clean up from her, and he was never sure if he felt more angry or more satisfied after he finished. After all, he resented the fact that she had the hold on him that she unknowingly did. The one time a different waitress had had to serve him because Y/N had apparently called out sick, Jackson had got up from the booth and left without another word, and then angrily gone home, once again unsure whether he was angrier with her for daring to not be there or himself for being so bothered by her absence.

As Jackson glared up at her after she’d called him Jack, she smiled smugly, despite simultaneously thinking that he looked even sexier when he was angry. And as she noticed in her peripheral how he clenched his fists, she found herself wondering how those hands of his would feel squeezing her thighs or pulling her hair, or how skillful his fingers could be working inside her. As much as she hated to admit it, it was thoughts like those that ran through her mind as she’d bring herself to climax on top of her duvet, and then afterwards, she’d be disgusted with herself for getting off to a man who was such a condescending piece of shit.

As her luck would have it, Stu appeared from the back office just then, revealing that he was in fact still there. Upon seeing him, Jackson’s glare turned into an evil smile, and he spoke again.

“Guess it’s my lucky day; looks like he came back. So, do me a favor and send him over here, otherwise I’ll have to get him myself, and we both know that if I have to do that, you’ll be in even more trouble.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes again, her self-control hanging on by a severely frayed thread.

“If you’re so unhappy with my service, why don’t you just leave?” she asked him. It was the same question she asked him nearly every time he was there.

“Someone’s gotta teach you how to do your job right, sweetheart. I’m doing you a favor and letting you practice on me, although, as usual, you’re failing miserably.”

“I swear to God, Rippner…”

“Are you gonna send him over, or should we just give him your two weeks notice right now?”

Glaring at him again, Y/N spoke a final time before turning away to get Stu. She couldn't afford to lose this job.

“There’s a very special place in hell for people like you,” she said to him lowly, but Jackson just gave her that cunty grin.

As she walked away, his eyes uncontrollably lowered to her ass, and he was immediately reminded of her panties. He knew which ones she’d put on today, and he felt his cock twitch as he thought about the lace-edged cotton and ripping it off her hips.

Y/N watched from behind the counter with her arms crossed over her chest as Jackson spoke to Stu, Jackson pretending to be a perfectly pleasant customer. She could see the phony smile and hear the friendlier tone of voice he'd used the first couple times he'd come in and she'd served him. She almost laughed to herself as she thought about how wrong she'd been when she initially thought he was charming.

After several minutes, Stu turned and walked back over to her, and just before he spoke, Y/N caught the smug smile Jackson was shooting her over Stu's shoulder.

"He just told me that you refused to offer him a menu and that you intentionally spilled coffee all over the table and told him he could clean it up himself, and then that you told him he should get out," Stu was looking at her sternly, Y/N not responding. "I don't care that he's a regular or how many times you've served him, you don't get smart with paying customers like that. Do you hear me?"

"Stu, the guy's playing you," Y/N replied with exasperation. "He's a total asshole. He's just pretending to be nice to get me in trouble."

"Well, if you treated him the way he says you did, then you're lucky I don't fire you right now."

"Stu! He harasses me every time he's here!"

"I don't wanna hear it," Stu held up a hand and stopped her. "Now, I want you to go back over there and apologize to him, and then you're gonna stay after your shift tonight and mop the floors."

"What?! No way!" Y/N cried.

"Well, then you can walk out of here right now just like you told him to do," was Stu's careless reply. "But your name won't be on the schedule anymore."

Internally seething, Y/N took a deep breath and uncrossed her arms.

"Fine," she gritted out.

Stepping out from behind the counter again, Y/N slowly walked towards Jackson's table, holding his eyes and glaring at him the entire time she approached. God damn those eyes of his.

"Hi there," Jackson said with that phony smile as she stopped in front of him. "Feeling a little more chipper now, are we?"

At the sight of his infuriating (gorgeous) smile, Y/N clenched her fists at her sides, and when she opened her mouth, he cut her off.

"Just remember, you owe me an apology, sweetheart, so think very carefully about what you're going to say, unless you want me to talk to your boss again."

But just after Jackson said that, they both turned to look as Stu called out to no one in particular that he was leaving to go to the bank, then he pushed open the door, the bell ringing above it as he exited.

Now her turn to sport a smug smile, Y/N looked back at Jackson and then spoke. This was her chance, and after the week she’d had and the way Jackson had just gotten her in trouble, she decided to finally stoop to his level.

“Looks like your luck has run out,” she said.

Then, before Jackson could respond, Y/N reached out and grabbed the mug of coffee she’d poured for him earlier and lifted it from the table. She grinned even wider as their eyes locked again, and then, after a second’s pause, she tipped the mug in her hand as she held it above him, pouring the hot coffee into his lap and relishing the look on his face as it hit his body and drenched his clothes.

“Fuck!” Jackson shouted the second he felt the hot liquid hit him, and he jumped to get up from the booth, but the entire contents of the mug had already soaked him. Fortunately, it had cooled slightly since when Y/N had first poured it, but it was still very hot, and his entire front was stained and soaked.

“Fuck!” Jackson shouted again as he stepped out of the booth, Y/N watching him with a smugly triumphant smirk. She stepped back a couple feet and had crossed her arms over her chest, continuing to smile as she heard a mix of whispers and sniggers coming from the other patrons and the servers who’d just witnessed what had happened.

After looking down at himself and shaking the dripping liquid from his clothes and hands, Jackson looked up at Y/N with a heated glare.

“You should really be more careful, Jack,” she said after their eyes had met. “Coffee’s hot.”

Narrowing his eyes at her, Jackson still stood there, his clothes still dripping.

“And it looks like it’s time for my break, so I’m not gonna be able to help you clean up,” she continued.

As she said that, Y/N pulled out the towel that was tucked into the waistband of her apron and lifted it between her fingers, tauntingly dangling it in the air.

“Sorry, Jack,” she finished then. “You take care now.”

And with that, Y/N whipped around and walked away, swinging the towel around in the air as she moved and disappearing through the kitchen door as the smug smile remained on her face.

Her smug little smile wouldn’t stay on her face for long, Jackson immediately decided as he huffed out an angry breath. Glaring after her once more, he then walked towards the entrance and stormed out the door, the bell above it sounding out its signature ring as he did.

•.•.•.•.•

As she finished putting the last of the chairs on top of the tables, Y/N briefly looked out the window into the street.

The occasional group of people walked by on the sidewalk, making their way to the local bars as the rest of the daytime businesses they passed had long since shut their doors.

It was dark out now, and the diner had officially closed two hours ago. But as an addition to her punishment of staying after her shift to mop the floors, Stu had designated Y/N as the server who had to wait out the last diners. So rather than running back home for a short break, or sitting in the back and having a quick bite to eat, she'd had to stay up front and finish serving and then cleaning up after the final straggling customers while everyone else had been allowed to go home. At this point, she'd been there longer than twelve hours, and once the customers had finally left and she'd locked the door, she'd then had to take all their plates and cutlery back to the kitchen and wash them by hand before finally being able to put up the chairs and prepare to mop.

Dispensing a glass of soda for herself from the fountain, she momentarily took a break as she sipped on it before then sitting at one of the counter stools and briefly sliding off her shoes. Flexing and pointing her toes as she felt the relief of finally sitting down, she then rolled her neck and stretched her back before reaching for her glass again.

When the diner was like this — empty, quiet, and now only lit up by the lights of the fountain and coffee machines, kitchen lamps, and dessert cooler, it was almost serene. With the exception of tonight, she usually enjoyed closing up by herself because she could relish in the quiet and people watch out the window for a while. But tonight, she was still here because of him, and she almost wished he was there so that she could drench him again as she'd throw her soda in his face, the arrogant, cocky bastard. So unbearably infuriating and sexist and annoying and menacing and hot....no, not hot. Not sexy and somehow still arousing, even though she hated his guts. Of course not.

Stop it, Y/N, she thought to herself. Why are you still thinking about him like that? You hate him. He doesn't turn you on; he infuriates you. You don't enjoy the hint of something sinister that he gives off every time he looks at you with those eyes. You don't want to know what it would feel like to have him forcefully pin you down with one hand as he reached into your panties with the other. That's not what you think about when you get yourself off.

It was the hardest she'd ever tried to deny every thought to herself, and as usual, it wasn't very effective. But she did what she always did and forced herself to think about something else as she slipped her shoes back on and stood from the stool. Untying her apron from her waist, she mindlessly dropped it down onto the countertop and then headed towards the back to retrieve the mop and bucket.

Reaching for the cleaning solution, she uncapped the bottle and poured the measured amount into the bucket before then turning on the spigot beside the floor drain and filling the bucket with water. As the water loudly flowed from the line, she could almost swear she heard the ring of the bell above the entry door sounding from up front, but she knew it was just a phantom sound. It happened often when she was alone, similar to the thought that she'd heard her phone ringing while she was in the shower, only to look at it upon getting out and seeing she had no missed calls. Besides, it was impossible — she'd locked the door behind the last customers. She'd made sure of it, as she wanted to get on with the cleaning and mopping as quickly as possible without the risk of someone else walking in and begging for a quick bite.

Once the bucket was full enough, she sunk the mop inside it and then pushed it out to the main area, struggling, as usual, due to the bum wheel the stupid thing had on it. Looking down in order to try and maneuver the bucket where she wanted it to go, she pushed it back behind the counter to start there first. But as as she nearly had it where she wanted it, it rolled awkwardly, causing a small wave of water to slosh over the edge and create an instant puddle around her feet.

"Shit!" she said in frustration as she released the mop handle, and she reached into her back pocket for the rag that she'd tucked there to keep under her feet as she moved throughout the room. Instead using it to sop up the puddle, she bent over and wiped at it, pieces of her hair falling in her face as she did so.

When she'd absorbed as much as she was able to with the rag — which wasn't a lot — she stood back up and tossed it through the kitchen pass-through, hearing it land somewhere on the floor behind her with a wet plop. She then wiped her hands on her jeans and then lifted them to smooth her hair out of her face, and it was when she then turned around and lifted her head that she immediately screamed and jumped backwards, the shock of seeing him sitting at one of the counter stools enough to nearly give her a heart attack.

"Holy fuck!" she cried out as she clutched her chest, the pounding of her heart was still rushing through her ears.

"Evening, sunshine," Jackson said to her with the biggest smirk on his face.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" she practically shouted as she looked at him, completely caught off guard. "Where the hell did you come from?! How the fuck did you get in here?!"

Jackson just kept smiling.

"Door was open," he said as he watched her with amusement. "You really ought to lock it when you're here all alone, you know."

No, there was no way it had been unlocked; she distinctly remembered locking it. She shook her head.

"Look, I don't know how you got in here, but if you don't get out right now, I'm calling the cops," she said to him.

"Oh really?" Jackson mocked her as their eyes remained locked. "And tell me how you're going to do that without this."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out her phone, holding it out enough to reveal it but not within a reachable distance for Y/N to grab it, or even try. She narrowed her eyes as she remained braced against the back counter.

"How the hell did you get in here?" she asked him again.

"Like I said, the door was unlocked."

"No, it wasn't," she responded with a shake of her head.

"Doesn't matter," Jackson said as he slipped her phone back in his pocket and leaned forward across the counter. "What matters is that I never got my lunch this afternoon, which means you still owe me a meal, which I have every intention of getting out of you."

"Come back during business hours," she said, silently trying to remember if her keys were under the counter where she usually left them, or still in her purse somewhere in the office. She could make it to her car by going out the back door if she had to. But as she suddenly remembered tossing them in her purse when she'd punched in that morning, she mentally cursed.

"No, now works better for me," Jackson responded. "This way, it's nice and quiet, and I get your full, undivided attention. After all, you still owe me that apology, too. I wanna hear loud and clear as you tell me how sorry you are."

As he said that, Y/N’s heart began pounding even faster. The look in his eyes was making her feel some bizarre combination of terrified and thrilled, and although the logical part of her brain told her she shouldn't challenge him, that she should just somehow get out of there and find a way to call the police, the part of her that wanted to piss him off even further won out.

"The last thing you'll ever get from me is an apology, Jack," she said tauntingly as she straightened herself from the counter. Her eyes were fixed on him with intensity. "So I hate to tell you, but you wasted your time coming here, Jack. And if you don't get out right now, Jack, you're gonna get a repeat of what I did to you this afternoon. Jack."

As she'd been speaking, he'd risen from his stool, staring her down with equal intensity across the counter. With each utterance of his name, his anger grew, matched to the same level with bitter arousal as she spat out his name from that pretty little mouth.

"As simple-minded as we both know you are, I hope for your sake you know when to shut up," came Jackson's response, his voice low with anger. "You're on wafer-thin ice, sunshine."

As she registered his words, she was vaguely aware of the skip of her heart and the tickle of wetness that had suddenly formed in her panties, but she was equally as angry.

"I said get out," she growled at him, but Jackson remained where he stood.

"Tell me you're sorry," he replied.

"Never."

"Last chance."

"Fuck you."

At that, Jackson shifted, and the movement startled her so much that, instinctively, Y/N reached out and picked up the glass of soda she'd been drinking, which was still sitting on the counter between them. Without another thought, she thrusted it forward, throwing the contents at Jackson and once again drenching his front as the liquid flew from the glass.

As he registered what she'd just done, there was a moment of tense silence between them as Jackson looked down and processed his current state. Y/N was momentarily frozen in her spot as she watched him, but as soon as he slowly lifted his head again and looked at her, her heart began to race. The fury in Jackson's eyes unmistakable, there was a brief second of insane tension between them, and then, something snapped, and, dropping the glass, Y/N took off.

Hurling himself over the counter, Jackson reached for her as she dashed away, but he narrowly missed her, and Y/N tore out from behind the counter, darting over the mop bucket as Jackson now stood behind the counter, too. He dashed forward after her, kicking the mop bucket out of the way as she jumped over the remains of the puddle still left on the floor. She'd made it out from behind the counter and then ran for the front door, but in a second, she felt herself slipping, her left foot having landed in another puddle left by the mop bucket, apparently having sloshed more water than she realized when she'd been maneuvering it behind the counter.

She shrieked as she slipped, her left foot sliding and her knee going down as her legs split beneath her and then she hit the floor. She could hear Jackson behind her, and just as she tried to pull her left leg forward and hurriedly get back on her feet, Jackson reached her and bent down, grabbing her ankle and pulling her back, her torso sliding across the floor, and she shrieked again.

Her heart pounding, Y/N rotated her ankle in Jackson's grasp and rolled her body, turning over onto her back as he continued to grip her ankle. She heard him grunting in his efforts to keep his hold on her as she then thrashed around, and when he looked down at her and their eyes met, she gave a final violent shake of her leg, causing his grip on her to slip from her ankle.

His hand was now on the heel of her shoe instead, and Y/N wrenched her leg out of his grasp, her foot slipping from her shoe, which Jackson still held in his hand as she then pulled away. She seized the moment of him being briefly thrown by the loss of his hold on her, and she rolled onto her stomach once again before then pushing herself up and scrambling to her feet, once again running for the front door.

Jackson was right behind her, having quickly recovered from losing his grip on her as she pulled her foot from her shoe. As she got to her feet again, he reached for her once more, but he slipped in the same puddle she had, and he stumbled as she ran for the front door. He managed to remain upright, however, and upon regaining his balance, he saw her quickly look over her shoulder at him before she darted again and shoved open the front door, the bell above it ringing as she ran through it and out into the parking lot.

Charged with fury and a dark desire, Jackson's only goal was catching her, teaching that little bitch a lesson and forcing every last plea and whine out of her that he could. Tearing through the door after her, he saw up ahead by the glow of the street lights that she was running through the parking lot, foregoing the sidewalk and cutting through the alley behind the building next door.

Immediately running after her, Jackson followed the same path she took as he kept his focus on her form up ahead. Every so often, she'd look back over her shoulder to see where he was, and when she did, she slowed down enough to allow more distance between them to close. Of course, Jackson was faster than her, but she'd got a head start, and she picked up her pace again as she turned back from looking at him again.

Her heart pounding and her body pumping with adrenaline, Y/N's only thought was the here and now, looking for anything she could throw in his path to detour him or any sudden shortcut she could take to dash away. As she reached the end of the alley, she saw several large metal trash cans up ahead, and upon reaching them, she blindly grabbed them and hurled them over onto their sides, the cans falling open and rolling behind her as they landed with a bang and created a minor obstacle to the path back out onto the street.

Jackson saw her take the turn to the left, and as he easily jumped over the trash cans she’d knocked over, he ran after her down the sidewalk, her hair flying behind her as she ran. Being at the end of the alley, this area of the road was empty of any other people, the only sounds being each of their pounding footsteps as their feet met the pavement. But she was still missing a shoe, and as she stumbled yet again due to the uneven impact that had caused for her feet, she looked over her shoulder again to see how close he was and if she had the time to take the slightest pause.

Jackson had closed more distance between them due to her stumbling, and as he saw her look back again, he caught the questioning expression on her face as she was clearly debating something. But then they’d reached the busier part of the street, and she suddenly dashed off the sidewalk and into the street, bounding between two parked cars and crossing, narrowly missing being hit by an oncoming car as she ran across, the driver honking their horn and slamming on the brakes.

After barely dodging the oncoming car, Y/N looked behind her again and saw that the driver was still paused in the road, and Jackson had been cut off as the car had slammed on its brakes. Quickly, she reached down and ripped off her other shoe.

Slamming on the hood of the car with his fist, Jackson then rounded the front and followed after her once more, seeing her stand back up from quickly bending over to remove her other shoe.

Y/N looked up again to see Jackson just a few feet away as he ran towards her again, and she turned to keep running, but she tripped slightly on the curb as she stepped back onto the sidewalk, and she doubled over as she tried to catch her footing. As she reached out her free hand to try and steady herself, she felt Jackson’s fingers suddenly curl around her wrist and pull her back towards him, her body slamming against his as he yanked her more tightly in his grip and then their torsos collided. She screamed as she felt him throw her against the body of a car parked along the curb, and as her back slammed against the door, she cried out again in pain.

Every vein in Jackson’s body was pulsing as he wrapped his arms around Y/N and threw her against the car. Her chest was pressed into his and he could feel her lungs heaving as she cried out and then tried to catch her breath. She thrashed around until he pinned her harder against the car, and she was finally forced still momentarily as he then slotted his knee between her legs and grabbed her wrist.

She shouted out again, and she tried to pull her wrist out of his grasp, but to no avail. As she was forced still, she felt Jackson’s knee slot between her thighs, and she tried to ignore the way it created a pleasuring friction against her panties. She felt herself dampening again as she met his eyes and saw how he was looking at her as his chest heaved against hers, and she pictured him lifting her legs and slamming his cock into her with the same force with which he’d pushed her against that car.

Finally getting her still, Jackson looked down at her as his breathing heaved and he grunted as she struggled against him once more. When his knee met the apex of her thighs, he looked at her again and their eyes met, and he couldn’t decide in that moment what he wanted more, to wrap his hand around her neck as he slammed his cock inside her pussy, or force her down onto her knees and shove his cock down her throat.

What he didn’t realize was that she was still holding her shoe in her other hand, which she’d hidden behind her back as she’d been thrown against the car. Thrashing around and shouting once more, Jackson was forced to shift, and when he did, she had enough room to pull her arm out from behind her back. Before he could see it coming, Y/N lifted her arm and whacked her shoe across the side of his head, and Jackson was forced to release her wrist, reacting to the unexpected hit and momentarily retracting from her.

As Jackson pulled away, she leaned forward and hit him again, whacking her shoe against his head once more before then shoving his chest and knocking him back further. Then she slid out from between him and the car and took off again, throwing her shoe to the ground as she did.

Seething with anger now, Jackson quickly recovered and turned as she ran off, immediately chasing after her again as she dashed down the sidewalk. But she was at a disadvantage, as the toll her long day and lack of food had taken on her was catching up with her now, and she was feeling the exhaustion creep up as she panted with each step, feeling herself slowing down as she desperately tried to keep running at the same pace. On a regular day, Jackson would already be faster than her, but especially now, having long since lost her head start, he was right on her tail.

It was obvious that she was slowing down now, and as he kept his eyes on her as she kept running, Jackson could see that she was making her way back to the diner, the two of them having essentially run in a big circle and now poised to end up right back where they started. In the last block, he decided to let her keep the slightest gain on him, because as soon as he had her back inside, her victories would be over.

The diner in sight up ahead, Y/N pushed herself the last block and ran with everything she had. She looked over her shoulder once more and saw Jackson right behind her, close enough that he could just reach out and grab her, but he didn’t. As she finally reached the front door of the diner, she wrenched it open just enough to slip inside, Jackson slamming his shoulder into it as she yanked it closed behind her. Pulling with all her might on the handle, she kept him from pulling it open long enough to lock it, and once she’d turned the lock, she backed a few feet away, panting as she watched him briefly pull on the door. He looked up at her then and their eyes met through the window, but when she then saw him reach into his pocket and pull out a key, her eyes widened in shock as she then realized that that was how he’d gotten in in the first place that night.

He had a key to the diner. How?

Not wasting the time to stand there and watch him open the door, Y/N backed away further and then turned around and ran to the back hallway, trying to decide where to go. She panicked as she saw that Stu had yet again left the huge laundry sacks full of soiled linens in front of the back door, blocking the exit. As she stood there, she heard the distinct sound of the bell above the door ringing, and she knew she was trapped now. Her only possible option would be to somehow get back to the front door and go out that way again. But she’d have to get through the kitchen first.

She could hear Jackson’s footsteps approaching, and she quietly began weaving her way around the huge laundry sacks and then slipping into the kitchen, trying to keep her breathing as quiet as possible.

After watching her for so long, Jackson knew the entire layout of the diner, and he also knew that Stu had left the laundry at the back door as usual. Because of that, he knew Y/N would have no option but to make her way through the kitchen and try to go back to the front door. So rather than follow after her down the back hall, he walked through the main dining area and headed for the swinging door that led into the kitchen, knowing he’d be able to intercept her somewhere on her way through the kitchen.

She realized she no longer heard his footsteps, and as Y/N tiptoed slowly across the tiled floor, she kept looking over her shoulder, unsure if he’d be behind her or in front of her. When she turned her head forward once more as she passed by the dishwashing sink, she accidentally knocked over a huge metal ladle that’s handle had been sticking out over the edge of the counter. As it clanged loudly on the tile as it hit the floor, she gasped and squeezed her eyes shut in a regretful wince as she waited for the sound to stop.

Opening her eyes again, she then quickly slipped off to the side, hiding behind the tall bread racks just in time, as she saw Jackson appear through the doorframe as she tucked herself deeper behind them. Slipping her hand up to her mouth, she tried to muffle the sound of her breathing as her heart pounded, seeing him look around and then step further into the kitchen, passing by her as he went to look back by the walk-in pantry.

As soon as he was out of sight, Y/N slipped out from behind the racks and continued through the kitchen. What she didn’t know was that Jackson knew exactly where she’d been hiding, though, and as soon as she’d stepped back out onto the floor, he turned back around and followed after her.

Now passing by the servers’ station, Y/N was only a few feet away from the swinging door that led out to the dining area. Taking a final calculated step over a wayward crate of drinking glasses, she leaned forward and reached for the door, but just as her hands were about to come in contact with it, she suddenly felt a pair of arms roughly wrap around her waist and violently yank her backward.

She screamed as she felt him grab her, and as her back met his chest and he lifted her feet off the floor, she thrashed around again, kicking her legs and wriggling her torso as Jackson squeezed her so tight she thought she was going to puke. Her arms still momentarily outstretched for the door, she desperately reached for it one more time before Jackson walked them further backwards and then lowered her back to the floor, whipping her around to face him and then shoving her back against the wall, grabbing her wrists and pinning them on either side of her head as he pressed his chest into hers.

“Looks like your luck has run out, sweetheart,” he growled, throwing back at her the words she’d said to him earlier that day. Then before she could respond, he wrenched her away from the wall, throwing her against the counter instead and pinning hers arms once more.

Screaming, Y/N thrashed around in his grip, fighting against him as he squeezed her wrists and pressed his body into hers.

“LET GO OF ME!!!” she screamed, and then forced herself forward, shoving herself against him as Jackson kept hold of her wrists. As he shook her violently, she screamed again, but when she tried to pull her wrists from his grasp, she was unable to, and he just yanked her towards him again, once more whipping them around and shoving her back up against the freezer door.

“You put up a decent fight, sweetheart, I’ll give you that,” he breathed out. “But we both know you’ve got nothing left. And now I want that apology.”

Staring at each other, both their chests were heaving, and after a split second, Y/N narrowed her eyes and then clicked her tongue before puckering her lips and then spitting in his face.

Momentarily pulling back as her spit hit his cheek, Jackson unintentionally loosened his grip on her wrists, and Y/N ducked beneath his arms and made for the door once more. But Jackson recovered too quickly, dragging his sleeve over his cheek to wipe away her little gift as he lunged after her and grabbed her around the waist once again. Grunting as she fought him, he flung her up onto the counter and she cried out as the back of her head hit the shelf above them. Momentarily seeing stars, Y/N briefly stopped resisting him, and Jackson seized the opportunity as her head hung in front of him and her shoulders sagged. Standing between her legs dangling over the counter, he raised his hand and wrapped his fist in her hair, roughly yanking her head back to force her to look up, and she whimpered as he did.

"You don't know when to quit, do you?" he said to her as he shook his head, and her eyes held his.

Still panting, her chest heaving intensely, Y/N narrowed her eyes as she spoke.

"You're a miserable piece of shit," she muttered as she still struggled to catch her breath.

His fury reigniting once more, Jackson released her hair and dragged his hand to her neck instead, wrapping his fingers around her throat and squeezing, hearing the satisfying sound of her breath catching in her throat as she struggled to inhale, her eyes widening briefly.

"And you're even stupider than I thought," he shot back, his grip on her neck slightly tightening, but she could still speak.

"I hate you," Y/N croaked out.

Jackson tightened his grip even more, and he was vaguely aware of his cock twitching in his pants.

"So stupid..." he replied. "Now say it."

He jostled her by her neck as he demanded the apology once more.

"Never," Y/N croaked again.

"Say it."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Fuck you, Jack."

At that, Jackson's veins pulsed, and he felt the familiar combination of anger and arousal that plagued him every time he watched her. As he suddenly pictured her getting herself off, his cock immediately stiffened, and when he looked down to see her nipples hardened beneath her shirt and her eyes briefly dart to his lips, he clenched his jaw and released a humorless scoff before yanking her face to his by her throat.

"Little bitch," he growled, and then he slammed his mouth against hers as he tightened his grip on her neck a final time.

Moaning and then squirming as Jackson's lips landed forcefully on hers, Y/N wasn't sure whether she was more surprised or aroused as she fell forward into him. The anger returned after the initial shock, and after a few seconds of her lips battling with his, she lifted her arms and planted her palms on his chest, shoving him away and feeling his hand fall from her neck, the grip of which had loosened slightly when he'd pulled her to him. But when she forced him away and he backed up a step, their eyes met once more, and there was no denying the hatred-fueled desire that had come to a head between them.

Hurling himself back at her, Jackson fisted her hair again as he crashed their lips together once more, only this time, Y/N accepted him with angry eagerness, moaning again as she kissed him back, gripping his shoulders and sharply sinking her nails into his skin through his jacket.

Jackson hissed at the feel of her nails clenching his shoulders, and he quickly grabbed her wrists and roughly yanked them down, holding her palms against the counter as her legs wrapped around his waist.

He heard her moan again as he thrusted his bulge against her core, and then he released her wrists as she leaned into him and scooted closer to the edge of the counter. He'd never wanted any woman more than he wanted her, and his admission of that to himself only made him angrier, and he violently grabbed her thighs to pull her even closer, squeezing so hard that she tore her mouth from his to cry out in pain.

As she felt Jackson's hands squeeze her with nearly blinding pain, Y/N had to part from his mouth, a high cry escaping her as she did. But instead of recoiling further, she found herself wanting more, and she didn't even know how to process that. So she didn't. All she knew was that she'd never wanted any man more, and she tried to ignore how unbelievably twisted that was as he grabbed her again.

Jackson was practically ready to combust, needing to be inside her, to fuck the sass right out of her, and he quickly reached for her shirt and tore it over her head, Y/N cooperating as she raised her arms to allow him to. As he yanked the straps and cups of her bra down, Y/N simultaneously shoved his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms, then urgently worked at his shirt buttons as he roughly cupped her breasts and kneaded them, being anything but gentle as he pinched her nipples and then lifted his hands to yank her hair again. As her head jerked up at the tug of her hair, their eyes met briefly again, and Jackson's eyes burned with blue fire before he angrily shoved his head into her neck.

Y/N gasped as she felt him immediately bite harsh nip after harsh nip into her neck, and she tore open his shirt and scratched her nails against his bare skin, dragging them across him and leaving raised scratches all over his chest, his skin reddening to the same color as the marks he was leaving on her neck. Once again, she felt him roughly grasp her breasts, and she arched into him as he did, whimpering as he pinched her nipples again and then pulled back from her neck.

"Maybe I can fuck some common sense into you," Jackson growled as he reached down for her waistband and opened her jeans, yanking them down her hips and then moving his hands to his own pants as Y/N shimmied the legs of her jeans down to her ankles. Jackson quickly undid his belt and opened his pants, drawing his painfully hard cock out of his boxers as Y/N watched, feeling her pussy weeping as she eyed his large, stiff cock, which he pumped several times in his hand. Clenching around nothing, she wanted to feel him inside her with pathetic desperation.

"Although, seeing as it's you, I don't have very high hopes for you learning anything," he finished with a growl, and then he moved his hands from his cock to her hip and violently ripped her panties from her body, Y/N crying out briefly again as the way he roughly tore the garment from her hips left a fabric burn across her skin.

Her pussy now exposed — and it was the most luscious, gorgeous pussy he'd ever seen — Jackson released a deep, guttural groan as he saw her slick shining against her pink folds. She was so wet, and he gave her absolutely no prep before he grabbed her hips and pulled her right to the edge of the counter, her ass barely still resting on it as he then fisted himself at her entrance and then slammed his cock inside her so roughly that several metal bowls fell from the shelf above them and crashed loudly onto the floor.

"Ahhhhh!" Y/N cried out in an insane combination of pain and pleasure, her walls instantly enveloping him as Jackson slammed his hips into her. She felt every vein and ridge of his large cock rubbing against her insides, and she clamped down in desperate need as she met his thrust with a jutting out of her own hips. Her head fell back and she planted her palms on the counter to brace herself as Jackson pulled almost all the way out before violently slamming into her again.

He himself was groaning in angry pleasure, her gorgeous, slick pussy so tight and so warm, tugging him every inch of the way each time he pulled out, almost as if she was trying to keep him inside her. As Y/N met Jackson thrust for thrust, he saw her face scrunch up in the same adorably sexy way it did whenever he watched her pleasure herself, except he recognized that it was even more evident than when she touched herself.

"I think you're enjoying this a little too much," Jackson said to her through heavy breaths as he continued to pound into her. "It's pathetic, really."

Shifting her head and meeting his eyes, Y/N was panting as she answered him.

"Fuck you," she stuttered out, unable to think of anything else to say.

Jackson gave her a wicked grin.

"That's apparently what you've wanted all along, isn't it?" he taunted her. "For me to fuck you? That's the only explanation as to why you're acting like such a fucking slut right now." He slammed into her again, so harshly that she had to reach up and grab his shoulders, which he allowed her to do, breathing in her intoxicating scent.

"I hate you," she muttered again as she gripped him, but anything else she was about to say was immediately silenced when Jackson suddenly ran the pad of his thumb over her clit and then not-so-gently rolled it between his fingers as she fell against him at the sensation.

"The feeling's mutual, sweetheart," he bit back as he rolled her clit again, and the sound of the whimper that came from her had his balls tightening and him nearly ready to come.

He rolled her clit again and again, looking down and watching as his cock slid in and out of her and her folds continued to drip with glistening want. She was so exquisitely tight, and he knew that this would not be the last time he fucked her. It may be the first, but it definitely wouldn't be the last.

As he heard her cry out again, he could sense her weakening, and her arms fell from his shoulders as she could barely keep up anymore. Once again, he lifted his free hand to her hair, wrapping it around his fist and yanking her head up to meet his eyes.

"I should really teach you a lesson and not let you come," he said as he gave her an evil smile. "See how much more pathetic you get if I leave you without anything."

At that thought, her brow furrowed in desperation and her walls clamped even more tightly around him. She was fairly certain she'd die if he left her without a release. She just knew she would come harder with him than she ever had before.

"Please, Jackson," she suddenly heard herself begging him in a whiny voice, and she had absolutely no idea where the words had even come from. She would never have allowed herself to beg this asshole for anything in the world, but with his cock inside her and his thumb stroking her clit, the standards she set for herself obviously went out the window.

Upon hearing her whine, Jackson's smile widened into a huge, shit-eating grin, and he slammed into her again with insane force.

"So, this is what it takes to make you know your place, huh?" he said as she whimpered again. "Well, I'll take begging over an apology any day." He then lowered his thumb to her folds again, circling around her clit but avoiding the exact spot, causing Y/N to scrunch her face again with a tiny, desperate squeal.

"Say it again," Jackson growled. "Beg me."

Coherent thoughts were now gone, Y/N instead only registering the insane arousal and the desperate need she had for him to make her come.

"Please, Jackson," she mewled again.

He felt his balls tightening once more.

"Again," he demanded.

"Please! Jackson, please!"

"Still not good enough," he said through labored breath, his hips meeting the inside of her thighs again as her legs wrapped tighter around his waist.

"Please! Please...please...please...please!" Y/N begged with every thrust, panting and shaking as she felt just about ready to fall back against the counter. But at her last plea, he finally made contact with her clit again.

"Again," Jackson demanded a final time, and he leaned forward and harshly bit her neck as he rubbed her clit in repeated circles.

"PLEASE!" Y/N nearly screamed, and then it became an actual scream as she came violently, her entire body shaking as he finished rubbing her out. Jackson then slammed into her in three final thrusts, feeling her arms wrap around his shoulders and falling against her as he exploded inside her with more intensity than he'd ever felt before, shouting out a loud groan. By the time he was finished, he could feel his cum leaking back out of her onto himself, overfilling her, and he was certain he'd never shot a load that big in his entire life.

Without thinking, he reached up and fisted her hair again, tugging her head to meet his lips once more, dominating her mouth with an aggressive, bullying kiss.

They parted then, and for several moments, he remained inside her, both of them panting to catch their breath. But soon, Jackson pulled himself out of her, stepping back and tucking himself back inside his boxers before then re-doing his pants and buttoning his shirt.

Still panting and watching him silently, Y/N was still trying to process everything that had just happened, and when Jackson looked up from his clothes and their eyes met again, she realized she’d never felt simultaneously so satisfied while still wanting more in her entire life. As he reached up and smoothed a hand through his hair, he spoke.

"Who knows, sunshine, you may just be teachable yet," he said mockingly, and then he lifted a hand to her bare thigh and gave it a condescending little pat.

He then headed for the swinging door, Y/N watching after him, and when he spoke a final time, she could only nod in response.

"You close again tomorrow night, don't you?" he asked her, although he already knew she did. And when Jackson saw the affirmation Y/N gave him with a nod of her head, he shot her his trademark smirk.

"Offer to stay late and mop up again, and we'll go for round two after your shift,” he said as he held her eyes. “We'll see how well you receive tomorrow night’s lesson, and if you can prove to me that you learned anything, then maybe I’ll give you another gold star.”

And with that, he walked out of the kitchen and then out the main door, the bell above it, as always, ringing out its signature sound as he did.

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TASTE OF SHAME

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Part three

Warnings: Dark!Thomas Shelby, manipulation, abuse, non-con/dub-con, gaslighting, violence

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I'm absolutely the worst. Another part coming in shortly

A/N2: COMMENT AND REBLOG PLEASE!

Y/N woke up feeling different than usual. The deep sense of looking forward to something was exciting. Was.. new. Y/N knew it was perhaps one of Tommy's games and not a gesture of kindness in any way, but the idea of going shopping with Ada was nevertheless exciting.

She woke up early, got appropriately dressed, and secretly hoped she wouldn't see him this day at all. It was supposed to be about her. Just today.

Only a bit before eight she went downstairs, slowly looking around to find out whether Mr. Shelby was still home or not. The Arrow house was awfully quiet, like always when Charlie was still sleeping. He wasn't a loud child, but his precious giggles were warming up the overall cold and soulless building enough to breathe some life into it. He was making it sufferable to live in.

Y/N was quiet, mindful not to wake him up as she smiled at the staff, nodding kindly while passing by. Hearing voices from the living room, she made her way through the doorways only to see Ada along with her husband, Freddie.

”Good morning, Y/N” The older woman said with a smile as soon as she saw her. The questioning glance followed after the greeting which made her chuckle. Before she could say something, her man spoke up himself.

”He would never let the two of you go on your own. It was either me or John and Arthur, so trust me, Lady. It's a better choice as it is!” Freddie spoke with an amusing drama and thick Brummy accent, making his wife swat him in the shoulder jokingly.

”He's not wrong” She admitted, sighing, and glancing sideways at her husband.

Y/N nodded lightly, smiling at the genuine contact between the two of them. It was refreshing and.. comforting, to see a glimpse of real love in the hollow walls of the Arrow House.

”It's okay. I don't mind at all” She reassured, gratefully. Her cheeks were rosy with excitement. ”I really appreciate the two of you taking me to the city. It's been... A while.”

Ada winked at Y/N before coming up closer and grasping her hands.

”Lovely then. I'd never say no to shopping with one of the ladies! It's the best time. Especially that we have a set of hands to carry our bags, indeed!”

They chuckled lightheartedly, walking to the corridor to put on their jackets along with the rest of proper clothing. Luckily, the day was nice enough to not need an umbrella.

”Let's get to it then” Y/N said as Freddie opened the door, gesturing for them to go first. Leaving the building, Y/N managed to spare one last glance towards the black, wooden door barely visible from the doorway. Mr. Shelby's office.

~~

The day was going well. Genuinely, for the first time in a long time she could honestly say it. Laughing out the tension which has been slowly gathering on her mind felt wonderful and the company of Ada and Freddie just reminded her how much she missed the careless giggles and fast heartbeat she used to feel back then.

Back when she wasn't someone's belonging. A selfish whim.

Buying all the gear was fun, trying it on and posing even more. Especially once they were done, and Ada suggested buying more clothes.

”We shouldn't,” Y/N said quietly, grabbing Ada's forearm lightly. The older woman rolled her eyes, narrowing them.

”Come on, Y/N. We're spending his money. The least he can do is pay for us!” She let out a laugh which held the mischievous hint, one she shared with all of their brothers. No matter how similar or different Shelby siblings were, they all had it.

She thought for a moment, feeling the unpleasant worry again. Her feelings were raw and visible in her eyes, fully on display as always.

”I don't know,” She said, quietly, stopping in her tracks. Ada picked up on the way her voice broke just a little bit. Moving closer she grasped her shoulders.

”I mean it. Plus, he literally GAVE me money to pay for our stuff.” She was convinced. ”Tommy is my brother, Y/N. He knows me well enough to know better than assuming I'd buy just the necessities.” Y/N shifted uncomfortably, searching in her gaze for the truthfulness to sooth her own anxiety. Looking in Ada's blood irises, she found it. But she wasn't sure just yet. ”...and Thomas loves everything about horses ever since he was a little boy. He's well aware of how much the gear would cost, honey. Yet he gave us way more.” This time her voice carried less humour, wanting to give her the comfort she needed along with reassurance.

Finally, Y/N nodded slowly, looking around and noticing that Freddie gave them some space to talk, stepping aside to smoke a cigarette yet paying attention enough to keep them safe.

Her gaze danced along the shops with bright and bold letters above the entrances, designed to encourage wealthy women to come in and spend their money. Eventually she met her friend's blue eyes again.

”Okay” She agreed, letting out a chuckle as Ada clapped happily before grabbing her hand and pulling them towards the luxury shop.

”Here we come!” She squealed and Freddie just shook his head with amusement, following them closely.

It took about half an hour to get her going. At first it was the Shelby sister who twirled between the alleys in the fairly big shop, touching and gasping over the beautiful creations. All kinds of materials, hundreds of breathtaking colours with even more breathtaking cash tags attached to them made Y/N feel uneasy, but with time... Ada's enthusiasm infected her too.

So they both giggled like young girls, trying dresses on, making funny gestures and blushing furiously as they saw themselves in the big mirror.  So unused to such a luxury, Y/N's eyes shone brightly when she saw the girl in her own reflection. So different from the one she used to see a couple long months ago.

”We're absolutely getting this one,” Ada said suddenly, ripping her out of the train of thoughts. Slowly gazing over the creation, Y/N let out a sigh, picking on the cuticles of her fingers. Looking down she swayed lightly, biting her lower lip, but before she managed to speak up, Freddie joined his wife.

”I must agree,” He said, keeping his expression serious before Ada elbowed him in the side lightly. ”You look like a real high class lady now,” He added, less formally with a small smirk, grasping Ada's hand.

Y/N blushed, so unused to any kind of male attention.

”Thank you. I hope he won't be mad.” The other part of the sentence was said quieter, almost to herself, but unfortunately all of them heard.

Plastering a fake smile onto her lips, she went back to change before they checked out, and got on the way as it was already fairly late. Clouds thinned one the sky, letting everyone see the glimpses of sunset kissing the horizon in a manner so dreamy, Y/N couldn’t help the little smile on her lips as she watched the whole scene through the window. Shopping took a bit longer than expected, as Ada planned out the whole day, making them visit all the ladies' favourites in the city centre. After coffee and sweet souvenirs from the local bakery, they took a walk around the better part of Birmingham before heading back. Around fifteen minutes it took, before Freddie was parking the car on the gravelly driveway. Sighing, Y/N looked down at her hands, knowing the great day was pretty much over now that she was here. Slowly, she moved to get out of the car, grabbing a few of the bags as Ada and her husband did the same. 

The Shelby sister noticed the shift in the air as she moved closer to Y/N rubbing her shoulder with a half smile.

“It was a wonderful day, wasn’t it? We need to do it again soon.” She said, before dramatically lowering her tone. “Next time definitely just us, without any of them,” She gestured towards Freddie with a chuckle, taking the edge off a bit as the tension loosened.

Y/N nodded, agreeing immediately as she loved the idea of having a way out every now and then. Wordlessly they walked up the stairs, greeting one of the maids after making the entrance. She took Y/N’s coat, hanging it for her once she realized Mr. and Mrs. Thorne weren’t staying. 

“Once again, thank you for the outing. I’m looking forward to the next time,” The younger woman said with a genuine honesty in her voice, revealing how much it actually meant to her.

“Anytime,” Freddie responded, winking as he grasped Ada’s hand once she hugged Y/N.

“Of course.” She added, turning around as they started walking away before stopping once again, “Oh, and tell Tommy you’re home already, will you?” And with that, they were gone. 

Y/N considered seeking out Tommy right then, but she was tired from the outing and wanted to change into a more comfortable dress to lounge at home. Once in her room, she was increasingly tempted by her soft inviting bed. As soon as she settled in her soft sheets all her new things still in the shopping bags became distant memories, just like the thought of making her way to Mr. Shelby’s office. Exhaustion overtook her tired mind and before she knew it, she fell asleep. 

Hours passed, and on the other side of the house, Thomas was sitting by his desk. A half empty glass of whiskey stood to his left, as he slowly sipped on it with no rush. He lost count of all the paperwork he’d done today and the end was still nowhere to be seen. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his eyes which became tired from all the reading and writing. 

Suddenly the silence of the room got interrupted by quiet footsteps right by the door. Tommy glanced at the clock, realizing how late it already was. Without knocking the door knob turned as the wooden door gave way to a familiar silhouette. 

Y/N rubbed her eyes, as she walked in. Her feet bare against the cold floor which wasn’t too pleasant, yet useful in a way to keep her awake. 

He watched wordlessly, after putting his glasses back on. As she slowly moved from the doorway towards his desk, eventually slumping into the armchair. She avoided his eyes, feeling guilty with the unintentional disobedience.

So the silence stretched into longer seconds as she picked on the hem of her dress. 

“Had fun?” His voice cut the air eventually, seeing how she struggled with finding anything to say. It was hoarse from the lack of talking for many hours, even lower than usual which she found intimidating.

But on the other hand, was there anything about him which wasn’t intimidating to her? The answer was obvious.

“I’m sorry I didn't come right away. We were late, and.. And I was tired. Before I realized it, I was sleeping.” She said quieter, feeling as she was walking on thin ice that might break at any given moment, pulling her into the freezing, cold water. The stillness that never ceased to surround him was terrifying at times. To her, Thomas Shelby was a complete mystery. His way of carrying himself reminded her of a volcano, so still and quiet just to blow up with a never ending stream of force. So the silence was… chaos really. “I’m sorry, Mr. Shelby”

Her voice, so quiet and submissive, danced around his mind. Mixing with the whiskey he drank, twisting and moving in different directions and causing the weird stirring he felt. Something that started becoming familiar, dangerously enough. His lips stretched into a small grimace, not quite enough to become a proper smile. Another thing that made him, him. All the small things she learned to become aware of, cautious and deliberate while slowly walking between the mines in his head. The boundaries that were constantly in motion for any kind of comfort, making it impossible to learn their placement. So she walked through the dark.

“I asked if you had fun, Dove,” 

His voice came out soft, at least softer than expected which almost made her gasp in a way. Her eyes flickered up, meeting his cold gaze. His eyes never seemed to lose the ice, but every now and then the blizzard seemed more gentle. She looked at him for a moment, her eyes wide, moving around his features.

“Yes, it was a.. A great day.”

He leaned forward, moving a bit closer with a sigh. 

“It makes me sad that you don’t listen, Dove.” He started off, making her feel bad. “But I'm willing to forgive you, yeah? You didn’t mean to be bad after all.” His voice was soothing, smooth like butter, to which she nodded eagerly, also leaning forward, subconsciously wanting to please him.

“Yes, I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry,”

The corner of his mouth twitched again.

“I know you are,” He sighed, letting his gaze drop onto her body. Slowly moving lower till the desk blocked his view on the rest. “You will start coming to my office again. Spending time with Mr. Shelby,” The words would suggest it was a suggestion, but his voice absolutely proved to her it wasn’t one. He told her what would be happening from now on, and she had to listen. Y/N remained quiet for a bit before clearing her throat.

“Okay” She mumbled in her typical manner. His gaze was making her feel almost naked despite the appropriate clothing she wore. Instinctively she covered herself a bit more, almost making him groan.

The little things she was doing. The pink blush dusting her cheeks as she squeezed her thighs together, along with the innocent body language caused the familiar stirring in his core again. Thomas sighed, feeling as his manhood grew in his briefs and skin became hot. Breathing a little deeper, he leaned back. 

Tension in the room thickened as the shame coated her mind at the way he looked at her. 

Getting up abruptly, she moved behind the armchair.

“I will.. Go to sleep. I’ll come to your office tomorrow, I promise.” Y/N stuttered out as she started walking back towards the door. Thomas tilted his head up, watching as her hips swayed as she walked. Letting out a deep breath he nodded, tutting.

“Y/N” He stopped her in a raspy voice, but she didn’t turn around to meet his gaze. “Don’t forget to take your bags from the living room,” Thomas added, picking up the still lit cigarette, as he threw it into the fireplace. She just nodded, twisting the doorknob as she left.

Thomas stared at the dark wood of the door, as his fingers wrapped around the soft material in his pocket. Soft, pink lace.

He could say a lot about Y/N, but he had to admit she had a good taste in the lingerie she bought. 

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