#🫣😮‍💨

[hyunjinsjeans]

Can we agree that Reader arrived H word to this fic? Because girly was flustered from line 1 (cannot blame Reader)

Hotel Showers

SMUT. MINORS DNI.

This fic was a request from @chanchansgirly (here) and part of my 500 followers celebration! The request was prompt #1, only one bed, with Chan, NSFW!

I hope you all like it!

Summary: Y/n and Chan get stuck in a very cold hotel room together... and there's only one bed.

Pairing: Bang Chan x Flustered!reader

Includes: only one bed trope, handcuffs, fingering, cumming inside (PLEASEEEEE USE A CONDOM IRL)

Word count: 1.9k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,

@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst, @atzlordz, @jeonginsleftcheek

Network:@mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

-----

“Seriously?” You blinked at the desk attendant.

He smiled back at you apologetically. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m afraid the blizzard’s got us more crowded than expected. The only room we have left does just have the one bed.”

You sighed. “Just give me the key.”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

You walked back over to Chan, key card in hand. “Sorry, it looks like they’ve only got one room left, and it only has one bed.”

Chan smiled. “Oh, no worries. It’s just one night.”

“I can sleep on the floor if you want. Or in the chair. Those hotel chairs are surprisingly comfy sometimes. I mean, sometimes they’re just not, but, like, this one will probably be fine.” You found yourself rambling.

Chan laughed. “Y/n, if you’re okay with sharing the bed, that works for me.”

“Oh—okay.” You could feel your cheeks reddening.

He turned towards the elevator. “Lets’ go.”

You went upstairs to your room, and you pulled a book out of your bag to read while Chan was in the shower. You tried to stop yourself from thinking about that shower, about the water running through his hair, down his shoulders, over his abs, and lower…

You closed your book with a sigh, opting to doomscroll instagram instead.

The water turned off, and a few minutes later Chan opened the door. Thankfully for your sanity, he was wearing a shirt. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

You smiled. “Okay, I’ll just be a few minutes.”

You went into the bathroom. It felt strangely intimate, erotic, almost, to be in a bathroom filled with the steam from Chan’s shower.

You started your shower before you realized you’d left your body wash in your suitcase. You resigned yourself to hotel soap before seeing Chan’s little blue bottle on the shelf. He must’ve left it there.

He probably wouldn’t care if you used it, right?

You carefully squeezed some into your palm. It smelled good, masculine and clean.

You got out of the shower, dried off, and put on a T-shirt and sleep shorts. You regretted your decision as soon as you stepped out of the now even steamier bathroom. “My God, it’s cold.”

Chan laughed from where he was sitting under the covers. “I was just messing with the thermostat, doesn’t look like it’s getting any warmer in here.”

You gave a short exhale. “Of course.”

Chan patted the sheets beside him. “Here, it’s warmer in bed.”

You got in bed with him, burrowing under the blankets. “I guess a little bit.”

“Can I help?”

“Can… can you help?” You were confused.

“Can I touch you?” Chan’s smile was soft. “Just to help warm you up.”

“Oh… um, yeah, please.”

Chan reached towards you, pulling you into his arms and cuddling you close to his chest.

You were sure he was able to feel your heartbeat, because you could feel it all over your body, especially between your legs.

“Are you comfortable?” Chan whispered.

“Yeah, I’m really comfortable.” You pushed your head into his chest. “You’re warm, Channie.”

“Channie?” He laughed.

“I— sorry, I just, like, a nickname, you know, like, how, like, friends call each other nicknames. You know, like friends do?” You rambled.

“Y/n, calm down. You’re allowed to call me Channie. I would even go so far as to say I like it.”

“Oh.” You could feel your cheeks going hot.

He paused for a moment. “Wait.” He helped roll you over, so your back was flush against his chest. You could feel yourself growing wet at the manhandling.

He pushed his face into the crook of your neck and inhaled deeply. You took a shuddering breath of your own at how his lips brushed your skin.

“Did you use my body wash?”

“Um… I forgot mine, I didn’t think you’d… mind.”

“I don’t… mind, exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I think it’s hot more than I think it’s a problem. Which is, in and of itself, a problem.”

“Why?” You breathed.

“Because we’re sharing a bed… catch my drift?”

“I think you need to spell it out for me.” You shifted, angling your hips against his crotch. You could feel a bulge forming already.

He hissed. “Y/n, don’t tease.”

“I’m not teasing.” You whispered. “I mean it.”

You squeaked as Chan flipped you around again, and you were met with his piercing gaze. “You mean it?”

“Yeah.”

His hand drifted up the inside of your thigh. “How do you want it?”

You were a little taken off guard. “Want it? I— uh, inside me, I think.”

He laughed, then brought his lips up to your ear to whisper to you. “I mean, do you want it rough? Want to worship me? Want me to put you on a leash and choke you like a dog? Do you want me so bad you’d do anything for me?” He nibbled on your earlobe, and you shifted with a whine. “You know, if you’re into that.”

“Yes, Chan.”

“To which one?”

“All of it.”

He smiled, and you were caught off guard by his wide, ray-of-sunshine grin. “We’re gonna have fun. I’ll be right back.” He got off the bed, and you shivered at the sudden loss of his heat.

He shuffled through his luggage before pulling out a pair of leather handcuffs.  You didn’t even want to question where he’d gotten them or why they were in his suitcase. “You want these?”

Your eyes widened. “Ye-yes, Chan, I do want those.”

“Good girl.” He murmured, climbing back onto the bed. “I’m gonna tie your hands to the headboard, okay?”

“Yes, Channie.” You held out your hands. He guided you to lay back, and he fastened the cuffs around your wrists and then clipped them around the headboard. You tugged a bit at them, and you moaned when they didn’t give.

He just sat in front of you for a moment, watching you watch him.

“Beautiful.” He eventually mumbled. “Lift up those hips for me, and we’ll get your shorts off.”

You nodded, lifting your hips so Chan could slide your shorts and underwear off. You were soaked, and Chan dragged a finger through it before licking it clean. “Damn, all this over me just touching you a bit?”

“I— I mean, before, the shower, I was just thinking about— um, about nothing.” You stopped before you could make a complete fool of yourself by admitting to picturing him naked in the shower.

It was too late for that, though. Chan raised an eyebrow. “Were you thinking about me in the shower?”

You swallowed. “Uh… maybe.”

He shook his head, smiling. “You want me more than you’ve been letting on, don’t you?”

“Uh… maybe.” You said again.

His eyes raked over you. Once, then again. “Can I finger you, sweetheart?”

You felt a wave of heat rush through you, and you were hyperaware of your heartbeat again, pulsing through you. “Yes, please.”

He circled one finger around your entrance for a moment before beginning to press inside. You whined.

He paused. “Something wrong, baby?”

“No!” You squeaked. “Nothing’s wrong! Keep going, Channie, please.” You breathed the last word, and you were unsure for a moment if he’d even heard you until he hummed.

“Please sounds so good coming from your mouth, baby.” He all but purred, pushing his finger in all the way.  Your eyes rolled back, and a broken moan fell from your lips. “Say it again.”

“Please.” You whispered. “Another finger, Chan, please.”

“You’re asking so nicely.” He added another finger, as requested, and you arched your back off the bed.

“Fuck.”

“Can you take another?”

“Yes.”

He added in a third finger. You felt so deliciously full of him, and you absently wondered if his cock would fill you up as good.

He pulled out his fingers and licked them clean, keeping eye contact with you the whole time. His tongue lewdly lapped at his long fingers, making wet noises.

You moaned. “Please, Chan.”

He paused to raise his eyebrows at you. “What are you begging for, hm?”

“You.” You said honestly. “Want you, um, deep— deep inside me.”

“Shy all of a sudden?” He dropped his hand to your pussy, rubbing at your clit. “I’m gonna be deep inside of you in just a second, sweetheart.”

You pushed your hips into his hand, and he laughed. “Greedy little thing.” He pulled away to take off his shirt and pants, leaving him completely naked on the bed in front of you.

“Fuck.” You whispered. You’d known he was muscular, but he was absolutely gorgeous like this, sculpted like he’d been made by Michelangelo.

And his cock… he was big, and he was hard, and you wanted him so badly you were practically salivating.

“Can I fuck you now?” He whispered, his hands hovering over your hips, waiting for your consent.

“Yes, Chan, please, yes.”

You watched as he lined himself up with your dripping hole. “Ready?”

You nodded. “Mhm.”

You put your attention to his face as he pushed inside, at the way his expression went slack as he went deeper and deeper inside of you. You tried to reach up to touch him, but the cuffs rattled loudly.  Something burned inside you. The restraints were turning you on.

His eyes snapped open. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just… it’s hot, not being able to touch you, while you touch me all you want.” You said shakily.

He smirked. “Good, that’s the goal.”

“Can you fuck me now?”

He pushed your hair back from your desperate expression, gently pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Yes, sweetheart.”

He started to rock back and forth, and it took a bit of adjustment before you found a position that was comfortable, but when you settled into it, it was heavenly. Chan’s cock hit spots inside you you didn’t even know existed, and you were soon seeing stars. You gently moaned with each of his thrusts, the sounds of his skin on yours and your moans and his strangled noises filling the room. Chan was so good at this, so good at figuring out exactly what your body needed.

Chan changed angles one more time, and you were suddenly crying out with every motion inside you. “Fuck, Channie, that’s so good, don’t stop!”

“I’m not gonna stop, sweetheart.” He grunted, his hands beginning to feel up your chest. “I’m not gonna stop. You feel so good around me, so warm, so nice and tight, fuck.”

You whined, glad you were being good for him.

Eventually Chan’s movements grew animalistic; his thrusts shorter, tighter. “I’m gonna cum, sweetheart.”

“Inside!” You moaned. “Cum inside, Chan, please, please, Chan, please— oh!”

You could feel him cum inside you just as your own orgasm hit, and you twitched through it while Chan collapsed on top of you.

Both of you were drained. Chan unclipped the handcuffs and took them off, and you cuddled under the blanket. “So cold.”

“It is.” Chan wrapped himself around you. “What do you say we take another shower, together, to warm up and clean off?”

You nodded, snuggling into his chest. “Yes, that sounds lovely.”

“That means we actually have to get out of bed, you know.”

You gave a long-suffering sigh. “Fine.”

[im-tired-101]

something something seawatt making himself forever remembered in parkour civilization through false memories to make sure he doesn't end up forgetten like his home level something something seawatt and chain imagery

[ladyblackbirdart]

Sorry again

[9116]

via _joshuasnow’s Instagram story | January 25, 2024

[typicalopposite]

Heartache

Chapter Two (Read Chapter One HERE)

Pairing: BuckTommy - JonahTommy(past)

Rated: M

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Abusive relationship ; manipulation ; emotional trauma ; dom/sub undertone ; forced heart conditions ; attempted MCD (no actual MCD) ; this one gets very dark

One. 

There is one chair in the room. Everything starts there.

Two.

There are two trash cans. One for trash… one for the bandages, and gloves, and medicine bottles, and syringes.

Three. 

There are three medications placed on the bedside table: Sertraline, for his anxiety, Tylenol for his headache afterwards, and propofol. 

Four. 

There are four people on Tommy's phone to contact if it ever goes wrong… His father, although he likely won’t answer. His Nonna, for a copy of his advanced directive, and life insurance policies. His captain, to tell him the news. Howie, because other than Jonah… he is the closest thing Tommy has to a friend.

Five. 

There are five things Tommy thinks about during their role plays… They keep him tethered to reality as his body literally slips free from it. His mom swinging with him on their porch swing. His last day in the army. His first day back in the air. His neighbors cat that hops balconies and sits with him while he recuperates afterwards. His life before he met Jonah… 

Calm, peaceful… healthy… lonely. Who would have thought someone would miss being lonely. 

Sometimes Jonah makes him feel lonely even when he’s right there with him. Sometimes Jonah gets distant and cruel. Pokes sharp painful fingers into the fragile exterior that is meant to be there for protection, but Tommy’s is weak and flawed and easily penetrable. 

Jonah knows every insecurity, every self doubt, every regret and mistake and failure. He can take Tommy on his best days and play him like a fiddle until he’s reduced to a sniffling squabbling mess and then he draws him in close and kisses away the tears; tells him he cares about him and most importantly he wants him… even though no one else ever will. So Tommy should be thankful. Tommy should be willing to do anything to repay such a selfless act of generosity. 

Absolutely anything.

And so, for two years, Tommy did anything… and everything… Jonah asked of him. He never complained. No matter how scared he felt everytime Jonah came home with that look in his eye… knowing he once again had that scratch that he needed to itch… that need he needed to fill— he needed Tommy to fill. For two years Tommy allowed himself to fill it. To be Jonah’s assistant, of sorts; his plaything, of sorts; his… experiment… of sorts. 

Two years of letting Jonah play God.

Until it all— almost— went wrong. 

“N- No more…” Tommy had said, once his heart stopped pounding like it was about to burst out of his chest. He’d wanted to call an ambulance… or at least go in to get checked out. Jonah convinced him not to. 

“You want to lose your job? A heart attack? At thirty six? They’ll clip your wings so quickly…” Jonah glared at him, like he dared him to try to push back with logic— like the fact it took him shocking Tommy four times to get his heart beating again. Jonah eventually lets out an over dramatic sigh. “I mean if you’re that worried…” he said, putting on a pitiful pout. “If you think I know that little… and didn’t do a good job here… then fine. Here…” Tommy was already prepared to take it all back when his cell phone was slung directly at his face; he had no time to stop it or move before it smacked him right in the mouth  “Call them.”

Tommy lifts a hand to his face, feels the sting of what he knows is a cut on his trembling bottom lip. “I- I won’t call…”

“No. Call them, Tommy. They can take better care of you… right? Right?!” 

“N- No.” 

“But you’re scared?” He crossed the room back to their bed, leaned down so he was right in Tommy’s face; Tommy could see his jaw clench, his nose flare… He is nearly half Tommy’s size. It would be so easy… so easy… to fight him off. Instead Tommy cowers as he shakes his head. “You think I’m not good at my job?” Another shake of his head. “You think I can’t save you?” 

“I know you can…” Tommy cried— it made him sick how he cried… “You are amazing, and s- so skilled… you always take the best care of me… You- You’re my hero, Jonah…” The words— the lies— flow so easily because he’s trying to diffuse Jonah’s anger before it bubbles up too high. “It’s me, baby… I- I’m too weak…” and it’s true wasn’t it… he was so weak. So pathetic. “I just don't think I— m- my heart… can handle it anymore. I’m so sorry…” 

He reached out and blindly grabbed Jonah's hand, keeping their eyes locked together as he brought it to his lips. Jonah moved the hand to his cheek, running his thumb roughly over the cut on Tommy’s lip. “I forgive you…” he said and kissed Tommy. Pushing him back down on the bed and climbing on top of him. Tommy went without a fight. 

A month passed and Tommy waited, anxiously expecting each time he saw Jonah to be faced with that look again… that itch… that need… but it never came. Tommy thought maybe he was really free of their little game. 

Then the dispatch fire happened. 

Tommy sat on their couch and watched the news coverage as the fire raged on, the firefighters on scene working effortlessly to put it out. They announced Captain Bobby Nash was still inside. He mindlessly rubbed a hand over his chest as he stared at the screen and waited for each update. Finally they said Bobby was safe. Tommy sighed in relief. The reporter gave praise to the 118– Tommy couldn’t help the proud smile for his old team as the camera panned over to them standing united as they exited the building— and the 133… 

And Tommy couldn’t help the sinking feeling of knowing Jonah was on such an intense call. 

He spotted him on the TV, standing next to one of the victims, smiling down at her as they talked, and he dreaded the thought of Jonah coming home the next morning to tell him all about it. He turned the TV off, pulled out his phone and texted Howie, asked him to send updates on Bobby, and praised them for their work at the fire. He didn’t call, nor did he text Jonah. He just went to bed. 

The next morning he woke up to a return text from Howie. Bobby was going to be fine, so was his step daughter. Again Tommy sighed in relief. Then he read the rest of the text and his heart began to race: we lost one though. One of the dispatchers went into cardiac arrest on the ambulance ride in. Firefighter Greenway did his best but he couldn’t save her. She was DOA. 

Tommy ignored the other text in his phone from Jonah saying he was almost home. He ignored the key in the lock turning  over… and the door pushing open. He ignored the initial call of his name as Jonah stepped inside. He already knew what was coming next.  

Except it didn’t. 

Jonah was a little stoic as he crossed the apartment to their room, pulling Tommy into his arms and kissing him. He asked if he heard about the fire, and Tommy lied and said he hadn’t. He said he wasn’t feeling too good and went to bed early; slept in late. Jonah actually seemed concerned. He said he would order them some breakfast, and they could just spend the rest of the morning in bed. 

What was Tommy going to do, not take such an extremely rare offer?

He held Jonah after they ate; pulled him up against his chest, let him listen to the beat of his heart like he knew Jonah liked to do, and tried to push asking about the fire to the very last second. But after a few random dramatized sighs from his boyfriend, Tommy finally asked. “Is everything okay?” 

There was a long pause. “I lost her,” Jonah finally said. Tommy felt like he’d been dunked in ice water, he shifted his body so Jonah’s head was no longer on his chest— so he could see him better (so he couldn’t hear his heart pick up speed). 

“O- Oh… b- baby I’m so sorry.” 

Jonah shook his head, brows pulled tightly together. “I just— it doesn’t make sense… I can’t believe I couldn’t save her…” 

“I’m sure you did everything you could,” Tommy said.

Jonah jerked his head side to side. “No. No, I should have saved her. It should have been fine.” He all but leaps out of the bed, storming out of the room. Tommy startled at the slam of their bedroom door. He thought, maybe he should just let him cool off… alone. A glass shattered in the kitchen, and he thought, instead, that maybe he should attempt to calm him down. 

He grabbed the broom and dustpan out of the hall closet first, and went straight to cleaning up the glass as Jonah paced the kitchen. He only just got all the shards up when he heard the contents on the counter table behind him get shoved off. It crashed to the floor, more glass breaking— the glass cake tray his Nonna gave him, with the entirety of a cake he’d bought himself the day before and hadn’t yet tried… he desperately tried to not react to the loss of either— another mess for Tommy to clean up; he went straight to it. 

“I guess I really am just a piss poor paramedic,” Jonah said bitterly, his voice rising from a growl to a scream. “Can’t save anyone. Why am I even doing this fucking job?!” 

Maybe it was because Tommy did want anything else broken… Maybe it was because he didn’t want their neighbors to hear the screaming and call the cops… Maybe it was because he was so conditioned to please… 

He dropped the broom. 

Clutched his chest.

And took in a sharp breath. 

“J- Jonah…” Tommy said, looking up at him. “P- Please… Help…” It took less than a second for Jonah to catch on. Then he was kneeling at Tommy’s side, lifting Tommy’s face to look at him. There’s a glint in his eye, a flicker of something dark… and Tommy should be scared but instead he leans into the touch. In that moment Jonah’s full attention, devotion, love even (maybe), was on Tommy; in that moment it was really Tommy helping Jonah… because he just loved him so much— too much. “I need you… I’m scared.” 

Oh, was he scared…

Jonah fed off of it. It was like a switch flipped over and he went full character: assuring Tommy he was in the best hands, helping him to his feet, leading him to their room… Jonah gently pushed him down to sit on the chair. Tommy put himself into autopilot while Jonah got him ready. 

He checked Tommy’s vitals. “BP is good… heart rate is accelerating… you need to relax, Tommy…” 

Tommy slowly nodded. And begins taking deep breaths. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

“There you go… That’s better…” Jonah smiled at him, and leaned down to kiss Tommy’s forehead. It should be comforting; it’s anything but comforting. “Okay go lie down… I’ll get everything set up.”

5… 4… 3… 2… 1… 

Five memories. Four contacts. Three medications. Two trash cans. One chair. 

Jonah pulled on his sterile gloves— Tommy only knew because he had to pop them to his wrist every time… he couldn’t actually watch him because of what he knew came next. Jonah went into his little medical bag and pulled out the Tylenol… and the propofol. He sat them on the table beside where Tommy kept his anxiety medication. Then he grabbed one of the syringes— slowly opening the sealed packaging and Tommy focused on any other sound of the paper peeling apart in the room to try to drown it out— then he drew up the propofol.

He tied the rubber band around Tommy’s bicep, waiting until his veins popped out nicely. “Big pinch,” he said and gripped Tommy’s wrist as he brought the needle to the vein. 

“Wait…” Tommy gasped, trying to calm his breathing— trying to blink back against the rush of tears. “C- Can you hold my hand?” He asked. 

Jonah looked at him and a flash of disappointment crossed his face before he, too, broke character. “Now Tommy… that would be a little too unprofessional. Don’t you think?”

Tommy swallowed around the lump lodged in his throat and nodded. “Y- Yeah. You’re right. S- Sorry…” He looked back to the ceiling fan spinning above him, and refocused on his breathing. The needle pressed into the vein, the medicine burned as it entered his body. 

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Five memories. Four contacts. Three medications. Two trash cans. One chair. 

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Five memories. Four contacts. Three medications. Two trash cans. One chair. 

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Five cc of propofol. Four minutes to take effect. Three seconds to boot up the defibrillator. Two paddles pressed to his chest. One shock.

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

He felt it as it happened. It made him feel sick knowing Jonah could see it as it happened, too. Tommy could feel his eyes, wide and maniacal, locked on him as he waited for Tommy’s breathing to slow and eventually stop. Tommy felt himself dying— felt how this was killing him. Not just in the moment— as it literally killed him— but in general. 

He had flown so far from the person he had aspired to become when he finally came out and embraced who he was. This was not where things were supposed to end up. He hated that version of himself almost as much as the old. He wished he’d never met Jonah… never fallen in love with him… never become so dependent on him…

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Five things he always wanted to do: go skydiving, go deep sea fishing, go mountain climbing, go on a cross country road trip, take a walk down the aisle. 

Four places he always wanted to travel: Italy (for Nonna), Paris (for Romance), New York (for Broadway), Alaska (for the Northern Lights), an altar (for love). 

Three words he always wanted to hear: I love you— not just I love what you can do for me. 

Two souls who are meant to be together— but it was never the two together in that room. 

One more time… for Jonah. 

Anything for Jonah. 

His body surged up into an arch from the shock. Tommy collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for air, his heart pounding as it attempted to re-regulate itself. Jonah stared at him with this strange mix of awe and pity. “Shh…” he shushed softly, reaching out to wipe away tears as they fell down Tommy’s cheeks. “You’re okay. It’s okay. I saved you.” Tommy blinked, eyes feeling heavy. He grabbed on to Jonah’s wrist, clinging to it for some sense of comfort. “You did so well. You can rest now.” The hand on his cheek gently swiped over his eyes, closing them. 

When he woke up, Jonah was there, like always. His mood was better, like always. His eyes were soft and inviting. His lips found their way to Tommy’s… kissing him deeply— passionately… hungrily. Tommy laid there and played along knowing this was only another part of the game; thinking, still, if he tried hard enough to believe it… it was almost like they were just making love. 

*

His phone ringing woke him up. 

Recovery this time took longer than his usual couple days… He had to call in sick to work… His captain was annoyed but understanding; Tommy rarely missed work, if he did it was serious. 

The phone continued to ring, causing his headache to only get worse… and he was still an hour away from being able to take more Tylenol. He groaned and rolled over to grab it, bringing it up to his ear. “H’llo?” 

“Hey Tommy…” Daryl, Jonah’s partner at the 133, said way too loudly into his ear; Tommy had to pull the phone away and put it on speaker. “How are you feeling? JG said you were a little under the weather.” 

Tommy scoffed. “Uh, yeah… what- what’s up? Is everything okay?” 

“About that,” Daryl continued, and the strain in his voice had Tommy up and out of the bed, starting a panicked pacing of their room. “Listen I- I overheard Cap talking to Jonah… something about Wilson and Han from the 118 reporting him… o- over that dispatcher's death, I think. It sounded like they dug up some crap from his past… heavy shit. I don’t know— but the conversation got pretty heated; he left very upset. Thought I’d give you a heads up…” 

Daryl was one of the only people who knew about Tommy and Jonah. Jonah didn’t want the type of friends who came over to your house… he had too much to hide at home. Tommy was enough of a loner… so he never had anyone over either. He had Howie, but he knew Howie was a sore spot for Jonah since Hen took a while warming up to Jonah as Howie’s temporary replacement; and then he was moved off the 118 after he came back. Tommy could read a room enough to know he shouldn’t mention either of them. 

Now they are— are what… out to get him? 

He was rushing Daryl off the phone and scrolling through his contacts for Hen’s name before he even really knew what he was going to say. He didn’t even wait for a hello before he was going off. “What the hell are you digging around Jonah’s life for, Hen! What business is it of yours!”

“What the— what business is it of mine?” Hen repeated back to him, scoffed and added, “what business is any of this of yours!?”

“He’s my boyfriend, so you snooping around trying to find something on him to hurt him is my business,” Tommy blurted out. 

Hen was quiet for a long time. “He's your— he’s hurt people, Tommy,” she said, a new— softer— tone to her voice. 

“That’s a lie… he— he would never!” He promised. He said it was only ever Tommy. It was— It was their thing… “J- Jonah is a… g- good man…” 

Another long pause. “You don’t sound too sure about that,” she said. “Listen… if you’re scared— if you feel like you have to—” 

The sound of a key turning in the lock caught Tommy’s attention. “You need to let this go, Hen,” he said and ended the call. 

The front door slammed open, and Jonah stormed in.

He came straight to the bedroom and stood in the doorway, eyes locked on Tommy. His breathing was heavy and slow… shoulders rising with each inhale, and falling on the exhale. “Get my bag,” he said, flat and emotionless. 

Tommy should have fought, right then. He should have refused. He got up and walked to the closet instead, bringing the medical bag out and back over to the bed. He held it on his lap as Jonah crossed the room to him. Jonah didn't pick it up, just opened it where it sat on Tommy’s legs and began taking bottles of propofol out, IV tubing, syringes. 

“You worked with them,” he said after a while. Tommy lifted his eyes slowly up to meet Jonah’s. “With Hen… and Chimney. You still call him Howie right? He’s your friend…” 

Tommy quickly shook his head. “I- I would hardly call us—”

“Do you agree with them, Tommy?” Jonah said, and leaned down close to Tommy’s face. “Do you think I’m a horrible person, too?” 

“No!”

“Do you think I hurt those people?” 

“Of- Of course not…” 

“You know I had it under control.” 

“Ye— wait…” Tommy searched Jonah’s eyes, waiting for some explanation he knew wouldn’t come. Jonah didn’t blink. Hen was right… and maybe— maybe Tommy had thought that all along. But thinking and knowing are so vastly different in moments like these. “Jonah… you— you didn’t…” Jonah’s brow furrowed; Tommy chose his words carefully. “You didn’t m- mean to hurt them, I’m sure…” Jonah doesn’t react… “They— They were just… weak. You did your job… you would have saved them had they been stronger.” 

“Exactly. They were just—”

“M- Mistakes?”

Jonah smiled; something so maniacal and evil shouldn’t have been a comfort… but he seemed to lose some of the tension in his shoulders, so Tommy did as well. “Mistakes… that’s it. They were mistakes.” He began to draw up doses of the propofol. One syringe after another. “Not even my fault, really… just weak people who didn’t want— no didn’t deserve to be saved. Now I’ll just have to show them what I’m capable of… then they will see…”

“Show who?” 

“Hen and Chimney,” Jonah reiterated with a grin. “I’ll show them both just how good I am at what I do.”

“H- How…” the question rolled off his tongue before he could stop it. Jonah didn’t respond, just laid everything back in the back and walked to the closet for the defibrillator. “Jo- Jonah… w- what are you going to do…”

Jonah smiled, reached up and cupped Tommy’s cheek. He leaned in and kissed him. “I’m going to teach them a lesson, baby.” Tommy felt his eyes widen, a choked off sound escaping him as he shook his head. “It’ll be fine. They have to learn.” 

“Jonah… please… don’t,” he begged, would beg on his knees if he had to. He couldn’t let Jonah hurt anyone else. He decided to be brave just a fraction of a second too late and felt a sharp pinch in his neck just as he was about to lunge at him. 

He fell over on the bed, watching Jonah pull out his phone. “Heard you were talking about me,” he said.

Tommy barely heard Hen’s voice respond before he passed out. When he opened his eyes again the room was dark. Part of him thought maybe— just maybe— Jonah was gone. He tried to sit up and felt dizzy… 

“Easy now…” he heard Jonah’s voice cut through the darkness. “You know better than to try to move around so quickly.” 

“Mmhmm…” Tommy hummed. 

He watched the silhouette of Jonah walk around the bed, sit down beside him; he took his hand and held it like one would a stranger. “I really thought you were the one, Tommy…” he said. “I thought you understood me. I thought you cared…” 

“I- I do… care,” Tommy said, sluggishly. 

The silhouette shook his head. “No… no you don’t. I’m really sorry, baby… but I have to get going. Things to do; old friends to visit.”

“J’nah… p- please…” Tommy tried once more. He felt the familiar sting of medicine entering in his vein, only then registering the needle that had been in it. He felt Jonah’s lips press to his in a chaste, emotionless, kiss. He felt the rise of the mattress as Jonah got up and walked out. 

Four minutes. 

Jonah said it took four minutes before the flatline. He waited until he heard the front door click shut and he rolled off the bed, falling heavily to the floor. His adrenaline spiked… that was a good thing… it would keep him alert longer. He rolled over towards the bed, sticking his arm under it and feeling around until his fingers brushed over the box. A panic induced purchase really… he’s glad he made it now— he’s knows Jonah took his with him. 

Three minutes. 

He hadn’t even opened it yet. Why hadn’t he ever opened it?! His fingers trembled clumsily as he tore the box apart and freed the equipment inside— a shiny, brand new, defibrillator. It felt like some kind of sick Christmas present… He struggled against his fading consciousness to get it set up… nearly busted his head as he toppled over to plug it in… he pulled himself back up with the bedside table and that’s when he saw his phone was still there where he left it after the call to Hen. 

Two minutes.

He managed to do it in tandem; turn on the machine with one hand, call 9-1-1 with the other. “9-1-1 what’s the address of your location?” The dispatcher asked the question, then waited for Tommy’s response. Tommy peeled the first pad off, and carefully slid it under his shirt, sticking it to his left side. “Hello? 9-1-1… what is the address of your location?” 

One minute.

1318 Brannon St Apartment G… 1318 Brannon St Apartment G… 1318 Brannon Street Apartment G!

“I- I’m actually not sure where he’s going,” Tommy said as he put the second pad on the right side of his chest. He turned the defibrillator on, holding the phone close to his mouth; his finger lingered over the button… he didn’t have much time to waste but— “But his name is Jonah… Green- Greenway. He drives a 2021 white Nissan Altima. License plate seven-delta… hotel-li-li-lima… nine… six… sev—” 

He pressed the button and everything went dark. 

“Sir. Sir, do you hear me?” 

He had read… somewhere… that shocking your heart while still conscious felt like getting kicked in the chest by a horse. 

Tommy fluttered his eyes, tried to open them against the blindingly bright light of the— the ambulance. He was in an ambulance. 

“Alright! We got him back!” 

Tommy took a deep breath through the oxygen mask over his face. Then another. Then another. 

“That’s it, sir… in and out. Nice and slow. You’re going to be just fine… you’re safe now.”

Was he though? Was Hen? Was Howie?

He got his answer in the shape of the former— donning a matching hospital gown to his— sneaking in his room many hours later. 

He was still barely conscious… having faded in and out multiple times. The only people to enter his room since his arrival had been doctors or nurses— none paying him much attention as he incoherently asked about Jonah and if he’d been caught— that’s the price you pay being a loner, he supposed. Hen stopped in his doorway, waiting until he opened his eyes and looked at her to enter. 

“Hey…” she said with a smile, soft and friendly— neither things he deserved. “How are you feeling?” 

Tommy waited for the other shoe to drop. For rage or some snarky comment… an I told you so. It didn’t come. “Like I was kicked in the chest by a horse…” he finally replied, letting his head loll towards her. “Are you— you and Howie…” 

“We’re fine.”

“Jonah?” 

“Going to prison… for a very long time.” 

Tommy sighed, and nodded. “Good,” he said. That was good— something good to come from… all this. “How- How did you know I was here?” 

“Karen called the cops when I called to warn her Jonah was up to something…” Hen explained, sitting down on the foot of Tommy’s bed. “They told her somebody had already called in, and there were already units out looking for him. I had Athena look into it. She said the person who called was found unconscious and admitted here… I pieced the rest together and asked the hospital if they had a Thomas Kinard.” 

She reached for Tommy’s hand and he flinched, pulling it away. “I- I’m so- so sorry, Hen… I- I should’ve…”

“Hey, no. Don’t do that. We are all victims here.” She reached for his hand again and took it this time. “Some… a lot longer than others, I’m sure.” 

She gave him a knowing look and he couldn't help but laugh… What else was there to do? “You have no idea…” he said tiredly.

*

Evan is quiet. 

Tommy is… on edge— although he’s doing his best to be patient. He just dumped a lot of trauma, he would not be surprised if Buck turns and runs out the door, never to look back. 

“So you— you told Hen everything?”

“Everything I just told you, yeah…” 

Evan nods. He’s still holding Tommy’s hand… that’s a good sign, Tommy hopes. “And— And Athena? You— you told her, too?”

Tommy shakes his head. “She just asked around about the anonymous caller for Hen. She never knew it was me. I did talk to the cops who found me, though. But…” he sighs… this is the part he regrets the most. “I asked to be left anonymous. I— I didn’t know Jonah was doing this to other people… there was nothing that me testifying would add to the case, unless I wanted to press charges.” He breaks away from Evan’s eyes. “And I— I didn’t…” 

“Tommy,” Evan gasps in disbelief. Here it comes, Tommy thinks. “Why- Why wouldn’t you… after— after everything he did to—” 

“I know…” Tommy interjects, hanging his head. “He hurt Howie and Hen… and so— so many other people…”

“And you!” Evan all but shouts. “Tommy he— he hurt you too… so many times… and he— he shouldn’t be allowed to get away with that.” 

That… was not what Tommy expected Evan to be upset about. He isn’t exactly sure how to respond to it. “He’s going to prison for life, Evan…” he says, as a start. “He didn’t get away.”

“That’s— that’s not good enough.” Evan shakes his head using his hold on Tommy’s hand to pull him into his arms. 

Tommy is held tight to Evan’s chest and he feels— he feels many things, actually. Mostly he feels safe. Which is something he’s never really felt in a relationship. Safe to be himself. Safe to be vulnerable. “I’m sorry…” he says, trying to blink back tears. He thinks he’s cried enough in just this one day for his entire lifetime, and the next. “Jonah… he— he was all I had… I just— I- I couldn’t…and I know I should have but I couldn’t. I’m so sorry…”  

“H- Hey…” Evan gently pushes him back, then gently cups his face. “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. He is the one who should be sorry… I don’t blame you for wanting to bury those memories. I’ll— I’ll talk to Athena; maybe we can fight this summons.” 

If only it could be that easy…

Even after Tommy re-explains his reasoning for not wanting to get on the stand in front of Jonah… the judge still decides she’ll allow it. “I’m so sorry,” Athena says somberly, and Evan’s hold around Tommy’s waist tightens. He presses a kiss to Tommy’s cheek. 

They meet with the DA, discuss what he should expect, and Tommy schedules a session with Frank— recurring sessions, actually. 

He knew this would come back into the light one day. He should have been prepared. He’d gotten too cozy with his life, that was his first mistake…

“Tommy there’s a call for you in Cap's office,” Lucy says, jogging up to where Tommy is under the hood of one of Harbor’s engines. 

“For me?” Tommy grabs a rag and wipes the grease off his hands, so he can run his fingers through the loose curls falling down onto his forehead. “Who is it?” 

Lucy shrugs. “He didn’t say.”

There is a sinking sense of dread Tommy can’t shake as he approaches the office, takes the phone, and puts it to his ear. “Hello?” 

“Five… Four… Three… Two… One…” Tommy hates how he can hear the sinister grin in Jonah’s voice. He hates that he’s hearing Jonah’s voice at all. “You were always counting down. Sometimes you even did it out loud, did you know that?”

“How— How did you—” 

“Do you know what day the trial starts?” Jonah continues, brushing over Tommy’s question… of course. Tommy doesn’t respond; Jonah chuckles. “Save the date, baby… it’s a good one. I can’t wait to see you.” Then the line cuts off. 

“Who was that?” Lucy asks, but Tommy is too busy trying to get his phone’s calendar opened. “Tommy…” she says— repeats, maybe… She touches his arm. “You’re shaking… Are you okay?” 

He is not.

Five years ago Tommy talked himself into meeting someone he matched with on some dating app Howie teasingly suggested he try. 

Four days until he has to come face to face with that same person on the anniversary of that first date. 

Three life sentences is what Jonah is looking at if found guilty… He will be found guilty. He has to be found guilty.

Two hours before Tommy is off shift… and Jonah probably knew that. 

One almost— but not quite— forgotten nightmare Tommy has been thrown head first back into. 

~~~~~~~~~

Tagging people who seemed interested (let me know if you want to be added for the last chapter or removed 🫶) : @sunnywithachanceofbi @weewookinard @xtarmanderx @racerchix21 @sad-girl-hours23 @laundryandtaxesworld @swagmaster9k @iphyslitterator @adian-ua 🫶🫶

[tiredmetalenthusiast]

A Date With Joyous News! John Price x F!reader

This is for @glitterypirateduck John Price writing challenge! Wanted to try doing a longer fic. Scenarios used were 7. ‘Date Night’ and 8. A confession or secret is made, revealed, or discovered’

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, mention of pregnancy, implied NSFW.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day had started off as a soft morning, slowly waking up to John’s arms wrapped firmly around you and softly snoring. When you both had finally woken up and gotten out of bed he brought up the plans he had for the day.

”How about a night out today, Love?” You giggled and leaned into his shoulder. “John, we're married, you don’t have to try and win me over anymore.” He kissed the top of your head and breathed in your scent, “Well I’m going to anyway. I’m taking you on a date tonight, be ready by 7pm sweetheart.” “Where are we going tonight?” “It’s a surprise.” You nodded and kissed his cheek before the two of you went off to do your daily tasks, excited for the date later on.

6:45pm:

John stood at the mirror trimming his beard to look presentable, from the corner of his eye he spots you in the bathroom. Dressed to the nines and looking just as ravishing as when you both got married. Red dress fitting you in all the right places, makeup dark and seductive, the dark red lipstick doing things to him. “Are you ready to go luv?” You peeked from behind the door and nodded, walking out of the bathroom to grab your heels and purse. He holds out his arm and you take it giggling, as he leads you to the front door of the flat and to the car, letting your arm go to open the door for you. After you had gotten in he went to his own side and the drive to the date began.

Your eyes lit up as you saw the restaurant John had pulled up to. “Really? You got a reservation?!” “I did luv. You’ve mentioned wanting to go here for some time. Let’s go.” He gets out and walks around to your side, opening the door and helping you out. The Maître D’ greets you both upon entrance.

The young man seems nervous, glancing at John before speaking, “How can I help you both today?” “Reservation for 2, Under John Price.” The young man, Sam, checks the list before motioning for the two of you to follow. “This way please. Your table is ready.” Following Sam towards the back of the restaurant, he stops at a table and allows you and John to seat yourselves before handing over two menus. John watches you as you gaze around the restaurant in amazement. 

“The decor is so beautiful! How far ahead did you have to book?” “A few months, but seeing you happy is worth it.” The waitress came, took both of your orders, and went on her way. Dinner came and went, conversation was had, but John had noticed your lack of wine, deciding not to comment.

After dinner the drive home was spent discussing the food and how amazing the service was. “The lemon chicken pasta with alfredo was so good! The sauce was so smooth and had a nice flavor to it! How was your steak? It looked juicy.” “The steak was delicious sweetheart. The meat was tender and well cooked.” John smiled as he watched you beam brightly and gush over the food again, particularly dessert.

Once home you took off your heels with a pleased sigh, groaning low in relief. As you went about your routine to get ready for bed you noticed John standing by the door, shoulder leaning against it as he watched you slip out of your dress. “How about a movie before bed?” “That sounds lovely John.” He leaves to pick out a movie and you head to take off your makeup and change into pjs. Once dressed and noticing that John was changed as well, wearing those sinful gray sweatpants you loved so much and no shirt. You sat with him under the blanket and cuddled into his side, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and you turned his head to give him a kiss, tasting the whiskey he had for dinner. “I love you so much John.” He kisses you back, hand wrapping around the back of your head to hold you there, “I love you too, so much luv.” You smile wider and watch the movie.

Halfway through he brings up the wine, it's your favorite thing to have when you guys go on dinner dates. “Didn’t feel up to the wine tonight?” You stop mid laugh and turn to face him. “Thought I wouldn’t notice? What’s wrong?” “John?” “Yes luv?” “Do you remember when you came back last month? And we had that wonderful, earth shattering sex?” “I do. Dream about it when I’m away. Did something happen? I didn’t hurt you did I?” “No! No nothing like that. Uhm…I just…” “Darling if I did something wrong please let know. I could never live with myself if-…” “John, I'm pregnant!”

He was absolutely stunned into silence. “Pardon?” “I-I mean I’m only a month along but-!” “I’m gonna be a dad? You’re really pregnant?” You nodded nervously, tears starting to well up in the corners of your eyes. “Who else knows?” “I tried calling you but Gaz had answered the phone, saying you were on the line with Kate. Told Gaz all about it.” Price thought for a moment. “Ah guess that would explain his sudden excitement that day.” He hugged you close and kissed you passionately. “So I’m gonna be an actual dad then?” “Baby you’re already an actual dad.” You snickered. “The boys don’t count.” 

You both laughed, falling back onto the cushions to celebrate the wonderful news with a night of steamy passion.

[artsfavoritehorn]

[ojacksonscohen]

Oliver Jackson-Cohen photographed by Tom J Johnson

[jherbo10]

“Yeah, what do you know” excuse me while I just 😮‍💨🫠🫣👀🤭😍

🎥:NFL

[ag40249]

so… i did something…. 🫣 i feel like they would enjoy each others company

[savvylittlecoxswain]

Ok now that I know for a fact that Bobby was on the fencing team (thank you @kjxlll) I need the boys on their day off bored af cause Bobby isn’t there to “organize activities” for them. And so at the last minute they decide to go to a fencing tournament being held on campus. And they go there and def get all into it like goddamn just look at them go. And then a UW fencer wins and everyone is so freaking pumped, but when the fencer takes off his helmet during the celebration they realize that it was Bobby.

[charmingradiobelle]

Excuse me sir who allowed you to look this fine

[mrsoharaa]

"You will quiver, shake and whisper my name like a fervent prayer"

[palaugranetes]

💙❤️✨🙂‍↕️✨💙❤️

My sanity depending on these 2 is very risky... But it pays off like 85% of the time.. and that's better than expected

The basket section was trying to compete with the fut masc section to determine the bigger clown🤦🏻‍♀️😵‍💫..the tall idiots are no longer in the lead😮‍💨 but it was close.. and they play tonight 🤞🏻

Anyways... 🙂‍↔️week 3 of the project is finished.. and we are about 15% done 😅 🫣

Feliç inici d'any nou!! 🤍💖🤗

[rosiegames]

🚨🚨!!! got my first heirloom shards !!! 🚨🚨

[needydoll-for-you]

You want some guidance, little slut?

Next time you get off I want you to hump a pillow for me, edging yourself, while playing with your pretty tits. Ideally it would be the pillow you sleep on later. Hopefully that would give you some nice embarrassing dreams of humiliating yourself for an online stranger.

I want you to slap your tits and drool on them and rub it in. Pull on your nipples, twist them, push your fingernails in a circle into your breasts and imagine it's me biting them. You're so sweet I could eat you up, baby. I want you to whine out loud alone in your bed and know that if I was there it would be music in my ears.

How often do you usually edge before letting yourself come? Give me an extra edge.

Get on your shoulders and knees, so you can bury your face in the pillow you got all dirty. Imagine me pushing your face into your own mess, like a puppy. Then I want you to reach between your legs and give your sweet pussy the slaps it deserves. You can make yourself come now.

of course would love that!!🫠😮‍💨

ohhhh this made me so wet! just reading this and imagining humping my pillow right in front of you while you watch me and make fun of how desperate i am to be humping a pillow and moaning. my tits are so sensitive so it will make me buckle against my pillow when i handle them roughly, squeezing and letting you bite them! whining for you but keeping my fingers on my nipples pinching and pulling them. slap then from left to right, or up and down to make the skin pinkish.

uhhh making me such an edge slut, rubbing and humping on the pillow like crazy, maybe pinching my clit a bit too, feel it throb. and then get in to position like mommy’s puppy is supposed to, legs spread and holes exposed while soaking wet, maybe even grinding against the air. my pussy will welcome the slaps, the sting they leave behind, moaning in to the wet pillow, exposing my pussy to you while giving it the spanking it so desperately needs until it’s throbbing more than before, then alternating between slaps and fast rubs over my clit until i cum💦