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jethrowest · 15 days

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ink stains

some light banter, an easygoing evening. can be thought of as a companion piece to this one-shot, but doesn’t have to be read before this one. you and jethro are an established couple now, lucky you! time for a little office (orifice) shenanigans.

pairing : jethro west/afab reader

warnings : clitoral stimulation, very mild choking. 18+, mdni

writing tag

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Retrieving decanter of amber liquid from Jethro’s private stash, you wait for him to wrap up for the night, pouring a small amount into separate glasses. You make yourself comfortable on the edge of his desk while you swirl the spirits about, disturbing them in their once stationary phase.

He watches you with a noncommittal air, most of his attention on the conversation he’s having over the phone. You place his drink next to his notes and hold onto yours, taking gradual sips.

Every once in awhile, he jots down what’s fed to him on the other end of the line. You listen to the calming, hypnotic scratch of pen against paper, briefly shutting your eyes.

It’s a lazy evening for you both and you want to bask in it as much as possible. You sigh, inhaling his deep, soothing voice.

A few minutes pass, potent booze bubbling and settling in your stomach. You appreciate its burn, absentmindedly surveying the simple office decor as if you haven’t seen it hundreds of times.

Jethro seizes this chance to inspect you without detection, his multitasking skills ever prevalent.

You are, to put it bluntly, not what he expected. Alluring physical attributes aside, you are someone he surprisingly discovered he can dig his claws into while your individuality remains intact. To add, you still make it plain that you want to be here, with him and no one else. You’re frankly… subtle about it. Subtle yet impressive enough for him to notice.

None of it scares him. Over time, he replaced his claws with something a little softer, a little more natural. You make it easy to love you.

To love you.

He smiles peacefully at the thought.

Uncrossing your legs, you lean back a little, stretching your torso. The motion is effortless enough. You think nothing of it, despite your underwear being damn near in plain view past the taut horizon of your skirt.

Well well well, what do we have here? Jethro’s small smile transforms into a smugness he’s thankful you aren’t privy to.

You drum your fingers against the sleek surface underneath, suddenly feeling something cold graze your thigh. You yelp in surprise, temporarily forgetting where you are.

This is going to be fun.

Glancing down, you see Jethro’s capped pen tracing lines across your skin. He inched closer to you in your haze.

“No, sorry,” he apologizes to the man he’s aiming to form a partnership with. “That was, erm, my cat.” He tries saving face, pupils following the writing utensil in his languid grip. He snorts and shakes his head, lifting up your skirt and taking a detailed peek under the hood.

“Yeah, y’know. Office cat. Keeps me entertained.”

Your retaliation to being brushed off as a pet fizzles out as quickly as it came, stainless steel carving circles into the swelling cotton of your panties. Reflexively, albeit slightly annoyed, you spread yourself wider, allowing him further access. He’s definitely looking at you now, eyelids weighed down by the tempting sight in front of him.

No breaks occur in his professional endeavor, carrying on as before. You decide to take over a little, save some face of your own, and press the cap harder along yourself, guiding him and his weapon of choice directly onto your clit. The direction change causes him to wet his mouth, tongue flicking out and across quite in the way you’d like it exploring your landscape.

He sighs heavily and manages his charade, keeping on as if you aren’t currently biting your bottom lip, attempting to suppress making his job of explaining his “cat” away more challenging. You know what this exchange means to him, and though you want very much to fuck with him, there’s also a time and place. That will come later, as you assume you are going to do, sooner rather than the former.

Jethro is warm beneath your touch. God, you are all at once desperate to feel him: his deft fingers, thorough tongue; filling, persistent cock, hitting spots and angles usually unaccounted for. He makes you feel whole; complete.

Revealing your steadily growing desire, you increase the pen’s pressure and speed, your blood rushing to keep up with the targeted sensation. Your skin is hot as you squirm on top of his desk, its coolness doing nothing to offset your internal temperature. Your muscles flex; chest heaves, every inch working to keep how you would normally be expressing yourself at bay.

When you finally release a drowned breath, your sight and hearing become clearer. You didn’t realize some of your senses had been numbed, concentrating on being as quiet as you can be while striving to orgasm, too focused on the task at hand. You do, however, feel the pooling wetness in your panties; how that pool expanded as the seconds escaped you.

You are a sight to witness. Your enthusiasm and ability to control the situation while letting Jethro continue to have a say is so fucking sexy. He’s just as involved as he was from the beginning, only now you’re showing him where he should be focusing that involvement. You direct him without making him feel stupid.

He needs to fuck you stupid for it.

Heat is redirected, latching onto your left hip in the form of a firm hand. Jethro is no longer on the phone, his attention instead fully on you.

Fuck. You must have really been in your own world. You hope you didn’t miss any developments, observing him as he pockets his pen, patting its outline with a job well done. Couldn’t have been anything too important, then.

“Found my good luck charm,” he declares, proud, as if he’s finished with what he started.

You stare at him, mouth open in disbelief and delirium. “So does that mean you sealed the deal? ‘Cause you can’t be referring to me almost getting off.” Lawyers.

He chuckles, shrugging. “Might have even convinced the old bugger to get an office cat. Beat the boredom blues.”

At least it’s confirmed you weren’t too loud.

“Ah, the ever-charming, ever-persuasive Jethro Theodore West.” You roll your eyes, moving to straighten yourself out. If you’re going to get what you worked for- what he’s withholding- then you need to be in a more agreeable position. His other hand mirrors its companion before you can go any further, however, your frustration turning to confusion and then to intrigue. It seems he isn’t finished.

“Roped you into that first date, didn’t I?” His canines are white and sharp as he eases you off the desk, your thighs sticky and damp. He stands close to you, maintaining your gaze.

“If by first date you mean fucking your brains out so you’d finally shut your gob, then yes,” you deadpan, crossing your arms over your chest. He isn’t having any of that, though, fingers relocating to your elbows and unfolding them for you, allowing them to fall where they had been.

Slipping palms beneath the easily accessible waistband of your skirt, the eldest West lifts your top, deliberately dragging the fabric and his teasing fingertips along your belly and ribcage. Your breath hitches and stops until your shirt is pulled up and over your head.

You will your pulse to cease its incessant pounding, but to no avail. It’s unfair how decidedly he influences your mood, your body as a whole.

Assessing him with a grounded awareness you lacked moments prior, you are quickly presented with the urgent silhouette of his erection just begging to taste your need for him; to give you the entirety of his for you. You feel dizzy at the thought, pelvis instinctively canting to meet his.

Jethro unhooks your bra’s front clasp, mesmerized by your breasts as they welcome him with the most heartfelt invitation.

“And did it do the trick?”

He leans into you and coaxes an eager nipple into his enticing mouth, hand cupping and kneading the underside of your tender flesh.

Your eyelids flutter and you relieve your repressed system by moaning into the dark forest that adorns his crown, kissing him there, strands tickling your face. He smells so fucking good. Like a simmer pot, brimming with fresh citrus and spice. Something you look forward to coming home to.

At last, you exhale, “You haven’t stopped talking since,” careful not to rid yourself of his captivating aroma, voice hoarse and overflowing with yearning for him.

His tongue wraps around your marbled tissue further, tugging it earnestly between teeth. Growling against the goosebumps that sprinkle your chest, he lets you go, only to grab your hips and spin you around, immediately pinning you to his desk.

Gasping at his abruptness, you arch your backside into him and prop yourself up using forearms and elbows. He reacts by taking your skirt and shoving it up and around your stomach. Reaching underneath you, his fingers traipse across your underwear, a satisfied sound humming low in his throat.

“Christ, you are soaked.” Jethro’s gentle gruffness adds to what was already there, the alcohol you previously consumed replaced by an unyielding ache in the pit of your belly. Your clit once having all the attention on its tumescence is rhythmically pulsating with neglect, flowing down to your thighs and then bursting to the rest of your anatomy.

Your panties are promptly pushed to the side, teeming with anticipation. He isn’t going to take his time, which he has been known to do, if only to make things more intense and exciting. You’re thankful he’s going to give in to what you both pine for. Being honest with yourself, you aren’t sure how much more you can withstand.

The soft, hurried rustle of clothing from behind you- belt buckle clinking as its accompaniment- lets you know he isn’t going to leave you high and dry for long. Certainly not dry.

You help him see how keen you are on this swift advancement by extending a hand beneath and spreading your wetness, rolling your lower back. Sighs of pleasure and persistence tumble from your mouth, lightly rocking left-to-right on your feet. You hear him chuckle darkly before clutching your hips and forcing you onto his solid frame. Your arm, of course, has no choice but to return to its former position.

You expect some sort of jab regarding your impatience. He doesn’t say a word about it. Instead, he properly aligns himself and, with a strangled groan, slowly breaches you and stills when he’s almost all the way inside.

The noise Jethro makes when he first skims your drenched slit, his tip thick and thirsty and perfect, is so fucking lewd, you’re amazed you don’t completely disintegrate then and there. You are on the precipice of something indescribable, your dripping and drooling pussy stretched, producing sopping wet, starving, indecent sounds.

And when he settles partway within your fervent walls, you squeeze his cock by placing your feet directly underneath you, thighs pinched together. They shake with exertion and intent, relishing in the curse that cascades from his lips.

His mouth comes into contact with your shoulder, scuffing the skin on his teeth, suckling and inhaling with asperity. You dip your head back, and he takes that opportunity to grapple you by the throat and reel you tight to him, simultaneously pushing himself to the hilt.

Letting out a startled cry, you stumble your legs apart, propping one atop the desk as you fumble to keep him inside, to stabilize yourself. His fingertips dig into the edges of your neck just below your jawline, applying enough pressure to make your head swim, circulating static reaching ends of limbs.

A barely audible whimper is ripped from your vocal cords, and when you gain some semblance of composure, you tug at your breast, thumb skimming your nipple, feeling your way toward the apex of your thighs. He strokes along your throat, melding with your body in a manner that can be interpreted as savoring you.

You are unabashed in offering yourself to him in whatever fashion he chooses to do so. Always ready to be devoured, because you know it won’t end with parts of you missing.

Not even your heart, which you gave to him without a show: no fireworks, nor standing ovation, handing it over when neither of you were watching.

Consequentially, watching you- committing you to memory- has become a favorite pastime of Jethro’s, immortalizing you here and now using the ink stains blooming inside his pocket.

#jethro west #jethro west x reader #outrageous fortune #antony starr #my writing #oneshot #i will not apologize for the way this man makes me behave #he’s awful and i want to simultaneously slap and ride him into oblivion for it #ink stains

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