#mrprescott

October 1st

on trial - ModernLawStudent!Coriolanus Snow x Reader (cunnilingus)

October 2nd

bro code - Brother'sBestFriend!Rafe Cameron x Reader (cnc & thighfucking)

October 4th

hot wheels - Sam Woodbridge x Reader (quickie & car)

October 7th

scaredy cat - Billy Bonney x BountyHunter!Reader (gunplay)

October 9th

embracing the embrace of chaotic chaos - Eddie Munson x Reader (piss & somno)

October 11th

mrs. plinth - Husband!Sejanus Plinth x Wife!reader x Coriolanus Snow (cuckholding)

October 13th

come right on me - Sam Woodbridge x Reader (cumplay & edging)

October 15th

touching me, touching you - Academy!Sejanus Plinth x Reader (massage)

October 18th

hostility maintenance - Patrick Zweig x Reader (hate sex)

October 19th

prince in distress - Prince!Coriolanus Snow x Knight!Reader (body worship)

October 20th

closing argument - Jack Prescott x Intern!Reader (office & power play)

October 22nd

royal reckoning - Prince!Billy Bonney x Villager!Reader (lovemaking & angst)

October 24th

bloody, bliss, belt, and billy - Saccharine!Billy Bonney x Reader (bloodplay & fingering)

October 26th

conflict accumulating in clothed collisions - Academy!Coriolanus Snow x Academic Rival!Reader (dry humping)

October 27th

duty of desire - Peacekeeper!Snowjanus x Reader (dubcon/noncon & piss & **** ******)

October 29th

in the jailhouse now - Saccharine!Billy Bonney x Reader (exhibitionism)

October 30th

erotica - Coriolanus Snow (collections from Coryo's journal)

October 31st

the midnight prairie - Billy Bonney x Vampire!Reader (bloodplay & cnc)

It’s a surprise Jack hasn’t popped open his liquor cabinet. 

Lunch was fine, but the leftover spaghetti he brought in tasted like a freezer burn. His afternoon became jam-packed. He expected it, yet it still caught him struggling to maintain his sanity. Between meetings, and dealing with an insolent co-worker who wrote up a report so incorrectly, Jack wondered if the guy was drunk, his secretary having to leave early, to the fact his damn computer keeps running slow…yeah. 

It was a bad day. 

Perhaps even worse, today was the day he scheduled overtime for half of the office. A little ‘bonding’ thing he learned from the law firm he worked at before having his own. He’d order dinner for everyone from a fancy place and everyone would get to know how one another works at nine p.m.

Perfect, right?

The dinner itself was okay. The food was good, which was a win in his book. Jack makes sure to jot down the restaurant name in his little notepad for future reference. The co-workers he scheduled for overtime were always on the cusp of complaining, but when he entered the room, they were all smiles and enjoying their heavy pasta. 

After food though, it was a time crunch until 10:30 when everyone could go home and Jack left everyone to their work to do his own. And maybe have some whiskey. He deserved it, didn’t he? 

That’s what he tells himself, at least. 

He stands from his desk and smooths his palms on the front of his slacks, walking the short distance to his liquor cabinet. He bends down to swat and opens it, taking out the glass and bottle that was mostly full. 

A knock on his office door almost startles the glass out of his hand and Jack puts both objects back into the cabinet. He straightens up, clearing his throat as he walks back to his desk, tugging the sleeve of his fitted dark green sweater, “Come in,” his voice rings out clear and loud to whoever is on the other side of the door, and he takes a seat in his chair. 

The door creaks open and you peek your head in first before pushing the door more open, “Uh, Mr. Prescott, can I speak with you a minute?”

The intern. You’ve been here for four months now, mostly doing the busy work of paralegals and assisting Mr. Prescott. Jack’s sure you’re the best intern he’s hired. He’s already started a draft for a recommendation letter (which you did and did not ask for, but more-so implied you would like at the end of your internship) and Jack feels quite good about your future prospects. Not that he cares too much, but it will be sad to lose you as a worker, the least he could do is help you in your next career journey. Right? 

Jack glances at the time, then over at you, leaning back in his chair, “Yeah, make it quick,” he says and you promptly walk in and close the door. 

Your palms already sweat at the fact you’re in here alone with him. Mostly because of what you need to talk about but also because it’s Jack Prescott. One of the top lawyers around the city. A bachelor. An incredibly handsome bachelor that looks like literal sex when he comes into work some days. It was torturous working for him and meeting his striking blue eyes when he held eye contact with you like he wanted you to feel it in the pit of your stomach. You did. You sure did, every single fucking time. 

You weren’t sure if he was aware of how hot he was. Or if he even thought about sex. Or if he dated. You gossiped with one of the only other women in the office about it one day, since you typically saw his calendar that included personal stuff like a lunch with his mother, doctor’s appointment, etc. But nothing on there seemed like a date. Your co-worker thinks he hooks up and that’s it, but even that you can’t get behind. The man is a mystery and good at keeping hismelf that way. 

You stop in front of his desk and pull at the hem of your skirt in a nervous tug, then open your mouth to speak, only to close it when he starts clicking at his keyboard. 

Jack takes a glance at you and gestures with his hand, “My apologies, just an email. One second.”

Jack types for another minute to finish the email, but it feels much longer than that. Much longer that you clasp your hands behind you and watch his fingers work at the keys in a manner so elegant. The metal of his watch glints off the light of his lamp at his desk. His overhead lights in his office are dimmed down, the city night skyline shining through his large windows behind him. 

His hair, which is usually slicked, has some strands out of place. Jack’s eyes are more tired and being his intern, you know the day’s been hectic. Part of you wants to ask if he’s doing okay, but his head is turning back to you and your words are caught in your throat. 

“Alright, go on,” he gestures once more with his hand to you, leaning back in his desk chair, one hand resting on his desk, the other dropping to his thigh. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow it before looking into his eyes. 

“Right, well two things uh,” you pause, shifting on your feet, “One, George messed up the printer somehow so-”

“The printer?” Jack’s brow immediately furrows and you want to smooth out the lines so bad it makes you heat up. You should not be thinking that way. 

“Yeah, I don’t know specifically what’s wrong with it but-”

“So you don’t know the specifics and you still came to me?” Jack interrupts again and you feel that urge to shrivel at his tone. 

“I thought it best that you know right away sir-Mr. Prescott,” you get out your words as calm as you can, keeping your voice level and your gaze on him. You learned it from him. To not cower. 

Jack gives one nod, his jaw setting and a hand swiping to his jaw. He taps his fingers to it, then says, “Is it gonna set us back then? I don’t have anything to print and IT won’t be able to help until Monday.”

“George still had like four copies to print and Rosie said she needed it too,” you tell him, unable to avoid the hesitancy in your voice. 

Because Jack does rub to his face again in semi-annoyance, “Can anyone try to fix it?” 

“Don’t think so.”

“Great. Thanks. What else do you need then?” He says flippantly, tugging at his sweater to fix it, and your eyes naturally follow the movement. 

The slight bite in his voice makes you very hesitant to ask him your question, but you steel yourself, squeezing your hands together, “I know it’s last minute but I need to take off on Monday and I know-”

Jack raises his hand to stop you from speaking and then runs his hand through hair. Gods he must be stressed. Annoyed. If he’s gonna mess up his hair like that. In front of you. 

“I did need you, Monday. That big client from SoHo is coming, thought you knew that.”

“I did! I did, but…,” you take a breath, “I have my like…last exam of college ever on Tuesday and I just need to study and relax and y’know it’s obviously super important and-”

“Okay,” he interrupts. He has a penchant for that tonight. “Fine. Take the day, but I’m not rescheduling with that client, so it’s your loss,” Jack tells you with a shrug, a look on his face saying he’s slightly disappointed but he’s not gonna harp on it much longer. 

The look does not make you feel any better, but you let out a deep exhale and nod to him, “Yeah, okay, thank you, Mr. Prescott, really.”

Jack’s voice is quick, almost sharp, “Don’t thank me.”

You nod again, albeit a little more awkwardly this time. A moment of silence befalls the two of you and you find yourself smoothing your skirt. 

You’re about to turn on your heel to leave his office, when he stands up, eyeing you up and down with a curious gaze, “You good? You look stressed.”

“Oh, just long day and the exams,” you say with a half-hearted chuckle, watching him closely as he stalks over towards his bookshelf. 

Jack gives a hum, then leans down to his cabinet, contemplating what he’s about to do. He shouldn’t. He knows that. But it’s close to closing. And you look as tired and stressed as he is. There’s no harm in it. He grabs the whiskey bottle he was pining for earlier and two glasses, “Do you drink?”

His question catches you off guard, but you nod, “Uh, yeah.”

Jack sets the glasses down, then looks to his office door, and back to you, popping open the bottle, “It’s whiskey. Keep this between us, I’m not sharing with the lot,” he gestures towards the door. 

A nervous tingle runs up your spine as you watch him pour the liquid into the two glasses, glancing from his hands to his face, which has a look of concentration and something else in it. 

He walks closer to hand you your glass, your fingertips brushing his as you take it from him. You’re not sure if he also felt what you felt, but you push it to the further recesses of your mind. 

You look down at the liquid in your glass as he leans back against the edge of his desk, sipping the whiskey. His eyes are on you, you know they are. You’ve sipped wine in front of him before, so what was so different about this? 

The dimmed office lights? The fact that your coworkers were probably packing up to leave? The fact he even offered a drink in the first place?

He breaks you from your thoughts, “Do you know how to drink it? The whiskey?”

You’ve not had it before. But even if you did no, you say no. 

Jack hums, “Small sip. Swish it in your mouth a little, then swallow,” then he does it himself to demonstrate. It’s pure desire what you feel when you watch him sip. How his eyes stay on yours over the rim of his glass and his free hand pushes into the pocket of his slacks. Everything about him right now is so at ease and sexy. 

You nod, and take a small sip of the drink, only swishing it in your mouth for a second, before you swallow it and grimace, “Oh…wow.”

Jack stifles his smile. Smile. He shakes his head, clearing his throat, “Yeah, it’s…you don’t have to drink all of it.”

“I won’t,” you chuckle, walking closer to him so you could put it on his desk. The lack of hesitance in your action to come over close to him has him straightening up just a little. You pause at the movement though, looking at your whiskey. “Maybe one more sip.” 

Jack lets himself chuckle. A breath of a chuckle, “It gets you.”

With your eyes on his, you sip, swish it, and swallow, trying to hide your grimace. Jack sets his glass down, then takes yours, his thumb ever so slightly brushing the tip of your thumb. He puts the glass down and maybe this is when you should move away from him but your feet feel stuck to the floor, admiring him up closer in the dim light. 

Jack doesn’t know what he’s doing either. He’s yelling at himself internally to dismiss you. He still had some work to do. But you’re there. Pretty in your work attire. Pretty. He shouldn’t think of that. 

He clears his throat and crosses his arms to his chest, “You should…head back to work and all. Think you got like 15 more minutes.”

Jack could never admit to himself he found his intern attractive. You were younger than him and again, his intern. So he avoided those thoughts like the plague, but you standing right here in front of him while you’re both tired was not helping. 

Jack picks his whiskey glass back up as you give the slightest nod, but make no move to go. “Yeah…have…some work…,” you trail off, “question?”

He raises his brow, sipping a very small sip, then he says, “Yes?”

“Just wanted to know for that uh…what that lawyer gala thing you have to go to-”

He rolls his eyes, “Yes, what about it?”

“Are you bringing your girlfriend as the plus one or?”

You don’t know what’s come over you and you know deeply how wrong this could go but you can’t stop. Not when he’s looking like this and you can smell his cologne. Fuck has it been that long of a day? 

“Girlfriend? I don’t have one,” he says, a confused look etched onto his face. 

“Oh? I thought maybe…,” you stop yourself, then say, “Well, I know you’ll have the extra ticket and I know you took Ethel last year because she mentioned it like five times to me but maybe I could go with you?”

Jack takes a second to study your face, like he thinks you’re lying about what you truly want to say, but he doesn’t press. “Yeah, maybe. It’s near the end of your internship, so it could be a good way to close it out.”

You take a mindless step closer to him, a genuine smile on your lips. You didn’t give a fuck about that gala but the idea of attending with him all dressed up certainly made you feel good. Your breath feels heavier as the two of you look at one another. 

Jack notes the step and you swear you see his eyes glance to your legs, “What’re you doing?”

You falter at the question, taking a small step back, “Nothing, Mr. Prescott.”

Jack tilts his head at you. God, he’s thinking so hard. You can practically see the gears turning in his head working overtime and you’re trying not to rub your thighs together and make it more obvious what you’re feeling. 

“Think maybe I do want another sip of whiskey,” you joke, but mean it, to break the silence. 

He huffs, a slight smile curving his pretty lips, “Come get it, then.”

You swallow. Then take the steps closer, reaching your hand to the side of him to take the glass. Maybe you purposely brush your arm to him. Maybe it wasn’t on purpose. 

When you take a small sip, your eyes find his once more. He’s so tall. And you almost catch how he’s gazing over well, all of you. “Come closer,” he says, a hint quieter, like he didn’t mean to say the words aloud, but you surely heard him. 

You listen and do so, to his surprise, but he sets his glass down, then reaches his hand out for your glass, taking it in his hand. 

He parts his lips to speak, then hesitates. Jack glances to his office door, then back to you. 

Thinking. Thinking. Thinking. Until, “Open your mouth a little.”

Your eyes widen immediately and you can tell he’s about to rescind his words, but you do it. You open your mouth for him and pray that it’s not so deplorable that he scoffs and kicks you out. 

Jack swallows hard, his jaw tightening and he brings the lip of the glass your mouth, pouring just a bit of the whiskey into your mouth, then nudging under your chin with his fingers to close your mouth. You obey the action, letting the lliquid swirl in your mouth before you swallow and he puts the glass down, fingers still to your chin. 

His eyes bore into your eyes. Fucking thinking and surrounding themselves with intent. “Open…open again.”

How could you refuse?

When your mouth parts the slightest bit, Jack’s bringing his mouth in close. An embarrassing noise leaves your lips at the action and your hand holds to his wrist. 

Jack stares intensely at you, “Just…just go…back and do your work,” he whispers, his breath hitting your lips, “I shouldn’t…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence and you finish it for him, “No, you shouldn’t do this.”

Your eyes tell him a different story. The way you squeeze to his wrist and not once glance away from him tells him you’re not uncomfortable. You’re not leaving his space, you move closer until he can feel the brush of your chest to his. 

Jack doesn’t know what’s come over him, but his breath shudders and he pools the saliva in his mouth, the slowly spits onto your bottom lip into your mouth, before crashing his lips to yours. 

It’s a rough, messy kiss, as though Jack is starving for the feel of your lips on his. Like he wants them melded to him and imprinted for a long time. Your tongue slides his bottom lip and sucks on it, which is when he breaks the kiss and lets go of you, walking straight to his office door to lock it, before he’s coming back over to you, scratching a hand at his head, “You should go, I-”

“Mr. Prescott, it’s-”

He groans at the title you give him, granted the one you always call him and his hands are bringing your head closer, kissing you once more. He ends up leaned against the edge of his desk again with you pressing yourself into his fit body, taking the opportunity to slide your hands on his arms and his chest, to feel the muscle you’ve somewhat seen but knew he had. 

Jack is lost in it, clearly still fighting with himself, but also leaning into the way you suck and bite at his lips. His hands move down your body, caressing your hip and keeping you pulled in close to him. 

When you pull for a breath, his eyes are dazed and his lips much redder. You can’t think. All you can do is slip down till you’re on your knees in front of him.

Jack curses to himself, looks away from you for a moment before looking back down to you, “I can’t come back from this.”

“I’m an intern for one more month,” you say, like that makes it any better, but god does he look good from this angle.

He doesn’t like that answer, but he drops his hand to his belt to undo it, his other hand in your hair, “Have you done this before?”

“Gone down on a guy?” 

He nods, putting his belt on his desk, quickly looking to his door before looking back at you.

“Yeah, I have,” you admit to him, watching his fingers undo the button of his slacks. 

“Okay. So, you know what you’re doing?” 

You nod, eyes glued to his fucking hand, unzipping his slacks and pushes them down just a little, “Show me, then,” he says, voice a little quieter. 

You waste no time, tugging to his boxers before he could do it, exposing him in his office. There’s no time to think about how this is your boss’ cock, it’s just Jack, you tell yourself in the moment. You spits into your palm and ignore the way his hand tightens to your head, wrapping your fingers to him. 

You give him a few languid strokes to help him harden, a low groan leaving his lips before he clears his throat, “Don’t tease, right now, we can’t…it’s gotta be-”

“I know, Mr. Prescott,” you interrupt him this time, giving his tip one small lick. Jack bites to his cheek, watching you intently. 

You open your mouth a little and let the head of his cock rest on your tongue, your free hand holding to his thigh. 

“Fuck,” he says under his breath, resisting his urge to push himself all the way into your mouth. You wrap your lips to him and take more of his cock into your mouth, humming around him.

“That’s it,” he mutters, watching as you try to take more of him and immediately realize you can’t. Jack shakes his head at you, “Can’t take more of it?”

He’s just big and thick. Jack fills your mouth and it feels good to have the weight on your tongue. You bob your head on what you can fit, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking him hard to get the ball rolling since the quicker this is, the better. For now. 

Jack is good at keeping quiet, but his heavy breaths and curses right under his breath make you want to escalate this to something more than you simply sucking his cock. 

When you try to take him more into your mouth, your throat constricts and you gag, closing your eyes and breathing deeply through your nose. 

“Don’t hurt yourself. Take what you can, it’s good enough,” he says through a rushed breath, a surprisingly tender feeling coursing through you when he rubs his thumb into your temple. Once the feeling passes, you continue to work him, using your other hand to stroke what you can’t fit in your mouth. 

You know Jack likes it, even with your eyes closed, because his hand tightens to your head and he lets out a shakier breath. The Jack Prescott with a shaky breath is something you couldn’t imagine but here he was. 

“You’re so fucking good,” he whispers, the volume of his voice just enough for you to hear, but not too loud, “Really taking it, huh…this is fucked up,” he groans at himself then swallows his noises, his hand moving to the back of your head. 

“C’mon, pretty, just hurry up, make me cum, this needs to be over, c’mon,” Jack says, patting the back of your head a few times and you move faster, the slick of your spit on his cock making the most noise in the room, but you hope it can’t be heard outside of it. You pull back, only to swirl your tongue on his tip and suck on the sensitive head, your hand jerking him in quick motions

“Almost, almost,” Jack warns you, his chest breathing heavy and his hand pressing more into your head as you focus mostly on his tip, sucking it over and over again. You flatten your tongue to it, then open your mouth and slap his cock to your tongue, a desperate move to turn him on as much as possible and have him cumming down your throat.

The action does have an affect on him. Jack’s breath sutters and he pushes your head to take more of him, “what the fuck,” he whispers to himself as he tips his head back, putting his arm over his mouth and lets out a muffled, but strangled groan.

His load shoots into your mouth, coating your tongue in it’s salty sweet taste and you moan around him, swallowing every drop he give you and eagerly licking at any that beads out of his tip as he finishes. 

Jack takes his cock out of your mouth and pulls his boxers up, followed by his slacks and his quickness makes you stand. You weren’t even touched yet you feel wobbly on your feet.

He stares at you as he fumbles with his belt, “Uh…I think you better get home, it’s uh…it’s time.”

Jack clears his throat, shaking his head and trying to forget what just happened as you stand there dumbfounded.

“Um…Mr. Prescott-”

“Go home,” he repeats himself, his tone more stern than he means to come off. He smooths at his slacks and moves around his desk to sit in his chair, moving the mouse of his desktop to turn the screen on. 

“Work…on Wednesday?”

He glances at you. A blank stare coating his face. “Yeah. Work on Wednesday. 9 am. Good luck on the exam.”

Jack Basil Prescott

32-34 years old

Family Law lawyer with his own law firm, based out of NYC

Originally from Pennsylvania

Bday is January 3rd (so he's' a capricorn)

Went to Penn State for undergrad (majored in philosophy, minored in history & accounting

An only child

Comes from an old money religious family

Both of his parents were in medical fields, before his father became a businessman and his mother a stay-at-home mom.

Despite that, he does not have much of a relationship with either

Went to private schools growing up

is closest to his Aunt Fiona, his father's sister

Has a ton of cousins and is always invited to outings with them (if he goes depends on what the outing is)

Has been a vegetarian since he was 22

Very specific skincare/vitamin/workout routine

Rarely listens to music, but when he does, it's jazz/classical/or Morissey or Johnny Cash or Billy Joel

best memories from childhood was when his aunt and grandmother took him to Knobels.

Diagnosed with OCD and takes medication for it (deals with erectile dysfunction from the medication)

Super no nonsense. Jack can be very blunt, very blank, very stoic.

Loves to cook (his favorites are soups, vegetable stir fry, stuffed peppers)

Has a calm sort of arrogance and anger

Dark blue is his favorite color

Always is dressing professionally. Besides suits, he wears slacks, long sleeved sweaters (mostly fitted), dress shoes, sweater vests, button downs, etc. No jewelry, just a watch.

prefers quiet nights in than going out

Uses tobacco vanille cologne

Used to smoke cigarettes, but still smokes socially on occasion

Has a sex toy collection, mostly for a partner than himself

Drools in his sleep

Sometimes takes melatonin to sleep

Did get a vasectomy at 25

Schedules in his calendar the days he can jerk off

Meal preps for his week

Lives in a nice apartment in Manhattan, styled modernly, but homely

Insanely internal and has a difficult time verbalizing his emotions, but he does show it through actions most of the time

love languages are quality time and acts of service

loves being called sir (in both a sexual and non-sexual context)

"Atta girl/boy," is commonly in his vocabulary

His favorite book is Ulysses by James Joyce (big reader)

Prefers winter, even has a soft spot for Christmas time, but is also cold to the touch more than half the time

Hates Halloween

His bluntness can come off insensitive and sometimes mean

Goes on solo vacations every year in the middle of January

Has a habit of biting too much at his lips

Whistles while he does errands/etc.

Sits widely (manspreads without meaning to)

Will correct your grammar like it's a reflex

Gets pains in his thighs and calves

Gets very awkward and stiff in certain social circumstances (family events, weddings)

Used to be a fuckboy in college until a girl he was seeing had a pregnancy scare, sense knocked into him after (was sexually repressed due to his growing up, then a fuckboy, then purposely repressed himself again)

Not a thrill-seeker but gets a high/power trip off of wins and succeeding within his career

Hates hockey for no real reason

Chronically offline (he has a LinkedIn, a twitter which he only frequents once or twice weekly, and an instagram with two posts from five years ago)

A strict, responsible, no bullshit, and good lawyer/boss

Has a vacation lakehouse in Pennsylvania